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eddiessluttywaist · 2 years

Text

as if

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 7,901 words

content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3

part two - part three

As if.

It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.

That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.

You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.

That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.

So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…

Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.

“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.

“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”

You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”

“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.

“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.

“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.

“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.

“There is.” Barb scoffs.

“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”

“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.

Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”

Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.

“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.

“As if.”

After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.

Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.

When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.

You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.

Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.

So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.

So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.

He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.

He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.

But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.

You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.

He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.

It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.

“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”

“There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.

“All busy.”

Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?

“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.

“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”

You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.

You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.

“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.

“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”

“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.

“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”

“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.

“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.

“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”

“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.

“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”

He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.

“Good luck.”

You were gonna need it.

The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.

“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.

“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”

He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.

“Just sit so we can get this over with.”

“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.

“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.

“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.

“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”

Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“We have to study.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.

“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.

“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-

“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.

“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.

“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.

“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.

He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.

“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.

“Quit being so fucking uptight.”

“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.

“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.

“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.

“Those are new!”

He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.

“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”

You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.

“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.

“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.

“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”

“I-I’m not a-“

“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.

“Stop-“

“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.

His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.

“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.

He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.

Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.

God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.

“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”

You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.

“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.

“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.

“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.

“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.

“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.

He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.

“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”

Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.

“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”

“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“

“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.

You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.

“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.

“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.

“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.

“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”

You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.

Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.

“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.

“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.

“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.

“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.

“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”

Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.

Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.

“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.

“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”

You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.

“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.

“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.

You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.

“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”

He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.

“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.

“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.

“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.

“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.

“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.

“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.

“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.

“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.

“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.

“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.

“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.

“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.

“That’s my girl.”

Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”

He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”

“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.

“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.

“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”

Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”

At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.

“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.

“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”

“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.

“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.

Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.

“See you Monday.”

“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.

“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.

You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.

When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.

God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.

#eddie munson smut #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut

6K notes · View notes

sinnaminsuga · 7 months

Text

𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖉𝖏𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 - sub!hyunjin x sub!reader x dom!chan

wc: 2,804

cw: hyunjin is a slut, so is the reader, chan likes it that way. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: while shooting the red lights mv chan noticed something about hyunjin and now he's got a theory he wants to test, he just needs your help.

a/n: was literally plagued with visions of overstimulating hyunjin and making him cry soooo this is what i ended up with. oops. also if there are any spelling errors pls don't tell me bc ive read this trash so many times trying to work it all out and if i have to re-read it again i might go blind.

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), bondage, threesome, some gay shit, breeding, blowjobs, lingerie, deepthroating, general toughness, waxing poetic about hyunjins beautiful face. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

hwang hyunjin is beautiful. its a well documented fact, no ifs ands or buts about it. he has the kind of face ancient civilizations would have gone to war for. old world dynasties would have been reduced to rubble over a face like his. hwang hyunjin is the kind of beautiful where it almost hurts to look at him. it makes you question your belief in a higher power because, how could there possibly be any room for debate on if there is a God when there is simply no other reasonable explanation for how a devine creature like him came to exist on this earth? so with all that being said, there's no way he could get any more beautiful. or so you thought.

it had always been your assumption that there was no possible way he could look any more stunning than he naturally does; but your mind was changed the minute you saw the lithe expanses of his smooth milky skin held captive by blood red ropes. you felt an astounding amount of pride as your eyes bore witness to his soft flesh being pulled tight by the coarse material; the blood under his skin rushing to the surface where the ropes were knotted artfully over his collarbone, across his abdomen, splayed over his pelvis, looped around his upper thighs and finally circling the base of his dick. and you had worked hard to make sure the knots around his wrists and ankles were comfortable yet sturdy before attaching them to each bedpost.

you had taken your instructions very seriously, as the man giving them to you from edge of the bed, wouldn't allow any of this to continue if either of you were to disobey his direct orders, and dear god you would rather die than see this endeavor be cut short.

you admired your handiwork a bit more before the rumbling of a particular voice hit your ears.

“how do you feel baby? is this what you wanted? y/n did a good job huh? you look so pretty.” chan spoke softly to hyunjin, absentmindedly petting his head. hyunjin looked up at his leader and nodded, unsure if he could speak without whining as the ropes pulled across his body with every move.

“yeah i knew you'd like this. the whole time we were shooting “red lights” i saw you ya know? the way your breathing got shallow when the staff chained you up. the way your eyes glazed over when they gave you instructions to pull against your restraints. god, standing above you on that bed, watching you writhe below me was a sight to see. my good boy just wanted to be tied up and used huh?” chan said to him, his finger hooked under hyunjin's chin forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. a whimper forced its way out of him as his hips instinctually bucked and the the sensation of the ropes took over.

you couldn't drag your eyes away from his lower body. the sharp angle of his hipbones jutting up to the ceiling as his cock drooled uncontrollably, the fluid flowing from his tip dribbling down to darken the rope wrapped snugly around the base of him. without even thinking you reached out and wrapped your hand around his shaft, you were just so overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. the feeling was unexpected and the sound that punched its way out of hyunjin's chest was glorious. his body attempted to curl in on itself but the ropes kept him firmly in place. you watched the range of emotions flicker over his face in rapid succession; surprise at your initial touch, pleasure from finally being granted a little stimulation, sensitivity from being denied his pleasure for so long, shock when he remembered the restraints keeping him spread open, frustration at not being able to move, and finally acceptance as he gave in to the languid stroking you were doing. he continued to toss as the pleasure took over, thrashing wildly against the mattress and moaning into the pillow.

hyunjin's noises were reduced to whimpers as chan’s hand squeezed around his jaw, directing hyunjin to look him in the eyes. “shhh baby boy, y/n is gonna make you feel good okay? you'll let her do that, won’t you? you'll lay there and take what i let her give you, understood? words please, jinnie.” chan cooed. “yes daddy. i'll be good for you, for her too i promise. i'll be your perfect boy just like always, i promise, please! god just please keep touching me!” hyunjin choked out, making chan grin. he leapt up from where he was perched on the edge of the bed and rounded the corner until he was standing behind you. you repressed a shudder as chan’s hand slid up your back, tracing over your spine and occasionally tripping over the straps of the lingerie set you were wearing. his hand glided up into your hair with ease until his palm cradled the base of your skull, then suddenly he locked his fingers to grab your hair firmly by the roots and pulled you upright so your back was against his chest as he angled your head to the left exposing the expanse of your neck. the suddenness of his movements caused you to lose your grip on hyunjin’s dick and he cried out from the loss of contact, his hips frantically bucking into the air in a fruitless attempt to find friction.

chan hummed as his lips made contact with the skin of your neck and continued as he licked, nipped, and sucked at your flesh. he hooked his chin over your shoulder as his right hand charted a course down your abdomen to the apex of your thighs where the pads of his thick fingers rubbed over your damp slit. when you could finally manage to pry your lids open, you locked eyes with hyunjin. he was practically panting watching chan devour your throat and palm your pussy. “so pretty y/n, y’look so pretty. like a dream. want to paint you one day, just like that.” he whispered. hyunjin's words and gaze coupled with chan's wandering hands and skilled mouth were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“now here’s what's next my loves. y/n, you're going to get on your knees, lean down on your elbows and suck hyunjin's pretty dick right into the back of your throat okay? i want you to take him as far as you can, and quickly. do not stop until i tell you to. not if he begs, not if he cries, not if he screams. got it?” you nodded as well as you could with his left hand still in your hair. chan released you and you quickly got into the position he had described, gently grabbing hold of hyunjin's cock. “i’m sorry jinnie, but you know i have to.” you quipped right before you took him into your mouth and as far into your throat as you could manage. the garbled noise that ripped its way out of hyunjin's throat threw you into over drive as you bobbed your head and sucked him like your life depended on it. he was groaning deeply and his limbs were flailing the best they could in his current predicament. his back arched up off the mattress so beautifully you wished chan would take a photo.

“fuck, fuck, FUCK. jesus chri- oh my god! y/n, sweetheart slow down- PLEASE! oh fuck i can- i can feel- fucking fuck. i can feel your throat squeezing me so tight!” hyunjin wailed throwing his head back, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he grit his teeth.

suddenly chan’s hand made its way to your pussy again and you gasped around the thickness embedded in your throat causing hyunjin to hiss.

“crotchless panties angel? so proud of you. always so prepared for daddy huh? know just what i like.” chan muttered from behind you. you heard the telltale jingle of his belt being opened and the zipper being lowered on his jeans. he had already removed his shirt earlier so he was naked quickly, and he wasted no time before rubbing the head of his dick along your weeping folds.

“now i'm going to fuck you nice and deep the way you like and i want you to keep sucking my good boy okay?” chan said but before you could respond he shoved himself into you in one swift thrust. chan was not small in girth or length for that matter but the stretch you felt every time he fucked you open was delicious. you couldn't help but moan around the cock in your mouth which in turn caused hyunjin to scream at the unexpected vibration. chan’s laugh that followed was dark and proud, thrilled that he held so much power and that you both let him use it.

“fuuuuck sweet girl this cunt is always so fucking tight huh? doesn't matter how many times i fuck you or let someone else fuck you, you always snap right back. god i love being inside you.” chan growled as his hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he pummeled his way in and out of your slippery hole. the whole time he was fucking you, you were being forced onto hyunjin's cock as well, every moan muffled by the thickness battering your throat.

“hyunjin is y/n a good cocksucker? hmm? you think? you think she's better than you were?” chan taunted him as he drove himself inside you over and over again. “remember when we had our first one on one meeting? just me and you alone in the studio? i said 'hyunjin if you really are serious and want to stay in this group i need one thing from you’ do you remember that? i do.” you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn't see him. hyunjin groaned and mumbled what sounded like a yes. “i also remember how fast you sank to your knees and scrambled to try and open my belt. you thought i wanted you to suck me off to stay in the band. and you were so willing to give me whatever i wanted. all i was going to ask you for was your loyalty and your honesty in all things. but you offered up that pretty mouth quick as a bitch and who was i to say no?” chan laughed at the memory as he threw a foot up onto the bed to change the angle he was fucking into you from so he was now nailing your gspot on every thrust.

“y-yes i remember. ‘course i do. i knew w-what you were gonna ask me because felix told me beforehand what you were going to ask, what you asked a-all of them. i just- fuck yes keep sucking y/n im so close. i jus’ wanted you so bad i thought if i tried and y-you didn't want me back it would just be an easily brushed off m-misunderstanding.” hyunjin whined, his hands balled up into fists, knuckles white.

“y/n suck him dry. now.” chan ordered and you sucked harder pulling a squeal out of hyunjin. “go on sweet boy. go ahead and cum. you earned it.” chan encouraged as he delivered a heavy smack to your ass. your muffled yelp was the final straw and hyunjin came hard into your mouth, his body attempting to lurch off the bed. you swallowed everything down and pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand. as chan continued to ram into you, you mirrored his thrusts with the fist wrapped tightly around hyunjin's still hard cock.

“stop stop stop please! god please i can- i can't take it! it's too sensitive please!” hyunjin cried. “yes you can baby. you can take it. trust me.” chan cooed. feeling bold you leaned forward once again and sucked hyunjin's tip harshly while lashing the tip of your tongue over his slit.

“FUCK! no no no no it's too m- too much. stop stop stop!” hyunjin continued to wail. he was begging you to relent but he also didn't use his safeword so you knew he didnt really want it to stop. the sound was like music to chan's ears and the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around him propelled him quickly toward his own orgasm.

“i'm gonna cum in you okay baby? gonna breed this pretty pussy, stuff it full of my cum. that what you want? yeah it is isn't it?” chan rambled and you moaned out a “yes please daddy” right before he exploded inside you. your hand around hyunjin never stopped moving and he was crying now. big fat tears rolling down his cheeks from the overstimulation.

chan pulled out of you and watched your hole flutter, pushing out his seed. he murmured a string of praises as he watched the glistening fluid drip out of you. you looked over your shoulder at him, jutting your lower lip out.

“daddy i didn't get to cum yet. can i?” you asked.

“go ahead baby. make yourself cum.” chan said with a wave of his hand and an evil grin etched on his face. you grinned right back before scrambling up hyunjin's body and straddling him.

“wh-what are you doing? oh...oh no. no no no. please it's so sensitive it's so so sensitive y/n i can't!” hyunjin hiccuped, tears still flowing. you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cheek, lapping up the briny liquid seeping from his eyes. then you whispered “oh jinnie, don't you want me to feel good too? i worked so hard after all.” you reached behind you and positioned his tip at your entrance before effortlessly sliding down onto him. you moaned as he filled you and he once again thrashed against the ropes wrapped around him. you started to ride him in earnest, aching for your own release at this point. the man beneath you was mumbling incoherently about how good your pussy feels and how badly he wants to come again. chan sauntered over and perched next to hyunjin again, reaching out to pet his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck i'm gonna cum!” you cried as you worked yourself over hyunjin’s dick and used one hand to furiously rub your clit.

“daddy shes squeezing me so hard i don't think i ca- can get out. can i cum inside?” hyunjin pleaded with chan. “of course you can baby, right sweetheart? you want jinnie’s cum inside you don't you?” you just nodded in response. “my girl loves to be creampied you never have to ask. just go ahead baby boy.” chan explained. you drove yourself down onto hyunjin twice more and then you were cumming, mouth dropping open as your inner walls milked him for all he was worth. hyunjin spasmed beneath you as he came and came and came inside you. he wasn't speaking anymore, just making these stunted little sounds as his body shook with the aftershocks of his second orgasm.

chan had begun to untie the ropes as you slowly lifted yourself off of hyunjin. you whispered praise to him as he has hummed, completely fucked out and boneless beneath you.

“shhh it's okay sweetheart. you did so good for us baby. we’re gonna put you to bed now okay?” chan murmured to the man shaking in the bed. hyunjin managed to croak out an “uh-huh” in response. you grabbed a bottle of lotion from nearby and began to work it into the reddened skin all over him where the ropes had been, while chan wiped down hyunjin's groin with a warm cloth. you hummed a tune you knew hyunjin loved and his eyes fluttered shut, a tiny smile making its way to his face.

after everything was put away and the room was right again, chan crawled into the bed to spoon hyunjin’s half asleep form while you crawled in the other side to press yourself to hyunjin's still somewhat heaving chest. you pulled the blanket up high and tucked yourself into his warm skin and he wound an arm around your waist. chan's hand rested on hyunjin's hip, squeezing the flesh there every so often.

being here felt so right, so natural, so easy. loving these two was as easy as breathing. you couldn't believe it had taken this long to get here but now that you had, you weren't letting them go. before your eyes fell closed you heard the sound of chan's lips kissing along hyunjin's shoulder before he whispered “rest now my loves. because i have big plans for you tomorrow.”

THE END

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batterygarden · 4 months

Text

blessed (satoru x fem & afab! reader)

contents: breeding cursed technique fic, dead dove do not eat! (reader's technique is basically for conceiving strong babies), arranged marriage, stockholm syndrome, he's your second cousin so incest, explicit nasty smut & breeding, mild daddy and mommy kink, pregnancy, misogynistic society, crybaby reader, satoru is sweet ultimately, ominous but happy ending, weird montage of sex scenes + the past + the present, 3.8 k words

18+ pls MDNI!

Divine fertility.

It’s gross—somewhere inside your brain (in a locked filing cabinet, underneath a false drawer and written in invisible ink), you’re conscious of the fact that it’s gross.

Your technique, its consequences, your life; everything you’ve been born unto is filth cloaked in blessings, but, on principle, you don’t allow yourself to look at things objectively. Disgust would only make things miserable and you’re designed to be happy.

Blessed with a cursed technique to conceive, you’ve always had a role and it’s never been disputable—one of producing heirs. Your life was planned from the moment you were born, a whole future tied in a neat little bow—you’re lucky. That’s what everyone’s always promised.

You’ve been told how happy you are so much that the words have seeped into your skull—you’ve long since found peace with Divine Fertility and what it means.

More than that.

You want to be bred so badly it aches.

You can’t go huge lengths of time untouched. You grow volatile when you’re empty too long, a weakness that chains you to your betrothed’s bed. But you’re most useful that way anyways. Hormonal and needy, but certain to pass your partner’s techniques—actually you’re more than useful as a clan member, you’re honored. Enough to marry the strongest man alive—your second cousin in your own clan.

Whether you’ve always known it or not, you’ve always lived for Gojo Satoru.

“Do not come in Ijichi—fuck! Not…not right now.”

Gojo stands a foot away from his bed when he says this, clothes half on while you kneel at his feet, sucking him absolutely dry. That’s as far as he was able to get this morning before you were trying to lure him back to you, looking up at him with giant, glassy eyes while you tugged the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t about to turn you down.

“Ngh your mouth feels so perfect. Wanna fuck it…”

You pull back with a gasp, catching air wherever you can get it with your fiancé’s suffocating girth, nodding while you pump him in your hands. Your lips are spread for him then so he can thrust through them himself, staring down at your teary eyes while he sets a rhythm down your throat.

You’re quickly gagging, he’s thick but also long and he’ll choke you if you’re not careful. But the relief he brings is worth it. Your craving for him didn't let up this morning even after a creampie and some cockwarming—this is just what you needed.

He throws his head back when he’s getting close, fingers gripping at your hair but careful not to tug, and he does this cute little whine that has your pussy throbbing. So you touch yourself, too—some fingers to your clit in little circles have you toppling over the edge just in time to match your fiancé, swallowing his milky cum while his last batch leaks down your thighs, mixed with your own release.

He’s panting when you pull away, eyes open but unfocused while the fog in his brain clears, his hand stroking your head absentmindedly. When he finally comes back to earth, he finds you’ve pulled his boxers up for him but remain clinging to his leg, squishing a cheek against his hip while fingers trace his inner thigh.

He breathes out a little hooo.

“Did so good for me, pretty. Okay. Now I really gotta go.”

He tries to take a step but you don’t budge, so he bends to see you better, making an expression of dumbfounded horror when he sees you’re crying.

“Hey, hey—I’ll be back! What’s with the tears!”

You sniffle while his big hands wipe at your face, frantic as he tries to make you better. Ijichi’s pacing footsteps are heard outside the door.

“I don’t know, it just feels so—sniff—bad when you leave sometimes! I still want more of you!”

Gojo frowns at that, rubbing your head some more. There’s a knock at the door which he ignores.

“Baby… I want more of you too, but you know I gotta go. No days off when you’re the strongest. Can you be my tough girl, just a few hours?”

You nod, your breaths calming. What is getting into you? Apparently your separation anxiety can’t even let your fiancé go to work without a break down. It takes you a minute to connect the dots and realize you’re likely ovulating—your hormones can make you a little crazy sometimes.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“My pretty baby wants to be a mommy so bad, huh?”

