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maxtermind · 2 months

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my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol) ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart.

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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wtfsteveharrington · 2 months

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don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie

content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s.

mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**

she/her pronouns used for reader!

author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3

word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!

If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker.

In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him.

He’s protective, that’s all.

The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers.

“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”

It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now.

The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy?

you drive me crazy when you start to tease

You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.

you could bring the devil to his knees

Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -

“Holy shit.”

No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!” Eddie shrieks on the other side.

You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”

The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself.

He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.

You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”

The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend.

feel my heat takin' you higher.

burn with me, heaven's on fire.

paint the sky with desire.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio.

He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else.

It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?”

Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”

Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl.

You’re coughing.

Like, way more than normal.

Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson.

“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.”

Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.”

When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug.

It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..

Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?

You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first.

“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.”

Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained.

“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way.

“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.

He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.”

You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.

The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it.

Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.

Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.

He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.

Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.

“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”

Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.

“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.

“Huh.”

It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”

Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.

“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”

You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.

Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.

“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”

You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow.

“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”

Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.

“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.

You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?”

His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead.

“Then kiss me.”

Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.

He’s not though.

Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel.

Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead.

Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.

The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least.

Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.”

Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place.

“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up.

The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.

Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.

Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie.

You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.”

He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.

"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.

It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.

Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."

You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.

Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.

All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.

It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.

Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin.

“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.”

Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.

"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"

Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."

Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.

His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.

Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.

You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.

There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.

This is crazy.

Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.

It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.

He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.

Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."

Eddie's going to fucking combust.

Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."

And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.

Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.

Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"

He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."

Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”

The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."

Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.

Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.

Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.

You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself.

There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind.

You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced.

Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all.

Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don’t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips.

Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

“How does she feel, Munson?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.

He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.

To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.

He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.

Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.

“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”

You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.

Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.

And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already.

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss.

You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.

Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.

He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.

You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.

"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.

He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.

“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”

Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.

You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.

Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.

“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”

Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.

And they’re both moaning.

Neither pulling away.

Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.

It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.

Right?

So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.

And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?

Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it.

The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless.

Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”

It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.

You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again.

Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”

He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.

There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.”

Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.

He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been.

Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch.

Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.

He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs.

It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before -

“Holy fuck, Eddie.”

His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.

Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve.

You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch.

Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow.

Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste.

Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”

#can't believe she's finally done eeeee #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #e.m.♡#s.h. ♡#steve harrington

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jobean12-blog · 12 days

Text

Rescue Ride

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,043

Summary: When you get stranded with your broken down car someone unexpected comes to your rescue.

Author's Note: Just because! Honestly, I'd go anywhere with him haha Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

Warnings: It's fluffy and cute and sweet (other than the annoying car trouble haha)

The air grows cooler as night starts to fall. There’s an eerie silence that envelopes the quiet road. Your car, having made strange noises for the past few miles, begins to smoke, and finally gives up and sputters to a stop.

You steer it to the side of the road, your heart racing as the sky continues to deepen into a dark canvas. You scan the area, seeing nothing but the far-off mile markers and the long shadows they cast against the encroaching darkness.

Suddenly, the roar of a motorcycle engine pierces the stillness, growing louder with each passing second. Your stomach flips and your palms start to sweat.

You’re all alone out here and the chances of another car passing by any time soon are slim. You search your vehicle for something to defend yourself with…just in case.

Just over the horizon you can see the bike speeding closer. The rider flies by and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Now what? That may have been the only help you were going to get. If it was help at all.

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts. Since moving here, you had only made a couple of friends and you really didn’t want to ask either of them to come out and rescue you in goodness knows where.

As you continue to contemplate your fate you miss the low rumble of the engine and when you look up to see the motorcycle slowing to a stop a few feet in front of your car you nearly jump out of the seat.

He’s tall, one long leg lifting easily over the seat until both booted feet are planted firmly on the ground.

Your eyes continue to travel upward.

His tight jeans accentuate the shape of his muscular calves and the thickness of his thighs. A worn leather jacket fits snugly across his broad shoulders and his large hands are free of gloves.

As he moves toward you it’s hard to make out more than this large frame, the setting sun highlighting only his silhouette. However, when he reaches your car window and leans down with a smile, you’re struck speechless.

Long and dark strands of hair frame his face and his sparkling blue eyes crinkle at the corners. His sharp jaw is covered with dark stubble with patches of gray peppered throughout and surrounding a pair of very kissable lips.

“You ok doll?” he asks.

When you don’t answer he leans back to give you more space. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

You shake your head and open your mouth, still staring.

He smiles again.

“It’s ok. I’m ok,” you breathe out.

“Is your car, ok?” he asks.

“My car?”

He gently taps your car above the window.

“OH! Um, well no. I think it’s dead.”

Finally pulling his gaze from you he looks at the small puffs of smoke coming from the hood.

“Want me to take a look?”

“Really?” you ask. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he says as he walks around to the front.

You open your door and get out, standing to the side to watch.

He opens the hood and peers inside, blowing smoke away from his face.

After only a few moments of assessment he says, “looks like you’ve got an antifreeze leak coming from one of your hose clamps.”

“Is that what it is?” you muse, trying to sound like you know what’s going on.

“I can fix it enough for you to get to the nearest station.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I can’t have you do that! I’ll just call someone.”

He starts walking to his bike.

“And then you’ll have to pay towing fees. Not necessary doll. Lemme help you out.”

He opens the saddle bag and removes the toolbox. As he does so you notice a small lump in his jacket and when it starts to move you let out a squeak of surprise.

“Oh right,” he chuckles.

He slowly and carefully unzips the leather and reveals a small white ball of fluff.

“This is Alpine,” he explains as the cat uncurls itself against his chest.

Your eyes widen. “Oh my gosh! He’s SO CUTE!”

“Here,” he says. “You can hold him while I check out your car.”

He picks the cat up with one hand and holds him out for you to take. You gently grab him and cuddle him to your chest, cooing softly and scratching his head.

“He’s such a sweetie!”

“I found him about a month ago. Abandoned at a truck stop.”

The shock and disgust are evident in your expression and Bucky agrees with, “I know. Unbelievable right? Thankfully, he loves rides on the bike!”

He gives Alpine a soft pat and then gestures toward your car with his chin.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s take a look.”

You follow, standing closer to get a better look at him and you can see he’s even more gorgeous than you thought.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

After you introduce yourself, you watch him bend over the hood and grab a bandana from his back pocket.

He uses a wrench to loosen a steaming clamp and then grabs the hose with the bandana.

“It can get pretty hot,” he explains.

When he pulls the hose free you can see the leak and watch with relief as he easily contains it with a quick fix.

“This will hold long enough for you to get it somewhere and get it fixed.”

“I can’t thank you enough Bucky.”

He drops the wrench back in his toolbox and stuffs the bandana back into his pocket, all the while studying your face with soft eyes.

“Tell ya what doll face,” he starts. “I’ll follow you to the nearest repair shop to make sure you get there safely and then while you wait for your car to get fixed I'll take you out for a bite to eat.”

“On your bike?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a smirk. “Ever ridden before?”

You shake your head no.

His lopsided grin grows, and he leans in a little closer.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, doll.”

@randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @kmc1989 @hiddles-rose

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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spideysbruh · 6 months

Text

Thank You GQ

a/n- the lil ~ means a passage of time

liked by florencepugh, y/n and 892,339 others

tchalamet GQ.

view all 371,728 comments

tstan your shoots are always the best

GQ let's do it again some time mr. chalamet

y/n oh my

timmylaurie he's so cute omg

liked by tchalamet and 170,383 others

y/n what's everyone asking for from santa?

view all 15,383 comments

timmytimstan omg t liked

yourfriend what are you getting me for christmas 🤭

y/n literally no clue ❤️

tchalamet a vinyl record would be nice

y/n liked

y/n 🤔

timmytimstan omg t commented !

timmysgf who is she ??

tchalamet oh wow.

kylesballs not him simping for a random insta model publicly LMAOO

timotheeandall y/n is NOT an instagram model omggg 💀

@y/n tweeted: need. need so bad

@sinusandsocks replied- me too girl 💀💀

@lauriesarmpit replied- no way the first tweet I see of hers is ab timmy 😭😭💀💀

@tsgf replied- how do you know it's about him?

@ynsleftear replied- trust me, she's been like this for a while 💀💀 she stays shooting her shot!!

liked by tchalamet, yourfriend, rachelzegler and 243,827

y/n honeymoon fades

view all 32,817 comments

sabrinacarpenter caption. i love you.

y/n liked

ynstan BEAUTIFUL GIRL

tchalamet need.

y/n liked

chalametgirl BYEEEE LMAOOOOO

tchalamet oh my.

rachelzegler absolutely gorgeous. when are we hanging out 🥺🥺

y/n im free next week <3 let me dm you w my schedule LMAOO we need to have a sleepover again I got so much to tell you

rachelzegler omg this is happening ill see you next week love

~~~

tchalamet just posted a story!

@y/n tweeted: the average person was never meant to have this much lore.

@realchalamet liked and retweeted

@ynsblanket replied- oh god what happened girl

@ynandtimschild replied- you're literally dating timothee chalamet it's okay 😩😩🙏🏼

@y/n replied- exactly!!! life is crazy.

@realchalamet liked

@timoatreides replied- wait what💀💀

@realchalamet tweeted: life IS crazy

@paulswhore replied- BROOOO !?!?!!!

@ynsgf replied- HELPP!?!?!!! at 2am is crazy

~~~

liked by tchalamet, dylanminnette, haileesteinfeld and 1,937,727 others liked

y/n two years. you've dealt with every part of me and you're still here with me. I love you more than anything my silly boy. I'll always remember the GQ issue that finally gave me the courage to dm you 💀💀

view all 123,732 comments

tchalamet ohhhh THATS why its framed in our place 🤔🤔

y/n but also cause im so proud of you 😍things can have two meanings 🫶

paulsdune TWO YEARS ?!?!!! it took yall forever to make it official huh

y/n you're telling me...

tchalamet thank god for GQ cause i was too scared to dm you myself 💀💀

y/n liked

lauriesyn NO WAYYYY HAPPY ANNIVERSARY YALLL

kyleshair literally my parents omg

timosbirthmark tbh it's good they waited a while to actually date, people be so quick to jump into relationships LMAOO

rachelzegler our double dates are some of my favorite memories

y/n same we gotta do it again

mariastory timothee and josh being friends omg

liked by y/n, zendaya, madisonbeer and 3,827,727

tchalamet thank you once again GQ. i think i'm much more mature this time around. and thank you for getting me the love of my life with the 2020 issue, I am eternally grateful.

view all 432,226 comments

y/n oh my 😍

tchalamet liked

laurieslaurence YOU ATEEEE the lil part about y/n and how much she's helped shape you 🥺🥺🫶🫶

atreideskyle i ❤️ my boyfriend

zendaya OKAYYYYY

willyswonka he seems like such a good boyfriend to y/n

florencepugh so proud of you!!!

charliestimo the comparison to the 2020 and this one 🥺🥺 he's already grown so much 😭💔💔

ayoedebiri 🫶🫶

liked by y/n, dovecameron, addisonraee and 4,282,727

tchalamet my love deserves a post of its own. when we're apart i count down the minutes until we can be together again. you make me the best possible version of myself and i thank you for it. you are the most beautiful person inside and out, and I'm so lucky to get to not only know you, but love you as well. i love you happy two years my pretty girl.

view all 233,287 comments

timosatreid "MY PRETTY GIRL" GOD WHEN 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺

y/n you just had to outdo my caption huh.

tchalamet liked

addisonraee yall are too cute pls stop

sabsyn THE HAND PLACEMENT IN THE SECOND PIC WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE. HAND. PLACEMENT.

ynschals imagine how many pics they have of each other on their phones that we'll never see... 😖

yourfriend no other guy could make her as happy as you, timmy!

tchalamet and y/n liked

y/n idk if you know this but i love you

#timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet social media au #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet au #timothee chalamet smau #timothee chalamet instagram au

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aothotties · 7 months

Text

Miss Me?

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Connie x Black!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, pet names, Connie speaks spanish, Connie is a panty thief, multiple orgasms, fingering, mirror sex, mating press, cream pie, super fluffy at the end.

Word count: 4.3k

-----

“Cairo please stay still so mama can change your diaper, your dad will be here any minute.” You plead with your toddler, rushing to put on his diaper.

“Damn it Connie” You mumble at the sound of your doorbell ringing, of course he shows up early when your hands are full.

“Mama, papa’s at the door.” Your oldest, Cj, says as he eats his snack at the kitchen table.

“Have you tried opening the door from papa?” You ask him, trying and failing to hide your sarcasm.

Your son sighs out dramatically and pauses his Ipad. He drags his feet to the front door and opens it.

“Cj! Que paso papa?” You hear your son’s voice perk up as he and his father start speaking Spanish.

“Your Spanish is magnificent papa, I see your mama is teaching you well?” He looks over at you and stifles a laugh while you wrestle with Cairo.

“I’m trying to. There! Go ahead and be free.” You huff and lean back on your arms, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face as he toddles over to his father.

“Ven aqui hijo!” He exclaims, immediately scooping the small boy up into his arms as he kisses all over his face.

You stand up from your spot on the floor and grab your phone to check the time. You have a date tonight and who better to watch your boys than their father.

“Mama you didn’t give papa a hug yet” Your son points out, hiding a sneaky smile behind his hand as he giggles.

“He’s right mami, you’re the only one who hasn’t given me a hug.” He sets your younger son down and walks over to you slowly with his arms open wide.

“You guys think you’re so sneaky don’t you?” You look between the both of them and playfully roll your eyes.

You walk over to Connie and wrap your arms around his waist, you let out a gasp when he tightens the hug and rubs his hands up and down your back. You can't exactly explain it, but the way he’s hugging you kind of made you miss him being around.

“Make sure your little boyfriend has you back at a decent time.” He pulls away from you and gives you a smile.

“Okay one, Tyler is not my boyfriend he’s my work friend. And two I will let you know how the night goes when I come back.” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek then head to your room to get ready.

After about 45 minutes you finally finish getting yourself together. You make your way to the living room and swing your purse onto your shoulder.

--- “Alright boys, I’ll be back by 11. If you need anything ask your father, and Connie if you need anything you know who to dial.” You dig through your bag for your keys and look up to see your sons and their father staring at you.

“What’s the problem?” You ask, rolling your eyes and resting a hand on your hip.

“Mommy it’s cold out you should wear a sweater” Cj says, walking over to the coat rack.

“Yeah mami, you should really put on a sweater. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, would we?” He asks, eyeing you from head to toe as you apply your lip gloss.

“It’s 78 degrees, you guys are doing too much” You check yourself over again and grab your keys.

“Have fun!” Connie and the boys say in unison which brings a smile to his face.

