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dabisbratz · 3 days

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𝒫𝒪𝑅𝒞𝐸𝐿𝒜𝐼𝒩 ; eren jeager x male reader

w.c: 2.3k

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮: miscommunications, eren’s short temper, dumbification, asphyxiation two (2) uses of the f-slur (nonsexual), dirty-talk, exhibitionism + vouyerism, public masterbation, orgasm denial, spittin, one (1) use of the word ‘boypussy’, mean rennie

sonny says . . . rare short sonny post in da wild!?!? was missin nerd rennie n his jock boyfie ૮꒰ ྀི๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘ ྀི ꒱ა thinkin about how long it takes for you t’realize y’like -like him . . .

Eren is. . . Weird.

That’s not an unknown fact, nor is it an uncommon conclusion. If anything, it’s a given. He smells strange, but not unpleasant, his voice goes nasally when he’s not making an effort to smoothen it out, his glasses are always smudged with fingerprints and a thin, barely noticeable layer of grease. He snorts when he laughs, too, in some sort of stereotypical way, and it’s almost endearing, but. . . That’s not why he’s weird.

It’s not his physical traits, no. Not the two moles decorating his neck, or the constant pink flush to his cheeks. Not his warm, brown hair that frames his soft cheeks. It’s not the acne at his forehead— you can tell he’s spent countless nights scrubbing away at it, picking apart his appearance— or the pudge to his body. Found on his cheeks, his arms, his stomach, his thighs— no, it absolutely isn’t anything physical.

Even as you look at him, your eyes trained on the movement of his pen as he writes something down— you’re not even sure what subject you’re supposed to be working on, anymore— you can’t place it. Ink travels along the sheet of paper, bleeding into it as his letters loop and his vowels curl. His lips are chapped, dusted a pretty shade of pink as his tongue swipes over the surface of his pillowy lips, they part as if to speak, and—

“What?” He asks, his voice only ever sounding soft now, for the first time since you’ve met him. He peers at you over the rim of his large, round glasses, his hazel eyes brightening beneath the fluorescent study-hall lights. Eren squints, like the opacity pains him, but his gaze never falters in kindliness. He’s. . . pretty.

Its certainly not the first time you’ve had that thought— he’s fucked you sideways, backwards, and maybe even upside down, so the thought crossed your mind amongst countless other opportunities, but this is different. It’s mundane. It’s. . . casual. Natural, like something fundamentally correct.

In a way that makes your heart want to wring itself dry.

Eren breathes through parted lips, a habit he’s working on, thick eyebrows furrowed as his gaze trickles toward your empty notebook. “What?” He repeats, this time much more nasally. The growing irritability in his voice proves palpable— but it’s not Eren if he’s not easily riled up. Still, his voice is like molasses, you want to cuddle up beneath it and taste it on your tongue. The sweetness, the bitterness. To feel it spread across your tastebuds, thick and syrupy. He’s just so.. handsome.

“What?” You clear your throat, it’s suddenly scratchy, all the words you want to say stuck in your esophagus as you cough into your elbow. They’re not thoughts you’re used to having— you’ve only ever had girlfriends.. You’re used to floral patterns and sweet scents. . . the stereotypical bubblegum pink and hair ties. The hands you’ve held have almost always been smaller than your own, softer, dantier…

“You’re.. You know, staring at me?” Polar opposite of the former, Eren’s hand swats the air as if gesturing to the general area. You instinctively want to roll your eyes, bratty in nature, just to earn the soft click of Eren’s tongue. Fuck.

“How did you know you were… you know.” Rushed, slipping over your own tongue, your teeth feel like jelly, softening in your own mouth. You suddenly feel small, backed up against a corner and trembling like a deer. Bambi’s got nothing on you, incomparable, you think, a cold tremor cascading past your ribs and down your spine. You’re not supposed to be the one feeling this way.

“You know?” He echoes. Pink, plush lips parting and curling around every letter, your heart flutters with warmth as they curl into scowl. You hate to admit it, but it’s your favorite expression from Eren. He’s always looked a bit boyish— like he carries some sort of sheepishness in him, even with his beginnings of facial hair, but there’s something more established about him when his eyes steel over and his lips press together. “What, gay?”

Lilliputian is the minute that goes by, and yet, it lasts forever. “Yeah,” A long beat of silence as your shoulders tense up to your ears, each flutter of your eyelash against your cheek, each intake of air through your nose.. “That.” Excruciatingly slow, almost.

He notes the way you say it. You know it, you can see the cogs of recognition twisting and turning in his head, you loathe it. You want to hold onto the softness of his face, rub patterns into his cheek and pull him forward, whimpering a soft, saccharine ‘Rennie’ in his ear and watch him crumble. Your fingers twitch, fumbling over themselves at the thought, and before you can lift your hand (just to snatch it away), Eren’s lips part once more.

“You mean a faggot,” He sneers, his pen completely discarded, rolling past the flat surface of the wooden table. Radiating from his skin is the warmth of new tension, he vibrates in his seat as if ready to lash out. . . Not at you, never at you. “That’s what you want to say, right?”