“I do! I really do, Satoru!” Your voice is a sob. Satoru has been going at it since the moment he came home today—told the maids to leave him alone, locked his door and folded you into the mattress.

“Gonna make me a daddy?” You clench automatically—just like Satoru knew you would.

“Ye—ah! Wanna have your babies, need to give you babies so bad, daddy!”

Your neck is craned as far back into the pillows as it can go, your entire body curling in ecstasy from your cousin’s heavy thrusting. Your words have his movements turning frantic, your legs folded up by his shoulders so your silver anklet with his name on it can jingle by his ear. Satoru lifts you then, utilizing his ridiculous strength and huge hands to pull your hips higher where his cock can split you easier. He starts hitting so deep you see stars.

Your head tends to scramble and slow when he fucks you like this, eyes barely open, blindly clinging to the man you were born to cling to while he makes a home for himself near your womb. It’s hard to focus on him like you want to, but if you did you’d see eyes drunk on lust and power…

Satoru Gojo can be a greedy man. Spoiled, too—He usually already owns what he covets and never waits long for things he doesn’t. But even the world at his fingertips, you at his fingertips, doesn’t fully sait that want like most would expect. For example, as much as Satoru owns you, he doesn’t feel he really has you until your body’s fucked out of commission in his grip, eyes blank and stupid while your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for everything he has.

This is when he’s got you, he thinks. This is when you’re his, like putty in his fingers, warmed up and malleable. This is when everything’s how it’s really supposed to be.

The two of you don’t come out of satoru’s room the entire rest of the night, except when Satoru darts his hands out of his doorway to grab trays of food the servants dropped by. It’s exhausting the way you’re used, body split and bent and bruised so that satoru’s seed can take root, but it’s also addicting. You beg for more of him, latch any remaining strength onto his limbs while you cry out his name. Satoru’s cock is addictive in a natural way—stronger than any drugs. Your betrothed’s cock is addicting like food and water and air… sometimes it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Today marks the day you’re officially seven months pregnant.

Despite the fact that your technique has you strong and glowing (this is what you were made for, everyone continues to insist), you spend much of your time in mild discomfort. You get the feeling satoru’s passed his ridiculously long legs to his baby, who’s adamant in kicking you constantly, plus your lower back is often sore.

Still, you go about your daily life as normal—lounging, eating, making infinite baby preparations and, of course, waiting for satoru to come home so he can fuck you.

Lately your husband is the ultimate harbinger of gifts and treats—your pregnancy has been the opposite of helpful towards satoru’s impulse spending habits, not that it’s too great a concern with the family’s bottomless wealth. He rarely comes home empty handed. Today, he’s brought a teensy yellow beanie he apparently stumbled upon at a shop and some artisan ikigai strawberries—a favorite of yours amidst pregnancy cravings—satoru’s encouraging his child’s expensive taste that’s for sure.

You’re currently spooning in bed to enjoy them, watching a cheesy hallmark movie while satoru feeds you bites—he’s focusing much more on you than the movie.

Honestly, he doesn’t seem to focus on much else when he’s home at all… he finds pregnant you to be more than captivating. It’s like he could watch you day and night, doing the most mundane tasks to nothing at all—in his own words he’s fascinated by how precious you manage to be. Eyes following you like you’re the most engrossing little thing, cooing to himself when you’re particularly cute. It reminds you of how you used to treat your pet cat growing up.

You’ve gotten used to the excessive attention and coddling—it’s not like you’d ever mind a little clinging, nor was satoru’s babying completely foreign in the first place. So you let him feed you without comment, enjoy his hands wandering over your belly and curves without fanfare.

This process quickly gets messy though; red juice keeps dripping from the corner of your mouth towards your pillow only to be saved in the nick of time by satoru’s quick fingers, reaching around to wipe at your cheek again and again, having you lick his fingers clean for him each time he does. Things get even messier once he gets the bright idea to split each berry, biting before offering you the other half.

“I like sharing with you, this way neither of us miss the best ones.” He says with his mouth partially full, reaching down to pop part of a berry into your mouth. You hum, mostly engrossed in your film, managing not to drool this time.

But the next bite of berry he performs directly over your neck, dripping juice directly onto your skin when he does.

“Hey!” You start to turn but he holds you in place on your side, darting down to lick up the spill with his tongue.

You whine when he does, sensitive skin set ablaze by your lover’s mouth.

The movie is forgotten when things easily pick up from there—things easily pick up between the two of you, period. It’s not even your first time having sex today, you took his cock first thing in the morning after a particularly needy grinding display.

But this time it’s extra slow, extra attentive—like Gojo’s savoring you to the fullest extent. The berries are an added component, dripping sweet juice on your skin once gojo fully undresses you, only for him to lick and suck and kiss you clean. Your pussy has his attention then for what feels like eternity, your husband’s soft lips kissing and kissing and kissing like he needs to clean your juices there too. You cum so easily—you always have, but pregnant and sensitive like this your rate is almost ridiculous. Satoru, adoring as he’s been lately, doesn’t even tease, just savors. Dotes and flexes his cuteness aggression through his careful arms. He’s cautious with that—his urge to squeeze you—thinks he ought to get a medal for the self control he has to be soft. He caresses and pets like you’re a newborn yourself, fucking you just as thoughtfully.

You’d only been alive ten short months the day the earth shifted upon Satoru’s birth. Of course you don’t remember it, but you know intimately well the way your own path was no exception to his influence. You were already confirmed to have a fertility technique, almost as rare as the six eyes themselves, when the strongest sorcerer of your time was born—the match up was obvious. You were groomed for it until his parents said yes, and then only more intensely once they did.

And as much as you love Satoru, as much as you’d live for him and die for him and anything in between—it was sometimes hard. You had to grow to love him, to accept his power over you.

Because among the list of cons to a lifetime betrothal—a lifetime of devotion in your case—was that Satoru always knew you were his. You had an owner at the ripe age of seven, aged six and a half.

And, unbelievable as it may be in hindsight, at times he was a tyrant.

Tugging and clinging and pushing—at first he had as much respect for you as a child might for a cheap toy (the kind their well-off parents taught them were replaceable).

And there wasn’t much you could do about it besides grieve and sulk—your parents didn’t let you talk back how you wanted, and Satoru wasn’t above tattling.

You didn’t dare wish for a different husband—what with how lucky everyone insisted you were, but at times you’d wonder. What would it be like to be assigned someone polite and thoughtful, like satoru’s friend he brought around the estate from time to time…

Suguru never really got to know you enough to form an opinion on your character. It was rare he visited the extravagant Gojo estate in the first place, and when he did, Satoru often gave the impression that he wanted to keep you private. It was clear you were a permanent fixture on those grounds—just another layer to Satoru’s mystifying lifestyle. You were a complete contrast to Suguru’s friend, all reserved and polite; the only thing you really inspired Geto to feel was pity.

Gojo was a little shit as a kid—still is in many ways—and sometimes even Geto himself couldn’t stand him. But Suguru’s always had a backbone. There was a reason he was capable of maintaining best friend status with the strongest sorcerer alive while others couldn’t (or wouldn’t) get close—and it’s that Geto knew how to tell Satoru off. He could see through Gojo’s dramatics and put him in his place—something you clearly had not mastered.

Geto saw your lenience first hand the first day Satoru tried to have the three of you hangout, watching in fascination as you protested, gave in, and then were immediately reprimanded for sneaking into a forbidden wing of the Gojo estate. Satoru got a mild scolding, a barely-there stern edge to the maid’s voice who caught the three of you—telling him that he knew better and that he had to think about his future wife’s safety as well as his own. You got a cold glare when the maid set sights on you, a tug of your wrist to your room where it was clear you’d go on to get a firm lesson on obedience.

Once you were gone, Suguru spoke to Satoru in a hushed tone. “I feel kinda bad your girlfriend’s getting locked up now. Aren’t you gonna do something?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, asshole!”

“You’re getting married someday. Same thing.”

“It’s totally different. But whatever, yeah, I feel a little bad too. Probably I’ll break her out of her room later,” Geto watched Gojo absentmindedly pick a fuzz off his shirt—not a care in the world before he perked up to add, “Right now let’s play tekken.”

And they did, but soon Geto brought you up again. This was the first time he’d met you, and really begun conceptualizing the situation Gojo was in—he couldn’t imagine being tied to someone like that at his ripe and girlfriend-less age of thirteen. The idea fascinated him.

“What’s it like, living with ___?”

“It’s fine,” Satoru sighed, going back and forth between different characters to try. “She’s annoying—got some needy physical touch technique so she’s always clinging to me in my sleep, it’s honestly creepy. But it’s fine.”

This took Geto moment to process…

“You sleep in the same bed?!” He put his controller down at that point, fully engrossed.

“Yeah, ‘cause of her technique she’s like, unable to sleep alone basically. It’s weird. But other than that she’s fine I guess—a little slow. Her parents won’t even put her in school.”

Suguru could think of so many questions he didn’t even know where to start.

But what stood out most was how Satoru remained calm about the whole thing, at peace even.

“Have you tried fighting it? Didn’t you say your mom does whatever you want? Tell her no.”

Satoru waved a lazy hand at Suguru before he even finished talking.

“That wouldn’t work, ___ would just get betrothed to someone else, then. Her parents really want that for her. ‘Sides, she’s mine, Y’know? Even if she’s a weirdo it’s not like I’d give her away.”

It’s been years now since Suguru Geto has seen you last—he hasn’t been back to the Gojo estate since before his enrollment in jujutsu tech. He’s changed a lot since his starry-eyed youth, and he vaguely wonders what it will be like to see you again, if you’ve changed as well; over the years he’s found that his friend prefers to bring you up as little as possible, so he hasn’t had many updates. Though his primary focus is on the man he’s escorting, a dizzy and bleeding Gojo Satoru who managed to get hit by a scorpion curse while they were messing around on their mission. Gojo insisted on heading home after, despite shoko’s offer to provide more thorough reversed technique than his own, frowning but easily relenting when Suguru insisted on at least helping him get there.

It’s late, not even staff around to notice as Suguru tugs Gojo along, supporting half the man’s weight through the threshold and fumbling to find light switches as he enters new rooms. But then you emerge, and Suguru can’t pick his jaw up off the ground when you do, this heavily pregnant girl in a frilly nightgown and bare feet, storming in with tears absolutely pouring down her face. After one heartfelt “Satoru!” you can’t manage to get out a single sentence you’re crying so hard, and Suguru watches the most mystifying thing: Satoru comforts you. His unserious asshole of a best friend (he thinks with fondness in his heart), a man who’s long since lost the will to show vulnerability in even the most gut-wrenching moments—Suguru watches as he meets you with this sympathetic, earnest frown on his face, crouching to let you hold him and mumbling little sorry’s.

Suguru isn’t sure what they’re for, but he does know that Satoru has never seriously apologized to him for anything in his life. He’s expressed regret, learned from some mistakes, sure. But the word sorry, as far as Suguru knew, wasn’t in Gojo’s vocabulary.

He says it a lot now, with this cooing voice that Suguru also finds foreign. He learns through some mumbled words you manage that your tears are from worry, that gojo promised he’d be home earlier and that he wasn’t answering his phone. Then your wails turn fresh when you notice gojo is bleeding.

“Baby this is literally nothing—“ Geto, who saw Gojo’s initial wound and can actually see the man swaying on his feet, almost chuckles. He saves it with a cough.

“—I basically already healed myself. You know nothing could ever happen to me.”

This makes you mad, Suguru can practically feel how your anger tinges the air.

“Satoru Gojo I do not know that and—hic—you’d do better to answer your phone next time!”

“Ahh yes ma’am, yes ma’am.”

That secret filing cabinet in your mind rattles from time to time when you reach your ninth month pregnant. You’ve somehow managed to stave off any ill second thoughts towards your fate till now, letting it hit you last minute like something you’ve been putting off. It’s not that you’re unready for motherhood—you’ve reached acceptance of what’s to come—but you’ve developed a slight fear of your own personal eternity being reached. Slight because you’re excellent at burying and vaulting—slight because you love satoru and your baby so deeply.

But around your nine month marker, sore and barely even able to fuck properly, your husband makes an off-handed remark. You’d just taken him on all fours, cumming so easily despite satoru’s unusually tame treatment, and were laying in the aftershocks with sticky thighs while satoru fetched you a warm washcloth. The bath water was also running loudly, so he had to speak up while he said, “I’m gonna look to see how soon an in-ground pool could be installed, bet it’d be good for your poor hips next time you’re pregnant.” He speaks while he opens up your legs, casually wiping your shared mess clean with a soft damp towel, like he has a million times.

Maybe you’re tired, maybe it’s his casual tone paired with such a ludicrous sentence, but the idea of buying a pool because of what should be temporary pregnancy ailments and the implication that you’ll have them again and again… it sends you in a spiral.

It’s not unusual for you to burst into tears with your wacky hormones—satoru’s seen your puffy crying face, especially while pregnant, more times than he could count. So he isn’t particularly alarmed when he sees the silent drops rolling down your cheeks when he returns from the laundry shoot a moment later. But he is concerned, crawling up the bed till he’s hovering to kiss your shoulder, scooting behind you to spoon your lightly shaking frame.

He doesn’t talk for a moment, trying to decide the best course of action. He’s familiar with the tears, sure, but he knows he’s not an expert on them, sometimes he tries to talk to them when he shouldn’t and vice versa.

Eventually he settles on a little “I got you,” for comfort, his warm hands rubbing over your arms then your belly in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm.

You think about telling him your issues, your deepest secrets, but you deliberate too long. Soon he’s kissing you again, pressing lips in a slow trail up your shoulder and neck before switching directions.

“I love you,” he adds.

You won’t tell him. You love him, too. The uck and grime of it all gets buried once again, shoved in the section of your head that stays locked up with high security. You turn around and, instead of answering, capture his lips in a salty kiss, the kind that starts out soft and clumsy—sweet. It doesn’t take long for your lips to get needy though, for the sweetness to be replaced with aching. The kind that always spreads between your thighs.

Thanks for reading eeeek! feedback and rbs appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #tw.pregnancy #gojo satoru smut #tw.breeding #tw.incest #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo fic #🐞 writes

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papaya-twinks · 4 months

Note

One thought: dom!lando x fem!reader and spanking. No daddy kink pls. Love ur writing sm pls keep writing

Warnings: Smut, 18+, spanking, name calling, degradation, praise

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N: I love putting degradation and praise next to each other in the warnings coz ppl ask so many questions

You certainly didn’t expect the menial amount of flirting you did with the random guy at the bar to have you in the situation you were currently on. That, being, you on your back, wearing a black set of lingerie, your hands pinned under your stomach. Lando was sitting on your thighs, wearing nothing, his chains dangling on his chest, your hair scrunched in one of his hands, his other hand massaging the flesh of your ass.

“Lando,” you moaned, his name rolling off your tongue as he kneaded your ass with one hand, hand tugging on your hair. “What baby?” he cooed in your ear, his hand coming down on your ass as you shrieked - he was definitely going to be leaving marks. “Gonna be a little brat, hm?” he asked, eyebrow raised as he yanked your hair. “N-No, Lando, I won’t,” you gasped as he went back to massaging.

“Yeah? You said that last time,” he huffed, slapping down again, before gripping your thighs, pulling you towards him so your ass was against his thigh. “Now look where you are,” he pushed his finger into your thighs whole, your mouth falling in an ‘o’ as he pumped in and out, his other hand tightly gripping your ass. “Feel good, yeah?” he asked, aligning his cock with your entrance. “Please,” you were begging now, as he pushed in, your jaw dropping further.

“Lando!” you gasped as his hand came down again, his hips slamming into you. After a few thrusts, he pulled out, flipping you over and lifting you easily into his arms, your legs thrown over his shoulders with little to no care, his hands gripped firmly on your ass, holding you still as he slammed into you. “Good girl,” he mumbled, “taking me so well,”. He readjusted his hand positioning, slapping his hands again as you moaned his name again and again, a mess on him as he built up your high…before he pulled out.

“Lando!” you gasped, eyes wide as your orgasm faded away. “You think you’re gonna cum?” he smirked, hands slapping on your ass once more, red marks along your thighs as you bounced at the contact. You whimpered as he added, “bad girls don’t cum,”.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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brainrotfm · 1 year

Text

the sideshow spectacular: week one

☞ pairing: nurse!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

☞ word count: ~4.6k

☞ short description: yandere fertility nurse sukuna who thinks he's pulling a fast one on you except you're yan4yan and have masterminded this exact situation from the start

☞ content warnings: dark content, modern au, no curse au, yan4yan, yandere behavior, medical play kink, breeding kink, light bondage, inappropriate power dynamic, baby trapping, afab!reader, feminine descriptors + pronouns, blink and you miss it daddy kink, probably a lot more honestly i'm sorry for being a pervert

☞ notes: credit shhhhh don't look at what time this was posted i *definitely* made the cut off for week 1 also this came to me in a vision and then i feverishly wrote between today and yesterday also this is my first posted smut ever pls be nice also also also not beta'd not edited we die like men have fun xoxoxo

You have turned him into a monster.

You, with your kind smile, the way you offer it so carelessly to every person you meet. You, with your adorable gestures, fidgeting and fiddling with pens, magazines, the edges of your skirts as you sit in the waiting room. You, with those trusting eyes, lashes fluttering at every passing sensitivity. He could read your emotions clear as day, and spent too much of his time doing so, pretending to work behind an antiquated desktop as he side eyed you.

The other nurses had caught on, of course - ever watchful hens, they were quick to pinpoint his interest in you, tutting at him in the break room only for a moment about it being inappropriate to desire patients. Their admonishments turned teasing without him interfering, settling into their usual lust for office gossip without another acknowledgement. In truth, his coworkers were delighted, in fact, by the pink haired man "softening" over you.

This would have drawn his ire, even his retaliation in most instances. Until Sukuna realized he was purposely being slid your chart whenever your monthly appointment rolled around, an unexpected convenience in Sukuna's intricate plan to claim you as his own.

He had only heard of your husband in passing, the man only present at your introductory interview with the fertility team and the first few appointments before his obligation to you waned. Sukuna despised him for it on principle, but in practice, no other presence in the exam room meant having his bubble of heaven. A single half hour appointment, once a month, where he reviewed your chart, asked invasive questions about your health, took blood, gave the occasional ultrasound, offered advice on the repetitious nature of fertility treatments, and flirted his ass off as he watched you giggle and squirm under his attention. The prospect of cucking this faceless man only added to Sukuna's dark desires.

Today was finally the day. It was even circled on his desk calendar, red ink.

"You look handsome," you offered him the compliment easily, your voice obscuring the click of the door locking behind you both, back to him as you set your jacket on the extra chair. Sukuna preened for a second, smiling to himself.