“Alright, who wants to watch scary movies and eat ice cream?!”

~~~

Connie quietly backs out of the boys room and pulls the door shut as carefully as he can.

“Finally, those boys can play all night long.” Connie mumbles to himself and turns to walk down the steps.

He stops in front of your door and stares at the shiny knob in front of him. He rubs his hand over his face and steps inside what used to be your shared bedroom and looks around.

He chuckles to himself as the memories of you two in this room take over his mind, so many nights full of laughter, tears, moans and whimpers. Nights he wishes you two can hopefully have again.

A red fabric catches his eyes and he raises an eyebrow as he squats down to retrieve the piece of cloth. He unfolds the fabric and is surprised at the sight of your skimpy panties in his hand.

He stuffs the panties into his back pocket and can’t help but fantasize about the things he’s going to do to and with the pretty underwear. He decides to leave the room now before you come home and catch him snooping.

Although that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, he always points out how sexy you look when you’re pissed off.

He jogs down the steps and out to your back patio, he makes himself comfortable and pulls out a bag of weed and a pack of wraps.

“Now for my favorite part of the night” He says out loud, talking to nobody but himself.

He opens up the wrap and dumps the contents out into your little trash bin next to the coffee table. Connie starts focusing so hard that he doesn’t notice you stepping inside the house.

You kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the sofa nearby, you look around the house and shake your head at the sight of him outside. You can’t help but smile at the sight, pushing down the memories trying to come back up.

“Are you going to stand there and be pretty or come and join me?” He asks, not needing to turn around to know you’re watching him.

“I’ve always hated when you do that.” You cross your arms and sit next to him on the sofa.

“Yeah you hate a lot of the things I do, how was your little date?” He says, lighting up the blunt.

“I see where Cj gets his listening problems from, it was not a date. But we had drinks, he bought me dinner and we just talked.” You shrug your shoulders and take the blunt from his hands.

“You two just talked? You’re all dressed up all pretty and you just talked.” He makes a face and nods his head as if he’s trying to understand.

You cough up some smoke when he says the word pretty and pass the blunt back to him.

“Connie, you think I’m pretty?” you ask teasingly, moving closer to where he’s seated.

“I didn’t say all that, I said you dressed up all pretty.” He pokes your nose and takes a long drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans his head back.

Your eyes trail up and down his figure and you can’t up but bite your lip at the sight of his tattoos. Your body moves before you can think and you trace your finger over your favorite piece on the side of his throat.

Your name, you both were so young when he got the tattoo. He asked you for a suggestion and you jokingly said your name, but to him he wanted nothing more than to do it.

He would do absolutely anything to make you happy, in all honesty all he wants to do now is make you happy.

“If you didn’t think I was attractive you wouldn’t have gotten my name tattooed on your neck.” You say to him as you trace your finger over the red ink.

He laces his fingers with yours and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You know I think you’re the sexiest woman alive, you gave me two boys. To me you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are, yet somehow you always do.” He kisses your knuckles and sets your hand down.

You feel your face warm up as he speaks and his compliment has you at a loss for words.

“It’s getting late so I should head back to the apartment. Ony is gonna get into my stash if I’m not quick enough” You nod your head and stand up behind him.

“I’ll lock the door behind you” you give him a small smile and he walks back inside. You follow behind him and walk towards the front door.

“Thank you for watching the boys tonight, tell Sasha I said hey” To your surprise he just chuckles dryly and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah that ended two months ago, I guess I forgot to tell you” he throws his hood on and puts his hands in his pocket and shrugs.

“Connie what the hell happened!” You slap him on the arm and wait for him to explain. He lets out a sigh in annoyance and rubs his hands down his face.

“It just didn’t work out. We fought way too much, and she kept saying crazy shit that just didn’t make sense.” He keeps his answer short to avoid diving too much into detail about the situation.

Crazy shit like what?” You cross your arms and stare at him in anticipation.

“She thinks I’m still in love with you, I told her I wasn’t anymore. She called me a fucking liar, I got mad and yelled then that was the end of it”

You’re taken aback by his statement and look around the room awkwardly. You couldn’t help but wonder if what she said was somewhat true. He gets ready to head out the front door but stops when you speak.

“Connie, are you still in love with me?” You quietly ask, walking up to him.

He freezes in his tracks and refuses to make eye contact with you. He lets the door knob go and turns to face you, leaning on the door as he looks at you.

“Why does it matter if I do or not? What’s gonna change between us if I say yes?” He pushes off the door and walks over to where you’re standing. Your stomach twirls at how close he gets to you and you twiddle with your thumbs.

“Connie…” You step as close as you can and pull him towards you by his jacket.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish mami, that’s why we got Cairo now.” He wraps an arm around your waist and stares deeply into your eyes.

You close the gap between you both and press your lips against his eagerly. He drops his bag to the floor and wraps both of his arms around your waist, pulling you in as much as he could. You push the hood off of his head and run your fingers over his hair, basking at how much it’s grown these past months.

“U-upstairs, take me to the bedroom.” You say against his lips, shrieking when he picks you up by your legs. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh as he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, almost tripping up the steps.

“Be careful or both of us are sleeping alone tonight.” You threaten playfully and he pinches your ass in return.

“Yeah, in your wildest dreams cariña. You already got me in here and it’s gonna be hard to get me to go away this time.” He pushes you up against the door and connects your lips again. He grabs your cheeks to deepen the kiss and slides his tongue inside your mouth eagerly. His hands travel down your body slowly, and he pulls the tie open on your shirt.

You let out a sigh as your breast fall from the shirt, moaning into his mouth as his large, warm hands massage your nipples. You bite down on his bottom lip as he tugs on your nipples, he rubs over the buds to soothe the sting.

“Oh baby you’re just as gorgeous as I remember.” He pulls you off the door and lays you on your bed, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Connie don’t just stare at me, you know I get self conscious.” You whine and pull him down on top of you by his shirt.

He chuckles at your desperation and pulls his shirt off to reveal his tattoos and muscular figure, your fingers absent-mindedly gravitate towards his abdomen.

“You want to touch them baby?” He asks teasingly, taking your wrist in his hand to place on his body. You trail your hand down his body and lick over your lips.

“You know what I was thinking, mi amor?” He pushes you back on the bed completely and starts to pull your jeans off your legs.

“Now that the tattoo parlor is up and running, I think you should finally let me put some ink on you baby.” Your panties come down with your jeans and he bites his lip.

“Yeah papi? I think I’ll let you put your name on me this time.” You say, enjoying the idea of his name on your body.

His head drops down between your thighs and he nips at the skin, wrapping an arm around your thigh.

“I think imma put it here, right next to these pretty stretch marks over here.” He rubs his hands up and down your thighs ever so gently, sucking on the skin until a mark forms.

“N-no, you know I hate-” You're cut off by a tattooed hand wrapping around your throat.

“I see you’re still as hard headed as ever, huh?” He asks, picking you up and moving over to the middle of your bed.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, looking back up at him in confusion.

“Since you still don’t listen, I’m going to have to show you how beautiful you are. Remember baby, that’s the whole reason I even put the mirror up.” He kisses your cheek and spreads your thighs apart.

“Que bonita, no?” He asks, taking two of his slender fingers to open your lips up to him.

A low groan leaves his lips at the sight of your sweet hole clenching around nothing. You let out a whine and nod at his question, he smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Good job baby.” He praises, his lips leaving soft kisses down your neck.

He rewards you by sliding two of his fingers into your needy cunt slowly. You arch your back and let out a low moan. Connie takes his free hand and slaps it over your mouth.

“You wanna wake the boys up mami?” He asks, smirking at the way you clench around his fingers.

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers meet with your g-spot. You feel your orgasm creeping its way up your body as you get closer.

“I remember what that face means, you gonna come on my fingers mi amor?”” He asks, speeding up the pace of his fingers, curling them upwards to draw you closer to your release.

The coil in your belly snaps and you come on his fingers quickly, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Connie takes your cheeks in his hand and pulls you in for a deep kiss while you spasm around his fingers, he rubs your clit with his thumb and you whimper in his mouth.

“T-too much, I want to feel you inside of me. Please papi, I need it so bad.” You beg, he looks down at you and bites his lip at how whiny you sound.

“You want me to fuck you princesa? Want me to fuck you until you can’t speak, you want me to breed that sweet little pussy?” You moan at the thought of him filling you up with his cum and nod your head.

He chuckles and bends you forward so you can see the mirror, you bite your lip when his sweatpants and underwear get pulled down his legs. His cock is standing upright, the tip is red and already leaking precum.

“Watch me in the mirror, okay?” He rubs a hand down your back and you nod in return. He gives himself a few strokes before he guides himself inside your pussy.

You let out a gasp as he continues pushing himself inside, he makes sure to be slow and careful as he eases himself in.

“Holy shit baby, you’re so fucking tight. Relax for me baby, I know you remember having me in there. It’s only been a few months.” He leans down and kisses the side of your forehead.

“A-ah it’s been six months!” You let out a loud moan into the sheets below you as he bottoms out inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure and grabs your hips, he grits his teeth as he resist the urge to immediately start pounding into you.

“Well then we have lots of catching up to do. L-let me know when you want me to move, I don’t want to hurt you.” He tells you, gently trailing his fingers up your back, needing some sort of distraction to prevent himself from fucking you like a wild animal.

“It’s okay” You lift your head up from the sheets and make eye contact with him in the mirror. He flashes you his bright smile and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. His hands make their way to your hips as his own start to form a steady rhythm. You grip the sheets as his tip kisses your cervix each time he fucks into you.

“Connie!” You gasp, your chest pressing down further into the mattress. Gripping the end of the bed like your entire life depends on it.

“Fuckkkk, missed this tight pussy so much baby girl.” He digs his nails into your skin and forces your ass back onto him. Your moans turn into whimpers as you feel your second orgasm creep up.

“‘m gonna cum papi, I'm coming.” You warn him, he picks up his thrust and rolls his hips as you come around him for the second time tonight. Your head falls down in exhaustion and you feel his hand wrap around your chin, forcing you to face the mirror.

“Is it too much baby? You know our safe word never changed?” He teases, his hips begin to pick up their pace, you cry out in pleasure the deeper he fucks into your cunt.

“N-no! I-I can ngh…I can take it.” You look at him in the mirror and he can’t help but bite his lip and tangle his hand in your hair. He’s got you flushed against his chest as he fucks you like it’s the last time he ever will.

“Yeah? You sure you can take all of me baby?” He pulls your head back more and smiles down at your fucked out expression, smashing his lips against yours passionately.

“We’ll see about that won’t we?” He pulls out of you and you whine in protest. You’re about to complain, but he quickly flips you onto your back and places each one of his arms next to your head so he’s looking down at you. You feel your face warm up at how intensely his brown eyes stare back into yours.

“I missed you.” You confess, rubbing your fingers up and down his tattooed arms.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and lifts one of your legs up, taking advantage of the new position and immediately pushing into you again. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and he finds himself fucking into you again.

“I missed you so much, sweet girl, so. fucking. much.” He groans between each thrust and you arch your back in pleasure, his tip immediately finds your g-spot and you feel a warm sensation build up in your lower belly.

Connie took your legs from around his waist and pushes your thighs up to your chest. You go to let out a loud moan, but are interrupted by Connie wrapping his ringed fingers around your throat.

“I know it feels good baby, but you’re gonna wake the boys up.” He gives you an evil smirk and picks up the speed of his hips. He parts your lips with his thumb and slides it between your lips.

You wrap your lips around his thumb and look up at him with teary eyes, holding back a scream as he continues his assault on your pussy.

The sound of heavy breathing and wet skin slapping against each other fills the room. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack as Connie continuously pounds into your cunt.

“Look at you, my sweet girl. No one else can ever see you like this, entiendes?” He asks, you try and respond but are too fucked out to even form a proper sentence.

Connie's fingers tighten around your throat and his thumb finds its way to your overstimulated clit, he rubs quick circles on your nub and your eyes go cross.

“I asked you a question sweetie.” He leans your face down and forces you to look at him.

“Y-yo entiendo papi, o-only belong to you. Fuck fuck! papi I’m gonna come! P-promise I’m only yours! Ah fuck” You say urgently, your pussy clenches around his dick and you feel your climax approaching. This one definitely feels stronger and more intense than the other two.

Connie lets out a loud groan as your pussy clenches around his shaft, his hips start to lose their rhythm as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“Fuck yes that’s it cariña, I wanna feel you come all over me. Give me one more baby.” He bends down and presses a hard kiss to your lips, his hips buck into yours rapidly and he can’t hold on any longer.

“Fuck Y/N, voy a venir bebe! Want me to fill that sweet pussy up and put another baby in you? Think we should try for a girl this time, don’t you think?” You nod your head desperately, and he rubs your clit with his thumb again

You bite down on his bottom lip as your final orgasm runs throughout your body. Your eyes squeeze shut and all you can see is pure white, your entire body starts convulsing. Your essence shoots out and splashes against his abs, down both of your legs, and onto the bed sheets below.

You come so hard your pussy sucks Connie in deeper and he squeezes the skin of your thighs as he comes deep inside of you. He moans against your lips and you let out a sigh as you feel his come fills you up.

“You okay? You looked like you almost passed out.” He presses his forehead against your and smiles at you while you regain consciousness.

“Y-yeah I’m okay. Also, i feel like now is a good time to tell you that Tyler is a happily married man with no interest in me at all.” You inform him and he rolls his eyes.

“Happily married men can still want to fuck you if the oppurtunity allows.” He retorts and you hold back a laugh.

“Even gay men Connie?” You raise an eyebrow and the look on his face is absolutely priceless.

“Y’know there are in fact exceptions to the rule.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck.

“I really am sorry about you and Sasha.” You run your fingers over his hair and rub his cheek with your thumb.

“Don’t sweat it, she was right in the end and I just didn’t want to admit it. I’ve loved you since we were 16, just cause we break up doesnt mean I can just give up everything.” He leans on one hand and you sit up to kiss him in response

“I love you Connie, I want you to come back home with us. No more fighting okay?” He nods and pulls you into his chest, rubbing his hands over your back.

“No more fighting baby, I promise. From now on we’ll only argue about dinner, what movie to watch, and what outfits we’ll put the boys in.” He says jokingly, you laugh at his antics and nod in return.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna pull out before you get me all excited again.” He warns, you whimper at the feeling of emptiness once he pulls out of you. Your eyes widen when his fingers take the place of his dick, you look at him in shock and he feigns innocence.

“Well we wanna make sure you get pregnant, right?”

…..

“Okay Mrs. Springer, when you feel the next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can.” The doctor says and you nod your and begin to push through the pain and pressure.

“There we go baby you got it! Keep going Y/N!” Connie encourages you, holding one of your hands in both of his.

A small cry breaks out into the air and the doctor guides your baby out safely, she holds the baby up and you fall onto your back.

“It’s a girl!” Connie exclaims and instantly bursts into tears, you can’t help but also shed tears as she’s laid on your chest.

Connie places multiple kisses all over your face and looks at the new baby in front of you.

“She’s gorgeous Connie, she’s so perfect.” You sniffle and giggle when you make eye contact with the small baby.

“She sure is, she looks just like her mama. My sweet little Cecelia.” You give him a large smile and nod in agreement.

“Cecelia is perfect, my little Cece.” You giggle at the nickname and rock the small girl in your arms as she whines.

“I love you Connie.” You say, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

“I love you more, mi vida.”

Ari

#aot smut #aot #aot x black reader #aot scenarios #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot x female reader #connie x reader smut #connie springer

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luna-has-some-thoughts · 28 days

Text

Pt 2. EXTRA Danny accidentally becomes the president

P2 extra: Danny becomes the president

Danny slept for ONLY a few days and when he woke up he was healed of all injury. Oh, and also, he wasn't in his room. NO, he was in a mansion, a FRUITLOOP type of mansion. A beautiful gothic inspired mansion that screamed "I AM ELEGANCE, I AM BEAUTY I AM MONEY" it was only when he one of the workers in the mansion came in did he get informed about what happened these last few days.

APPARENTLY this wasn't just a mansion, it was a WHITE HOUSE. Except it was panted like a black and green galaxy because everyone hates white now

And also he's the president.

A Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL or EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

All he wanted to keep to protect his town from the GIW. But considering that fainted he was... unsuccessful? But that slight failure did help the amity parkers decide to help themselves and finally accept him as hero so maybe not??

He was happy that they accepted him and protected him but he really wasn't expecting this at all. Why in the world did they make him president??? He didn't think they liked him that much! Also! How is he president??? Amity park is just a random town in the middle of nowhere Illinois!

Wait...what??! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AMITY IS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY???!! I WAS OUT FOR 3 DAYS! THEY HAVENT EVEN STARTED CLEANING UP YET HOW IN THE NAME OF THEY ANCIENTS DID WE GET DECLARED AS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY????!

"I see..." Danny nodded after finally calming down. "So let me get this straight..." He counted on his fingers, "You," he looks at the woman in front of him "along side other people and ghosts, and mom and dad, and fright night, and Pandora...kidnapped the us president"