Sukuna was wearing a tight, long sleeve black shirt beneath his favorite maroon red scrubs, the smallest hint of a chain beneath his collar, and comfortable black sneakers - none of his piercings, sadly, and since his interview, he had worn make up to cover his face and neck tattoos at work as well.

He knew you meant it too, as he diligently wore the exact same outfit to every one of your appointments since the first time you had complimented him all those months ago.

"Already buttering me up, you better not be trying to get out of your blood work," Sukuna teased as he opened one of the nearby cabinet drawers, retrieving his special black gloves that only he was allowed to use, quietly noting that none were missing with a smirk.

"You always remind me of a tattoo artist with those," you deflected, tossing him one of your oh-so pretty smiles.

"Y'know, I buy these with my own money, and I'm gonna let you in on a lil' secret... That's why, that's what I want you to think," Sukuna bantered back, so at ease around you that he rolled his sleeves up thoughtlessly before making a show out of snapping the nitrile against his wrists. He had never done that before.

You had caught wisps in the past, only question marks until today. Thick black bands of tattooed ink sat around his wrists, hidden now beneath his gloves that blended so well against them, it made sense why he liked them so much.

Your mouth went dry at the sight, licking your lips as you choked out to him, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

The tone of your voice had him raising a brow, lopsided smirk already in place, "Is that a deal breaker, baby?" If only you knew.

"Those can't be the only ones," you replied, and if Sukuna wasn't mistaken, there was a lilt of hope sitting between your words, causing his smirk to soften to a smile, his heart wrenching for a moment at you. You. He was going to ruin you.

That when he noticed that you were still standing awkwardly, your things deposited in the nearby chairs as you rocked on the balls of your feet, something about you seemingly overwhelming tense despite being in such good company. You were being different today too; Sukuna hoped you didn't sense something was amiss.

"Everything okay with you today, doll?"

"I, um... I was wondering if we could wait, actually, to do the ultra sound today," you started shyly, and he could tell you were fighting the urge to wring your hands as your fingertips jittered against your wrists. Despite your words, he continued to dig materials out of the cabinets, glancing at you over his shoulder as he spoke.

"You want to do blood first? Feeling bold today, sweet girl?" Sukuna hoped so, he had big plans for you. He turned from the cabinet to approach you to do the prep work. He didn't want to waste anymore time, but maybe having you light-headed from lack of blood wasn't such a bad idea - he stopped when he saw the look on your face.

"Is there any way I can have a physical exam today, actually? Y'know, like my annual one, but instead... now," your question was rushed as you looked toward him but not at him, and Sukuna knew this because he was staring you down, a predator honing in on his prey. He felt like he could hear your pulse from where he stood, and it made his mouth water.

"You mean your pelvic exam?" he repeated, almost dumbfounded at his luck - were you stupid or naive? Nurses didn't give pelvic exams, that was the doctor's job. Your chart only had an appointment for your usual round of bullshit, blood and ultrasound, Sukuna trying to upsell you hormones your insurance wouldn't cover, blah blah blah.

God, you were so pretty and dumb, was this on purpose? Were you trying to manipulate him? You'd been here enough times to know better, right ? When was the universe ever so giving? Sukuna figured there was really no way you'd fall for what he was about to try, sure this was your attempt at catching him red handed in his obsession over you, but he didn't care. He'd take the bait, even if it was a shot in the dark for you.

His head had cocked with his thoughts, a lopsided grin unfurling across his cheeks as he regarded you with darkening eyes, coughing to clear the husk of his arousal from his voice. "You know, the doctor has been in and out all morning. Something with her kids. I'd hate for you to get stuck waiting around for her. I could always administer the exam, if you'd like."

He very much could not, but he kept his wicked smirk in place, silently praying you wouldn't call his bluff. To Sukuna's delight, your gaze twitched between him and the exam table, knees rubbing together briefly before your hesitation subsided and you made a half step in its direction, wavering as you looked down at yourself. He understood in an instant, clicking his tongue in recognition as he went back to the drawers to dig out an exam gown for you, both your hands lingering on the package when he passed it forward.

"I'll step ou-"

"No, you can just... stay," you sounded much more confident now, cutting him off with a defiant look in your eye, the smallest curl of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, "You're going to see everything anyway, right? J-just turn around, maybe?"

You were so cute, he wished he could kiss you right then. Using every ounce of his control to suppress his smirk, Sukuna turned on his heel and faced the opposing wall dutifully, the urge to peek over his shoulder at you easy to resist when he knew exactly where all this was leading. As if the wheels hadn't been in motion since before you had even arrived today.

It was sort of erotic, though, to hear the jostle of your clothes hitting the floor, knowing you were naked and so close to him, and being unable to touch or see. Not yet. A little more patience and he knew he would reap the best of rewards. You cleared your throat when you were ready and Sukuna turned, unable to hid his smirk now that he saw you in the silly canary yellow exam gown they gave people here. You were still adorable, though.

Stepping to the side, Sukuna pulled out the lowest shelf of the table to act as a foot stool and help you up, before moving to each side to unfurl the arms of the stirrups he'd be putting your feet into. He couldn't think about it too much or his cock might hear, already on thin ice until you were properly restrained. The room had grown painfully quiet, Sukuna unable to continue joking with you when he was barely keeping his hands off you.

It was taking every ounce of his self control to not start panting and drooling like a dog at the way you quietly obeyed him, without question. So trusting... So easy, it took nothing to lead you down his path of corruption. His skin was starting to get hot, but Sukuna ignored the prickling beneath his shirt, knowing he needed to retain focus now more than ever. Oh, you were speaking. Fuck.

"I read online that during ovulation, there can be blockages that, like, can contribute to the problems I'm... having, you know," you were rambling, words rushed, and Sukuna realized you were embarrassed by the information you were offering. Cute, so fucking cute. You probably should be, it sounded like snake oil garbage, but Sukuna thanked whatever AI algorithm spat that nonsense into your brain as he nodded along.

"Hmmmm, well, that's only sort of true," he hummed through the lie easily, trying not to let his fingertips linger too long against the soft skin of your calf, your ankle as Sukuna strapped your left foot into place. He was even quicker with the right one, worried you may change your mind if he idled too long.

He used his foot to kick the rolling stool closer and sat down in a smooth motion. He couldn't give you a moment to think, because if he did, you may realize your mistake. Sukuna's hands were already beneath your gown as he rubbed both palms eagerly at your inner thighs, cooing from beneath you when you jolted at the sensation, "Hey, it's okay, it's just me. You trust me, yeah? I'm not going to hurt you."

Only some of it was a lie, but you eased regardless, somehow relaxing when you shouldn't be. Sukuna would've clicked his tongue, admonished you, if he wasn't the villain in this story.

"I'm going to look at you now," it was a command more than a question, not waiting for your consent before his hands are moving to your outer thighs, pushing the gown up easily, the fabric already wanting to give from the angle of your legs in the stirrups. It just needed some encouragement.

Glancing up at you, Sukuna noted your fluttering eyelashes and shallow breaths, and realized you probably needed some encouragement too.

"So beautiful," he couldn't stop his silky whisper, barely even trying to keep up the ruse that had put you here, careless as he finally gazed at your perfect pussy, splayed out wide for him. He wanted to touch. He needed to taste.

"Y-yeah?" the quiver in your tone perfect, and Sukuna fought the urge to moan at the entire situation, wondering how someone as bad as him could have such a perfect moment unfolding like this.

"My prognosis is that you have pretty pussy syndrome," Sukuna couldn't even stop himself now, having gone mad as soon as he could smell your arousal, spit pooling on his tongue as his fingers twitched on your thighs. He wanted to touch you everywhere. He wanted to have everything. He leaned closer, his breath beginning to fan over your folds, using two fingers to spread you even further, really expose every inch of you to him. He had dreamed of it for so long, Sukuna couldn't help but linger here, just a moment.

"I d-don't think you're supposed to talk to me like t-that," you wriggled beneath him despite your words, probably beginning to realize this may have been a bad idea, but it was too late for you. You'd have to scream, and to be frank, Sukuna would shut you up before anyone could intervene. He was too close to what he wanted to be stopped now - not that you would. The wetness leaking out of your pulsing little entrance reassured him.

"Yeah? That was unprofessional of me, wasn't it?" Sukuna feigned agreement before he was licked a flat stripe from your perineum to your clit, making sure to linger and kiss at the hooded bud once, twice before giving an experimental suck, earning him a pitched keen that had him grinning.

"But then why are you so wet for me, doll?" the pet name dripped venomously off his tongue as two deft fingers pinched and rolled at your clit, crimson gaze peering up your body at your reaction. The look on your face was almost enough to make him cum right there; your tongue was poking out between your lips as you panted, eyes hazy and hooded, unable to tear your gaze from where Sukuna sat between your legs and continued his ministrations. You already looked fucked out, and he was just getting started.

He laved his tongue gently against your rapidly engorging clit, another whimper falling from your lips when a fingertip started to tease at your fluttering entrance. Already so sopping wet with the prettiest slick he'd ever tasted, he was so entranced by you that he was hardly listening.

"T-this isn't... This is different than what-" You sounded so cute like this, all high pitched and whining. Needy for something you couldn't ask for, not yet, not that you'd have to - Sukuna knew he'd give it to you, give it all to you, give you everything he had.

"We're doing a different kind of exam, doll. I'm not your gynecologist," Sukuna chided back with a sharp laugh, his words full of a condescending mirth as he sunk two fingers deep into your cunt, fighting his own moan at how easily your pulsing hole gave way to him. A moment longer of watching your cunt gobble up his fingers to the knuckle and Sukuna was going to finger bang you to death, truly.

The nitrile gloves were definitely the culprit, the addition of all your slick eradicating any friction. To be fair, your pussy was tight enough that when your walls fluttered around the sudden intrusion, Sukuna had a momentary worry that making you cum might break his hand. It'd be worth it though, so the thought passed him by.

He curled his fingers deeper, prodding and scissoring against the gummy slick of your walls, searching for the spot that would make you sing. He knew as soon as he did, a sharp inhale followed by a whimper leaving your mouth, and the man fought against his urge to grin at all the pretty sounds you were making just for him. Because of him.

He shushed you, easing the pressure against your G-spot, just swirling the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he purred your name before admonishing you softly, "I really do need you to quiet down, we can't disturb the other patients in the waiting room. Can you be good?"

Your bottom lip was firmly beneath your teeth but wobbling precariously, the sight of you adorable but albeit, not very reassuring. Sighing, Sukuna slipped his fingers out of you, which left you whimpering and squirming, much to his pleasure. Standing between your legs, he regarded you with a cold scowl for a moment before reaching down both hands to shove your exam gown higher from your hips , up up up, not stopping until he'd bunched it beneath your arm pits and freed the jiggling fat of your breasts to the chill in the air. You didn't even wear a bra, whore. His characteristic smirk was back in place at the newfound sight of you.

He couldn't help but stare for a moment. He didn't think he could get away with taking a picture, and he needed to commit this to memory.

After a moment, he reached for the hem of your gown again, this time bunching a fistful together before pressing it against your lips, his smirk going crooked with arousal when you took it with a tentative bite, the pretty doe eyes gazing up at him starting to water.

"Shhh, don't worry, I'm prescribing the perfect fertility treatment for you today, it's even covered by your insurance," Sukuna shushed, the comfort and sympathy offered obviously fake as his fingers tips caught on your entrance again, unceremoniously shoving three forward. Maybe Sukuna was the one who needed the gag - he all but groaned when half his hand sunk into your pussy without resistance, your messy hole squelching loudly for him.

Your eyes immediately rolled as he began an unforgiving pace, hammering his knuckles against your thinly stretched entrance, his other hand having shoved into his pants to fist his cock for even the smallest ounce of relief. Despite your muffled whines to the contrary, your hands began to smack helplessly against his shoulders, the only defense you had to the onslaught of pleasure as you were otherwise pinned and tied to the exam table, by your own wishes. You had, quite literally in Sukuna's opinion, asked for this.

Sukuna squeezed the base of his cock when your flimsy pushing against his chest finally registered, because you weren't even really trying to get him away, because you were still moaning like a little bitch. He almost came at the thought.

His thumb found your clit with ease, the poor thing swollen and begging for attention as he swiped against it, and he had been right in his earlier observation; the added sensation had your pussy clenching down around him so hard, one of his fingers folded over another, practically crushing his knuckles from pressing into you any deeper. You were about to cum for him. That wicked smile of his began to curl across Sukuna's features as his other hand left his cock to take over at your clit, flicking back and forth in a quick motion while the hand buried in your cunt gave several practiced tilts forward.

"Pretty little doll," he groaned hoarsely, pressing in hard against the spongy tissue of your G-spot until your back arched from the table, tits wobbling in the air. Sukuna knew what you needed, grunting a commanding, "Now, cum for me now," before surging forward to bite one of your perfect nipples, the sudden change in angle and added sensation your ultimate undoing.

Like a bow pulled taut, you snapped at your peak, a surprised shout barely escaping your throat before your cunt flexed hard, before splitting itself open with a gush of clear liquid around Sukuna's eagerly awaiting palms, the hand inside you stilled to let you ride on while he continued to lazily flick your clit, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could.

You were going to feel heavenly around his cock.

Sukuna felt his eyes roll back as he mercilessly pummeled his hips forward, unable to slow himself down, your cunt filled to the brim with his girth. His hand was grasped so firmly over your mouth, you could only helplessly cry out against his palm, laving your tongue and teeth over the skin for some amount of grounding sensation as the man ruthlessly fucked into you.

The stirrups had kept you spread wide for him, unable to wriggle away from pleasure and pain alike, and a puddle was forming on the floor as your needy cunt drooled around his abusive thickness. So perfectly fucked out, just for him. Your walls fluttering indistinctly from the spasms of your orgasms, your euphoria evident from your slick sodden pussy, your heavily lidded gaze, your labored gasps for air beneath his hand. Grinning, he pinched two fingers together and closed your nose, and your entire cunt clenched, and Sukuna barely stifled his own groan as he ricocheted into you with renewed vigor. He let go when your eyes began to roll, and it seemed that the flood of oxygen back into your brain combined with the frenzied thrust of his hips had you shattering around him once again.

"Oh my god, look at you," Sukuna choked out lowly, "you're just sucking me in, it's like-"

He was gazing down to where your bodies connected, wonder twinkling behind heavily lidded maroon eyes as he watched your cunt take him still, after already cumming twice and probably so sensitive, still. His heart hammered in his chest, the pressure at the base of his cock getting dizzying, making his mouth run as his brow furrowed, unable to take his eyes away from your drooling slit as he chased his high.

The exam room stank with sex, filled with the wet slaps of his hips and low grunts, your cum drunk mewls broken and pitchy and barely muffled by your spit-soaked gown. It was a wonder you both hadn't been caught yet, but at this point, it just seemed to be Sukuna's lucky day.

"You want me to cum in you, don't you?" Sukuna asked breathlessly, not actually caring for the answer, because this had been the point all along. The entire plan hinged on filling you to the brim with his seed.

"You want my fucking cum, you want to be bred by me and not your stupid fucking husband. You want me to fuck a baby into you, you dirty fucking whore, so shameless," as he spoke, his thrusts began to speed up, his control finally dwindling as he hammered recklessly into your perfect sopping cunt. He was unable to stop himself from reaching down to grind his palm against your clit, adoring the way your walls gripped his shaft, milking his thickness for all he was worth.

"It doesn't matter what you want, m'gonna do it anyway," he hissed, crimson eyes wide and wild and boring down at the pussy he planned to fill with his seed, absolutely deranged with his singularly focused obsession, and the sight had you shuddering around him again, your third orgasm unexpected for the both of you.

Sukuna had no chance against your spasming walls this time, his hand finding your throat and dragging you up for a ruthless, harsh first kiss. More of a mashing tongues before Sukuna cried out with a growl, dropping his head to muffle himself with a bite to your shoulder. Instinct shoved his hips forward, burying his cock as close to your womb as physically possible as he came, flooding you with warmth. His cock jumped inside of you, twitching and sensitive against your fluttering walls, both of you hissing and moaning softly as your hips continued to rock slowly, riding out the overstimulation.

Your chests were pressed skin to skin, Sukuna's head was still tucked in the space between your neck and your shoulder as you both came down from your highs, silent except for the shared panting. Sukuna was the first to speak, chuckling as he lulled his tongue against the mark he had left, kissing the already blossoming redness in a surprising act of tenderness.

"I marked you up pretty bad, doll, between that and my baby, I don't think you're getting away with any of this. What're you gonna tell your man?" Sukuna didn't know if it was pride or jealously twinging his words, but whatever it was, it tasted bitter on his tongue, despite all the blessings he'd received today.

A beat passed before you tried to sit up on your elbows, the angle of the exam table not exactly helping, once hazy eyes now trained on his, absolutely twinkling as you murmured, "Probably nothing, I guess... considering I'm not married." You wriggled beneath him, still pinned beneath his chest as you danced your hips back and forth around his softening length, making cum leak out and down your puffy slit in a proud display.

"What?" His cock hadn't even come out of you yet. You were gonna make him hard again if you kept that up.

You giggled, the sound sparkling with delight as you repeated, "I'm not married. That man isn't my husband."

"He's been here... It's part of our screening process."

"He's just some actor guy I hired. I don't even know him." You didn't even have the nerve to sound embarrassed.

"What does that mean? He gives samples-"

"I give samples on my 'husband's' behalf. Why do you think our treatments haven't worked?" your smile had grown wicked, a twin lopsided grin to the one he usually wore, pupils dilated as you admitted your sins, your pussy even giving a little spasm on his now rapidly hardening cock. You were getting off on this, you little she-devil.

"Then what's even the point in coming to a fucking fertility clinic if you're not-"

"All for this. All for you," your confession both the sweetest and most deranged thing he had ever heard of in his life, and that was saying something, considering... him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Sukuna was pretty sure he was in love with you.

You thought you had finally stunned him. You had, for a moment, like a flash bang. But Sukuna recovered quickly enough, reaching an expert hand down to drag the middle shelf out from the front of the exam table. He stepped his right foot forward before hoisting a knee to plant his left foot firmly on the stool, using the advantage of his palms already under your knees to unceremoniously shove you into deep mating press, no longer constrained by stirrups.

His fat cock could bully against your cervix easily now, and considering he never skipped leg day, his stamina in this position was nothing to be trifled with. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, sinking tip to hilt without any resistance, the movement causing you to shout hoarsely at how quickly his balls pressed against your asshole.

"Oh you fucking slut," Sukuna purred in delight, his condescension sticky sweet, "Since you want my baby so bad, we'll make extra sure it sticks this time, but you gotta be quiet and we gotta be quick." You opened wide as he grabbed a handful of his special black gloves from their box and balling them into your gleefully awaiting mouth. Leaning forward so you were caged against his chest, Sukuna rolled his cock deeply into you again, content with your muffled whine of ecstasy, before setting a brutal pace into your already cum sodden cunt.

"And call me Daddy this time."

#the sideshow spectacular #sukuna x reader #kinktober 2023 #jjk kinktober #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #tss: week one #and with that! i put myself to bed!#writesfm

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chaos0pikachu · 11 months

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okay so if I don't talk about the kinnporsche side story I will literally combust b/c they didn't need to give us that they didn't NEED to give us this little youtube up short that spanned the spectrum of chaotic human emotion as a stop gap between one of the best episodes of the series and the hyper escalation to flowers in the attic-ville where the lamps have chains okay but they did and bless them for it cause like

first off you have porsche who's given up his chance at something of a normal life with his sunshine kitten of a baby brother walking around the hospital ass out b/c KINN GOT SHOT FOR HIM like fucking what porsche is like welp he's earned that bussy now and tankhun is like OMG MY BABY BROTHER IS DEAD crying in Arm's arms and porsche is like OMG KINN DIED and tankhun is like no you dumb pretty bitch he's dead to me spiritally for being an in love idiot but porsche is already half way down the hall heart pounding b/c his self sacrificing big dicked mafia daddy just bit it only to then see kinn is alive and breathing if moderately a pin cushion only to

THEN be confronted by Vegas wearing this summers best Second Lead in a K-Drama Couture look flowers at the ready like omg porsche I am but a sweet and loving man, holding out flowers, hoping another man, will love me back did you know these mean longing? friendship? unrequited love?? and porsche is like, wtf who's giving flowers meaning seems like a waste of time and money to me rich ppl are so weird meanwhile kinn's "someone's after porsche's baked booty" senses start tingling waking him up from the morphine b/c drugs will NOT keep him away from his man and is like "vegas you whore" and vegas is like "kinn your alive (derogatory)" and kinn's like "take back your fake ass cheap ass dollar store flowers" and vegas is like "see porsche, see what I go through? the hardships that are my life??" and it's just elevator music in porsche's head just full on disassociation at this point b/c why are all these hot dangerous men hitting on him all the time he's just trying to make a living out here

and then kinn's like I got shot cuddle me pls and porsche is like only b/c I don't want the ghosts to eat my ass and kinn is like me either cause that's my job and they cuddle while the music swells and that video has 6.5 MILLION VIEWS EVERY ONE EARNED

#kinnporsche #kpts #chaos pikachu speaks #it's been a minute since I did a chaotic recap for kpts #like I kid but god what a blessing may flowers rain cause boc didn't have to treat us to that #but they did and it was a glorious morning #pikachu's chaotic recaps

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kdogreads · 9 months

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Random facts about Richie Jerimovich that I just know are 100% true even though I have absolutely no proof:

✨He randomly LOVES Green Day

✨He wants nothing more than to adopt a couple of pitbulls and put those cute chunky chain collars on them

✨He would threaten the staff with his gun if they get your order wrong at a restaurant (and you have to talk him down, but then he puts on that mean face back on later that night 😏)

✨He cries at every movie. It could be an old classic tearjerker or a new Disney movie with a sweet message about how kids grow up so fast or God forbid an animal dies

✨He’s a simple Midwestern man in his soul so he loves fireworks and big guns and starting giant bonfires in his backyard

✨He’d never admit it, but he was just as excited to go to the Taylor Swift concert as Eva was. He’s a true Swiftie at heart

✨When he proposes to you, he does the absolute most. Like I’m talking gets a billboard made or takes you to a Cubbies game and asks Uncle Jimmy to pull some strings so he can get on the Jumbotron or something obnoxious to show the entire world how much he loves you

✨Absolutely loves going to Lake Michigan in the summers but he insists you have to go up into Wisconsin or over to Indiana because it’s less crowded and the beaches are better

NSFW below minors buzz off pls 🤪

🔥He’s the biggest switch you’ve ever met in your lifeeee. This man will go from “please baby let me touch you” to “tell daddy whose fucking cunt this is” fast enough to give you whiplash

🔥Obsessed with just like your skin?? He wants to touch you and kiss you and lick you and smell you all over all the time

🔥He loooves squishing your thighs together and fucking them right below where you really want him to be until you’re squirming and begging him to fuck you right 🤤

🔥President of the thigh riding fan club. He’ll get you off on his thigh literally everyday if you let him

🔥He discovers that your toys are his friends, not his competition. His fav is probably your simple ole reliable vibrator. He’ll put it on full blast and fuck you with it while he sucks on your clit 🤭🥵

Someone sedate me 🤤

Tagging Richie lovers: @foreveraimingtowardsthesky @hbojoel @mcondance

#kdogreads #richie x reader #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich smut #i love richie #richie the bear #richard jerimovich #Richie jerimovich fan club #the bear #the bear fic

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 1 year

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Can u pls pls pls do a smut where daniel is a lot older thn me, and put a strap around my neck saying “daddys slut” and slaps me on the face & spit on me

Also i love ur writing 🥺🥺🥺

Hell Yeah - Daniel Ricciardo

warning - smut, under 18s dni, i'm sorry, (light) slapping, spitting, choking (?)

Ringing the doorbell, you stood outside Daniel's front door while you waited for him. No more than ten minutes ago, you had received a text from the Aussie saying he needed you at his house and now.

As much as your friends said you shouldn't keep doing this with him since he was a whole lot older than you, around eleven years, and he had made it clear that he wasn't looking for a relationship. You were both there for the same thing, so you didn't mind.

He opened the door, wearing a baggy shirt and comfy looking sweatpants, "You called?" you smirked, sauntering into the entrance hall. "Hell yeah I did," he said, looking you up and down as you walked.

"Where do you want me?" you asked, dropping the trench coat to reveal the short denim shorts and the bralette that covered less than is showed off. "You can wait there," he said, padding up the stairs and into his room.

Out of his bedside table drawer, he grabbed something that he was desperate to try out on you since he had seen it and bought it. He held it behind his back as he reapproached you, standing in front of you. "Can I try something on you?" he asked.

He would always ask when it came to new things, even if he knew that you were going to say yes every time. You were open to trying whatever, and if you didn't like it, he would stop. "Yeah," you nodded as he came closer to you.

He revealed the item from behind his back, and it was definitely something you wanted to try out before. He secured the leather strap with a large metal ring in the center around your neck. "What do we do with this now?" you asked, not sure on where this was going.

"Patience, princess, patience," he tutted, rummaging around in his pocket and producing a long, silver chain. Without another word, he clipped it to the silver ring and gave it a light tug, pulling you forward. As you gazed into his eyes, they darkened with a clouded haze of desire.

"Come with me," he said, walking away from you and trying to pull you along with him.

"But I want to do the couch first," you whined, knowing what would happen if you protested against what he said. Yanking you close to him, he lightly slapped you in the face. It had happened before, and it put a goofy smile on your face.

"Who are you?" he asked, wiping the smirk off your face, wrapping the chain around his knuckles, pulling you in so you were only a few centimeters away from him. "I'm..." you trailed off, trapped under his intimidating gaze.

"Are you a slut?" he spat, gripping the chain so the strap around your neck tightened and choked you slightly. "Yes," you nodded.

"Whose slut are you?" he asked condescendingly.

"Yours," you told him, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"And who am I?" he huffed, winding the chain even tighter around his hand.

"D-Daddy," you stuttered, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to hear. The whole 'daddy' thing was a complete accident. It slipped out once, and you found out that Daniel adored it. "So that makes you," he prompted.

"Daddy's slut," you told him, knowing how much he reveled in hearing those words come out of your mouth. "That's fucking right," he said, "Next time, I want that answer first time around, alright?" he instructed.

"Yes," you nodded, "Daddy," you drew out, loving how you could make him melt just by uttering a few words. "Good fucking girl, now come with me," he praised, tugging you along behind him like a dog on a leash.

He dragged you through the house and up the stairs, straight into his bedroom. He may have been into things that were on the wilder side, but he was a sucker for the bedroom.

It wasn't long before your shorts and bralette were on the floor, leaving you with the chain dangling down your chest. It was cold on your skin, but not unwelcome - not by any means. "On the bed, hands and knees," he instructed, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor.

You didn't hesitate a bit, stepping over to the bed and crawling onto it. As instructed, you positioned yourself on your hands and knees. Behind you, you felt a presence as the mattress sunk by your knees.

"So wet and I haven't even touched you yet... Such a slut for me," he groveled, placing one of his hands on your hip and tugging the strap around so he could still pull the chain from behind. "I don't even need to spend the time getting you ready for me, you've done it all by yourself. Such a good girl,"

Even the tiny praises he sung for you got your heart pounding in your chest more than anything else could. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you were caught by surprise when you felt him teasing your entrance.

As you waited, you shuffled your hips backwards, asking for him. "You've got to tell me what you want, princess," he teased, and you could just hear the smirk he had on his face as he spoke to you. "I want you to fuck me," you said, without skipping a beat.

"That's a good girl, knows what she wants," he said, tugging on the chain. Inch by inch, he eased into you and let you get accustomed to the stretch. Even if you both like it rough, he would always make sure you were comfortable before starting anything.

Slowly, he started thrusting in and out of you, causing you to let out a moan of pleasure. "Oh, so that's how you like it?" he mocked, picking up the pace and yanking the chain a bit harder.

"Fuck yes," you groaned, your hand slinking down to massage your clit to give you the extra stimulation that drove you over the edge. As he carried on rocking his hips back and forth into you, you were crumbling underneath him.

The room was filled with a combination of your moans, Daniel's groans of pleasure and the sound of bare skin slapping against each other. With his every movement, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release.

"Shit, don't stop," you pleaded, stars slowly starting to cloud your vision.

"God I love it when you beg for me," he mewled as he tugged on the chain eve harder, cutting off your oxygen supply even more. It just made you even crazier for him.

You felt hot tears pricking at the backs of your eyes as he sent you over the edge. Strings of expletives fell from your lips as tingles erupted through your body. Your legs and arms were buckling underneath you as you collapsed down to the mattress in a crumpled heap.

"You're not done yet, princess. Come on, up," he said, tapping you and you rolled over to look at him. "You've got one more thing to take care of, baby," he cooed, pulling you up by the chain that was still around your neck.

You sunk down to your knees in front of him, immediately taking his sodden dick in your hands and guiding it into your mouth. As your head bobbed back and forth, up and down, you were gagging every time it hit the back of your throat.

The more you went, the drier your throat became. Just as he was about to reach his climax, you pulled back, gasping for air and trying to build up some more saliva in your throat. "Princess, come on now," he sighed, disappointed.

"Too dry," you choked out, looking up at him through glassy eyes.

"Open," he tutted, and you opened your mouth with your head still tilted up to him. A wad of spit plopped into your mouth with a wet thud, some of it landing on your lips. You tongue poked out to collect the droplets, and you were soon ready to get back to business.

You picked back up where you left off, your hands gently twisting around the base and your head bobbing up and down the length of his shaft. One of his hands balled your hair up in a fist behind your head, moving your head with more ferocity.

"Shit, princess. Just like that. Such a good fucking girl," he rambled on through gritted teeth. He threw his head back as low groans rumbled out from his throat. He didn't need to tell you that he was about to finish, you felt him twitching in your hands.

Just like that, hot, salty liquid spewed out into the back of your throat, and it slightly burned as you swallowed it. As you drew your head back, the tip sprung out with a satisfying 'pop'. You ran your tongue over your lips, soaking up the final few remnants.

"You did such a good job," he praised, unclipping the leather from around your neck. He pulled you up off your knees and gently guided you over to the bed, pushing you down. He collected a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up, before snuggling in bed next to you.

He pulled you close so your head was resting comfortably on his chest and you could hear his heart slowly beating. "You did great, baby," he softly mumbled, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. For a moment, you thought you could get used to this, but you mentally scolded yourself.

This was never meant to be more, and you would just have to be content with what you had.

A/N - I hope this was alright! I didn't have a clue how to write some of it and I tried my best. If anyone has any other submissions/requests, I would love to write them. Thank you and have a wonderful day!

|masterlist|

#f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #smut #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 imagine

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avocado-writing · 1 year

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roland nsfw and sfw headcanons pls m’liege? 🧎🏻‍♀️ thy village thot requireth 😩

me, sitting on my large gold throne and nodding: be upstanding, dear village thot (shoutout to my friend M and @belilwen who have both been musing with me about this ravenous little lawyer, this list would be impossible without them)

sfw:

he has you as his phone background and goes feral if he catches anyone looking at it

big spoon. can't sleep if not holding you once you start up a liaison. denies it vehemently the next morning

buys you lunch without thinking, just brings you a bag full of goodies to snack on. you need brain food!

finds himself calling you if he's bored, just to hear your voice. sometimes it's to annoy you over something. sometimes he just wants to hear about your day

nsfw (hoo boy)

doesn't wear jewellery, but got a dick piercing because you said you found it sexy. he likes you to put a chain in the hoop he has there and lead him around by it.

uniroincally calls himself daddy - it can be a "you like the feel of daddy's cock?" but you can turn it back on him and have him absolutely destroyed: "oh daddy likes it when I ride him like this, huh?"

loves oral. loves giving. loves receiving. loves 69ing though he thinks he's a bit old for it.

fucks you in the office any chance he gets, just pulls the blinds of his office down. sometimes even forgets to do that.

keeps lube and a dildo in the glove box of his car. juuuust in case

if either of you have to go on a trip anywhere, is a big fan of video calling/phone sex/mutual masturbation

has a folder full of the nudes you send him. hasn't gotten off to anything else since you started hooking up.

is disgustingly in love with you. this one might not be nsfw for the likes of you and me. but it is for him.

#roland blum x reader #sorry if this is ooc lol #michael sheen x reader #avo answers

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honeystwiggypeach · 2 years

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Scenario where their kids/kid are daddy’s boy/girl and they want to do absolutely everything with him leaving them on the side all the time with toji, nanami, gojo, geto and sukuna

If you haven’t done this ❤️❤️

Ok!! I wasn’t too sure how to interpret this request and it seemed simple at first and idk if I over thought it or what happened but suddenly I began to question if it was asking for male dad!reader but I got someone to look at it with me and we decided that’s probably not what it meant but if it is pls let me know because I also love that idea!! Tysm for requesting pls let me know if you want more!!!

Tw- I did do fem reader because that’s just what I did a similar request with last time! Cursing, use of the word daddy to refer to a parent(pls don’t make it sexual that’s weird in this context)let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

Toji

When you first met Megumi, it was after he had toddled into the living room tiny blanket dragging behind him. It was pretty late Toji had slipped off to the bathroom after pausing the movie, Megumi stares at you, the light of the tv screen reflecting off your face, his eyes are wide, shocked even. No one’s ever been in the house except him and his daddy…maybe that’s why he takes off running down the hall the little littering of his feet drowned out by him screaming his head off.

“Megumi” Toji stands in the hall and Megumi reaches up, “what’re you cryin for” he asks walking into the living room with Megumi on his hip.

All he does is try to climb higher on his dads arms when his dad sits beside you. Once he realizes that, you’re definitely ok to be in the house with and that his dad invited you in, he calms a bit though he’s still pouty because you’re watching his favorite movie with HIS dad!

When Megumi gets a little sleepier again, Toji stands to put him back in his room and you both hear the little ‘mine’ that comes from Megumi as he clutches a fistful of Toji’s shirt with one hand and his blanket with the other.

Nanami

Yuji was definitely alarmed when he met you, first of all Nanami’s told him they were going to a cafe to meet a very special person today so he had to be on his best behavior but his dad knew he could do it because Yuji was always good!

But when they both got to the cafe it was just you? You’re the barista Yuji sees everyday before his daddy drops him off at daycare…but now your his dad’s girlfriend? Whatever that means Yuji thinks.

Yuji hasn’t ever really spoken to you, so you offer to bring him and Nanami to a children’s museum in hopes that will make the two of you interact a bit more. Alas that’s not what happens…it isn’t until Nanami excuses himself to the bathroom and convinces Yuuji that he should stay by you that you interact.

And it’s all because Yuji tiredly reaches up asking for you to hold him, you comply and before Nanami can come back from the restroom he’s fallen asleep on your shoulder.

Gojo

Honestly what did you expect? He coddles them and showers them in so much affection it’s insane😭he just never stops giving them attention.

Honestly you asked your daughters if they could help you bake, mind you they live baking! They told you no because Satoru had said he wasn’t going in the kitchen right then.

Geto

It’s led by Nanako having a general weariness of you at first which led Mimiko to form the assumption that she should be cautious around you…but also because naturally Mimiko was quite reserved until she’d gotten to know the individual quite well, which jusg continued to trigger chain reactions.

And while Geto of course lived to hang out with his daughters it saddened him quite a bit to see them not have an interest in the world about you.

That is until you don’t show up for around a week per Geto’s request because he figured you’d been making the girls uncomfortable and he was going to prioritize them over you, they’re his kids.

When he ticks them both in kissing their little foreheads, Nanako shoots straight up in bed almost startling him.

“When’s Ms. Y/n gonna come back?” She asks her voice is quiet she’s a little unsure which is odd for her, she was normally quite confident.

“I thought you guys didn’t like her” his voice is quiet as well.

“Is she gonna be back?” Comes Mimiko’s tony voice as well chiming in.

“I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow she was just busy this week that’s all” he smiles to himself as he shuts the door, maybe they just needed their own time to process the new changes.

Sakuna

It’s kind of funny to imagine him as a single dad to this little toddler obsessed with fairies and princesses and she immediately thinks you’re a fairy when she sees you😭

All I can imagine is Sakuna who’s only weak spot is this precious baby and she doesn’t have a clue in the world about any of the things that are happening. And Sakuna would rather watch the world burn daughter on his hip before admitting that he’s got a soft spot for her.

Of course it becomes blaringly obvious to you that he definitely values his kid when he seeks you out shows up on your front door and is decent to you…as in he’s not an asshole, originally he did this under the guise of wanting to keep his kid tolerable.

Guys pls request soft Sakuna stuff(maybe we don’t do any jjk lore or anything it’s kinda like modern single dad!sakuna…because omg I want to write a part two😭

Tags~ @nash-bears-blog

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 7

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 7: Dirty Laundry

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.5k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting mention, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, female masturbation, unprotected piv sex, send nudes pls, hold the moan/secret sex, text message chains, movies, fluff, awkwardness, praise kink, daddy kink

Notes: I don't really have any notes! Just excited to share, I hope you like it.

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The first time you wake comes a result of Frankie clomping around the house as he gets ready.