She nodded.

"Took him to UN headquarters, then Bribed, blackmailed, and harrased the UN members into declaring us a country"

.she nodded.

"Then declared me as king and president of amity"

She nodded.

"You know this new development is gonna attract the league of bitches right?"

"Oh we won't have to worry about that for now, but when they do then we'll be prepared." She smiled innocently.

Danny stared at her with tired eyes as he channeled his inner amity parker, the power to say well, I guess this is happening now. He sighed "Fine, but I can't be king and president at the same time. I can be king since you're all liminal, so technically all of amity is part of the whole ghost king territory." He sighed, "but I can't be president, too much responsibility, I'm already in charge of a whole ass realm"

So now they needed a new president, preferably some uncorrupt, someone who doesn't care much about the money and will always look for ways to improve the living standard, someone kind but not a push over.

Next day it was declared that.

MADDIE AND JACK FENTON, PRESIDENTS OF AMITY.

Danny was stunned when he saw the news. Did they seriously pick the resident mad scientists as president.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his parents and know that they're awesome but can they do this???

Turns out they can.

The president Drs Fenton's first move was healthcare for Both ghosts and humans and a free class dedicated to helping yourself.

Helping yourself classes include:

How to stitch your self up

How to use fudge as a weapon

How to fight the world most dangerous villains.

How to fight the worlds strongest heroes

Etch.

They launched some programs that might seem weird at first.

Programs like:

A defence class against sentient food.

Making friends with the realms

A school for the liminal

A class for avoiding the fae.

Using the blob ghosts as construction workers.

Etch

They might be weird but the end results turned out to be pretty usefull for the amity parkers.

At some point they decided to build a wall around the countrys property. It would ensure that only the amity parkers and people with permission would be able to enter/leave the town. There would be no gate and the only way out would be trough the portal system built by the Fenton's.

Danny thought it was too much

The amity parkers thought it was perfect, they didn't want anyone in their country, this was the kings haunt, this was their home and they would die and then come back as ghosts just to protect it.

And so the wall was raised..

Amity park continued to live in harmony and peace for many years...

-----

A couple of years later.

Flash had come across the wall.

And of course, alerted the league of bitches.

Batman was having a headache, no matter where he looked, no matter how many government systems he hacked, there was nothing. Not a single piece of info, not a single paper trail on what could possibly be whats behind the wall, and when it was built.

But it's impossible for something that big to just appear out of nowhere.

So the JL had suggested looking over Illinois via satellite, the wall didn't have a roof so they should be able to see the inside.

"What the heck" Oracle cursed as she looked at the camera. "Hey RR, look at this"

"what is it?" Red Robin walked closer, coffee mug in hand.

"Somethings interfering, I can't get a view of the wall at all" she took a sip of her own coffee as she tried hacking. Emphasis on TRIED.

The batcomputer was covered in static, then turned black. After that it flashed gold with a Egyptian like gold simbol and a message.

"NU UH"

" Get wrecked ".

Suddenly whoever was On the other side started hacking the batcomputer.

It turned into a nearly 24 hour, (Oracle: does this hacker not sleep??) battle of trying to keep the hacker away from their bat systems.

It only stopped when the hacker sent a message.

"Nice as this little war was, im getting bored so bye (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

Seizing the opportunity they tried to hack in. Only to be hit with a firewall and a virus.

--------

Life was good, life was stressful but it was good for Danny.

He thought to himself as he walked towards the wall that kept them safe.

Appearantly the clan of glorified furrys tried hacking them last night. Unfortunately for them not only was Tucker incredibly good at hacking, his liminality also gave him less need for sleep so he just kept messing with them until they were exhausted.

But this little occurrence made Danny think a bit. Now that the GIW was gone and the Anti ecto acts were basically burned without a trace , there was no need to hide. There was never a need to isolate their little country in the first place.

The amity parkers are free come and go whenever they want, the wall isn't here to keep them in, it's to keep the outsiders out. The rich familys often go out, they can't just disappear from society after all, but the other amity parkers, they don't. They haven't left at all, claiming that it was better for them here as they probably won't be accepted. Just because the Anti ecto laws are gone doesn't change the fact that liminals and ghost aren't recognized as species, they were closer to myths than metas and the world, (especially the league of bitches) werent like them, they were terrified of change. So they stayed in amity.

The people just wanted to feel safe for a while, lay low until they're sure that no one would hurt them any more. But they're stronger now, better than before and more ...magical.

Danny stops waking and looks back at the town. Liminals, ghost, blobs, and humans with ghostly features from the ecto walked, talked and played together. He grinned so what if the world would have a hard time accepting them? The worlds opinion doesn't matter, destroying it or fleeing to another dimension was always a choice and his people aren't the type to back down from a fight.

Yeah, It was time to reintroduce Amity to the world. He flipped the switch and the walls portal gate opened to Gotham.

Now then? They had a plan, his people suggested he take the lead in the plan and they will follow.

The plan? The plan was to become a head ache for Bruce Wayne, aka the The Furry knight.

Rich fruitloop with a plan to takeover the business world style.

_________

Tim is stressed not only is he stressed with the whole random Illinois wall situation he's also stressing out about this random Business man that appeared out of nowhere And is competing against WE!

Okay, maybe not competing but still!! It's only been two months, TWO MONTHS since this company appeared and it was already competing for one of the richest companys in America! How?????

So he tried looking into the owner. The owner looked like about his age! Looked like a fresh 18 year old but his file says he's 25, something about slow aging that runs in the family, maybe a meta gene? But theres no way he could build a billionaire company from scratch at only 25 so hes definitely born in a rich family. Daniel Fenton, his name, a perfectly normal name. Only issue is that, THERE ARE NO BILLIONAIRE FAMILIES NAMED FENTON!.

He looked deeper, he found an interview that said he was from a country called Amity when asked where it was, he gave coordinates. Not an address, not a continent, but COORDINATES. And Guess where the coordinates led?

THE FREAKING WALL OF ILLINOIS!!!!.

This man came from the wall! Well... Most likely INSIDE the wall. But from the wall nonetheless.

So he told Bruce, and what was the best way to get a business mans attention without being suspicious?

A GALA

Tags, I'm not gonna do tags anymore, might make a masterpost so look out for that instead.

@vixen-uchiha

@sebas-nights

@whotfevenknowsanymore

@jaguarthecat

@serasvictoria02

@devilbunny612

@sumatra513

@just-lurking-dont-mind-meh

@i-love-mangoes

----

#danny phantom #dc x dp #batman #amity parkers be like #danny fenton #dpxdc #amity park

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holybibly · 6 months

Text

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part II

Part I If you haven't read it

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ unprotected sex, Dom!San, Dom!Wooyoung, Sub!Reader, fingering, choking, degrading, pet names, spit kink, manhandling, threesomes, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation and more.

Tag list: @staytiny816 @woosmaid @jiminssluttyminx @liknws @pearltinyy @haebaragisworld @bts-iris @bleachpolaroid @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ginger-coffee-addict @pricessthings @rockstarsanie @lilmackiee @minaizum1 @shotahime @vixensss @meljoongiee @ivsjake4evr @love-me-a-little @seonghwaddict @onmykneesforateez @meeitany

A/N: Okay, we're here. I couldn't be more excited. Really, they've got a lot going on and I hope you're all ready because it's gonna be intense, hot and messy. Seriously, I really appreciate everyone's feedback and consideration for this series. It's become one of the most popular things I've written, but it put some pressure on me, because I'm worrying about whether the second part would please you. Well, I think we'll see.

Enjoy the chapter, even though it's practically nothing but smut.

The third and final part! takes us back to where it all began, but not without an emotional roller coaster ride. By the way, I wanted to point out that T/N doesn't remember what she promised them a year ago. So don't be surprised by the plot changes in this issue. In the finale, we're sure to get a hot threesome.

I'm still learning how to write smut, so please be gentle with me.

Besides, I can't help but talk about the results of the poll. The majority vote was for Alpha/Beta/Omega!au, and honestly, it's one of the ideas I'm most excited about, and I was hoping it would be the winner. I look forward to your comments. In general, feel free to write me about anything.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Much love, everyone.

Now. The morning after graduation.

It's a late, lazy morning when you wake from a deep and well-earned sleep. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the bright golden light flooding the room, which refracted through your bedroom's stained glass. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time, just as Hongjoong himself, who had inspired you to do this.

You should have shaded the windows last night before you went to sleep, but that was the last thing you thought of as lying in bed between the restless, wet San's and Wooyoung's bodies. You were more preoccupied with the touch of their rough hands on your heated body, the warmth of their breath on tender skin, and the sounds of their hoarse moaning right by your ear.

They were an absolute mess, slowly driving you crazy. Emotions raged in your stomach, making you feel guilty, embarrassed and… lustful. You practically dozed off at dawn, when the boys managed to calm down a bit and fall into a deep sleep.

The apartment is incredibly quiet; you can't hear a single sound, and only the soft sniffle on your neck, with the feeling of warm breath dancing across your bare skin, breaks this peaceful silence.

Wooyoung is still fast asleep, clutching you in his arms like a favorite teddy bear, his leg wrapped possessively around your thigh as it always has been. Even when he was asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let you go for a second.

You ran the palm of your hand over the sheet and felt nothing but the cold under your fingers. Sannie has been awake for a while now, and for a moment you're annoyed by this fact. You wish that he was still in bed with you, soft and gentle as he always was. So that the three of you could spend this special morning together. The graduation robes are scattered all over the room in a mess of things, and all you want to do is push them further and further into the wardrobe and forget about them forever. The dog days are finally over. You are now official free.

Sensual, full lips touch the sensitive spot on your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine. The throat is suddenly dry, sweat begins to form on your neck from the abruptly increase in desire, and you close your eyes tightly, aware of every touch and breath coming from Wooyoung more clearly than before. It's as if your whole body is completely focused on him, reacting to every fleeting movement and every sound with even more eager devotion.

You're still too receptive from last night, and you need more space to try and keep all those dirty, depraved thoughts from taking over and you. You studiously ignore the slight shiver of excitement that is happily tickling your breasts and causing the muscles in your lower abdomen to ripple in a pleasant way. You bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning in frustration as the images and sensations of the night flash in front of your eyes. You need to stop right now. It's too bad, but it's too sweet.

You start to wriggle, trying to get away from Wooyoung, who is still sleeping, but he just pulls you closer to his chest, as if he wants to dissolve into your body completely, and you melt.

Wooyoung has always been so insatiable and greedy for any kind of physical contact that you can offer him, like an adorable little puppy, that you can just wag your finger at him and he'll come running to you. He always had "too much space between you"; it was important to him to hold you constantly, to touch soft skin with his fingertips, to leave butterfly kisses in every possible place, to knead your thighs and squeeze waist possessively, to pull you so close that there wasn't a centimetre between you. You were his darling, soft and sweet girl in all the right places, and he just couldn't help himself.

San used to tell him that he was being a bit greedy and that he needed to learn how to share you with others. After all, sharing meant caring, and you were also his chagi.

Yes, you wanted to be taken care of, and that frightened you to the depths of your most forbidden fantasies. You wanted to be nervous about them; you wanted them to use you as they pleased, to make you take everything they had to offer, even if it destroyed you completely.

Your desire for them was more than you should have as friends. And that feeling had only grown stronger over the past year.

But despite Wooyoung's obsession and possessiveness, his touch always soothed you. He gave you the comfort you needed whenever you felt the need. And in the end, his hands would always nudge you in the direction of San, so that he could have his own moment of sharing with you. You were their own personal cuddly toy, and that was fine with you, because there was no place in the world where you could feel more protected and cuddly than in their arms.

But at the moment, you wanted nothing more than to get away from his touch and calm down your excitement. You'd been so needy since last night, and Wooyoung had only added to your frustration.

He's shirtless, his skin warm and smooth, and you can be sure it's golden like caramel where the sun has licked it. Delicious. You can almost taste him on the tip of your tongue, and suddenly you're tempted to sink your teeth into him for a taste, but you just bite down harder on your lower lip and stifle a moan.

You need to stop being so intensely... aware of him.

Maybe you were still drunk from the last night; after all, you couldn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila you'd consumed before dragging Yunho into the ladies' room to start kissing passionately. And you found yourself in an even more suggestive position with Seonghwa after another round of colourful, unnamed cocktails.

From then on, every innocent act made you feel lustful and hungry for intimacy.

Was it karma or something? You weren't sure, but you were more inclined to think that it was the lack of passionate sex you hadn't been having for a year now. You hadn't been able to find anyone suitable for a long-term relationship after you'd broken up with Suho, and boys-toys hadn't given you any pleasure.

You wanted more than ten minutes of gasping under the covers with awkward fingers poking into the pussy. They were cum faster than you were able to get yourself aroused. Pathetic.

You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a big dick that you could choke on for the rest of your life. A thick and long one, with visibly bulging veins, that could really hit all the sensitive places inside you, causing you to have orgasm after orgasm. And having not one but two perfectly matched options handy hasn't made things any easier.

If you offered to suck them off, Wooyoung's dick would be in your mouth in no time. He was always a fireball, passionate, and impatient, and San…San liked to play with his food before getting down to business. You were in awe of how perfect their dynamic was with such different personalities.

You wanted to see how attractive they would be when a warm throat closed around their cocks, when their beautiful faces were contorted with intense pleasure, and when you heard them moan out your name.

Damn it.

It's moments like these that make you realize that moving in with Wooyoung and San was the best and worst decision you ever made. Unless you count buying a pair of designer jeans that make your butt a magnet for people's hands.

The time went by far too quickly for your liking. It was easy to get lost in the succession of school days, week after week, punctuated by movie nights, spontaneous outings and a seemingly endless stream of student parties. Everything in your life changes. From the big renovation of your apartment, which was Hongjoong's job - he was still over the loss of his favourite vintage sofa - to the move in of San and Wooyoung. Things started to move at an even faster pace the day the boys dragged their suitcases into the dark space of your ultra-modern living room, to a general "You should have done this a long time ago".

It was a spontaneous and hasty decision. But what could have gone wrong? It's always been the three of you, and you had no idea that sharing space would have any effect on your relationship. God, how wrong you were. They played cat and mouse with you, testing your mettle and your patience. The memory of that moment is still so vivid in your mind.

"Come on, chagi, try it; it's quite tasty." San brought a spoonful of the dark green liquid, which Wooyoung proudly called the best hangover soup in the world, to your lips.

Jung Wooyoung and his ego, of course.

"Go ahead, baby; be good and open your mouth. It'll make you feel good, I promise." That last sentence was full of innuendo, and it didn't take a genius to see it. In fact, everything that came out of Wooyoung's mouth was absolute filth.

He was practically purring in your ear, touching your delicate skin with every word, and you swear you could feel the touch of his tongue on your earlobe. Oh, fuck. His hands slid down your shoulders, deftly kneading the muscles that had gone stiff, his thumbs sliding up the vertebrae of your neck, and he dug a little bit into the hair at the back of your neck. In that moment, you were ready to do anything for him, whatever he asked.

"That's my Chagia, so docile and sweet." San would continue to feed you slowly with a spoon, smiling sweetly at you as if it were the most pleasant thing in the world to do. From time to time, he would wipe away the drops of liquid that ran down your lips with his thumb, as if in a romantic drama. You were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. But San's meaningful raised eyebrow made it clear that it was better to let him take care of you without resistance. San's language of love had always been to serve, and he took every opportunity to remind you of that.

The silence around you was nice and cozy—you'd even say relaxing—especially since you could still feel the humming bass of last night's music in your head. And all in all, you weren't feeling your best. Hell, that shit you drank last night was strong. This went on for a few more minutes until the plate in front of you was empty and Woo's face was pressed against your cheek in a cute puppy way.

"Woo, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Y/N," San began, his voice suddenly becoming so sweet. He took your hand gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles lazily. He obviously wanted something from you.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

"We'd like to move in with you, peach, what do you think?" Wooyoung was pecking at your cheek, acting like a real sweetheart, but you knew every one of his tactics to get what he wanted.

"You're not going to get it if Woo keeps licking my cheek."

"But, Peach…" He whined, pursing his puffy lips in a resentful manner. Okay, he was cute as hell, but you were never going to tell him that.

"Chagi." You turned your attention back to San, who looked like he was confessing his love to you: Are this hearts in his eyes? Or are you still drunk?

"Agreed, we are practically living here anyway; I even have my own toothbrush in the bathroom. It's just a formality." He was awfully proud of it, squaring his shoulders and imagining himself under your gaze.

"We want to take care of you, baby."

And this is where you should have told them to fuck off and forget the way to your apartment, change the locks, and give San his toothbrush back. But whether it was the soft and somehow loving look of San's cat eyes paired with deep, sweet dimples or Wooyoung's gentle hands that started to knead your shoulders again in a languidly seductive way, you nodded affirmatively.

They were right; you were all practically living together. The amount of their stuff in your flat was unreal—the T-shirts you slept in, the perfume bottles left everywhere, study notes, games, pajamas and scarves, Wooyoung's luxurious leather jackets, and San's books—you could start a collection, but their stuff was just as much yours. It was also the constant cause of your and Suho's fights; he was always jealous of you and them, completely unaware of the dynamic between the three of you. They'd been glued to your thigh for years, and the fact that you had a boyfriend wouldn't change that. Narrow-minded prick.

"I think you're right. Let's give it a go."

"My little darling." San gave a dazzling smile, showing off his dimples even more, and pressed your hand to his lips. God, Choi San was a real menace. It was hard to believe that this pretty cat in front of you was none other than the one who was caught many times having rough sex in the middle of the university library. Once, he was even caught in a threesome, but you didn't want to point the finger at Wooyoung for putting him up to it.

"Yeah, that's our girl." Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek once more, salivating as much as he could along the way.

"Jung Wooyoung!" You squealed, wiping the drool from your cheek in disgust, but Woo was already happily scurrying into the living room, laughing loudly.

"We'll look after you, chagi."

That was San's last sentence before he ran his tongue over your hand, licked his fingers like a cat, and ran after Woo with an evil giggle.

"Choi San, come back at once!"

You are going to have so much fun here. Too much fun for your own good.

"Mmm… Peach, you are already awake." The soft touch of plump lips on your shoulder means that Wooyoung has woken up and wants to have your full attention.

"It has been some time. But I don't want to go anywhere. How are you feeling? Last night, when we came home, you and San were really drunk.

Wooyoung hugs you even tighter, nestling his face between your shoulder blades and taking a deep breath of your scent. Your skin is tickled by the tips of his long hair. A light touch on your lower back sends a jolt up your spine, making you arch slightly in his arms. Wooyoung is always like this; his defiant and needy attitude shouldn't be anything unusual for you, so you should stop reacting to him like this.

"Thank you for looking after us, peach. You're always so nice. Sannie and I don't deserve you." He kisses your neck. This time the touch lingers a little longer, and a feeling of excitement rises in your chest. "We haven't caused you any trouble, have we, little girl?" He purrs as he rubs his nose up against your shoulder. You couldn't help but notice how San's habits have become Wooyoung's habits, and vice versa. Now you have to put up with all that twin feline energy.

You turn to face him, and even after a night of sleeping with his hair tousled and without his usual cheeky grin, Wooyoung still looks pretty damn good. He's comfortable, a little sleepy, but no less seductive than he ever was. Woo has always had this sensual aura about him. Underneath the overt sexuality and the bitchy attitude, there was something else—something dark and seductive. You want to kiss him right now, so badly. Your hand runs through his silky hair, letting it fall in soft waves on either side of his face. Dark strands that are long enough to be pulled through easily. The world's handsomest boy.

It's all too easy to fall in love with him.

He kisses your palm playfully and pokes his nose into it like a cat hungry for affection, and you don't mind his purring with pleasure.

You wonder what he's going to sound like when he cums, God, you need to help yourself.

"Let me think." You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It's a deceptively gentle gesture before you pull hard on the roots of his hair, causing him to cry out in surprise.

"Oh, babe, why?" He purses his lips in offense, hoping you'll fall for his cute look. But you've known Wooyoung for years, and judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Firstly, you robbed me of my chance for great sex with your whining and dragging me home. Secondly, you behaved horribly when I tried to persuade you to take a shower and you kept me awake until the morning by clinging to me and fidgeting on the bed. Today I demand the royal treatment because you really messed up last night. This was not part of my plan for the prom at all."

Woo smiles back wickedly, practically baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

"Peaches, are you really such a needy girl? Well, what are we going to do about it? San and I will have to do our best to make it up to you." He suddenly turns you over so that you are lying on your back, sandwiched between the mattress and his lithe body. Wooyoung is hovering over you, his hair falling all over your face, and you can't help but notice how sexy he looks in this position, which is annoying the hell out of you. He doesn't even have to try very hard to send you over the edge.

Strong hands are resting on the sides of your head, letting you enjoy the sight of the seductively bulging veins that run down his forearms. Fuck, you've always had a weakness for his hands, and who wouldn't when they look like this? Woo leans his head towards you until your noses touch, like a predator cornering his prey.

"Baby, I have my doubts that you'll be satisfied with anyone, so don't sulk. And you know Sannie and I will have to approve of someone running their fingers down your knickers." He smiles broadly at you, clearly enjoying your annoyance when you roll your eyes at him.

"Jung Wooyoung, stop it!" Your hand leaves an angry red mark on the bare skin of his chest, and he grunts. It will take all the patience in the world not to beat him to death or kiss him. "I swear I'll wash your mouth out with soap someday." Or maybe you'll lick him from the inside out. "And stop sticking your pretty little nose where you shouldn't. You don't have to worry about who I'm gonna fuck."

"So what if it bothers me? What are you going to do with it, Peach?" He bites his lips in anticipation and raises an eyebrow in expectation, as if he were challenging you to go on.

The way that smug look is on his face makes you feel a little pissed off. You get a little cocky and decide to use the same tactic he did. Wrapping your hands around his face, you're pulling him even closer, resting him on your forearms and your lips nearly touch. He has siren eyes that are deep and mesmerising, and the intensity of his gaze causes your cheeks to flush and you to bite down on your lower lip. The gleam in his fox eyes is proof that he is enjoying every second of your little game.

"Seonghwa kisses you like he's fucking your mouth with his tongue, it's fucking heaven and you can do whatever you want with that fact, baby. I would have ridden him like a stallion in front of everyone last night if it wasn't for you and San's drunken arses". You push him off of you, and Wooyoung rolls over to the other side of the bed as you sit up.

There's something in the air, and you feel you've said something wrong, judging by the way Wooyoung's eyes are flashing with an emotion you can't quite describe. It's a weird mix between anger, envy, desire and something else. But whatever it is, it is making your pussy clench in anticipation of it.

Damn, when did you start thinking with what's between your legs instead of your brain?

He stares at you intently, as if he's trying to decide whether he's going to scold you or fuck you senseless. As lust flashes through his languid onyx eyes like a shooting star, fast but unmistakable, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his swollen lips, Wooyoung knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

You reach out to stroke his shoulder, and just as you expected, his skin is the most delicious shade of caramel. You can't help but want to run your tongue all over it.

Oh, shit. Now would be a good time to remind yourself: He's your best friend.

"Where`s San?" He asks you.

The expression on his face is, for the most part, neutral, with just a slight hint of lust and anticipation. He slowly licks his delicious lips and looks at you with bedroom eyes. You feel the warm moisture building up between your thighs. If he keeps looking at you like that, you're going to make a puddle of lust where you're sitting right now. You squeeze your thighs tighter to keep the liquid from dripping shamefully onto the bed, praying to all the gods that Wooyoung won't notice.

"I don't know. He wasn't in the bed when I woke up."

"Good."

What the hell is 'GOOD'? You need to collect your thoughts and leave this stuffy room, but the way Wooyoung's eyes slide over your body before, and slowly sucking his lower lip tells you there's nowhere to run.

"Come to me, sweetheart; I want you in my arms." He is stroking himself on his thigh, the silk fabric of his pajamas leaving no room for imagination as it outlines the taut muscles of his gorgeous thighs. His legs are spread a little wider to draw your attention to where he wants you now, and you can clearly see the imprint of his thick dick through the fabric. Damn. It's completely hard, and you can't help but notice how big it is.

His actions send signals straight to the nerves that control your cunt. The wet heat is running between your legs and your arousal is increasing. A palpable shiver runs through all body as you squirm and writhe under the intensity of his gaze.

The rational part of you is literally beating in a hysterical frenzy. It's your hope that your stupid brain will realise the full implications of what's happening, and that you'll be able to put a stop to it. Even if the boundaries of your friendship were highly questionable, you were friends. While the evil voice in the back of your head was cheering you on: "C'mon, what's the bad that can happen?"

He was inviting you, and who were you to refuse? Not that you wanted to.

They'd go crazy if San and Wooyoung knew what thoughts and fantasies lived in your head every day. Huh. They had no idea their sweet chagia had such a dark and dirty mind. You take a deep breath.

Screw it.

You slowly crawl across the bed towards him. He watches you with a squinting, predatory look on his face until one of your legs has been thrown across his body and you're almost sitting on top of him. Almost, as your thighs struggle to keep you in that rigid position, but apparently Woo wasn't in the mood, and his broad palms force your hips down so you're sitting all the way in his lap. Before you realise what you're doing, you're pinned against his crotch, his hard cock touching your aching clit as you move against him, demanding physical stimulation. The contact was so good that it sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost moaned at the tiny moment of pleasure it gave you. Damn, it was massive—so thick you started salivating in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You're up to your neck in shit.

"There you are, starlight, in my hands." His voice, once so high and soft, was now hoarse and deep. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so that there was hardly any space between the two of you. "Baby girl, are you still upset about Seonghwa?" It's a nickname he rarely uses, and it sends an electric shock through your lower abdomen, triggering a feeling you're not sure you can control right now. He leans in close to you and presses his wet lips against the side of your ear. "Tell me what I can do to stop you being angry with me."

"Kiss me, make me feel good." The evil little voice in the back of your head chimes in with glee. "Blow my brains out until my head feels empty and light." It says.

A whole new sensation takes over. Your body starts to heat up in anticipation of what is to come. Then the room will seem to shrink and the air will fill with a tension and a desire.

"I don't know. You've really pissed me off." You look up at him through your impossibly thick lashes, your lips in a fake pout. You weren't the innocent one; you could have played just as badly as they did. "You'll have to try harder, pretty boy." You let your finger nails run down the length of his neck. Wooyoung tilts his head back to reveal a chin line that could have been carved from the finest marble.

As his hands lazily caress your thighs, lifting your T-shirt higher and higher, your skin burns under his palms. Damn, he's scalding you.

The wetness between your legs is becoming more and more intense as the conversation goes on and on. Your juices seep through the thin lace of your panties, dripping from your pussy, leaving little dark streaks on the silk of his trousers where they touch your thighs. The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you're so hot and needy; and Wooyoung is no help at all.

His aura is one of dominance, and you swallow in anticipation. A storm is about to break and you don't want to be safe.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do for you, Y/N."

You're done for.

"Then kiss me, stupid boy, make me feel good."

He growls back at you, embracing you on the back of the head and practically forcing your faces together. The palm of his hand clenches possessively on the back of your neck with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. With the sudden movement, you feel yourself pressing even harder against his dick, and it sends a pleasurable pulse through your clit.

Wooyoung presses his forehead against yours and your lips are just a breath away from each other.

You stare back at him without blinking. His eyes are half closed as he watches you in silence, like a tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce with its jaws clenched. It is in a low, dangerously calm tone that he speaks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, baby girl? I'm biting." It's mixed with your sighing and seductive lips, and you can barely make out the words.

"P-please…"

His moan is loud, guttural, and mildly painful, and then…

O MY GOD.

Those soft lips are pressed hard against yours in an urgent, hungry kiss. His mouth is insistent and demanding, his thumb digging into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue gliding along the bottom of your lip. Slowly, as he pulls your lips apart, he moves in quickly, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs his tongue over the roof of your mouth and licks your teeth. It should have been dirty and rough, but instead you find yourself moaning with wanton need.

"Wooyoung..." The moan of his name was so desperate, so needy, so full of lust and desire.

"Goddamn, I love it when you say my name."

He kisses you with renewed ferocity, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. Wooyoung is too passionate; he licks your mouth with his tongue, and literally shoves it down your throat. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst and you're the only way to make him drink. Spittle runs down your chin, it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop, you don't want to stop. Wooyoung's tongue is practically fucking you in the mouth.

And God, you want more. It feels unreal, too extreme to be a reasonable response to a kiss, the heat between your legs, your clit throbbing with need, your nerves on fire.

Wooyoung lets go of you for a moment and you stare at him with your eyes wide open. Your heart is pounding wildly and your breathing is so ragged that you're practically choking to death. Licking away any remnants of the kiss you shared, his wet pink tongue pokes out from between his plump lips.

His hand slides down your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head slightly so that your eyes meet his, his gaze clouded with lust as if his fingers were digging deep inside you. You can't say a word as a wicked smile spreads across his sharp, enchanting face.

Now you have a better understanding of all those damsels who are ready to spread their legs at the flick of his fingers.

"Tell me you want more, baby. I have a feeling this apology isn't enough. I need to do more than that. I'm so desperate for forgiveness.

"Don't I need to be forgiven too, Woo? You shouldn't be so greedy. That voice, oh shit.

You turn sharply around and find yourself staring into San's beautiful cat eyes. He's so damn good-looking you swallow a groan. It must be illegal for someone to look this good in normal jeans and a plain black shirt. But San had a body worth dying over.

A real girl's dinner.

What the hell are you going to do now? How long had he stayed there?

"San-ah… how…" You find yourself stuttering. Your mouth dries up and you can't utter a word, but even if you could, your brain can't form coherent thoughts. You can't bring yourself to look away from him, and something deep inside you knows that he will punish you if you try.

"What is it, Gongjunim? Did the cat eat your tongue?" He raises an eyebrow at you, a shit-eating grin playing at the corners of his lips. As if in mockery, his soft, patronising tone of voice slides over your skin. San combines a sensual, gentle nature with a seductive one that makes you feel he's looking for a weakness before pouncing. His fucking duality. One moment he's a little sweetheart, the next he's a lecherous demon who wants to sink his teeth into your throat and devour you. "Come on, Chagia, I promise I won't disappoint you; I'm very good at excuses."

Responding to his sultry purr, your pussy clenches shamefacedly.

The excitement of it all makes your brain feel like mush and sets your skin on fire.

You start squirming in Wooyoung's arms, and now that San's here, you belatedly realise what you've gotten yourself into. Is it time for a change of scenery or something? No, you want to stay. Desperately.

You need them to blow your brains out, to make you dumb and submissive and a pretty little toy for them to play with. Sometimes you have to stop before you cross the line, but where is the line when you're literally sitting on your best friend's hard cock?

Hell, you don't know what you're supposed to do - run or beg - but you clearly know what they want to do to you, judging by Wooyoung's dick twitching between your thighs and San slowly licking his lips as he looks at your bare ass peeking out from under your shirt. His shirt.

There must be some kind of telepathic connection between Wooyoung and San. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, San pulls his T-shirt over his head, tosses it aside and slowly walks over to you. The grin on his face seems to have changed; it has become even darker than before. Hungrier.

And you don't think this is a good time to start drooling. But damn it, you want to lick him from head to toe.

Between the three of you, there's a chaos of emotion and desire. It's mixed with adrenaline and a distant fear of what's going to happen. There has to be an end to this game of predator and prey, and why not do it now? Sighing, you finally give in.

In the morning, you'll consider the consequences.

"Maybe you should kiss me too, San-ah, and I'll start thinking about forgiving.

Hot lips instantly press an open, wet kiss to your shoulder. The bed buckles under the weight of another man's body. San's strong arms are wrapped around your waist and his fingers clench your t-shirt into a fist. He's hot, warm and hard, and you can feel the hardness of his dick through your trousers as he presses down hard against you. His mouth is sucking, biting and licking your skin as if his life depended on it. Sharing an understanding look with Wooyoung, San slides his lips higher up your body.

"Sannie…" Before planting a hot kiss on your neck, you whimper as his teeth sink into your sensitive flesh.

The moan that comes from the back of your throat is so deep that for a moment you wonder if it's coming from you at all.

Pure pleasure shoots through you as you feel Woo's long tongue on the other side of your neck. He lets out the sexiest moan deep in his throat, as if he's having the time of his life, savouring every second of the way his lips explore the nape of your neck. You're distracted. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey on the back of your neck.

"Oh, my God, boys."

"That's my darling, Chagia." His voice is sultry and seductive, and you can clearly hear the saturi again, as it tends to do at times when San is in a highly aroused state.

"You're so beautiful, my peach." Wooyoung whispers to you, and you just melt away completely.

You whimper as Woo begins to run his hands up and down your thighs and arse, squeezing and pulling. He mooed softly as you made little circular movements with your hips and rubbed his cock against you. Woo punishes you by slapping your bottom if you cuddle too hard. You'll need to be obedient as they play with you.

The sound fills the room along with the collective moaning of Wooyoung's and San's.

"What a dirty little girl you are. I think you need to be taught how to obey." Woo spanks you a few more times and you wiggle your hips in an impatient way.

It feels so good.