It used to annoy you, how loud he can be in the mornings. But you’ve come to find it kind of comforting. Each cupboard slam and heavy footfall serves as a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re safe.

You stay cocooned in your sheets while he goes about his noisy routine, eyes closed, cradled in that warm, fuzzy space between awake and not. Content.

When he leaves, a high-contrast silence takes his place. The slow rhythm of your automatic breathing lulls you back to sleep.

You’re surprised when your eyes flutter open at 10:34 AM.

Thanks to your opaque curtains, the room is drenched in darkness, despite the daylight trying to sneak in through the cracks. You squint into the brightness of your phone screen and read the text messages that came in while you were sleeping, all about a half an hour apart starting at 7:00.

> RORY: > Good morning beautiful > How are you today? > I get off work at 3 today, wanna do something? > I miss you

“Oh my god dude, chill out,” you scoff under your breath while typing a reply.

< ME: < Sorry, just woke up. < Yes! I’m cleaning today but that’s all I have planned. What’re you thinking?

He reads and responds immediately.

> RORY: > We can check out that trail by the lake? Grab a bite to eat afterwards?

< ME: < Sure

> RORY: > Pick you up at 3:30?

< ME: < See you then 😘

You toss the phone aside and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your eyes burn when you grind your fists into them and welcome a big yawn that stretches your lungs’ limits. A spasm catches your breath, shoving out a fit of coughs that leave you a little winded.

Yeah, go on a hike today, that will be fucking fun.

When you tiptoe through the kitchen, you find the coffee pot still on from when Frankie ran it this morning. Your nose wrinkles at its contents. The stale brew will be muddy and unsatisfying, but you pour it into a mug with some half & half anyway.

You settle into your spot on the old couch in your living room and pull the notebook out from under your arm. Between sips of terrible coffee, you jot down the nighttime thoughts still floating around your head.

Hard time falling asleep. Kept thinking about puppies, thinking I should have adopted that dog last year. Regret. No nightmares I think. Woke up at 10:30, feel tired still. Don’t want to go on a hike with Rory, but I am an idiot who can’t say no to people. I would rather stay home and be alone. I want it to be

You pause here, staring at the passage.

A jolt skitters across your ribcage. Blood rushes to your face. You glance around self-consciously, then cross out the last two and a half sentences. A few moments go by before you decide it doesn’t seem like enough, so you cross it out again and again, scraping dark lines into the notebook paper until the sentiment beneath is unrecognizable.

Then you drop the ballpoint of your pen a few lines below the redaction and start writing out your to-do list for the day.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself.

Frankie’s damp clothes stick to the circumference of your washer’s stainless steel drum. The rank scent that emanates from the machine reminds you of your grandparents’ house in the summer.

With a sigh, you empty your dirty laundry on the floor of the mudroom and pull his clean clothes from the dryer into your basket, replacing them with the damps, then replacing those with your dirties. En route to his bedroom, with your laundry basket propped on one hip, you text him.

< ME: < I stg you leave your clothes in the washer dryer on purpose so I’ll fold them

He must be on his lunch break, because he texts back right away.

> FRANKIE: > I would never 😉

The door opens with a creak when you step through the threshold, dropping your basket on the floor next to his bed. You take a selfie from the middle of the room and send it to him along with your response.

< ME: < K well I’m gonna lick all your stuff after putting away your clothes

> FRANKIE: > Promise?

< ME: < Shut up lol

> FRANKIE: > You look cute btw

Heat floods your cheeks. A smile spreads across your face as you fall back into his bed. The musk woven between the threading of his sheets tugs at you. Your skin tingles with want, and you find yourself pulling the covers over your body and burying your face in his pillow.

The phone buzzes beside you.

> FRANKIE: > Feel free to take a nap or do whatever you want in there

You sit up and whip your head around, then text back.

< ME: < Are you watching me

> FRANKIE: > Are you in my bed?

< ME: < … what if I was?

> FRANKIE: > I wouldn’t mind one bit > What are you doing in there?

< ME: < It’s comfy, I’m laying down

> FRANKIE: > Can I see?

Your stomach flips. The warmth in your face spreads, sprouting up all over your body. You lick your lips and smirk, then open the camera and take a picture of yourself and send it to him.

> FRANKIE: > Wow 😍 > I’m going back to work. See you later tonight, sweetheart

You start and erase about five variations of a response before just locking your phone screen and slamming it down at your side. Your hands fly to your face. All your organs melt and pool hot between your thighs.

Fuck, you hate that he can make you feel like this.

… but you love it, too.

It’s intoxicating.

You know him well enough to know that, throughout his day, whether he’s tinkering around in some commercial airplane, or running diagnostic tests, or chatting with coworkers, he will be thinking about you. Wondering what you’re doing. Hoping that when he arrives home there will be a spot in his sheets marked unmistakably yours.

He always held a particular fascination with you touching yourself, a fact proven true last week when he got off watching you masturbate.

The memory pricks your skin. Your squeaky mattress. The exchange of gasps and whimpers and moans. His lust-blown eyes, all wild and black as they watched you.

Even before that, though.

When you were working for him, he would sometimes text you specific locations in his house, asking you to masturbate there, send him pictures, and leave your panties. Of course, you were happy to oblige.

There were a few times when he had you choose a place to fuck yourself. You gave him three clues, and if he guessed the location correctly, that’s where he would fuck you when he got home.

One Saturday night, you were watching Sarah while he and Angie went out on a date. He texted you exactly one minute after Sarah’s bedtime.

> FRANKIE: > Baby in bed?

< ME: < Yeah

> FRANKIE: > Good > Can you do something for me?

< ME: < Maybe, what?

> FRANKIE: > Go in my upstairs bathroom and take off that pretty dress > Film yourself getting off in the mirror > Then send it to me

< ME: < Where are your manners sir

> FRANKIE: > Pretty please 😘

So you did. You tiptoed into the bathroom and pulled your dress off over your head, which is all the effort it took to strip down to a red thong. You stood in front of the huge vanity mirror and pressed record.

When they came home, Frankie ushered an extremely inebriated Angie to their bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later and coaxed you into the bathroom. Between heated, whiskey-soaked kisses, he told you, “We have to be quiet.”

You nodded and raked your fingers through his hair, responding to his urgent mouth with your own. He locked the bathroom door and dug his phone from his pocket, propping it up on the bathroom counter before he pressed play.

You pulled your dress off, watching his reflection in the vanity mirror for telltale signs of him being shitfaced. A stumble or slur. Compared to other nights where he spent hours at the bar, he seemed fine, which was a relief.

From his phone, you heard your own whimper. You looked down and watched the past you, video you, flick your wrist beneath the cover of your underwear.

His belt clanked as he undid his pants, pulling your attention back to his reflection. You met his eyes through the mirror and watched the darkness in them churn. He slid your thong aside, head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

A rasp tickled your ear, “Look at you, the dirty little movie you made me—what were you thinking about?”

Your gaze dropped to the video. To video you grabbing your tits and biting your lips. He plunged forward, splitting you open, pulling a gasp from your lips, “Ffffuck—”

“Thinking about fuck?”

He started to roll his hips, driving his cock into you, slow and deep. Pleasure rippled up your spine. Video you slid your thong off and showed the camera your pussy.

Your lips parted to answer his question, but the words caught in your throat. It felt so wrong to tell him. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled your body against his, snapping his hips, pumping into you with sharp, hard movements.

“Holy fuck, Frankie—”

“Tell me what you were thinking about when you were playing with your pussy.”

“This,” you breathed, arching your back into his thrusts, each one a heatwave across your body, “You fucking me—trying to be quiet—trying to be a good girl—”

“You’re doing so fucking good, baby,” he purred, “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy—drives me fucking crazy, Jesus Christ.”

Little whimpers and gasps started wriggling up your throat. Your eyebrows threaded together and lips parted with a croaked, “Frankie—”

“Fuck yes, baby, take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking you harder, faster, repeating under his ragged breath, “Take it, take it, take it.”

His cock rubbed along all the right parts of you, sending your pulse racing, adrenaline spiking when you remembered Angie asleep in the other room while he was there with you, dark gaze flicking between your video playing on his phone and your body bouncing off of him.

Your whimpers morphed into moans, immediately muffled by his warm, rough palm.

“Gotta be fucking quiet, sweetheart,” he panted in your ear, “I know it’s hard but you gotta do that for me, ok? Can you be a good girl for me, be quiet?”

You nodded. Calmed your moans into frenzied breaths. Lowered your gaze to the phone screen, where video you sank two fingers into your cunt and moaned, fucking yourself, just for him.

“That’s it,” he panted, wrapping his arms around your torso to hold you in place as he fucked up into you, hot breath heating the crook of your neck, “Fuck, that’s it, such a good girl for daddy, hmm?”

You couldn’t help the choked moan that escaped you.

“Say it, say you’re such a good girl for daddy—”

“I’m such—such a good girl for daddy.”

“Fuuuuck yes,” he groaned, one hand finding your clit, drawing frantic circles that flooded your body with a gooey, electric, pulsing energy, “Pussy so tight, feels so fucking good, fuck—”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, pushing against his thrusts, nodding your head, “Daddy I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Holy fuck—that’s it, sweet girl, cum on daddy’s dick, you can do it.”

You lost yourself, forgetting all about the concession to be quiet—whining and moaning as your bodies slid together with this sick, wet, sucking noise—consumed by the throbbing fire at your center, amplified with each snap of his hips, with his dirty little praises whispered in your ear, cock filling you again and again until you couldn’t fucking handle it anymore and your pleasure reached a fever pitch.

Frankie released a deep, guttural moan as you clenched down, pussy fluttering around his length, white hot static vibrating across your body.

He plunged into you once, twice, three more times with a shudder, spilling inside you.

“Holy shit,” you panted, collapsing forward onto the bathroom counter. His grip softened and he went slack against your back. A few blissful moments went by like this before the spell broke.

“God, I wish you could stay,” he told you in a breathy murmur, pressing a kiss into your bare shoulder, “Wish I could wake up with you.”

And it sounded sweet on the surface, but you knew it was your cue to leave.

You think about it now.

About Frankie, and the video that you sent him while he was on a date with his wife. How she was under the same roof when the two of you fucked in the bathroom. How he had you call him daddy, and how you were such a good girl for him.

You think about how it is between you now, how good it would feel to give in to those reckless desires and fuck like you used to.

Your touch trails down between your legs as you imagine him here in the bed with you, cooing filthy things in your ear, rubbing your clit, laying heated kisses on your neck.

You grab your breast and pretend it’s him squeezing your flesh. Imagine his soft lips around your nipple, the roll of his tongue against it.

“Fuck,” you breathe, rolling your hips into your hand.

A whimper bubbles through your lips and the brazenness of it stokes your insides. Another whimper, this one louder. Tingles shoot up your middle.

You drag your fingers along your slit, moaning at the puddle of arousal pooling at your entrance, spreading it, coating your pussy in the slick substance.

“So fucking wet,” you gasp, gripping your tit harder, imagining Frankie there, touching you, watching you with awe, telling you how fucking good you’re doing.

Your fingers move faster, sliding easy against your lubricated nub, and you release a throaty moan, “So fucking good, daddy, you make me feel so good.“

The words out loud jolt your insides. You think: What if he saw me like this? What if he heard me? What if he knew I still fantasize about him?

A burst of feral energy overtakes you and you crawl up onto your knees, pulling your loose cotton shorts and underwear aside so your cunt is exposed to the room. You work one hand hard and fast against your clit. The other sinks two fingers inside you.

You roll your hips, fucking your hand, moaning out, “Fuck yes, Frankie, fuck me just like that, so fucking good, daddy, you’re gonna make me cum—”

Uttering the words out loud electrifies you. Heat churns beneath your touch, growing brighter and hotter as your wanton moans hit his bedroom ceiling. Pleasure starts to swell and your movements grow frantic, desperate, chasing that feeling as you whine, “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

You convulse around your fingers and gasp, twitchy prods of pleasure gushing at your center each time your slick fingers graze your clit, slowing as the waves ebb into a fuzzy kind of bliss that occupies your whole body.

You fall back in his bed, chest heaving, and try to gain your bearings.

Shame starts to creep at the edges of your post-orgasm fog. Without prompting, your brain tells you: I hate myself.

It stings.

You gulp and shake your head, whispering out loud, “I love myself.”

The correction soothes your hindbrain’s outlash enough for you to release a content sigh. A smile creeps across your face. You blink over at Frankie’s dresser, then rise to your feet and start folding his clean clothes.

As you tuck the folded clothes away in his dresser drawers, you find the underwear he snatched from your bedroom last week. Teal lace, all stiff with his dried cum.

You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. That familiar, reckless kind of satisfaction spreads through your veins.

It’s fucked up, but the thought of him getting off on the scent of you fills you with pride.

This is rocky territory. More than rocky, honestly. It’s dangling-off-a-cliffside-while-your-grip-is-slipping territory.

You both know it. It’s like neither of you can help it. Over and over, you fall back together like opposite poles of a magnet.

Are you drawn to each other because there’s something real? Or is it because of the thrill?

You remind yourself that there is something more between you and Frankie than sexual desire.

You laugh together, support each other, and enjoy your shared time. The bond you’ve formed is genuine. He has come to be one of your best friends. Second only to your sister, Leah.

There’s a softness when you’re with him, too. A saccharine kind of intimacy that curls around your body and makes you feel at home. It has always existed between you, even if he never admits it. He used to push it away, but more and more, it’s become commonplace when you’re together.

You swallow hard and shake your head, finding that you’re still staring at these cum-encrusted panties. You know Frankie won’t be able to bring himself to throw them in with the rest of his laundry. That would mean washing your scent, throwing your gift away.

A little flint of arousal sparks at the base of your spine.

After dropping the teal lace into your laundry basket, you shimmy your shorts and underwear down your legs, then wipe yourself off with the gusset of your floral cheeky bikini. You shove them into his dresser drawer in place of the spent pair.

Two flimsy cardboard boats slide out onto the "PICK-UP HERE” window’s ledge. A booming voice follows, “Order number 32!”

Rory glances down at his receipt, then tucks it in his pocket as he steps through the crowd of hungry onlookers and approaches the rusted-out food truck. He returns holding one basket in each hand, a victorious smile dawning on his face, “Where should we sit?”

You squint around your surroundings and spot a shaded patch of grass beneath the gnarled trunk of a buttonwood tree, then point to it, “Ooh, over here!”

“Got it!”

Rory jogs ahead and lands on the grass before anyone else can claim the spot. You catch up a few seconds later and sit down next to him, crossing your legs. He hands you your shrimp tacos and you murmur a thanks to him while balancing the basket on your knee.

Under the eaves of the buttonwood tree, you find relief from the unrelenting sun. Your skin, all heated and gleaming with sweat, thanks you profusely. The cool earth somehow feels icy against your palms when you lean back and stretch out. You pull your sunglasses up on your head and tilt back to look up through the twisted branches of the tree, “Fuck, it’s hot out.”

You’re never really sure how to start conversations with him.

“Yeah,” he follows your gaze up into the tree, quickly losing interest. A deep breath expands his lungs as he looks around the park, finally settling his gaze on a playground, “You ever take the kids you babysit out here to play?”

Your nose wrinkles a bit when he calls you a babysitter. You follow his line of sight to and watch hordes of squealing, laughing children crawl all over the playground.

“Not this park, but I take them to the one by their house. It has a splash pad and this playground with water features. They love it, it’s pretty cool.”

He nods.

“When I worked for Frankie and his wife, I took their daughter, Sarah, here a lot. She was still just a little squish, but, you know, there are all these trails with cool trees and there’s the lake, and another playground further down that-a-way.”

You point to your left. He doesn’t seem to care much about what you’re saying, but asks, “Is that a job you see yourself having long-term?”

It’s a question you’re familiar with answering. Always tainted with judgment, insinuating that your job is that of bored teenagers trying to make a buck over the summer.

“Yep,” you tell him with a close-lipped smile, tilting your head as you wait for him to say more.

“How will that work when you have kids? Do you want to be a stay-at-home mom, or will you bring the kid with you, or what?”

With a shrug, you tell him, “Figure I’ll see where I’m at when the time comes and go from there.”

Rory hums and nods, brow furrowing at the ground like he’s soaking this in, then he says, “It’s nice that you do that. I like that you’re a caretaker.”

It takes you by surprise. His gaze meets yours and you smile at each other for a moment.

“Thanks,” you say and bring your attention to the boat of shrimp tacos resting on your knee, finding them cooled down enough to eat.

After finishing your food, you and Rory start off towards his vehicle, hand-in-hand. The trail winds by the playground you were watching from afar. Like playgrounds often are, it’s total chaos. Children screaming, running, climbing, crying.

You spot one little girl sitting in the sand, digging a hole between her splayed legs. She seems oblivious to the world around her. The dark ringlets dangling around her cherub face wiggle as she talks to herself, eyebrows raising expressively like the one-sided conversation is intensely interesting.

She must feel you watching her, because her spine straightens and she looks around. When her dark brown eyes meet yours, her face lights up in recognition, and she squeals your name.

You stop in your tracks and can’t restrain the wide smile from spreading across your lips, “Sarah!”

Aside from the brief glimpse you caught of her the day Frankie moved in, and the grocery store shortly after, you haven’t seen her in over a year. She’s grown so much. Her chunky, wobbly baby legs have elongated and grown more capable, allowing her to run towards you, arms outstretched.

When she reaches you, you scoop her up, twirling her around as you give her a big hug, “How are you, sweetheart? I missed you!”

Sarah squeals with delight and says, “Missed you!”

A cool rush of panic spreads across your skin when you look around and ask, “Where are your parents, sweetie?”

“I’m digging a hole!”

“Oh wow, you’re digging a hole?” you laugh and shift her onto your hip as you continue to study the sea of faces, ears growing hot when you remember Rory standing behind you. The last time you saw Angie, she insulted you in broad daylight. How the fuck would you explain that to Rory if it happens again?

“Hey!”

The familiar voice is sharp with outrage. Frankie’s hand grips your shoulder and spins you around to face him. His chest is heaving, jaw clenched, eyes aflame with fury.

You have never seen him like this.

Your eyes widen and you hold your palm up to him, “Just me, sorry!”

He studies your face, still red-hot anger, then it seems to come into focus for him. His shoulders relax with a relieved exhale, then his features soften and grow apologetic, “Oh, hey.”

You bring your hand back to your hip to support the weight of Sarah and chuckle, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“No, no, it’s ok.”

“We were just walking, and, umm,” you gesture back at Rory, trailing off when you see Angie approaching, arms crossed, beautiful face squared off in a stern expression.

Frankie’s gaze flicks to Rory and he gives a nod of recognition before returning his attention to Sarah, “Did you see your friend and go to say hi?”