San pulls your t-shirt up to your breasts while all your attention is focused on Wooyoung. Your little thong is completely transparent and does nothing to hide your sex or the excitement building within you. They are practically digging into your needy pussy because of the position you are now in. A chorus of gasps and moans can be heard from your best friends as their eyes focus on that big, wet spot. San's greedy hands press you even closer to his body, so that you can feel his full erection on top of your plump, bare bum.

"You're so fucking wet." Wooyoung hisses. "Like a bitch leaking just thinking about our cocks in your tight little cunt. We'll destroy you, Peach."

Before you realise what's happening, Woo's hands slide down your back, your nipples tensing in the cool open air. The soft fabric of your t-shirt falls to the floor, and suddenly, hot wetness envelops your left nipple and he sucks hard on it, the pressure causing pain that turns to pleasure as his tongue touches the hard bud. Your head immediately falls back onto San's shoulder as you open the soft space of your throat to his insatiable mouth. You let out a long groan, and your hand rests on Wooyoung's head, tugging lightly at the soft lengths of his hair.

You feel like you could explode at any moment, even though they haven't done anything to you yet. You're burning, almost feverish, as the growing fire between your thighs reaches unbearable levels. You can't breathe; your skin is hypersensitive. Your head tilts to the side, and you whimper San's name in the most pathetic intonation possible. His hand slides lower and lower, past your waist and your stomach, to the place where you most want to feel him. It hasn't even come close to touching your pussy yet, but the thought of it is enough to make you squirm with excitement.

His hands move down low enough to touch the skin of your naked legs and up slowly, frantically, until he reaches where you are starting to get aroused. The palm of his hand encircles your pussy in a possessive way, the small mound of flesh lying so perfectly in the palm of his hand. You tremble a little at this, and try to spread your legs wider so that his fingers can rub against the moist slit, so that he can dive in between the warm folds until your pussy spreads out beautifully for him, so that he can rub your clit with ease.

"Mmm… what a wet little thing. I bet my Gongjunim has the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my life. Fleshy, shiny, and pink - just the way I like it. He gasps for breath. He puts his hands on your hips and rubs his hard cock against the curve of your ass a couple of times. "Do you feel that, Chagia? No one can make me as hard as you can." On your skin, his breath feels like fire. Hoping for a little more friction, you arch your backside. The gesture reveals a hiss from his side.

San's fingers, one tempting back and forth with a feathery touch, spread the excitement building in your slit beneath the thin material. Your pussy clenches around nothing at all in the most uncomfortable way, and you know that he can feel it.

"Do you like this chagi? Wooyoung's mouth on your full, pretty tits? My fingers on your sweet little snatch?" San's tone is almost mocking. His tongue is licking his lips; his fingers continue to stroke your clothed pussy in a leisurely manner; and he watches intently as Wooyoung literally chokes on your breasts. "We are gonna fuck you until you squeal like the slutty little bitch you are." He growls into your ear, and the sound of it makes you pull on Woo's hair with all your might.

And you always had the impression that Wooyoung's mouth was dirty.

A soft moan slips out of the brunette's swollen lips, which are now wrapped so tightly around your nipple that you're sure they're going to leave a mark on it. As he pulls back with an audible pop, you let out a small sound as you look at his ecstatic face. His eyes are half closed, his eyelids flutter slightly and a beautiful flush of colour has appeared on his cheeks. His plump lips are glistening with the saliva and the service he is giving to your tits.

"Are you feeling good, peach?" He chuckles weakly as he watches you fall apart in San's skilled hands, leaving you as beautiful as ever in his eyes. Woo gives your nipple a hard pinch, only to then let his tongue run over it. The sudden change in sensation causes your head to begin to spin, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure.

"Please… I need… more… Youngiee." You stammer out the words, your voice shaking and your body trembling.

"You look so pretty when you beg. But do you want to know something, сhagi? You'll look even more beautiful with your cunt stretched around my dick. I will ravage your tiny pussy, Gongjunim. I'm going to make you mine." San finally kisses you; though it's hard to call it a kiss, he dives into your lips like a hungry man, sucking them so deeply and passionately, with an insistence that you don't even think you'll ever understand.

His tongue is merciless as he explores every millimeter of the inside of your mouth. This kiss is heavenly, and with every second that passes, you find yourself wanting more, wanting him to spoil you in every way that he can. To have his way with you until you have no more patience. And it is these thoughts that make you wriggle in Wooyoung's arms. You try to rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unbearable heat inside you.

"The taste is so damn good."

You can feel Woo squeezing your breasts almost in sync, his warm tongue sliding over the plump flesh once more, licking at the aroused nipples, and his teeth scratching the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. You savour the lightning bolts of pleasure that the two of them cause to bounce around your body. It's almost painful, but you know you're loving this.

Half gasping, half squealing at the sheer, blunt pressure of San's nimble, kneading fingers finding their way to your labia through the mesh of the thong. Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and your hands are sticky with sweat as you grasp the wrist of his hand.

"Oh, your pussy is so sensitive, isn't it, Chagia?" San cooed with feigned tenderness, and with a strange sadism, he pressed his middle finger against your cunt, sliding it right over the spot where your clit was, causing your hips to shake. The lubrication of your arousal made it much more effective for him to stimulate you, and he would literally bring you to orgasm with minimal effort. He purred softly as you responded, like a big cat purring, and just when you thought he couldn't fuck with your sanity even more, he turned his head and spat on your lips, a glob of saliva dribbling into your open mouth and you choked out a moan.

It's so rough and dirty, but your body responds the best it can, arching into his arms and pressing your breasts even harder against Wooyoung's face.

The brunette moans in response and lifts his foxy eyes to you. You can see the corner of his lips curl into a smirk before he bites down hard on your nipple. Fuck, your life will never be the same. And they haven't even got around to fucking you properly yet. It's like heaven and hell at the same time.

"I want to hear you whimper, Gongjunim." San's hand grips the back of your neck very tightly, causing you to gasp for breath from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes begin to roll up at the possessive touch of his hand on your throat, and you begin to jerk your hips, your clit pressing against Wooyoung's cock, and he lets out a long, hard moan.

"Please, Sannie." You're breathing out.

"Look at her, San, our girl, slobbering like a brainless slut." Wooyoung wipes the viscous saliva from your parted lips, then pushes his fingers into your mouth with a sharp, deep thrust. For a second you choke and begin to gurgle around the long phalanges.

He hadn't removed the rings yesterday and now the heavy metal makes your tongue feel cold. "Think of the way my dick is fucking your little throat, starlight. Suck it hard." You wheeze and gurgle, your saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips, but you have done exactly as you have been told.

It was rough, it was horrible and it was so wet that it was almost disgusting to watch. But Woo enjoyed it; he literally raped your mouth with his fingers in a sort of sadistic sense. A few thick strands of saliva would stick to your swollen lips as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

"Look at you. Taking my fingers in your mouth like that. Such a good girl."

This whole game has been nothing more than a distraction from the main action. There's a short circuit in your body as a sharp sensation pierces every nerve in your body. San suddenly slaps you hard on your wet pussy, the contact sending sparks of pain and pleasure flying across your skin, and you let out a squeal.

"Oh my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to… I'm going to…" You go over the edge as you feel your juices pouring down your legs, your vaginal muscles contracting, forcing more fluid to pour out of you, the combination of their names coming weakly from your lips as your orgasm washes over your weakened limbs.

"Fuck, Peach is so hot… You're squirting." You belatedly realise that Wooyoung is also cumming as he throws his head back in pleasure, his eyes rolling up and his mouth opening in a long, whimpering moan.

You can hardly catch your breath when you feel San rest his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around you, whispering in your ear.

"One more gongjunim; give me one more orgasm and then I'll caress you."

"Ah, San." The searing sensation of his fingers roughly pinching your clit through the wet material of your thong causes you to cry out hoarsely in agony. The sound of your wet, sensitive cunt splashing was clear and vivid; the sensation was brutal, but so indescribable you were ready to faint from pleasure.

He's going to tear you apart.

"Cum for me, Chagia. I know you can do it. Sperm for us; make Youngie and me proud of you".

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you swore that your cunt was on fire, your whole body shuddering in electrifying spasms of pleasure that made your toes curl up and your thighs shake. San's hand was still firmly around your throat, holding your head upright as you had your orgasm.

It had shattered you so badly that the fall seemed dramatic, and you went completely limp as the orgasm dissipated, turning you into an inconsolable, whimpering, disorderly mass.

They had blown your brains out.

"There you are, Gongjunim, I got you. You did so well." San muttered, but your mind was too tired to admit it. Amused at how angry and lost you looked, you saw stars as Wooyoung's hand tilted your head to the side in a teasing way to look at your confused face.

"You're no longer angry with us, are you, Peach?"

San removes his hand from your throat and allows Wooyoung to pull your face up to his own. Gentle fingers caress your cheekbones and soft lips wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. At one point, you didn't even realise you were crying. It's such a contrast to his previous behaviour; here he is your usual adored Jung Wooyoung, a little clingy, a little annoying and with an unrealistic maternal instinct. Your best friend.

Fuck. Now it is time for you to start crying for the real time. You begin to sob, pushing Wooyoung away from you in a desperate attempt to get out of his arms. You can feel the wetness underneath you and it makes you feel worse and worse. You need to get out of here now. Your behaviour frightens them to death and San's hands are on your body again, squeezing your shoulders gently.

"Stop, stop for a second, Y/N. It's all right, Chagia. We have you."

You freeze at the sound of your name, like a deer caught in the headlights.

In anticipation of his next move, your whole body tenses like a string. Wooyoung's fingers intertwine with yours. It's a familiar gesture, so familiar to you, so ordinary, so perfected over the years of your friendship. San lets you go when he realises you're not going anywhere, and his face comes to rest next to Wooyoung's as you look at him.

He's handsome, too, to the point of madness, and trembles at the knees. His cheeks are flushed. There's still a lingering gleam of lust and excitement in his eyes, but with a touch of strange emotion. His plush lips are soft and swollen from all the kissing, and his body glistens with sweat. And the reason he looks like that is because of you. You look at Wooyoung and see that he looks exactly the same, but the emotion in his eyes is more obvious than ever.

You want to crawl off his lap and cower in shame in the corner of the room so you don't have to look at all that tenderness and loveliness in his foxy eyes. You can handle his cheeky, flirtatious backside with ease, but this kind of Wooyoung is new territory for you.

"We… shit. This shouldn't have happened. This is the first rational thought to come out of your mouth all day. And you should have said it a lot sooner, before your two best friends made you cum twice with a squirting orgasm.

"Chagia, I think there's something we need to talk about, but first let's get you back to your normal self."

You don't argue; just nod and realize that San is absolutely right. You look like a complete mess, covered in saliva and lubricant. You can feel Wooyoung's cum seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms and drying on the inside of your thigh.

You look fucked.

"Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about."

It sounds terribly stupid, but what else can you say? Can we forget it? Or can we fuck again?

All your years of sexual longing for them have turned into a resounding slap in your face.

"Go take a bath, Peach, and we'll talk. San and I will take care of the rest."

For some reason, this sentence gave you a vague feeling of déjà vu. But you pushed the thought out of your head as quickly as it had come.

"Okay."

You finally slide off Wooyoung's lap, ignoring their stares at your almost naked body, there's no point in covering up or acting like a shy maiden, San's fingertips were rubbing your pussy just five minutes ago, bringing you to some kind of crazy orgasm, and the entire lower half of Woo's body is drenched in your secretions. If you've ever wanted to imagine how your friendship would turn out, this is it.

You trudge to the bathroom on your tired legs, pulling off your disgustingly wet thong on the way and throwing it on the floor. You turn on the light, turn on the tap and the whole room is immediately filled with the warm steam of hot water. Outside the door you can hear the muffled voices of the boys, who seem to be having some sort of heated argument, judging by San's irritated moaning and Wooyoung's loud whining.

You don't want to go into details; you still have time to destroy yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow has come much earlier for you, if the fucked-up look on your face is any indication. Dishevelled hair, hickey marks, bruises and swollen lips from biting. What a beautiful morning after graduation!

"Wooyoung, you should have waited for me." San's voice is much louder now.

"As if I'm the only one who fucked her. Don't try to tell me it's all my fault."

You still don't want to join the conversation.

A pink, glistening puddle of something that smells like candy spreads across the bathtub. Thanks to Mingi, you have a whole collection of these colourful bombs. He's always had a soft spot for all things cute and charming, and he's taken every opportunity to spoil you to death with them.

With a tired sigh, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. So, Peach, are you ready for the consequences?

Turning away from your reflection, you lock the door with a click.

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nicole-timey-wimey-stuff · 1 month

Text

It Was Enchanting to Meet You

Lord Debling x Fem reader

Lord Alfred Debling x female Bridgerton reader

Synopsis - You’re the second eldest Bridgerton daughter, being forced by your brother to finally debut. You believed the ordeal would be terrible, that was until you meet the handsome Lord Debling, the handsome stranger soon captivates your mind and heart.

Warnings- fluff, period drama, feelings, very small amount of angst, confessions, great sibling relationships, suggestive themes but no smut. Still 18+ though please.

Word count- 4.7K

Today was the day, the day you were coming out into society, you’d put it off long enough. Being that you were only a year younger than your elder sister Daphne, and a year older than Eloise who were both already out. But your mother hadn’t pushed you and for that you were thankful, your eldest sibling Anthony though was another story. He had all but told you enough was a enough, and even though he would not ever force you to take a husband, you needed to be out in society despite your disagreement with it.

He did not want the great Bridgerton name tarnished, with people starting to talk of the strange girl in the family who did not conform to society’s norm, who did not like social situations, a girl who spent her time fencing, reading and horseback riding. You were a free spirit, one who preferred the wind in her hair, rather than constricted dresses, dancing and polite conversation.

So now just having turned 20 you were being launched into the world around you. This brings you back to today, your mother was flapping making sure both you and Francesca looked perfect, creamy white gowns adorning your bodies, lace perfectly placed, your dress was accentuated with gold floral embroidery and tiny puff sleeves. You adjusted your long white gloves once more before exiting your room, “Ah y/n there you are my love, have you seen your sister I can’t find her anywhere, she is not in her room!” Your mother Violet frets, she’s looking pale and exhausted. “Call down mother, I’m sure she is about, I can hear music are you sure you haven’t checked it is not her playing?” You ask.

“Oh! No I have not, come, we shall go check together.” She replies, gently grasping your wrist and tugging you down the staircase In search of your sister, you are sure she only holds onto you so she cannot loose you too.

Walking into the drawing room you find it was indeed Francesca playing the piano forte, your mother breathing a big sigh of relief, she is also dressed ready to go. “Well then my children let’s get going shall we?” She asks as she ushers us all out to the carriages, turning to you and Francesca she says “You both look so beautiful!” Voice full of emotion. “Thank you mother” you both say in unison, she nods before you all enter the carriage and head off to the queens palace.

The whole thing went by in a blur, you walked down the aisle, bowed to the queen then exited out to the side, you’d all entered out into a garden party where people were mingling happily. Your brother Colin who had just returned from travels, was boasting to the young ladies, causing them to fawn over him. Penelope Featherington sadly watching from the sidelines, you were very aware of how she felt for your brother, being the same age you had spend many moments together. Although you wouldn’t call her a close friend, it saddened you to see her aways watching him with such hopeful but sad eyes.

You decided she could do with a distraction so you made your way over to her, “Hey Pen, how are you? I haven’t seen you about the house recently?” You ask, she jumps, obviously you’d caught her very much deep in thought. “My goodness y/n you scared me” she gasps hand on her chest, “Sorry Pen, we were both on our own so I thought I’d come talk with you” you explain. Her face softens then “Of course, you can always come talk to me, I know how hard this must all be for you” she replies her face now sympathetic. “Yes, I do so hate public attention, but alas my brother thought it was necessary” you sigh, nodding Penelope gave you a look of understanding, “We must all be pushed out into society sooner or later, I was just 17 when my mother decided I needed to be out. And look over three years later and I’m still just sat here with no suitor prospects, I wish I could find a husband” she groans, “What? Why? You’ve never seemed too interested before?” You ask.

With a sigh she turns to you “In all honesty I need my privacy, and I just cannot stand living with my family any longer, at least your family is supportive and kind, mine can be just awful” she complains. You nod, you understand, her family have always been difficult especially her mother! “Well then Pen I hope you find a kind, loyal man to be your husband this season, you deserve some happiness” you tell her in earnest. “Thank you y/n, you do too, whatever that is for you, you deserve happiness too” she says as she walks off, leaving you once more to your thoughts.

Would you find happiness? What was happiness to you anyways?

________________________________________

That evening you were attending your very first ball, nerves settled deep within your stomach. There would be many people attending Lady Danbury’s ball, and you were hoping to quietly blend into the crowds, not causing any reason to warrant any unwanted attention. Anthony had insisted on you being present, he had also given you a list of people he had chosen for your to converse with.

Your dress though, that you had chosen for yourself, it was a deep maroon, corseted down to your waist, it then flared out into a subtle A line ballgown. It had thick off the shoulders straps, sparkling embroidery and a skirt that swished as you moved. You wanted something that felt more freeing, compared to the tight empire line gowns that were the norm. Giving yourself a last once over you sighed, although you looked like a princess, you felt absolutely ridiculous.

Entering the party was as equally nerve wrecking as bowing to the queen this morning, walking down the steps after your brothers and sisters you felt all eyes shift to you, you held your head hire and floated down with all the grace you could muster, it must have worked because once you’d reached the bottom all eyes were still glued to you. Your mother came rushing to meet you, “You did well, you entered as gracefully as a swan” she gushed, you rolled your eyes at her enthusiasm, “Well mother my plan is to not cause any unwanted attention, I don’t want them thinking I am some wild animal that cannot be tamed” you sassed back. Tutting she guided you through the crowds to meet some new people, what you hadn’t noticed though, were a pair of very entranced blue eyes belonging to the one Lord Alfred Debling watching your entrance.

“Who is she?” Lord Debling asked Lady Danbury, “That would be Miss Y/N Bridgerton, second eldest daughter of the Bridgerton family” Lady Danbury answered. “I see” he replies eyes still watching you intently, Lady Danbury smirks knowingly, “I may also add, she only debuted this morning so from what I gather she is very much on the market, so to speak” she smiled. “Is that so?” He asks eyes still enchanted by you. The pair hadn’t noticed Cressida Cowper Joining them, not until she spoke up causing them to both jump slightly, “I’ve heard she’s a strange girl” she abruptly interrupts, “And where have you heard that Miss Cowper?” Asks Lady Danbury, her voice full of exasperation.

“Well I’ve heard she prefers the outdoors over social gatherings, she rides her horse bareback at some speed I may add, I’ve seen it myself. When I’ve called on Eloise this summer she’s either sprinting through the country on her horse or she has her nose in some weird book” she explains amusedly. “I don’t see how that makes her strange, but rather it makes her unique” Lord Debling affirms, “Well also” Cressida stutters out trying to find something more vexing to say about you, “Ah she also fences, she sword fights with her brothers, isn’t it incredibly odd, incorrect even for a young lady to sword fight?” She points out. “I dare say! Does she really?” He asks Lady Danbury, “Yes I believe she does” Danbury replies, the smug look is soon wiped off Cressida’s face though when he turns back to Lady Danbury, “That is incredibly impressive, what a young lady she is! I will go introduce myself” and with that he leaves in search of you.

He finds you over by the drinks helping yourself to one before retreating to the corner, “Miss Bridgerton? Are you quite alright? You appear to be hiding in the corner” he asks. You bow quickly “Lord Debling, I’m quite well thank you, just not one for large social gathering's” you answer honestly. “Ah, no me either actually, I prefer to be outdoors” he responds. You smile up at him shyly “I do too” you agree, “Riding Percy gives me much more joy than this” you continue, choking on his drink Lord Debling gasps “I beg your pardon you what?”, “Percy, he’s my horse, a Suffolk punch, my brother Anthony bought him for me for my birthday a few years back, I most enjoy riding him through the countryside, where it’s nice and quiet” you explain,

“Oh of course, I heard from Lady Danbury that you enjoy riding, he conveys, cheeks bright red now from his misunderstanding. “Lady Danbury spoke of me? To you?” You ask confused, “Umm yes, I happened to ask after you” he admits, you offer him a smile “I see and what else did she happen to say about me?” You question teasingly causing him to smirk, “Nothing much else, just that this was your first season” he stutters out now feeling very put on the spot, “Oh yes well I put it off as long as I possibly could, but my brother is forcing me to try this year” you confirm, “Is it so very bad?” He asks, teasing smile on his lips, “Well maybe not as bad as I had made it out to be in my head” you admit.

“Well then, would you care to dance?” He offers, hand outstretched towards you. “Yeah ok, why not, in the name of trying new things of course” you smile, “Of course” he repeats, clearly amused by you. He walks you out to the dance floor as everyone lines up, ready for the dance to begin. As the music plays he spins you around the dance floor, your eyes never leaving one another’s, its almost as if there’s static energy between you, your hearts pounding in your chest, you can tell everyone is watching you both, but in that moment all you can see is him.

“Is that your daughter Violet, dancing with Lord Debling?” One of the mothers asks, “Yes” your mother laughs, “I dare say it is” her face is lit up at the way your both staring at each other, thoughts of Daphne and Simon’s first dance entering her mind. This looked very promising, she thought you’d be the hardest to convince to give this whole ordeal a try, but you were entranced by the man before you, and it was Francesca who had made a rather hastily exit home already.

Lady Danbury joins your mother, “He asked about her you know, the second she entered the room” she tells your mother, knowing smirk still plastered on her face, “Did he?” Your mother asks, “Yes, he seemed very much intrigued by her, maybe we’ve made a match already” she implies, “Maybe…….. I will speak to my daughter once we are home” you mother decides. Nodding in agreement Lady Danbury takes her leave.

Once your dance comes to an end you bow and move to walk away, thinking he would have other young ladies to dance with, a soft grip of your hand causes you to turn, coming face to face with Lord Debling once more, “May I call on your tomorrow?” He asks, “Yes you may” you give a curt nod before leaving with your family.

This night had gone much better than expected, you thought to yourself whilst laying in bed, you felt excited to see what else was to come.

________________________________________

The next day you’d woken up early, to get yourself dressed for your sword fighting lesson, hoping you’d have time to freshen up before anyone had any callers, you smile to yourself at the thought of seeing Lord Debling again today. Bounding down the stairs you met your instructor Henry, “Good morning Miss Bridgerton, are you ready?” He asks, “Yes I am” you affirm, “Very good, although I don’t see how you need any more lessons now, I’ve taught you everything I know, and you have mastered it all”, you grin “Why thank you Henry, but I can tell you why I need my lessons” you reply, “And why is that Miss Bridgerton?” He asks, “Because I enjoy them” you laugh as you get into position.

Your two eldest brothers had joined you now, you were currently practicing against Benedict, completely loosing track of time. “Why do you encourage this Anthony?” Your mother asks, “Well dear mother I think it’s good that a lady knows how to defend herself, no one will ever mess with our little y/n now will they?” He questions playfully, rolling her eyes she waves him off as she leaves the room.

“Ha! I win again! Really Benedict are you even trying?” You goad, sweaty and exhausted he gives you the are you kidding look, “Yes dear sister unfortunately I am!” He grumbles, Anthony snorts out a laugh “Well I dare say these lessons are paying off, you have quite the talent” he praises you, “Thank you brother” you smile. Just then one of your maids enter the room, “Someone’s here to see you Miss” she announces, realisation hits you! Oh no Lord Debling has arrived and your still in your fencing clothes.

Walking in he smiles at you, you bow nervously before rambling out, “I’m very sorry I lost track of time my lord, please excuse me for a moment while I go change”, “Nonsense don’t worry about it, I’d love to see you in action” he answers, “Really!?” You ask surprised, he nods in response, you look to Anthony motioning for him to come join you, but he puts his hands up in surrender, “Oh no, watching Benedict loose all credibility was quite enough for one day, I will go find my wife, as I promised her a walk this morning.” He replies, “I’ll spar with you” Lord Debling offers, “Oh I couldn’t ask that of you my Lord” you hastily reply, “You’re not asking, I’m offering” he affirms before removing his jacket and placing on Benedict’s fencing armour.

Anthony lets out a laugh, “Perfect” he announces, before turning to Lord Debling “Don’t let her win, she will know. She is incredibly able” he confirms before leaving to find his wife. “Well are you ready then?” Debling asks you, “Yes, quite ready” you smirk back. As the two of you spar the static energy returns from last night, you fall into an effortless rhythm against one another, he fights well, there is technique and power to his moves, but you are just too quick for him, eventually knocking the sword from his hands and pointing yours to his chest in victory,

“I say! You are rather good at this aren’t you” he laughs, “Yeah I think it’s because I enjoy it so much” you agree.

“You Miss Bridgerton are an incredibly rare flower indeed” he says, “Thanks” you reply warm blush adorning your cheeks, “Will you save me a dance at tonight’s party?” He asks. “Yes of course” you reply maybe a little too hastily, “Well then, until tonight” he offers placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. Before leaving he looks back towards you once more, giving you the most endearing smile.

You were very much looking forward to seeing him again tonight.

________________________________________

Over the next few weeks the two of you became much more acquainted with one another, you danced together at every party, usually more than once, you took chaperoned strolls together in the park and your family had also invited him over a couple of times for dinner.

You’d learnt much about him, his love for animals and wildlife, the fact he didn’t eat meat, all his adventure and conservation ideas, you’d become completely enamoured with this man, It appeared he also was with you too.

Today you were both taking a stroll in the park, the sun was warm and the smell of blossoms filled the spring air. Your maid was walking a few steps behind you, keeping a watchful eye. “Beautiful day is it not?” You ask him cheerfully, enjoying the sunshine on your skin. “Yes it is, but I can see something much more beautiful” he replies watching you carefully, you turn your head to hide your reddening cheeks. “Will you be attending the garden party tomorrow? I hear there will be a new form of transport being showcased” you ask, “Yes I believe I will be attending” he responds while smiling at you, grinning up at him you offer a nod in response.

“Well I bid you farewell Lord Debling, I have promised to help my mother this afternoon, I will see you tomorrow?” You offer, “Yes I shall see you tomorrow, good afternoon Miss Bridgerton” he replies. You spare him one last glance, before you walk off with your maid.

________________________________________

It was the day of the garden party and you were stood looking at the enormous ballon in awe, was that really supposed to be able to carry people through the sky? “Quite spectacular isn’t it?” Lord Deblings voice cut through your thoughts causing you to jump, “My Lord, you gave me a fright!” You gasped, “I am sorry, that was not my intention” he responds “That’s ok, it is spectacular yes, although I do worry how it’s supposed to transport people” you reply.

“Yes quite, but I suppose only time will tell, are you well Miss Bridgerton?” He asks, “Yes, thank you my Lord I am very well” you affirm, “Good” he nods.

As the afternoon goes on Penelope, Eloise and Cressida join in your conversation, Cressida going out of her way to try and impress Lord Debling, not even caring how desperate and contrary it makes her appear. Penelope spends the whole time staring at Colin and Eloise is pretty much rolling her eyes at everybody’s antics. Cressida continues to laugh at something he said, almost hanging off his arm, causing a pit of jealousy to stir in your stomach.

You turn your attention once again to the large ballon, which is now rocking very unstably in the wind, creaking and groaning as the ropes loosen. Just as they snap your brothers are rushing over to pull them back, using as much strength as they can muster to pull the thing back into place. All you can do is watch in terror as they lose control and the ship comes hurtling towards you, it all happens so quick, one miniute you’re watching terrified, the next you’re on the floor Lord Deblings body shielding you.

“Are you quite alright?” He asks gazing into your eyes, “Yes all thanks to you”. He carefully traces his fingertips down the side of your jaw, you watch him with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. Someone loudly clears their throat behind you, you both jump apart, turning to see Cressida and Eloise watching you both.

Lord Debling jumps up before offering you a hand up too, “What luck you were there to save my sister, thank you my Lord” Eloise states, “Of course, it was nothing” he replies before walking off.

“What was that y/n?” Eloise gasps, “I hardly know” you reply, completely shocked yourself.

________________________________________

That very evening you arrived at the ball still very much in shock, more so by Lord Deblings behaviour than nearly being squashed by the heavy ballon. Your mother currently had you making small talk with every eligible Lord in the room, “Mother is this really necessary?” You grumbled as you made your way over to yet another man, “Yes my darling daughter it is, until Lord Debling actually proposes you must keep your options open” she insists, “But Anthony said I do not have to marry this season, only that I must be out in society” you ask confused.

“Yes I know my sweet girl, but every year you’re on the market the less desirable you become, now make haste” she commands, you roll your eyes at her as she drags you through the crowd, “Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton, how nice to see you both” Lord Cambell greets, “Lord Cambell, lovely to see you again” you reply with a very forced smile. “Would you have any space left on your card to include a dance with me?” He asks, you stutter before your mother replies on your behalf, “My daughter would be delighted”, you resentfully offer your wrist and card for him to write his name on, before bowing and leaving to find some corner to hide in.

After no empty corner is found you retreat to the gardens in hope of some peace, leaning against the cold stone of the house you close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Miss Bridgerton you should not be out here alone” Lord Deblings voice causes you to jump, “My goodness my Lord! Must you always startle me so.” You gasp, “Sorry I never intend too” he replies in earnest, “But you really shouldn’t be out here alone” he repeats as he steps closer, “Yes I know, but I need a minute to breathe, it’s awfully stuffy in there, and my mother is being a nuisance….” You trail off, voice stuttering as he steps closer once more, “By nuisance you mean by parading you around the room, like a prized animal?” He smirks, “Yes” you stammer, feeling more breathless than before if that was at all possible.

He carefully moves a piece of hair from your face, “Do you not wish for the attention of the Lords here tonight Miss Bridgerton?” He asks, “No, not from those ones anyways” you whisper, then in a flash his mouth meets yours, it’s passionate and gentle, it’s fire but also calm. Your fingers grasp his jacket as you pull him in closer, moulding your body to his own, his fingers move from your face to your neck, tilting your face to give him better access. His other hand grasps your thigh as he pulls it over his hip, grounding down into you causing a low whimper from your lips, moving from your mouth he kisses down your neck, nipping at your sweet spot, your hands slide into his hair as you grind into his hips once more.

Your movement causes him to gasp before quickly pulling himself away from you, leaving you a breathless mess. “I shouldn’t have done that” he worries, “My Lord?” You ask confused and worried, “I shouldn’t have put you in that position I am so very sorry” he repeats and your heart sinks, was he going to reject you now? Were you about to loose all credibility? Sensing your despair he quickly comforts you, “What I mean to say is that shouldn’t have happened before I asked for your hand, I do not wish to dishonour you, if you will have me and your brother agrees to it, I would very much like to make you my wife” he confirms, “Really?” You ask.

“Yes really, I am quite enamoured with you my dearest y/n, I came here to the Ton to seek out a wife, I thought I could find a match of convenience, one where I could travel and my wife would happily stay at home managing my estate. I did not think love was in the cards for me, I believed that my work would take up too much space in my heart for that, but then I met you, and my goodness did you change everything” he explains.

“Is this a confession of love my Lord?” You ask still very much breathless.

“It is yes, I didn’t come here to seek it which makes this as much a surprise to me as it is to yourself” he replies.

“I love you too” you admit, which causes his handsome face to light up, “I too did not believe this would happen, when my brother asked me to debut this season, I admit I hated the very idea, but I’m so very glad I did as it lead me to you” You confess.

“Well then my love, I believe I have a question to ask your brother” he replies, his hand seeking to find your own, grasping his with yours you reply “I suppose you do”. He gives you one last kiss on your cheek before heading inside to seek out your brother. You are still stood against the house, breaths still racing as you trace your lips with your fingertips, the tingling of his kisses still present.

Upon entering your home that evening Anthony stops you “Y/N may I speak with you a moment?” He asks, “Yea of course brother what is it?”

“Lord Debling has asked for my permission to propose to you, he says he has the deepest of feelings for you and he wishes you to be his wife, I know him to be a very kind man, one who obviously wouldn’t ever hurt an animal or a woman, he has a great estate and great prospects, so if it’s what you want I will agree to it at once, but I told him I had to talk with my sister first” he explains.

You smile knowing how deeply your family cares for each other, this is something you will never take for granted. “Truth is brother, I love him very much, I didn’t think it were possible to find someone I could fall for so deeply, but here we are” you reply.

“Very well then I shall give him my permission” Anthony affirms. You walk over and give him a chaste kiss to the cheek, “Thank you brother” you respond, he nods giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze before wandering off.

You were going to be married! Not only that to a man you love, you felt such happiness in that moment your chest could burst.

________________________________________

The next morning whilst reading your maid walked in announcing Lord Debling was here to see you, you nod at her to let him in.

“Hello my love, are you well this morning?” He asks as he enters the room.

“I am quite well my Lord thank you” you smile.

“Please call me Alfred, such formalities feel no longer necessary”

“Very well Alfred, but then you must call me y/n so we are on equal terms” you reply.

He laughs, “Of course, my dearest y/n, so I’m guessing it’s no secret to as why I am here?” He asks.

“Well I have an idea, but I will need you to clarify” you respond with wit.

“Very well Miss y/n Bridgerton” he begins before getting down on one knee, “You have bewitched my heart, and I’m asking if you will do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife?”

Walking towards him you kneel down in front of him, reaching out and tracing his stubbled cheek, “Yes Alfred, I will marry you” you gush before moving in and placing your lips against his, in a sweet soft kiss.

Just then all your family enter the room offering congratulations, you thank them all but your eyes never leave his, as you think to yourself yes you believe this will be a very happy marriage indeed.

#lord debling #bridgerton #lord debling x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton reader #bridgerton x you #Lord Debling x you #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #Lord Debling imagine #bridgerton fanfiction

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spinningwebsandtales · 2 months

Text

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

#Soshiro Hoshina X Reader #Soshiro Hoshina / Reader #Soshiro Hoshina #Kaiju No. 8 #Kaiju No 8 #Soshiro Hoshina Imagine #Kaiju No. 8 Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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love-jelly · 6 months

Text

RIGHT HERE.

sypnosis: you're soft for yuuta. more than you should be, considering that he's spoiled with your endless mounts of affection, basking him in the purity of your love.

contents: slight yandere!yuuta, cunninlingus, fingering, porn with plot (?), pet names (baby, pretty baby, etc)