Sarah smiles sweetly and nods, then starts wiggling to be put down. You grant the request, lowering her to the ground and letting her go. She gallops back to her hole in the sand, while you call behind her and wave, “Bye, Sarah!”

Your face scrunches up into a wince when you meet Frankie’s eyes again, and you shrug, “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he waves you off with a smirk.

“Hey,” Angie greets, surprisingly calm. Her fingers curl around Frankie’s bicep and she blinks at you.

“Hi, Angie,” you give a nervous nod, plastering on a smile that’s too eager, “I was just passing by with my, um,” you swallow hard and turn to Rory, waving him forward, “My boyfriend, Rory.”

Your voice is shaky. This is a nightmare.

Rory’s arm wraps around your waist from the side and he gives a polite wave, “Hi.”

“This is Angie Morales, Frankie’s wife,” you tell him.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Rory smiles and extends a hand to her. Angie says nothing, just shakes his hand while wearing this Mona Lisa smile and steps back beside her husband.

The silence that follows is painful.

“Ok, well, sorry again for the scare,” you sigh, looking down at your feet, “It was really nice to see Sarah, I miss her a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie says, and you look up to see his brow knit together, dark eyes all apologetic, “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

You nod at the ground, then tell Angie, “Good to see you.”

She raises an eyebrow and laughs at this. It feels like a slap. You suppose it’s better than her screaming insults at you, though. Or, like, a real slap.

When you turn and walk away, Rory’s hand finds yours again. His grip is warm and steady, and he frowns over at you, “You ok?”

You forgot to adjust your face. The pain bubbling up inside you must be obvious. Traitorous tears spring to your eyes, thankfully hidden behind the dark of your sunglasses. You clear your throat and nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

It sounds watery and false.

“Hey,” he stops walking to turn towards you, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and sniffle, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He raises his eyebrows, searching your face, “Really?”

Your teeth catch your tongue. Dull pain wells up in each section of the soft muscle you clamp down on, providing a microscopic release. With a deep breath, you look down at your feet and shrug, “I just—I guess I missed her more than I realized.”

“Come here,” Rory murmurs, ushering you into a hug. You oblige. His body seems to awkwardly wrap around you, but it brings you a small dose of comfort. Even if he doesn’t feel or smell like home.

“What’s the deal with his wife, why did she seem mad?”

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice, or ask.

“She, um… she thinks I stole something from her,” you tell him, “That’s why I don’t work for them anymore.”

Misleading, sure, but not entirely a lie.

He hums, rubbing your back, “You care about her a lot, huh? The little girl?”

“Yeah,” you croak. A few tears spring from your eyes. You squeeze your eyelids shut and wish them away.

Rory kisses your hair and gives you a tight squeeze, “Should we keep going?”

You sniffle and pull back from his embrace, flashing him a tight smile as you nod, “Yeah.”

When Frankie comes home, you’ve already resigned to your room for the night, content to wallow in self-pity you have no right to feel.

His footsteps creak against the floorboards as he makes his way through the kitchen, into the hallway outside your room. A knock comes at the door.

You sigh and pout to yourself, then call out, “Come in.”

Frankie opens the door and hovers in the threshold. You pause Stardew Valley and look over from your laptop, raising your eyebrows in question.

“Hey,” he says, puppy dog eyes in full force, crossing his arms, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.”

He hums and studies you for a moment, shifting his weight into the doorframe, “Earlier was… It was weird, right?”

Your eyelids flutter. You shrug, “She didn’t call me a slut this time, which was… nice.”

He chuckles at this. You don’t crack a smile.

When your lack of amusement registers to him, he clears his throat and pushes off of the door frame. He makes his way around the bed and sits down on the opposite side, scooting close to you. You roll your head on your shoulders and watch him reach out to touch you, then decide against it, fingertips curling onto his lap instead.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he says finally, but doesn’t look at you.

“For what?”

“I know you miss Sarah. And I know my reaction earlier was—was,” he sighs and shakes his head, “It wasn’t great.”

“Frankie, you thought I was a abducting your child—”

“I mean after that,” he turns to you now, sincerity etched in his features, “I could have let you hang out with her, or been nicer or something, I don’t know. I just—I know, in my gut, that I could have done better. And… I’m sorry.”

An ache of affection spreads across your chest. You reach out and rest your hand on his forearm, thumb grazing his skin as you search his face, “I appreciate that, thank you.”

A small, relieved smile graces his lips. He nods, “Of course.”

Then he seems to relax a little, leaning back onto one elbow as he squints at your laptop screen, “Whadda you have going on here?”

“Exploring caves, fighting monsters.”

“Sounds nerdy,” he teases, “Figures you’d like it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you laugh and give him a playful shove, “You think I’m a nerd?”

“Maybe,” he grins.

You scoff and shoot him a mock glare, “On what grounds?”

He frowns, looking up at the ceiling like he’s thinking about it, then shrugs, “Basically just this, but you’re cute when you’re all riled up.”

“Wow,” you laugh, covering your face as it heats up, “So rude.”

He grins and lays back in your bed like he’s making himself at home here, so you join him, resting your head on his shoulder. His cheek presses into the crown of your head. You resume playing Stardew Valley.

Some time passes like this, cuddling with him while he idly plays with your hair, asking you questions about the game like he’s interested. When the sun sets and you both start yawning at regular intervals, you tuck the laptop away in your nightstand. Frankie doesn't move.

You return to your pillow and roll on your side to face him, tucking your hands under your cheek. He mirrors the action, just a foot or so away. His warm gaze works around your face and he murmurs, “Do you want me to go?”

It’s so quiet you can hear your pulse pounding through your arteries.

“Not really.”

A small smile flicks across his lips. He looks down at his clothes, “Do—do you mind if I, um…”

“What, you don’t wanna wear jeans to bed?” you snort.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “They’re not great pajamas.”

“Go change, I gotta wash my face and stuff anyway,” you yawn, rolling onto your back, stretching your arms into the air.

The two of you go about your bedtime routines. When you return to your room, Frankie is laying on top of the covers, arm tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. He changed into gray basketball shorts and his old, worn out Metallica t-shirt.

“That shirt is gonna crumble into dust one of these days,” you tease while plugging your phone into its charger.

He sets his phone down and looks at his shirt, then grins up at you, “Until it does, I’ll be wearing it.”

You shake your head at him, peeling back the covers with shaky hands. He sits up and wriggles between your sheets as you turn off your bedside lamp and crawl in beside him.

For a few moments, it’s just quiet in the dark. Neither of you move or say anything. You imagine he’s staring at the ceiling with tingling nerves just like you, filled with uncertainty and fear and want. Not sure what the “line” even looks like anymore because it’s been blurred so much it’s indistinguishable.

Every other time you’ve fallen asleep together since he moved in, it could be chalked up as either accidental or, like when you were sick, necessary. Excusable if brought forth as evidence by others, or each other, or yourselves.

But this is different.

It’s intentional. No plausible deniability in sight. Heat blooms in your chest and between your legs. He feels so far away.

“Frankie.”

“Hmm?”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to hold me?”

He lets out an amused scoff. The bed squeaks and shifts as he rolls on his side as you scoot closer to each other. His hands find you under the covers and he pulls your back to his chest, tucking one arm under your head while the other wraps around your belly.

“It’s not weird,” he murmurs, pausing for a second before saying, “It should be, but it isn’t.”

This makes you smile. It’s a relief to hear him say it. You relax into his embrace and rest your arm atop his at your waist.

The darkness surrounding the two of you seems to hold space for honesty. It’s that sort of feeling you got at sleepovers when you were younger, when you and your friends would whisper secrets to each other in the dark.

“I have nightmares sometimes,” you tell him.

“I know.”

You know he knows. He’s been there to wake you from them and calm you down in their wake at least a dozen times. Regardless, there’s this buzzing under your skin like you need to tell him.

“I can never remember what happens except—except, um,” you blink your eyes open and swallow the thickness in your throat, shaking your head, “There’s this feeling, like… I know that he’s chasing me, and if he catches me, I’m never going to escape.”

His body seems to tense a little. He looks down at you, “Who?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

You can feel the question occupying his tightened muscles, and say, “It’s not you.”

“But if you don’t know—”

“It started before you,” you lace your fingers with his, letting your eyelids drift shut, “And, besides, I don’t feel like that with you. I feel… safe.”

He relaxes around you with a sigh that sounds like relief.

“When I lived alone it was hard. I’d wake up alone and scared, and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” you murmur, “But it’s been better lately.”

He hums. The noise vibrates against the nape of your neck. His thumb brushes against your midriff.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you admit, “I guess… I just want you to know it’s nice having you here.”

The wet swallow of his throat makes you start to worry you said too much, that you showed too much belly. You brace for him to pull away. But when his voice breaks the silence, it sounds raspy and damp. Heartfelt.

“You don’t think I’m a burden?”

You almost laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s ridiculous.

“Not even a little. I’m happy to have you.”

“I’m happy to be here, mariposa.”

The nickname stings a little. A sharp, precise prick to the center of your chest. But his arms squeeze around you tighter, bringing you closer to his warmth.

Your lips curve into a slight smile and you feel the tug of drowsiness on your limbs.

“No funny business back there tonight, Franklin,” you mumble out, your words fuzzy with fatigue.

“Yes ma’am,” he nuzzles into your hair, his own voice groggy and low, “Best behavior.”

That warm, soft intimacy settles deep in your bones and makes you feel at ease. Safe. Loved. And it’s not long at all before sleep overtakes you.

Your Friday nights used to be synonymous with drinking.

It meant going out to the bar to get drunk and dance and maybe find another lonely soul to spend time with. It meant blackouts and bar tabs and spending your Saturdays absolutely fucking miserable.

Truth be told, you much prefer your new Friday night ritual: Movie Night.

You and Frankie each get to pick any movie you want and stuff your faces while watching them back-to-back. After work, you pick him up from his AA meeting and load up on junk food, then head home.

Tonight, the two of you walk side-by-side down aisle 5 of your neighborhood grocery store, moving at a leisurely pace across the glossy white tiles. A country music station broadcasts softly over the store’s speakers. From the cash registers up front, you hear the rhythmic beep of customers being rung up. Probably the only other people in here, honestly, it’s fucking dead.

“What’s your movie pick?” Frankie asks while tossing a bag of classic potato chips into the red basket hanging from the bend of his elbow, “And I swear to god if you say Moulin Rouge! I’m instituting a no-repeat policy.”

Your laughter ricochets down the aisle and you shake your head, “Don’t act like you don’t like that movie! I know you do.”

“I mean yeah, but… there are other movies.”

“Other… movies…?”

He snorts and shakes his head at you.

“Actually, I wanna watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” you tell him, slowing to narrow your eyes at a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips, “Do I want pretzels or salt and vinegar chips?”

“Why not both?” he shrugs.

You scrunch your nose up, tossing your head from side-to-side, then grab the kettle chips and drop them into your basket, “What’s your movie pick?”

“I’m between Dazed and Confused and The Wolf of Wall Street,” he says, glancing over at you.

Your face lights up and you coo, “Ohhh Dazed and Confused, please!”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He grins at you and shrugs, “I will take your opinion into consideration.”

“What, I can’t help you choose?”

“It’s my pick,” Frankie chuckles, “You can’t pick my pick!”

You roll your eyes at him. The two of you round the corner, merging into the vacant main aisle, and you say, “Fuck, I want ice cream.”

“I want a fucking drink,” he mutters offhandedly, then notices your concerned stare and says, “Sorry.”

“Do you really?”

His brow furrows as he considers this, eventually admitting, “In a way, yeah.”

You know you shouldn’t take it personally. He’s an alcoholic. But that rationale doesn’t stop the ache that spreads across your chest.

Frankie must recognize your hurt, because he nudges you and adds, “Not because I don’t like this or anything.”

You give him a warm, reassuring smile as you turn down the freezer aisle. He continues.

“It just lingers, I guess. Like I think I could drink and be fine,” he comes to a stop in front of the ice cream, glancing around before staring forward into the freezer like it holds all the answers, “Everything is just so… raw without it. All the feelings I’ve never dealt with, they keep bubbling up and it’s—I don’t know, it’s a lot.”

It surprises you that he’s talking about this so openly, in a public place and everything. Two months ago you could not have dragged these words from his mouth under any circumstances.

You nod as you study him, “Well, um… I know it’s hard, but I’m glad you’re doing it.”

He doesn’t really react, just continues to look at the ice cream. His eyes are a million miles away, though. Lost in thought. You lay your hand on his shoulder and graze your thumb against him, “Francisco.”

His jaw tightens.

“Hey, look at me.”

He blinks a few times, then swings his gaze to meet yours.

“I mean it. It’s been a pleasure getting to know the real you, in all your, uhhh,” you stop and try to come up with something eloquent, landing on, “sober glory. I know it’s a lot. But I can see that it’s making a huge difference. You’re so far beyond where you started. It’s… it’s really brave to choose sobriety. I’m proud of you, Frankie.”

It all kind of spills out of you. A collage of sentiments you’ve been keeping to yourself thrown crudely together here in the middle of the freezer aisle.

His brow creases, eyes all dewy as they flick around your face. You worry that what you said doesn’t make sense, or that maybe it was insensitive. But then, his basket falls to the floor with a clatter and he pulls you into a hug.

Again, you’re taken by surprise.

You just stand there for a moment, kind of awkward with your basket dangling in one hand.

He squeezes you tighter. Unbridled appreciation flows from him. Your stomach flutters and tears prick your eyes. You drop your basket to properly return the gesture, wrapping both arms around his torso, pulling him close.

The warmth of his body surrounds you. You take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting musk of his skin, exhaling tension, melting into this softness.

Frankie sniffles and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair, “Thank you.”

You part ways, both taking a step back to see the others’ glossy, red-tinged eyes.

And you’re not sure exactly why, but then you both laugh. Not in a nervous way. More like joy. It bubbles beneath your skin and makes you feel hopeful.

He picks his basket up off the ground and clears his throat, turning back to the freezer door, “Anyway, ice cream.”

When the end credits roll on Dazed and Confused, you stand up off the couch and start towards the kitchen, asking Frankie, “Need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” he answers with a yawn.

You pull open the cupboard and find a bag of popcorn, then toss it in the microwave. While you wait for it to pop, you check your phone. Three unread messages.

> RORY: > Hey > How was work? > Doing anything fun tonight?

“Hey, I was thinking,” Frankie says as he shuffles past the dining room table, into the kitchen. You set your phone down on the counter and cross your arms, looking up at him.

“Next week is Sarah’s birthday, Ang is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want me to see if she would let you come?”

The question leaves you momentarily speechless. You never thought it would be a possibility, and the offer completely blindsides you.

Your mouth gapes open and you blink, “I, um—well, I—”

“If you want to, I mean.”

You frown and meet his eyes, “Well, yeah, obviously I want to, but is Angie really ok with that?”

“I’ll talk to her,” he says, leaning back on the counter next to you, “She’s been more receptive lately. And—and I think if you brought Rory, she would feel more reassured, that, um…”

Your stomach drops like a rock.

A clusterfuck of messy emotions tangle and twist inside your body. At the tip of your tongue sits the question: That, what, there’s nothing going on between us?

You look over at him and search his face. It’s unreadable. He’s frozen like he knows he came dangerously close to mentioning the elephant in the room and doesn’t know what to do next.

The air thickens.

Moments go by that feel like centuries.

You can’t stand it anymore, and lead him to continue the thought, “That what?”

He turns to face you and looks fucking terrified. Forehead creased. Eyes wide. Lips parted like apologies are about to come spilling out of them.

You hold his gaze. Try not to notice the pungent energy pulsing between your bodies, or the way his eyes soften when he looks at your mouth and takes a step towards you.

For one heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

A beep sounds from the microwave.

He looks to the source, trance broken, but your eyes stay trained on him. On the elongated bob of his throat swallowing nerves. On the restless, twitchy movements that suddenly seem to possess him.

When he notices you’re still staring at him, he only allows a brief glance before dropping his gaze to the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets, finally saying, “I—I just mean that I think she’ll be ok with it. And—and Sarah would be excited to see you.”

You pause before you react, trying to decide whether or not to ask him the question tearing apart your insides like a rabid dog: Do you want me to go so I can see Sarah, or so you can continue to lie to your wife?

Simultaneously, you cannot ask him and you need to know.

You tell yourself: He’s in recovery. He needs support, not criticism.

You say: Let him figure out the missing pieces in his life and put it back together. Even if the shape it takes breaks you.

“Ok,” you give him a tight nod and push off the counter, pulling the microwave door open, “If she’s fine with it, I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?”

You pinch the corner of your bloated popcorn bag and pull it out, nudging the microwave door closed, then turn to face him, but don’t look up, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

A small, distant voice says: You fucking coward.

#designated person #frankie morales #frankie morales angst #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic

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hotsingledragon · 1 year

Note

OK OK BUT HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

sugar daddy miles quaritch .

ur his cute little innocent girlfriend , and he just spoils you absolutely rotten including giving u literally the best sex of ur life. u should totally do one where he spoils reader half to death for her birthday. maybe w some romantic sex at the end between the two!! also pls human reader !

eep eep yEs.

so maybe i’ve had similar thoughts and this was sitting in my drafts- thank u for prompting me to actually post lol

treating you like a princess just comes naturally for quaritch, tbh it’s one his love languages. why shouldn’t he treat the girl he loves with everything she wants and more?

it’s not like you’re always asking for stuff, quaritch is often unprompted in the way he spoils you, just loves the shine in your big pretty eyes and the beautiful, delighted smile you give him and how you always give him a big hug <3 he’s so in love with you

-always gifting you with jewelry that shines against your warm skin. makes you turn around and flip your hair so he can kneel behind you and clasp the chain around your neck. his head feels dizzy with how big his hands are compared to your slender neck, how he could crush you in a second.

-the very first necklace he gave you is a 24karat chain with the initial M like it’s his way of claiming you and also yeah he grew up in the 80s n he’s cheesy like that but

-you wear this chain every day, and it sits so pretty over your collarbones, miles eyes are always drawn to it. especially when you’re laying beneath him and your tits are bouncing with the way he thrusts into you. that little golden M glints in the low light and paired with the sight of your dewy skin and the sound of his name falling from your mouth-miles feels crazy ahhh!!!!

-another thing-you just smell so good, a concoction of lightly scented lotion and your yummy hair products and strawberry chapstick. quaritch is always burying his face in your hair because it smells just like buttercreme icing. he’s catching your wrists in his grasp, breathing in the sweet tones of your perfume. will leave lingering kisses on each wrist, right where your pulse is beating. quaritch always kissing the chap off your lips so he can taste a bit of you.

-quaritch mentally notes what products you use and buys two more so you never run out

-and he just loves watching you go about your small routines and habits as you get all dolled up!

-oh and those silky pajama sets u wear drive him crazy!

the ones that fit you so perfectly and your skin glows against the soft fabrics, loves that your skin is just as soft as the silk when he’s teasing the strap down your arm

-so quaritch takes it upon himself to order a set for you, and it’s waiting for you in a beautifully wrapped package, a hand scribed note tucked under the ribbon.

-wear this tonight. -Q

it’s a lacy bundle of blue fabric, the color reminiscent of mile’s cerulean skin. diamonds glitter throughout the piece, the material is like softened butter to the touch, and it’s definitely the most expensive piece of underwear you’ve ever owned.

“now just look at you, doll,” he drawls,

“come ‘ere,” he calls in a softer tone, his bicep jumps as he beckons you with his fingers

“lemme get a look at'cha.” quatich guides with a pull on your wrist, encouraging you to stand between his spread thighs.

“now you are truly a sight, darlin’, always are but this-“

and miles really is speechless, you are such a sight. he makes you spin for him, wants to grab his polaroid and take your picture ((and he does)). wants to frame you in a museum- you deserve your own museum, he concludes

so gentle as he pushes the fabric off your skin, his touch is just teasing you because he wants to take his time tonight. wants to slip his fingers under the elastic and against your soft skin as he tugs until every piece is off off off

but when you’re bare for him, just the delicate chain around your neck, miles loses it- he’s on you and kissing you while two of his thick fingers run through your folds, so big against you. he’ll tease you open with one, two, three fingers and by that point you’ve come twice already, chest rising and cheeks flush with your plump lip under your teeth. miles finds you so beautiful like this

the stretch is SO good when we he bottoms out, you’re so slick and he made sure to lube his cock so he can fuck you like he really wants to. fucking you into the mattress and making you come over and over. he gets you in that headspace where you’re eyes are glossy and you’re just so cute whining for him.

-“please, daddy,” you would sniffle, giving him those eyes and it’s over! he’s clawing into your hips and holding your weight while he fucks you like a doll, coming inside your pussy with a loud purring growl.

-i literally always say this but Q is so sleepy and heavy after he comes- just lays into you while he calms down. i heard that na’vi are like 600 lbs so it’s not long before you’re tapping him, sometimes slapping him to let up and allow you to breathe

-so sweet with aftercare idc. kisses u sweetly while he gently cleans you up with a warm towel, puts the sheet over you, tucks you in and snuggles right against you- gentle kissing while he whispers praises until neither of you can hold your eyes open.

WAHHHH why did i do this to myself- ik i didn’t capture every bit of your request- i honestly have more ideas in my drafts and will add bday spoil to the list!!! thank you for the request, my sweet! smooches

#request #miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #avatar 2009 #atwow #my work #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #avatar the way of water

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chorizoa · 10 months

Text

entrail of faith — könig x reader

i have not properly written a fic or a snippet in so long, and I am physically aching to do so :3 plus, been obsessed with this man for like 3 months straight and it is NOT letting up— so, let me be indulgent, and nasty, and vile, and awesome while I cook up literary genius. (pls do not read my stuff if ur a minor ily mwah)

i hope u like :3 (cuz if u do I'm writing more)

cw: mentions of sex, force, and kidnapping, reader is mostly oblivious, Konig is just nasty and I'm shameless about it

synopsis(sorta): König has been a little crazy stalker, and you finally get close enough for him to make a move

———————————————————————

Konig was a good man, a routine man. His mother and grandmother had beaten manners into him, and daddy had his face shoved into a bible every Sunday morning. Everything was intentional, down to the way he stored his razors, all the way deep down to the way he shamefully ruts into his calloused palm each night. It all mattered— obsessively mattered.

Konig was a good man, a strong man. He tried so hard to keep his thoughts pure, be gentle with himself and others— lumbering about as if he were an animal latched to a ball and chain, a monster in the eyes of rookies and civilians alike— but he tried.

He can kill a man in less than ten seconds without a weapon, five with. He can dismember a corpse, and make someone seem as if they had never existed to begin with— he isn't a man of softness, he isn't a man who deserves a gentle hand, only his own thick mits that've been stained with decades of blood.

He wasn't a man of softness—until he saw you. Effortless you. With your smile, the flowery trail of scent that tickled his nose in your wake, those fucking eyes— Konig tried to be a good man, but he wanted to so badly see them glossed over, heavy with arousal and desperation. How they'd roll when he—

Konig tried to be a good man.

— Sir? Are you ready to order?

Scheiße. Those eyes again, the way they fluttered— it was almost enough to distract him from the way that dingy little waitress get-up clung to your all-encompassing frame— and hearing the word sir so obediently drip from your swelled lips made his cock twitch in his pants. Thank God he'd opted for the cargos today, and thank him again because you were such a good girl, you'd never peek.

Not that you'd have a chance, he loomed over you even at seated height— forcing your eyes up to meet his, seeming just much too big for the booth he shoved himself in— but, he was still shameless in the way his eyes roamed over you. At least you had the assurance he'd tip well.

— Ah- Ja, sorry Kätzen..

He cleared his throat, nervously tugging at the lip of his black surgical mask, his eyes darting about behind thick sunglasses. You're so pretty— what was he doing again? Ah, right, food. He wasn't hungry, not for anything they had here, except for you— but that wouldn't be a suitable answer, no, not for a precious little thing like you.

He could practically taste the aura that rolled off of you, you were no whore.

— Coffee- black, please. If it's not too much trouble.

Of course it wasn't too much trouble, it was your job. He was cursing himself internally, saying such stupid things to such a lovely girl. It would be easier if you were stuffed with his girth already, crying and spluttering as you struggled to fit him properly— he wouldn't say stupid shit then, but then you giggle- oh, fuck, you giggle and all the sudden he needs a freezing cold shower.

— Of course not, sir, will that be all?

Sweet girl, you should know not to smile at a man like that. Not a man like him, especially when his mind is full of bending you over this table and ruining that pretty head of yours.

— Yes, thank you, schätzchen.

He hoped you didn't know German, he hoped you were oblivious enough to let the way he was ripping your clothes to shred with his eyes go unnoticed— and of course, because you're such a good girl, it did.

— My pleasure- I'll be back in just a moment.

You are so polite, so sweet and efficient. He'd been watching you for a time now, the way you'd bustle about the café, being so kind even when majority of the creatures in here didn't deserve your time of day, not like he did— no, not anything like he did.

If he had it his way, you'd never work again. He'd throw money at you like it was a religion, give you all the codes and numbers to every bank account in his name— let you go on a spending spree, spoil you with fine lace and even better food. KorTac paid him enough, and he didn't spend a dime unless he needed something— unless he was indulging in you.

If he had it his way, you'd be dumb and obedient, you'd placate yourself to being his sweet little toy— and, oh, how he'd reward you for it. He'd keep you full of his seed, and happy with whatever object caught your affections, he'd build a goddamn castle for you. He'd never deny you a thing, as long as you kept looking at him like the most important person to exist— even if you were just doing your job.

— Your coffee, sir— oh, and careful, I just had them brew it.

Oh, you're such a darling. Fresh coffee? Just for him? You might as well give him your ring size now, he hopes you want kids.

— Lovely, Schatz, thank you.

— Of course, enjoy.

He almost felt crestfallen as you placed the bill next to him, and sauntered away, but your swaying hips could heal even the most shattered bones. Angels above, you were such a perfect thing— so innocent and lovely, you'd need to be protected, you'd need to be saved.

The heat of the coffee was nothing compared to the widely gaped blood vessels under his skin— breath threatening to catch everything he got a glimpse of you traipsing about. He had to make sure you were well distracted every time he dove in for a sip, you couldn't see his face, not yet.

If he were a better man, a more confident man, he'd leave you his number. He'd clean himself up, start a good conversation with you— take you to a fine dinner, even though he so hated the idea of something so insanely public. If he were half the man he held himself as, he wouldn't be salivating over you in an empty corner of the café.

Konig tried to be a good man, but he was slimy. He was a pervert, a danger— he'd never harm anyone— save for the men whose blood stained his hands, but he'd found himself craving indulgence in dark fantasies more than once. He was nasty, he was a monster, but he wanted to be soft for you. Simply, he wanted you, but his therapist would strongly advise against it— counseling that maybe, just maybe it's not best for his obsessive psyche.

Whatever, you'd learn to love it.

He had his reluctant fill of ogling, the tightening of his pants becoming too much to ignore, and the clatter of dishes becoming grating on his sensitive ears— he had to leave at some point. His coffee cup had long run dry, and he hadn't had the courage to waive you over for another.

If he were a better man, he'd leave you his number, but a crisp hundred to cover the bill— and leave you a tip to keep you fed— would definitely suffice. He tucked it under his coffee mug shamefully, wishing he just had the sack to speak to you— but that irritating fear of rejection always held him just at arms length.

How badly he wished he could just take you.

Everything else that wasn't you was boring, the streets were dull and gray, and rain drizzled like piss— just another way for God to mock him, punishment for his lustful behavior. Father would have a field day with him, if only he knew.

He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his soft-shell coat, rain pattering against it in an almost melodic sound. Nothing like your voice, though, oh nothing like that sound.

— Sir!

See, nothing like it, and he can't stop imagining it.

— Sir, you forgot your phone!

Oh, oh, he's not imagining that.

He whips around almost too fast, seeing you skirt on your heels as you stop your quick advance in front of him— his phone outstretched in a waiting hand. You really were such a lovely thing.

— Oh! Gott.. thank you, liebling— would have lost my head.

He wished he sounded.. cooler, smoother. But, he sounded like an inexperienced teen, stuck in a giants body. Always cringing at the sound of his own voice, but you smile and his world just fucking shifts— he couldn't give a shit how he sounded.

— it's- it's no worry, sir, I understand that.

Oh, your laugh, it's so sweet. He wants to touch you, grab you and squeeze you.

— I wanted to thank you actually- for the tip, I mean.. that was very generous of you—..?

You pause, trailing off as you look up at him. You want something, oh what is it maus? Anything. Say it, tell him— Oh, you want his name. His name. He has to fight the grin on his face.

— König— and do not worry yourself, Maus, it is no trouble. You work hard.

Now he's nonchalant, now he's found his groove. Keep being so humble, keep pretending like you don't want him to shower you in his endless wealth; keep looking up at him with those eyes that would be so much prettier coated in tears as you gagged on his thickness.

— Well, regardless, thank you, König.

Fuck, the way those pretty lips move with the pronunciation of his name— and you didn't miss a single vowel, what a good girl, what a smart girl. Oh, how he wanted to praise you like the good puppy you are, a collar with his name attached would be so pretty on you.

— Truly, Schatz, don't mention it— but, uhm-

Ah, he trailed, his fingers fidgeting with the lint of his pocket. Did he say it? Did he go for it? Either she'd be creeped, and run, or she'd be flattered— maybe even accepting. He had to keep it black and white, or he'd explode.

— Do you mind if I give you my number, liebling? I'd uh- I'd very much like to see you.. more.

Oh, he sounded like a fucking fool, and you looked so cute and patient; he was so used to drunken one-night stands, or shooting blanks into his hand when one just wasn't enough— this was so much harder when you looked like a literal angel to him, and not some cheap bimbo.

So patient, he wondered if you'd be like that while he railed you— even when you couldn't take it anymore. You were blushing, and he wanted to add tears to it, you were nervously fidgeting with your fingers, and he imagined them around his cock.

— Not at all, sir..

Today's a beautiful day. A lovely day even, the clouds had split just for him to bask in the loveliness of heaven's light— you sweet angel, you had no idea what you'd signed yourself up for.

— Perfekt. Hand me your phone, little one.

And you did, almost eagerly, such a good girl already. Following his orders so nicely, of course you did, even unlocking it before you passed it over.

His fingers never felt so nimble over a touchscreen, typing in his contact as if it were as easy as breathing— you seemed so shy, so nervous, it only made him confident. You made him confident, and he couldn't get enough.

— There you are, send me a text later, hm?

He hands the phone back grinning, he'd reward her for being so compliant— maybe work her open on his fingers just for now, a window of opportunity was wide open for him, and you were blushing all innocent and star-struck in front of him. He could not wait to ruin you.

— Yes, sir- König.. I'll do that. See you later!

— See you, maus.

Oh, you're so cute. You're so shy and it letting him read you like a filthy book. He knew you hadn't been taken care of, he knew you desperately needed satisfaction— and he'd give it to you tenfold, a sweet little thing like you deserved it. Especially since you did such a good job of hiding it behind that precious little smile.

Those eyes, they told him everything.

-----

pt.2 :3

#könig x reader #könig cod #konig mw2 #omg i love him #cod konig #konig modern warfare #he's crazy and I'm living for it #i want him so bad #i desire him carnally #stalker :3 #bad nasty boy #Dirty man

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murfpersonalblog · 4 months

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IWTV Ep3 Musings - Claudia & Louis (Spoilers)

I'm still teary & choked up while typing this. SUPER emotional episode. It's incredible how much they packed into one ep, too! But the second half of the ep was BY FAR the most emotionally impactful IMO. Jacob's acting is just WAY too good; he had me choking up something fierce.

Louis taking pictures of his food for no effing reason like all the social media girlies do; I love it.

Louis STILL tryna be Claudia's knight in vengeful black. U_U But just like before when he tried to save her from Lestat, he can't save her from Bruce or the Theatre or even his own eff-ups. DANG. 😔

YES YOU DO. If you wanna keep pestering her about trauma she doesn't want to think/speak about, then be prepared for the consequences.

AMC, you GOTTA kill Bruce on-screen for us, either in QotD during all the Burnings, or during the PL trilogy (Killer's death was GNARLY).

LOOK AT MY DAUGHTER ALMOST CRYING RIGHT THERE. God's strongest soldier, she's suffered more than Christ, JUSTICE FOR CLAUDIA. All rapists deserve the death penalty, IDGAF.

Understatement of the century.

I CACKLED at that literal DEMON TIMING. Armand was already AT the door while y'all were concocting your lies! Then he just strolls on in, uninvited! 😭

BULLSH!TE. Not that it matters, since vamps have SUPER-HEARING and can READ MINDS, you morons! Pack your bags and go back to America RIGHT NOW. 💀💀💀

Louis, beloved, bless your heart, but if you don't take your garbage attempts at lying back to NOLA and stop playing with this ANCIENT immortal dressed in all white like the effing BOSS PIMP you USED to be.....

Alpha DADDY Maitre Armand Sir, I take back every bottom Uke Omega joke I ever said about you~! 😍

Yeah, about all that.... 😬

Aaaaannnnnd THIS is where you effed up, Claudia.

And Armand heard the WHOLE THING. 😭

Look at her FACE. 😭😭😭😭

They KNEW she hated being treated as a child, and they KNEW her time was numbered cuz she lied about breaking their Great Laws, so they DELIBERATELY made the "Baby LouLou" role to humiliate her, and EXPLOITED her image to bring in extra revenue (how many BLACK actresses did they ever have in their coven/stage? ZERO); all while KNOWING they were gonna kill her and Louis ASAP.

youtube

I hate this Theatre coven with ever fibre of my being, Maitre.

Excellent point, Louis. Cuz I noticed in Ep2 that their apartment is kind of crappy--I assumed it was cheap & low class cuz of the tenants all being college students & sex workers, and I noticed a bunch of chipped paint everywhere; on the doors & walls.

They're slumming it in a studio, sleeping in the living room, as neither has their own room & she has to use a Murphy Bed. Major step below 1132; the exact opposite of how book!Claudia & Lou lived in Parisian opulence--highlighting my point that AMC!Claudia got NOTHING out out being a vampire.

But it's also pointing out how Louis covers all the cracks--in his MIND, in the lies he tells himself, just to live with the glaring problems he desperately wants to cover up & deny.

I'm finna yeet myself out the nearest window.

This is SO bizarre, cuz in this version Lou KNOWS Lestat's not really dead! In the book Lou set him on FIRE. So ofc he'd think Les was really dead. But here it makes no sense why he's carrying all this guilt!

Armand knew Lou & Claudia LIED, sure--but he SHOULD know Lestat's still ALIVE--he's probably chained up in the Theatre basement in one of those friggin "wet room burial vaults!"

THANK YOU.

The guilt is out of control. Louis, if Les couldn't tell you loved him after ALL OF THAT, then he's a effing fool who neither understands nor deserves you. Now go chop his d**k off!

Is that what you tell yourself when DreamStat's in bed with you every night? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I haven't seen mental trauma treated so well in Horror media since Senua's Sacrifice; this is incredible. 👏

Lou, give yourself a bit more credit--you're doing the best you can! :( Even if your best is an entire travesty. U_U

NOBODY TALK TO ME!

Just when I thought she was having a breakthrough, she doubles down on thinking Lestat lied to them about Europe being terrible. 🤦

(The way Lou clutches his pearls like he's having a heart attack--STOP it, ma'am~! 👌) And YES, you should've told her that you folded and spilled the beans to Armand and that she was walking into a trap, WTF!?! 😡

Jacob, your GirlDad is showing; PLEASE have mercy on us! 😭

EMMYS. 👏 GRAMMYS. 👏 OSCARS. 👏 TONYS. 👏

#interview with the vampire #iwtv season 2 spoilers #iwtv tvc metas #louis de pointe du lac #justice for claudia #the feels #THE FEELS I TELL YOU #must see tv #the hype is real #Youtube

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loquaciousferret · 2 years

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The Moon and Me

Summary: The team-up between you and tough-guy Joel Miller is causing a rift with his brother and partner, Tommy. Given the choice between losing you to keep the peace or choosing you once and for all, there’s only one decision Joel is going to make.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Content Warnings: Angst!! mentions of death, alcohol, age-gap!!, SMUT 18+ mdni, kind of somno. Maybe more. Read at own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Not written in so long but I’ve been in Pedro Pascal thots for days now and can’t finish my Din Djarin fic so instead I wrote this. Not proof-read in any way.

Not canon timeline or events. Probably not even canon Joel character, just need to satisfy my thots.

NSFW under the cut do not press keep reading if you are a minor pls thx!

“What have you turned into? Huh?” He spat. “Playing house with some little thing half your age.”

“That’s enough. Don’t bring her into this.” Joel responded gruffly, a warning in his tone.

“No, really,” Tommy persisted. “What’s it all about, anyway, Joel? Burying your sorrows in some 25 year olds pussy? It isn’t gonna turn back time.”

“Stop. Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” Joel didn’t raise his voice, calm but forceful.

“I have to. This is all about her. You’ve gone all soft over that girl and she’s probably only here with you because her daddy got himself killed and she needs a replacem-“

“I said, enough.” He practically yelled this time, anger and venom in his tone in response to his brother’s words. “Get out.” He spat.