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: i don't think i've ever wrote this much in my life, especially for a fic!! i lightly (barely) proofread this so if it sucks.... well, hopefully it doesn't. i listened to right here by chase atlantic for this fic because it reminds me of yan!yuuta sm so you can listen to it while reading if you want! i hope you enjoy !! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

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yuuta is never far from you, always a step ahead, always ready, always a steady presence in your life, from your teenage years to now.

how could you not be soft for him, knowing he's the only person that's ever stayed in your life? laying in bed with him, twirling the locks of hair that have started limiting his vision, an energy of tranquility enveloping the room that you both inhibit. a sudden call from your phone causes vibrations and loud rings that shake the peace that you both felt prior. you sit up tiredly to answer, sighing.

"hello?" you answer, not bothering to check who called. no one usually ever calls you at this time of day.

"are you down?" a voice you recognize emerges from the voicebox of your phone, demanding an answer to her sudden question. it's your best friend.

"down for...?" a confused tone is prominent in your voice.

"is yuuta hogging you again?" she jokes but you still see yuuta furrow his eyebrows at the comment. "read the groupchat! are you down for a girl's date today?"

"ohh, i didn't see the notifications, let me see." even before checking the messages, you know you don't really feel like going. today's your first day off in forever and you really wanted to spend it with yuuta but when you see the all uppercase texts clearly exhibiting extreme excitement from your best friends, you put your phone back to your ear. "i'll go."

your friend squeals excitedly, "okay!! text you're going in the groupchat, all the girls are finally free today to get together!! i can't wait to see you all again! see you later!" and promptly ends the call.

you turn back to yuuta, his eyebrows still furrowed. you smile softly and gently press your fingertips to his face to rid him of the wrinkles. "i'm sorry, baby, i know you wanted to spend all of today with me... i'll make it up to you, i promise."

his face relaxes but his eyes are still troubled. "it's okay... when are you leaving?"

you check the groupchat one more time, filtering through all the messages including exclaims of excitement to search for the details. "it starts at 2:30pm so i should leave at 1:30... which means i should start getting ready at 11:30 max. it's 10:00 so we still have time together."

yuuta pulls you back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and noses his way into your neck, making you giggle slightly from the ticklish feeling.

yuuta lightly bites your neck, leaving a light indent of his teeth. only slightly satisfied, he stares at it before he gets up, leaving you in the receding warmth of the bed.

frowning slightly, you call out "where are you going?"

'show her she only needs you', the devil on his shoulder whispers.

he hums. he turns backwards and picks you up gently, taking you with him. he kisses your cheek softly. "breakfast." he answers.

_____________

you softly groan into your closed fist. this was your weak point. yuuta, with his messily but cute tousled bedhead, shirtless, and cooking (especially when its your favorite breakfast). you had forgotten how badly this scene made the pit in your stomach ignite.

"hm?" his eyes flit over to you for a second before settling back onto the food in the pan in front of him, hiding a small smile that you don't catch.

you sit up quickly, adjusting your legs. "nothing, love!" your voice sounds tight and somewhat strained.

he knits his eyebrows together, "are you sure?" he glances at you, for longer this time before focusing back on the hot pan.

"yes..." you trail off, your eyes laser beamed at how he grips the pan handle and spatula. the tight grip of his hand on the pan.... then on your thigh.... then onto your waist....

shaking your head abruptly, you smile as you see yuuta plating your food. how could you think of your sweet boyfriend like this? poor yuuta, just wants to cook you breakfast... but the filthy thoughts continue to plague your mind.

his tongue flicking the fork (getting the remnants of the food left on it), a tongue you feel between your legs often.... his fingers wrapped around the fork (to feed you, of course), fingers you feel inside you often... you're in a daze, staring at him with the hungriest look yuuta has seen in your eyes in awhile. it's not his fault you've been so busy that you can't spare time for him and that you both haven't your fill of each other in awhile.

your running rampant thoughts are interrupted by the conspirator of your current fantasies himself when yuuta swipes at the side of your mouth to rid you of some crumbs and move them into your mouth.

and you can't catch yourself fast enough. your tongue darts out and collides with his finger and he pauses, frozen. in your starved haze, you grab his hand to pull him closer, sucking on the tip of his finger. now in his own mind-fogged state, he hyperfixates on your plush lips wrapped around his thumb and retracts it to replace it with him index and middle finger.

sliding his fingers into your mouth, he lightly presses down on your tongue. "you're so pretty..." he says, his eyes watching your eyes water.

taking his fingers out, he pulls you into a hard kiss. with teeth clashing and tongues dancing, he easily picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom.

in the bedroom, yuuta's rough with you. dropping you on the bed, watching you bounce on the bed for a second until he follows you, crawling on top of you. he quickly rids you of your flimsy tank and boy shorts, smiling smugly as he sees the wet spot in your panties. he kisses you your lips to your waist, sucking hickies along the way as if he's drawing a trail from his favorite place to kiss to his favorite place to make you cry out in pleasure.

when he reaches your waistline, he looks up at you. "you're so gorgeous" he whispers as he pulls apart your legs. you smile gently, it's so yuuta to compliment you in any situation.

your smile, however, is quickly contorted to a face of pleasure when you feel a light and wet pressure at your core. yuuta always knows exactly how to make you feel good, like he knows you better than he knows himself, like he crafted you himself.

his tongue makes quick work of your folds, lapping at the juice that leaks out of your pretty cunt, making you shut your eyes and cry out from the stimulation. diving into your hole and nudging your clit with his nose, you both simultaneously moan, him from your taste and you from the stimulation. your hands quickly find purchase in his hair, slightly pulling it to ground you while yuuta works on you, worships you like you deserve. through the pleasure, you find it in you to, somehow, open your eyes.

you can never get enough of this sight; yuuta's blown out pupils dizzy and drunk on your slick, slacked jaw taking in whatever your messy cunt gives him, and hair messy from your pulling and pushing. he's not usually a messy eater but with your cunt gushing out sweet elixir, what is he but a hopeless man amidst with a goddess- his goddess?

"y-yuu" you choke out, one hand pulling his hair and the other holding one of his hands tightly. "yes, love?" he kisses your clit, making you gasp at the sensation.

"need it!" you cry out right as he thumbs your clit to replace his lips.

"hm? what do you need? use your words, baby." he knows you, knows you can beg better, knows if he says the right words and pushes the right buttons, you'll crumble prettily, all for him.

the tips of your ears feel like they're burning, your cheeks like they've been set alight. "need to cum... please make me cum."

and just like that, yuuta feels like he's been set on fire, the match being your words. "well why didn't you just say so, baby?"

with that, he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt and licks at the sweet delicacy you present to him. with the added stimulation of his long fingers that curl just right that it bumps into your g-spot, it doesn't take much for you to reach the edge.

yuuta knows your signs and tells. he knows when you open your legs a little wider, thighs start twitching, moans get a little whinier and right when he says "cum for me, pretty" you'll come undone like a lovely scroll depicting his ultimate downfall; you. and you'll go lax, all the tenseness in your body dissipated as if it was never there in the first place. your lips will open to let out the final and loudest moan, the melody of his hymn in which he worships you. your body shakes as he tongue-fucks you through your orgasm, from the intensity of it rocking your core.

when you've fully come down from your high, he kisses his way back up to your lips, following the same trail of hickies he embedded into your skin prior. once he reaches your lips, he crashes your lips together like you're his oxygen (you are). you taste yourself but you don't care as you greedily devour whatever he gives you.

"can i put it in, baby?" he begs softly as if he didn't just devour you like his life depended on it and a whine present in his voice like you would ever tell him no.

"put it in me, yuu."

he pants heavily as he slowly slides his cock into your leaking cunt. "so good- so perfect for me-"

loud rings come from your phone, startling you both.

"ignore it." yuuta whines, still slowly sliding into you.

"yuu- let me pick up- f-fuckk hold on- yuu!" you smack him lightly on his chest and he looks back at you sadly, looking like a kicked puppy. "it could be important! hold on."

you answer the phone quickly, before the phone rings loudly again, "hello?"

"where are you, girl? you're not usually late!" your friend exclaims.

you quickly rip your phone away from your ear to check the time. 3:00pm. "oh my god."

yuuta, still looking like a kicked puppy, mouths 'what?'

still in shock that you lost track of that much time, you whisper-yell "i'm late to go to the girl's date!"

yuuta starts sliding himself in more as he whispers back, "don't go... stay with me."

"hello?" a voice from your phone disrupts you two.

"oh um... i-i got wrapped up in something..." you watch yuuta as he mouths at you 'say something came up, say you can't go anymore'. you can't exactly say you want to go either, especially when he's pleading with you like this and already sunk his cock halfway into your more honest cunt.

"oh... well, are you still coming? everyone's here tonight!"

weighing your options (get an amazing orgasm, maybe two or three actually, or hang out with some of your best friend who you haven't seen in awhile), you decide.

"i'll g- ohh." yuuta, seeing you were about to leave him, shoves the rest of him into you, bottoming out and mouths 'don't leave me'. your moan goes unnoticed by your friend, thankfully.

"you're coming? eek-!!"

noticing your boyfriend's neediness and noting your own wants, you quickly respond. "ah no- um, something came up. i'm actually a little occupied right now so-"

yuuta visibly perks up at your decision and you smile softly.

"awww, okay. i hope everything's alright! come to the next get-together, alright?"

"mhm, yeah, of course. i'll be there next time." you promptly end the call after exchanging goodbyes.

"i'm glad you're staying... with me." yuuta smiles, an unfamiliar emotion you've never seen in his eyes.

"of course-" you're cut off by his abrupt thrusting and you release a whiny moan.

"shhh, let me make my pretty baby feel good." he kisses your face and threads your hands together.

he pulls you into a hug and with his face hidden to you, yuuta finally lets out the smile he's been holding in all day long. and he thinks:

'i win.'

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if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: i've been having the worst (best) yandere yuuta brainrot ever, something about it feels so canon. but omg this is my first time actually writing full on smut so please give me feedback/constructive criticism!! also i'm a virgin. CAN U TELL??? LOL hopefully not. but hopefully you enjoyed!! thank you for getting this far :)

#cw yandere #yandere yuuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta smut #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #i love yuuta sm #yuuta the loml #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #i tried #can u tell i'm a virgin writing smut for the first time

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comfortless · 4 months

Note

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

#könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Mean Mommy!Wanda x Fem!Reader Word count: 700 Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, spanking, teasing, orgasm denial

Guys, I had this idea of sweet, kind, gentle, loving Mommy Wanda who always treats you so well and spoils you endlessly and adores to cuddle you and run her fingers through your hair. She’s the best. And you’ve only been her well-behaved girl so far, because you know she hates brats. Except you really wanna see that other side of her. You wanna know what she’ll do if you actually acted out… So you do. One day you have the audacity to mouth off to her, making her head snap in your direction and her eyes to turn cold. You see the way her jaw clenches as she walks towards you with big strides. “You wanna say that again?” She asks, just inches from your face, voice low. She’s so intimidating like this, so authoritive and demanding, but you’ve started this already so you stick to what you said, actually repeating it to her face. That’s when she snaps. She has her hand around your throat in seconds, backing you further into the room and spinning you around, so she can bend you over the armrest of the couch. She holds you down with one hand on your lower back, while the other lifts up the skirts of your dress and exposes your ass, greedy hands taking fistfuls of it and caressing you roughly. She takes a deep breath to try and calm herself, but she watches you wiggle under her, little gasps falling from your lips as you wait in anticipation and that’s when it clicks for her. You did it on purpose. She chuckles darkly at the thought, licking her lips while she takes you in like that. “You wanted Mommy to be mean?” She asks, her voice seductive and deep. “Well, here it is.” She says, as her free hand rises up and lands harshly on your ass. “While you enjoy your punishment, my darling, I want you to remember that you wanted this.” She warns, with that same dark and seductive voice. Then another slap lands. And another. She takes her time, savouring each one, caressing your cheeks that grow more sensitive and sore by the minute. Eventually she pulls your panties down, but the blows keep coming. She’s rough, just like you wanted and it makes you so unbearably aroused. You’re getting so wet from it and you’re pretty sure she can tell, but she never pays any attention to your pussy. Sometimes her fingers glide near it, so close, yet not close enough and it makes you squeeze your thighs in anticipation. She sees it. Sees the way you’re starting to get slick and needy, but she continues to ignore it entirely, eventually pulling your panties back up and smoothing down your dress. She chuckles when she sees your big, imploring eyes, your sore ass seated on the armrest she just spanked you over, looking up at her with so much hope. It almost makes her break her resolve. Almost. “Yes?” She asks expectantly, while she tucks your hair behind your ear. “Mommy… It…” You’re not sure how to tell her, but you know that she’s not going to help, unless you ask. “I really need you.” You finally say shyly. “Oh you need me…” She repeats, her voice sweet. Too sweet. “Do you want me to make it all better, baby? Is your pussy all needy now? Does it ache for Mommy?” She asks as she reached a hand between your legs, watching you part your thighs for her so eagerly. It’s adorable. “Yes, Mommy, please make it better.” You sigh, when she finally rubs you over your underwear, skilled fingers easily finding your clit and applying a little pressure to make you moan. “Please, it’s so achy.” Your head tilts backwards from the pleasure of her touch and you miss the sadistic smirk on her face. “Good.” She states suddenly, her hand pulling away. “Let it.” She adds cruelly. “Mommy’s not going to touch your pretty pussy today. And you’re not going to touch it either. You’re going to leave it all needy, just like this.” She instructs. “Bad girls don’t cum.”

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #top!wanda #bottom!reader #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 3 months

Text

I WANT A HEART TATTOO!

I'LL NEVER GET IT REMOVED!

synopsis// suguru gives you your first tattoo.

➚ pairing// tattoo artist!suguru geto x gn!reader

➚ word count// 2k

contents// friends to lovers, tattooed and pierced geto, reader is a chicken, mentions of drinking, maybe like the ittiest bittiest type of suggestive toward the end...? slightly teasing/cocky geto?

notes// this is kinda cringe but i am cringe and free. also this was inspired by heart tattoo by joyce manor (dont play with me rn.) hoping this will help hold yall off till i can finish the smau...

Geto meticulously cleans up his tattoo station, occasionally stopping to take a swig of the beer you so kindly brought him.

“You’re quiet.”

You hum as you take a sip of your own beer.

He stops and turns around to face you, his eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“I like watching you clean.”

Geto laughs. Not just a small one either, but the kind that makes his nose crinkle and his cheeks bunch to the point his eyes are forced closed. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach, blaming it on the alcohol (even if this is only your first beer and definitely not enough to have any sort of effect on you, but you digress).

“What’s so interesting about watching me clean anyway?”

You huff, ignoring the increasing heat on your face. “I don’t know... Just shut up and finish cleaning, Suguru. I wanna leave.”

He smiles and turns back around, continuing to clean. “I told you you could go home.”

“And leave you to fend for yourself?”

“I’m a grown man.”

“Whatever… Besides, I can’t drink all these beers by myself.”

Geto doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders shake slightly with a small, silent laugh, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You love his little quirks. You always have.

maybe a little too much.

Meanwhile, he picks up his tattoo machine and stares at it. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it; it’s just plain black, freshly wrapped in some black medical tape.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Something wrong?”

He shakes his head and turns to face you again, tattoo machine still in hand. “You still don’t have any tattoos, huh?”

“Um, no,” you respond sheepishly. “I’m not like scared or anything-“

“I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“Oh. then what were you gonna say?”

“Can I give you a tattoo?”

You blink at him. It’s not like you don’t trust him. You trust Geto with your life. You trust him more than anyone or anything in the world. Shit, you might trust him even more than you trust yourself. It’s just…

Geto impatiently groans at your lack of answer. “Oh, cmon, you literally promised me when we were younger that you would let me tattoo you!”

“That was when we were like twelve!” you scoff, in disbelief he’d throw something as old as that in your face… Maybe he’s been hanging around Gojo too much.

“Give me one good reason why you won’t let me tattoo you.”

You frown as you look away, and right away you can hear his footsteps as he places himself in your line of vision again. raising his eyebrows as if to ask, “well?”

You mumble something under your breath that he doesn’t quite catch. “Y/N, you know I can’t hear you when you do that.”

“I actually am scared!” you finally say loud enough for him to hear, and it comes out more like a single word than a full sentence.

Geto can't help but giggle, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth, but not even that helps.

“Suguru, this isn't funny; I'm being vulnerable here!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says through stifled laughter before finally calming down enough to clear his throat. “You're right, it isn’t funny,“ he pauses for a moment. ”Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“Getting tattooed scares me too.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “You're covered in them.”

Geto shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it’s not unnerving each time.”

“I just don’t want it to hurt,” you explain with a slight pout.

“It’s a needle going in and out of your skin, Y/N.”

“Exactly!”

“Fine,” Suguru says with a sigh, and you think that's it; he's done, but not even a few seconds later does he speak up again: “What if I said I'll be gentle?”

“Haha.” Your brain immediately short circuits, and the butterflies in your stomach are something you can't blame on the alcohol this time. “Huh.”

Geto laughs softly. “With your tattoo?”

You nod blankly, your brain still not working properly and not yet actually computing what he’s still asking you.

“Yes?” he confirms excitedly.

“Yeah…” Finally, it hits you. “Wait, no! I mean, no. and not to mention you’ve been drinking?”

“Like two sips, Y/N,” he says with a slight pout and roll of his eyes. “You know better than anyone; it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk.”

“Okay, well, what about me? Isn't it bad to get tattoed when you’ve been drinking?”

“Oh my god, just say yes or no. You know I won’t be mad if you decide not to.”

You stare deep into Geto’s eyes, and he’s not lying; he won't be mad. disappointed, sure, but not mad. never mad, never when it comes to you. And right then and there, your conviction crumbles into a million tiny pieces, just dust in the wind.

“…fine”

“fine?”

“You can tattoo me. But!" you exclaim, pointing a finger at him as if lecturing him, “it has to be small! and somewhere where it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, I can't guarantee that last part, and you know that,” he says blankly.

You sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”

Geto smiles at you softly and coos, “But I will try,” as he gently caresses your cheek before breaking away and turning around to pull back out the stuff he needs.

You stand there wide-eyed, and your jaw dropped. Geto is affectionate, sure, but he’s never been that affectionate. He couldn’t feel the same way, could he? You shake your head, denying that thought, even despite how hot you feel.

He just did that to comfort you.

That’s all.

He was just trying to be reassuring.

That's it.

At least that's what your brain is trying to say, but your heart is saying another with the way it violently beats against your rib cage.

The minute he turns around, you compose yourself, shutting your mouth and hoping to god he doesn’t notice your chest heaving almost uncontrollably.

Geto pats his tattoo chair. “Sit.”

You hesitate, standing there like a deer in headlights.

Geto clicks his tongue dramatically before grabbing your hand and leading you to his chair, mumbling a reassuring, “Trust me.”

You frown, placidly letting him drag you around like a rag doll. “I do trust you.”

“Then sit.”

And when he says it like that, how can you say no? When he’s staring at you so intently that it’s almost as if he can see right through you, how do you say no? You cant. So you don't. The only thing you can do is—petulantly—plop down into his tattoo chair.

“Sit right and lay your arm on the armrest.”

“No, do it like this.” By ‘this’ you mean with you hunched over and your arm resting on your leg rather than the armrest like Geto is telling you to.

He sighs deeply. "Y/N, your arm resting on your leg is not stable enough. like at all.”

“Do it like this or not at all.”

“Fine.” He raises an eyebrow at you in mild disapproval and says, "But if it comes out bad, it’s not my fault.”

You roll your eyes, unamused. Geto would never let anything he puts on your body come out even remotely bad. “Whatever.”

“Why like this anyway?”

“Because it’s comfortable..?”

Not really.

Like at all.

Actually, this is extremely uncomfortable, and you're sure your back will hate you later, but this gives you the best view of Geto, and that's all you care about.

“Okay, fine,” he says, not bothering to put up much more of a fight before getting in position. “Ready?”

“Yeah…” Not even a second later, you blurt out, “Wait!”

Geto’s head shoots up, his concerned eyes scanning your face intently. “What? What is it?”

You don't say a word; instead, you grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, prepared to claw into it if and when need be.

“Is that why you’re sitting like this?” He asks, a smug smile creeping onto his face as it finally hits him. “You just wanted to hold onto me?”

You nod sheepishly.

Geto smiles. “Are you ready now, then?”

You nod again.

but that's not good enough for him. He wants a real reply. “For real this time?”

“For real this time.”

Geto doesn't miss a beat, and you close your eyes as your face scrunches up in anticipation, your nails already sinking into his shoulder. But the minute the tattoo machine actually meets your skin, you peek one eye open because all you really feel is some vibration and the tiniest of scratches. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all, actually; it’s more than tolerable, and with that, your hand relaxes against his shoulder, still resting on it but no longer gripping him like he’s the only thing tying you to this earth.

It’s not long after that the feeling fades into the background of your mind, like a blur. Being tattooed isn’t even a thought in your brain at all right now. Geto could be tattooing a dick on your arm right now, and you wouldn’t even know because the only thing you can focus on is him.

The only thing you can ever focus on is him, if you’re being honest.

But right now, something is different. Seeing him in his element makes your knees go weak, and you’re grateful for the fact that you’re sitting. and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve never let him tattoo you sooner. You’d let him tattoo you a thousand more times if it meant you got to see him like this. He somehow makes the way he focuses look like art—from the way his brows are knitted together in concentration to the way he absentmindedly bites and fiddles with his lip piercings—it’s all art; he makes it look too beautiful. like he’s more modeling and pretending to focus than actually doing it. You involuntarily let out a deep, longing sigh, your eyes fluttering close in the process.

Geto’s gaze flits up to your face. “You're not about to pass out on me, right?”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze with a small, content smile on your face. “No, I'm fine, Suguru.”

“I mean, if you were, that would be fine too, because I'm done,” he replies, turning off his tattoo machine and moving away from you.

“Already?!” you ask, slightly shocked. It didn't feel like it had been that long.

“Yeah,” he says plainly as he stands up and starts quickly cleaning up his workstation once more. "Don't know what you were so scared of, dork.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something sarcastic or explain yourself, but before the words can even leave your mouth, before you can even think of them, Geto is turning back around to face you and cupping your chin in between his index finger and thumb.

Geto leans down at the same time he tilts your head up and places a chaste kiss on the corner of your (still open) mouth, cooing, “You took it so well.”

All you can do is laugh nervously. “What?” You're still giggling; you don't think you could do much else at this point. “What was that- Why did you just-“

Geto starts laughing along with you, except it’s not a defense mechanism for him; he’s just finding this all too amusing. “You didn't think I gave you a heart for no reason, did you?”

You quickly look down at your arm, the action ripping your chin out of Geto’s hold. “You gave me a heart,” you say absentmindedly, and it sounds more like a question than an actual statement.

“Are you just now noticing?” he asks, returning his hand to your chin and gently guiding you to look up at him again. “I thought you were watching the whole time.”

You swallow sharply, becoming acutely aware of how close his face is to yours again. “I was watching something the whole time, but it was not the actual tattoo.”

“Oh? and what was so much more interesting?”

“Mind your business-“

Geto barely even lets you finish your snarky remark before leaning in and kissing you again. except this time for real. except this time you kiss back.

and suddenly tattoos don’t seem so bad anymore, so long as they all end like this.

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uglypastels · 9 months

Note

I absolutely loved your sanji fic!! You wrote it so well and so insanely hot but i was wondering if you would write something for buggy?

Like, imagine him letting you use his hand like a toy or something

thank you so much for the kind words and the request!! I did take this for a bit of a spin, so I hope it's still okay, but with that being said, this is wild, pure and unadulterated filth, and I wish I was sorry for this, but I'm really not. Read the tags, and if you don't like the sound of them, please just scroll.

word count: ~2k

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. MDNI. pwp filth. free use and objectification. masturbation and fingering. pussy slapping. voyeurism. somnophilia. dacryphilia. probs dub-con and loser/perv!buggy. some degradation. swearing. do Buggy's DF powers need a warning? well, here it is anyway, ig.

Sweet Dreams

The first time it happened, you thought you had dreamt it.

You had had a conversation with the Captain ages ago but had thought barely anything of it yourself after and doubted he would act on it, so the following day, you had convinced yourself it had just been your imagination running wild. Because, surely, there was no way that Buggy would have come into your room at night.

Besides, you would have woken up if he had, right?

But then, you kept having this dream. And it always felt so real and began the same way. You would stir in your sleep as you felt his hand graze your face softly, letting you lean into his touch. He would hold you briefly before slowly walking down to the edge of your bed covers, pulling them down to reveal your body.

He would take his time touching you in one way or another. Sometimes, he would take his time and spend ages just teasing you and letting his hands roam over your body and groping your breasts, toying with your nipples, touching you anywhere but there. You'd wake up hot and agitated as your body was practically on fire at the memory of his touch.

Other nights, you would be startled by the gentle pull of your leg, spreading your thighs open. While the first time it happened was quite a shock, you welcomed it now. You would go to sleep, hoping to feel him on you again. For his fingers to rub over your clit, slip through your folds and fill you up until you were whimpering for a release.

And each time it happened, he'd get rougher, move faster, deeper and harsher. Fucking you with his fingers until the bed shook. That is when you would try to reach for him, for anything, just to be disappointed with the dreamscape because he wasn't there with you.

But, fuck, did you wish he was. More and more each night until, one day, you whined out for him in desperation. Like a dam had broken open, your room flooded with moans of his name. First, soft whimpers, but as time passed, his name echoed through you louder and louder.

'I'm so- I'm so close, Buggy. Fuck,' you cried out, feeling that familiar tightness in your body, growing tighter, ready to snap, but the release came in the cruellest form with his hand disappearing from between your legs.

The disappointment of the ruined climax practically woke you up, and you stared at the dark ceiling, trying to catch your breath. Why did he have to stop there? You were so close you just needed a few more seconds.

Your chest finally began to rise and fall at a normal pace, and you were ready to close your eyes again to fall back asleep when you heard the sound of a slow clap.

As it kept going, you jumped up in bed to be greeted with the sight of your captain standing on the threshold, applauding you from across the room.

'Captain?' you blinked, trying to make sure you were seeing things correctly, 'what- what are you doing here?'

'I couldn't help myself, baby.' While you had tried to speak with a hushed tone, considering the late hour, he never had been the considerate type of other people's sleep schedules and spoke just like any other time.

He smiled as he began making his way towards your bed. 'You just sounded so pretty, making such a mess of yourself and then-' his excitement doubled with each word he said. 'Well, and then you said my name, and I swear I could just about cream my pants!'

A shriek escaped you when, out of nowhere, he jumped up on top of you, arms on either side, locking you in between his body, his face nearly pressing against yours. So close you could feel his breath on you when he spoke again, this time in an almost disappointed growl. 'You know how long I waited for you to say it? Just an itty bitty moan, anything, but you never had. Never moaned my name before. Why's that, hmm?'

'I-' you stuttered, but he kept on going.

'Don't I make you feel good?' His lips turned into an exaggerated pout. You tried to say something but were simply too stunned to form a response, and so, even though Buggy had pulled away already, he pressed his face once again up against yours to practically shout. 'Well!? What is it?! Would you rather have someone else fuck you every night?!'

'No, captain.' You finally managed to say. 'I just- I didn't think it was real.' It must have all been a dream, right?

'Oh, it's real, alright.' He was giggling now, one of his hands brushing over your hair softly. 'All those times you came, that was all me, baby!' He gave you a sloppy kiss on the forehead and sighed out in relief. 'Just wish I was here to see it before.'

And that's when you felt it. Despite him still, practically, lying on top of you with his arms over your head, you felt his hand roam over your upper thigh. The closer he came to reaching your pussy, the wider his smile grew. 'Whatcha think, wanna finally put on a proper show for me, baby?'

'What do you-' you weren't sure where the captain was going with this.

'C'mon,' he pressed his lips against your ear, sending shivers through your entire body. 'Wanna see how you've been fucking yourself with my hand all this time.' To emphasise his demand, you were surprised with a slap across your clit. If it wasn't for the fact that he had all his weight pressed on you, you would have jerked up from the sensation.

Finally, he got up, and you watched him search the room for a place to sit, picking up the clothes you had mindlessly discarded on the armchair in the corner. He took the items of clothing, one by one, just to throw them right onto the ground, except for a pair of your panties, which he stuffed into his back pocket. He then fell back into the chair and, with a satisfied smile, called out to you, 'aand... action.'

But you didn't move. Unsure of what to do, your self-consciousness only being enhanced by his strict gaze entirely focused on you, you froze.

'I said, action.' Buggy repeated himself. 'Is there a problem, deary?'

You shook your head. 'No, I just... well I'm not really sure what to do, I guess.'

'Aww, there's no need to be shy. I mean,' he laughed, 'It's not like it will be your first time, but alright let me help- do you need a hand, baby?' He made himself giggle as the hand in question was already between your legs.

'Ok, ok,' he jumped around in his seat. 'Please, get comfortable, and here, I'll even look away.' He covered his eyes with his hand, but even in the dark, you could tell he wasn’t able to hold in his laugh, and his fingers were spread apart for him to have you in his full view.

You knew he had no intention of leaving. And after all, he had done so much for you... and even now, there would be so little you would be doing for him. All the pleasure would be yours. Just the way he looked at you, with that hunger in his eyes, it made your head spin. It may be better to just look away yourself. So, you let yourself fall back onto your pillow.

As you did so, his hand found its spot between your legs, one finger already over your pussy. If there had been any doubt about it really being Buggy who was touching you, it evaporated at the sound of his excited laugh as he felt you squirm.

'That's what I'm talking about, baby!' He cheered, and god, if you dared to talk like that to your captain, you would have told him to shut up.

'Please,' you said instead, feeling that unfulfilled sensation creep up inside you, reminding you of all the nights before, but mostly, the orgasm he had ruined minutes ago. But his hand kept up with his sly movements, only gently moving up and down your slit, never crossing the line to give you the needed satisfaction.

To get that, you knew what you had to do. You knew what he wanted you to do.

So, you reached down to meet his fingers. They practically wrapped around yours, almost affectionately, and you could feel the juices accumulated over his callouses while he teased you.

Once he felt your grip on him, he adjusted his fingers, positioning them just right for you. It wouldn't be any different from before, you tried to tell yourself, and if anything, this gave you control, wouldn't it?

Perhaps you were moving too slowly for his liking. Still in your hold, you felt him pull himself closer to you, to your pussy. You didn't try to hold him back when he finally entered you. Two slender fingers filling you, accompanied by your relieved moan of satisfaction.

But that is where he stopped. Deep inside you, he didn't move a muscle.

The rest was up to you.

It's like any other toy, you told yourself, pulling him away slowly, then pulling him back. The friction was there, but you needed more, so you kept going, trying to find the right balance between speed and force. Soon enough, you could focus on the pleasure and how his fingers were making you feel, and the moans and whimpers seeped out between your lips, immediately rousing Buggy.

'That's right. Fuck my hand like the dirty whore you are.' The excitement in his voice was almost scary, vibrating straight through the room to you.

'Buggy!' You cried out at his words.

'Sorry, sorry.' He pulled himself back. 'But can you blame me? Fuck. You're just so tight and wet. Come on, keep going.' You dared to glance his way, ensure that he still sat where you had last seen him and, indeed, he sat in that armchair, legs spread, almost inviting, and a visible tent in his trousers.

He just sat there, enjoying the show you put on for him.

And you did as you were told, thrusting his hand in and out of you. It was impossible to tell what was his or your doing, and it didn’t matter. All you cared to think about was how good he felt, hitting all the right spots inside you as you pushed him deeper.

‘Buggy,’ you moaned.

‘That’s right. Say my name, baby,’ Buggy growled from his chair. As he spoke, you felt his hand tense up inside you, push deeper into you, fingers spreading slightly.

‘Fuck, yes. Do that again.’ You were a mess, with hair sprawled out at all angles and sweat appearing in a sheer sheet over your body from the intensity of your movements. But you could swear that when you looked at your captain, it was as if he was watching a masterpiece unfold. Although, at the sound of your demand, something in him quirked.

‘What was that?’

‘Please, Buggy, do that again… that, with your fingers.’ You pleaded, trying to keep up your own pace.

‘Oh, sweetheart, I think you got this all wrong.’ Slowly, he got up from the chair. His hand stilled within you; no matter what you tried to do with it, it wouldn’t budge. You stared up at him until he reached the side of your bed, leaning over you, pressing his other hand over your face, bringing your cheeks in until you could feel his fingertips against your teeth.

‘You don’t tell me what to do. Ever!’ He shouted the last word into your face. ‘Got it?’

In his hold, you could only nod your head in agreement.

‘Good,’ he sat down, much happier with the situation. ‘Now, where were we, hmm? Oh, that’s right—’ While he had been telling you off, you had let go of his hand, so now he had the complete freedom to move as he pleased. And so, he pulled out of you, and before you had the chance to protest or respond, you felt the sting of another harsh slap across your pussy.

Without another warning, he was inside you again, moving at a pace you could never reach, practically drilling his fingers into you. You grabbed onto the sheets, eyes shut, but not for long. Only until Buggy had noticed you doing so.

‘No, no, no. That won’t do. Look at me.’ He snapped his fingers in front of your face. ‘Look at me when I fuck you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologised with heavy breaths. ‘Just feels so— you feel so good. Fuck.’

‘Hmm, I know.’ He squatted beside the bed, crossing his arms to pillow his chin on, with a big, wicked, but extremely adoring smile. ‘So, why don’t you cum on my fingers, baby. Soak ‘em for me.’

You were undoubtedly getting there, the build-up of two ruined orgasms making things feel even worse, more sensitive. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes, and you could sense how Buggy was watching them drop.

‘That’s it.’ He whispered with an intensity you had never heard before. ‘Come for me.’

And so, you did. The pleasure washed over you like a tsunami with a scream that must have woken up the entire sideshow, but it did not stop Buggy from letting his fingers have his way with you until long after you cried out his name for the so-manieth time.

‘Thank you,’ you managed to say when he finally pulled out of you. In the instant moment, it was like your whole body was released from a tight rope and fell into the comfort of the mattress.

‘Believe me,’ he snickered, reattaching his hand to bring it up to his lips, sucking all of you off his fingers, dramatically so. ‘It was my pleasure.’

the end

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