Angry footsteps approached the door where you had been listening and you slipped down the hall to avoid being seen. You got to the kitchen and opened and closed the back door loudly in front of you, feigning that you had just returned and making enough noise to be sure to alert the men to your presence.

As you turned round you just caught the back of Tommy’s head and the front door slamming.

You breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone, leaving you and Joel alone, but tensed up again at the thought of how Joel might act around you now. Would his brothers words be playing on his mind? Things could change quickly in this world if there was any erosion of the trust that you had been carefully constructing between the two of you.

A door opened and Joel came towards you, you smiled, desperately trying to act natural and avoid any hint that you might have heard his and Tommy’s exchange.

“How has your day been?” You asked cheerfully.

He huffed with his typical response. “Well, I’m alive, so.”

You pursed your lips, but smiled again, turning his words into something positive. “So, good, then.”

He scoffed, and you noted that he still hadn’t met your eye throughout the short exchange.

“What did you get?” He asked, bringing your mind back to the reality of the situation.

“Oh.” You fumbled, reaching over and grabbing the pack you had come back with. “Um, it wasn’t too bad actually. Got the basics and a little more.”

He gave no verbal response but nodded approvingly. He finished what he was doing- topping up a glass of whiskey, and left the room, tending to the front door, locking every bolt and chain.

“What about Tommy?” You asked, even though you knew the answer “Is he here?”

“No.” Joel replied sharply, “He won’t be coming back tonight.”

His tone made it clear there was to be no more questions about the matter.

This was serious. A possible rift this large between the two brothers and you knew only your presence was to blame.

“You hungry?” You called out to him as he turned the corner away from you.

“Yes.” He responded briefly.

You had been clutching the edge of the counter with all your force and only realised now when you looked down and your knuckles were white from the pressure. You cursed under your breath, and got to working on some kind of dinner with the supplies you had managed to get this morning. Some canned foods that you managed to heat and present in a way that resembled a meal. You made a plate for Joel and a small one for yourself, your appetite depleted with anxiety.

You grabbed the plates and made your way out of the kitchen before turning and gathering the whiskey under your arm for good measure.

Entering what was set up as the living room area, you eyed Joel. He didn’t return the attention, pretending to be busy fiddling with a pocket knife. You set the food in front of him and he grunted in recognition (his idea of giving thanks) and you sat in a chair opposite.

You ate in silence. Usually you chose to fill these gaps and talk at him rather than with him, but you didn’t trust yourself to act natural and hide what you knew about his and Tommy’s confrontation.

“Was good.” He nodded as he finished eating and pushed the plate away from himself. He took the last sip of his whiskey and you offered him the bottle automatically, which he took, still not once having met your eye.

“I was gonna try wash my clothes, tonight.” You said.

He didn’t take the statement as an offer, filling his glass with no response.

“I can do yours, too.” You clarified.

“Don’t have any spares.” He responded gruffly. He was a man of few words at the best of times but 6 words throughout an entire meal was unusual even for him.

“Just your shirt, then.” You said.

He conceded with a nod.

You pushed your plate towards him, less than half eaten. Your stomach churning with uncertainty to the point you couldn’t choke it down.

“You should be eating more.” He said, but took the food anyway.

You watched him intently as he cleared the plate before reaching to take it back along with his previous empty one. You left the room, both failing to acknowledge each other any further.

You got to the kitchen and left the plates in the sink. The water didn’t run in there, but him and Tommy had been working at fixing it.

Tommy. You thought hard again about their conversation and what might have triggered it. What slight had Joel committed that Tommy chose to blame you for. You couldn’t put your finger on a good explanation.

You kept yourself busy for the rest of the day in your room to avoid Joel. Counting, sorting, tidying the small number of possessions you had, then starting again to fill the time. When it got dark out, you started to get ready for bed, stripping off your clothes and putting on some spare socks and underwear and a large oversized shirt. The water did run in the bathroom and you imagined you could wash them somewhat in the bathtub. When you left your room, Joel’s shirt hung on the handrail for the stairs, waiting for you.

You picked it up and walked to the bathroom, as you reached for the door handle it swung open in front of you and you bumped into Joel’s bare chest.

“Oh.” You said, “I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were in here.”

For a split second you got to analyse his body, his broad shoulders and chest, littered with scars that stood out white against tanned skin.

“Gonna let me out?” He said, snapping your gaze towards him, where you found him staring right ahead, dodging your face completely.

You side stepped and he passed you without another word, leaving you with just a hint of the scent of him. Musk, salt, whiskey.

You kneeled in front of the bathtub and ran the tap, the water was clear and clean but nowhere near hot. It would probably work, though. You reached for the rare bar of soap that rested on the edge of the bath, deeming its use a worthwhile sacrifice for the feeling of clean clothes.

You dipped all of yours into the water in a pile, saturating them before removing them one by one, scrubbing the fabric together with a small amount of soap and rinsing. Repeat. Your mind wandered, with the mundane task barely taking up any thinking power.

You imagined how it feel to be close to him. How warm would his chest be if you were pressed up against it. What he would taste like if you were to kiss his skin.

You shook your head and frowned at yourself. It was no use thinking that way. You knew on that one fact that Tommy definitely had the wrong idea. There was no level of intimacy between you and Joel. There never would be. He was right about the fact of you being half his age, a fact you were definitely both astutely aware of. It had to be enough for Joel not to ever think about you in that way. But it didn’t stop you from thinking about him.

Before you knew it his shirt was in your hands, and your face pressed into the fabric. His scent was comforting, despite being mixed with sweat, dirt, and blood. You inhaled it nonetheless. You imagined how your scents would smell mixed together in some kind of moment of intimacy or passion.

For fuck’s sake. Get it together. You tell yourself, and plunged his shirt into the water.

When the washing was complete you drained the tub, the water grey with filth, and began to wring out each item carefully as much as you could. Hopefully they would dry overnight so you both could dress again in the morning.

You draped his damp blue shirt to dry, where he had left it on the rail for you, and retreated into your room in silence.

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you could ever so slightly glimpse the moon and stars watching over you through a small crack in the boarded up window.

The next few days passed slowly. The tension from Joel didn’t let up once. You co-existed in the space whilst barely acknowledging one another. There was no sign of Tommy’s return.

On the third night, as you and Joel ate another meal in painful silence, your thoughts bubbled to the surface and despite your better judgment, your words of confession spilled out before you could stop them.

“I heard you.” You blurted. “You and Tommy. The other day. I know why he’s gone.”

For the first time in days, he met your eyes, shooting you a look you couldn’t decipher the meaning of.

“That’s none of your concern.” He spoke almost through gritted teeth.

“Well, it is, actually. It was about me. It directly concerns me.” You were usually slow to challenge him but the guilt and anxiety of the past few days had turned into some kind of twisted courage.

“You’ve been acting differently ever since.” You accused. “So I know part of you must believe what he said, or at least you have a suspicion he’s right.”

He scowled.

“Just admit it.” You challenged again.

He downed the last few sips of his whiskey and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He tilted his head to one side.

“I don’t particularly care why you’re here. He could be right. Why would it matter?”

His admission practically knocked the air out of your lungs. You were angry. His words were cruel, even though you know he didn’t mean them to be. He was always matter of fact, always suspicious. You should have known that that would apply to you as well.

You scoff almost in derision, humiliated and almost offended at the accusation that you could just be using him.

“Look, I get it.” He continues. “We all have to do what we must in this world. I’m not saying I blame you.”

If his words were meant to console you, they did the opposite.

“How dare you.” You responded.

He raised an eyebrow. You had never spoken to him like this, even when he deserved it fairly often. You weren’t a hothead and you usually didn’t let his rudeness get under your skin, you were forgiving and sensitive and you knew his front was all about self-protection, letting him get away with most of what should be considered unacceptable.

“You really think I’m here because I need you?” You spat, almost disgusted at the accusation. “I’m here because I choose to be. I’m here because I lo-” You stuttered and you knew he noticed, his eyes twitching. “Because I like you. I like your company. Despite how unpleasant you insist on being most of the time. On a good day you are funny. You can almost be kind, and caring- in your own way. But don’t for one second think I’m using you for my own protection. There was a time before you and there could easily be a time after you.”

His eyes widened at your outburst. He was practically smirking and it enraged you even further.

“You’re only in this situation, having these doubts and suspicions because of your own insistence on not talking about the past. You refuse to let yourself know me. If you knew my story you wouldn’t believe Tommy, or doubt my intentions, for even a second.”

He still didn’t respond, just watching you carefully as you got more and more flustered.

“For the record, I lost my father long before this mess started. I’ve been taking care of myself since the beginning and before that. I was 16. He was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty. Before any virus, anything. And I looked after myself from then on. He was a good cop. He was brave and intelligent and he taught me never to rely on anyone else. And I don’t. Least of all you.”

His lack of response kept your emotions heightened.

“You are so arrogant. And so self-important. I don’t need you. I chose you. You think everyone is driven by selfishness and a need to survive. Well I’m not. I choose to still find happiness, joy, laughter, music. That’s what makes us human, if you remember what that means. You and Tommy and anyone else who thinks I’m soft- well, I just don’t care. If everything you do is just driven by self-preservation then how are you any better than those monsters that we are hiding from. You would be a shell of a person if every choice you made was from a need to survive. But you would know all about that.”

Your words came out more hurtful than you had imagined but you meant every one of them. What was the point of struggling through this just to survive. You were here to live. To remember the past and find whatever scraps of it you could to rebuild something worth living for in the world you now inhabited.

His face was blank, betraying no emotion at your words.

“But I’m not going to come between you and Tommy. I know where I’m not wanted.” You spoke calmly now. “And I get it, blood is thicker than water. I won’t be the reason you lose your family. I know how that feels. And I’ll be fine. I was fine before I met you. I will be again.”

You raised from your seat and walked out of the room, speaking your final words without turning to face him. “I’ll be gone by the morning.”

You climbed the stairs and hot tears spilled from your eyes. At least they hadn’t started while you were yelling at him. That would have really undermined your point.

You slammed your door in frustration and looked around the room you had called home for the last 6 months here with Joel. You thought back to when you first met, bartering in the commune. You offering whiskey and him cigarettes. You remembered how it felt when his hand grazed yours the first time you traded with each other, his warm calloused skin and the way you practically squirmed under his intense gaze. You never would have thought then that you would become somewhat of a team. That you would grow to care for him and to-

You interrupted your own train of thought to consider what you had almost said to him in the heat of the moment. That you had grown to love him.

Part of you wasn’t sure it was true. You were only 20 when the outbreak happened, you had barely dated, barely slept with other people, never developed feelings that you thought might be love.

But you had decided that had to be what you felt towards Joel. A sense of home in wherever he was. The last thought on your mind before falling asleep and the first when you woke up. Knowing you would go hungry so he could be full, thirsty so that he might be satiated. Hurt so that he might be safe.

The tears spilled again, uncontrollable. You had picked the worst possible person to fall for, in the worst possible circumstances.

You gathered what few things you had into your pack and lay down, exhausted. Peeling off your clothes that were stuck to your flushed and tired body, discarding them on the floor and crawling into bed in your underwear. The sheets were cool and provided relief.

You tossed and turned, the house remained silent. You never heard Joel come to bed and guessed he was downstairs finishing the last of his whiskey that you had managed to save for him.

You thought about what you would have to do in the morning. You had to go far from here, somewhere you would never have to come across him again. You couldn’t stay within any proximity that would allow the potential for chance meetings. It would hurt too much to be so close but so far from the man you wanted.

You didn’t know how long you had surrendered to sleep for when you were awoken by the creaking of the floorboards on the landing outside your door and the scratch of your door as it opened. Confused by half-sleep and emotions you were still in your own world until weight on the mattress disturbed you and, next, warm hands on your neck.

“Joel?” You whispered in a groan. You were still confused and unsure, stuck in a space between dream and reality, the only clarity provided to your senses was his distinct scent as you breathed in.

He was rolling you from your side onto your back, one strong hand still on your neck and the other on your waist. As you woke up properly you were startled.

“Joel? Wha-“ Your protests were met by him shushing you.

He had never been in your room before, not even when you were awake. And you had never been in his space. Whilst the rest of the house was shared, you were both very private in your separate bedroom sanctuaries.

“Joel-“ You tried again but were interrupted by words this time.

“Can’t you just be quiet?” He said, but there was no annoyance in his tone. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he only sounded nervous. “You’ve said your piece tonight. It’s my turn now.”

As your eyes adjusted to the light you took him in, the shadows on his beard, his forehead. He looked as handsome as ever, and where his strong hands touched you, fire radiated.

“What you said about blood. About family. You’re wrong. You’re my family now. I do choose you. Choose you every day. Would neve- Could never choose anyone else.” His words were barely more than a whisper, and you almost couldn’t believe your ears. Tough, hard, cold Joel muttering words of pure adoration.

“I don’t underst-“ Your words were cut off with a gasp as he began to run his hands up and down your body.

“You’re not leavin’ tomorrow.” He breathed, his lips tickling the crook of your neck where he was leaning his head. “Won’t let you.”

You let out almost a laugh at the insinuation. Could it be true? That he wanted you as much as you wanted him? That he would really be willing to keep you practically against your will, just out of a desperate need to be with you?

“What you said, got me realisin’ what a fool I’ve been. Not havin’ the balls to show you what you mean to me. To prove myself to you. ‘n I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You were barely convinced it was reality, these confessions just too shocking to register as true.

You were only convinced by the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of whiskey and tobacco strong but not unpleasant. Everything about him was exactly what you had imagined, strong but gentle, forceful but cautious.

“I’ve been a fool, baby. Really I have. Never should have let you think you were anything less than the most amazing, beautiful thing that, hell, I don’t know what I’ve ever done right to deserve.” His words were punctuated with kisses, on your lips, neck, and onto your sternum.

You suddenly realised how naked you were compared to him, just your bra and underwear to cover yourself and you became self-conscious, lifting your arms to his chest to push him off slightly. The action made him tense up and you witnessed an expression of fear or embarrassment in his eyes, maybe he thought he had the wrong idea.

You silenced his worry by once again connecting your mouths in a kiss, and you’re not sure what gave you the confidence to reach down and toy with his belt, struggling with the buckle to undo it. It was then you took notice of the erection in his jeans. It almost made your jaw drop, palming it gently and finding it’s size. It was big. Definitely bigger than anything you had had in the past.

His mouth twitched into his signature smirk, breaking the kiss to taunt “You like what you see, baby?”

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks, which he must have seen or felt somehow as he chuckled. He leaned back, his own hands unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans with ease. He pulled them down and his boxers, his hard cock springing out, already leaking from its tip.

You took it into your hand and stroked gently, and he sighed in relief.

“Your hands- so small- so warm. ” He stuttered, his hands wandering once again, this time round your back where he unclipped your bra and pulled it from your body.

“God-“ He muttered, before taking a handful of your breast, kneading it gently and continuing to breathe deeply as you quickened the pace of your hand around his hard cock.

You were pliant and submissive beneath him as his hands roamed your body, he grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head before starting to touch your inner thighs with the other.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked, anxiety returning when you thought about your relationship up to this point. You couldn’t think of a time he’d ever indicated he was attracted to you, and a terrible thought was trying to convince you he was only doing this as a way to comfort you or convince you to stay.

“Am I sure?” He responded, incredulous. “I’ve wanted this since the first day I laid eyes on you baby. Never thought in a million years you’d want the same.”

He whispered the words into your skin, his beard tickling you as his mouth moved.

His free hand drifted from your inner thigh to your clothed sex, palming it gently. You squeezed your legs together involuntarily and became aware of how wet you already were. He did too, smirking again as he hooked a finger under the fabric and felt your slick entrance. He slipped one finger in immediately and you gasped, hips keening up towards his touch, your body unable to resist the overwhelming arousal and desire. It had been so long since someone else touched you like this. The fact that it was him, now, was unbelievable. He curled his fingers slowly, eliciting moans from you that must have seemed almost exaggerated.

“You like that, baby?”

You whined in response as he continued, his pace slow, teasing.

“Please,” You whined, no shame and no attempt to hide just how much you were already at his mercy.

He complied, releasing the grip he still maintained on your hands above your head and removing the other from inside you, using both hands to pull down your underwear, leaving you both exposed. He was still wearing his shirt, and you reached up, clumsily attempting to undo each button, simultaneously pulling him towards you for another desperate kiss.

“Wanted this for so long-“ You confessed in a whine as he touched you again, this time circling your clit gently.

“Yeah?” He responded.

“Please Joel-“ Your words were almost begging.

Sooner than you could finish speaking your thoughts, he was guiding his dick towards your entrance, nudging it gently before pushing all the way in. You both gasped simultaneously at the sensation, a perfect fit, stretching you so pleasurably.

You continued without the need for words, the room filled with the sounds of skin, the squeak of the bed, and the passionate, satisfied, desperate moans of two people who did not know how much they both needed each other until they finally took the chance.

His thrusts which had started off slow and gentle had been consistently gathering in pace and force, his hands unable to settle, roaming every inch of your body as if he was mapping you out under his touch. He squeezed your breasts, your hips, your thighs, whilst your hands explored his wide back, shoulders, chest.

You thought your pleasure couldn’t be enhanced any more until he reached one hand down to play with your clit, his thrusts still relentless. Your moans became a string of unintelligible pleading, his name rolling of your tongue like a desperate prayer.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Say my name baby, god- fuck.”

You thought it was impossible but his thrusts increased in force, and as they did so you felt a knot of heat gathering as an orgasm approached.

“Joel- ah- fuck- I” You couldn’t get a warning out before you came hard, clenching and writhing under him. His pace still didn’t let up, he didn’t stop playing with your sensitive clit, and his volume increased, grunts and moans of elation as you tightened and contracted around him repeatedly.

“Yeah baby, cum on my cock baby. Too good- fuck.” His thrusts grew sloppy as he reached his own climax, “I’m gonna cum.” He groaned.

He pulled out and a few strokes of his fist later, white hot spurts littered your upper thighs and stomach.

He collapsed next to you briefly, pressing wet kisses to your neck and collarbones, his cock twitching, sensitive from the first sex he has had in months.

When he stood, you were still so overwhelmed from your own orgasm that you failed to open your eyes to investigate his movements. As quickly as he had left, he returned, and you felt the cool wet edge of a towel cleaning you off. He tossed it on the floor before resuming his position next to you.

You opened your eyes and took in what you could of his face in the dark. You reached up and wiped sweat from his brow, pressing a kiss to his throat. In a swift motion he grabbed both your arms and turned you to face him fully.

“You still leaving in the morning?” He asked gruffly.

“Not a chance.” You whispered.

That night you slept with the light of the moon and the man you loved, watching you, protecting you.

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