“Eren,” Mumbling, barely making it past your lips, you murmur through your teeth. You distract yourself with your hands, two fingers holding onto one as they twiddle and turn around themselves. Eren’s gaze trails downward, a long, prominent scowl on his lips as he leans back into his seat, thighs spread wide over the stretch of the desk chair. His head tilts back, chocolate brown hair brushing against his jaw as he stares at you through the bridge of his nose. His frame isn’t big, and yet, he looks so.. powerful.

“I didn’t— don’t mean it like that.”

“What the fuck else could you mean, then?” He growls, a mean lilt in his voice that nearly has you shrinking back. A warning, not a threat, as the chair creaks beneath his weight, his hands clasping together as he shifts to lean forward instead. Looking you dead on, even as you avert your gaze. A click of his tongue, you listen to his skin brush against his palms as he raises a hand to snap his fingers. Once, twice, thrice.. And suddenly your attention is back on him. “Only fags take it up the ass like you do, anyway.”

“Eren,” You breathe, a soft melody of a voice, eyebrows pinched as you silently plead. Not even entirely sure what you’re pleading for, it’s just that his tone of voice makes you want to repent. Warmth prickles in your skin, and some sick, divine intervention tunes in to remind you that you’ve never felt more empty without Eren inside you. “Come on, man. I didn’t mean it like that, I just..”

His pretty face twists as though he’d eaten something sour. ‘Man’ — you call him, not something more savory. Baby, sweetheart, sugar, sir, Rennie. . . The options are there, and he’s watching you wade through them. You know Eren likes you. He knows you do, in some unexplainable way— he just needs to hear it.

“Is that what I am to you, too?” He grunts, stubborn. He knows the answer, eyes softening as he watches a frown tug at the corners of your kissable lips.

“Rennie,” You coo, as if you’ve read his mind, and he’s never seen your face so… conflicted. “M’sorry.” It cracks his hardened exterior, anger and tension dissipating into the air as he lets out a groan of a breath.

You’ve never seen Eren angry. Maybe in a different context, toward something else, with the exception of the time he’d discovered football meant you were flexible and he hadn’t put it to use yet. But. . . only sexually charged. You’d imagine it starts slow, a slight simmer building in his veins, gathering in his fingers as he clenches his hands into fists. Then fast, and sudden, crystalline rolling down his cheeks in a thick flow of rivers before your very eyes. He probably cries when he’s genuinely angry, you conclude, watching his chest heave and tense as he steadies his raging breaths.

A new sense of shame raises the hairs on your neck— should you comfort him, or give him privacy? It's all so much, you’re left stunned as he stands, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor as he all but stomps over to grab your chin. Your hand instinctively reaches to cup his own, instead, being met with a firm, but painless, tap to your cheek that makes you straighten up, hands falling back to your lap.

“You’re so. . .” Voice rough and thick, Eren’s gaze follows the shape of your lips as he trails off. Past your cupid's bow, is the curve, following where they meet in a shaky line. You’re pulled into a kiss, his pink lips chapped and bitten, you taste a thin layer of blood and iron on his tongue. His hand moves from your chin to your throat, fingers tracing the skin until his palm presses below your adam’s apple, leaving you gasping as he steals every breath from your parted lips. “. . Dumb boys like you never know what they’re fuckin’ talking about half the time anyway.”

The dig doesn’t hurt, your brain barely catches it, with the lack of oxygen and the pout on your lips, all you can chase after is the urge to kiss him again. Again, again, again. You hear him suck his teeth, but it’s hazy when he speaks once more. “Oh, you liked that?”

“Rennie, I wan’ it—“ Leaves your lips, high and whiney, forlorn to even your own ears, a dull throb between your thighs. It’s so good, you didn’t get hard as quick before meeting Eren, but with his hand wrapped around your throat, you can already feel the ache in your balls, the twitch of your shaft, the milky, sticky precum spilling into your boxers. The brunette scoffs, and that only makes it worse.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, mostly to himself, an almost incredulous lilt to his voice as he straightens up, palming at the clear bulge imprinted in his stained sweatpants. “Since you want it so bad, touch it.”

With a breathy moan, your hands reach to grasp at the thick outline of Eren’s cock straining against his pants, pressing your palm against the warmth of his shaft. You feel it twitch and throb beneath your fingers, jumping in your hand as Eren sucks in a sharp breath. You missed this. He huffs above you, face flushed and glasses askew, but his gaze doesn’t leave your face once— glued to the way your lips part, how you mouth against the cotton of his sweats and leave behind a sloppy stain of drool. How you kiss the head, burying your face deeper and deeper into the fabric, breathing in the musk of his cock.

“M’sorry,” You breathe, handsome face squished against his thigh, and Eren can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you off his cock with a resigned grunt.

“I knew I was gay,” Eren rasps, his other hand pulling at the elastic band of his sweatpants, diving past his boxers (with suspicious stains, might you add), and straight to gripping his cock, dribbling salty, sticky precum along his knuckles. “When I’d come home from school,” He sighs, eyes fluttering shut with a shaky gasp. “And watch porn, but—” You barely miss it, stuck in his hold as he keeps you still, the weight of his cock slapping against your cheek— and god, that’s all you’ve ever wanted. “I only focused on the men. Especially when they sounded like girls, whining and crying…”

It’s hard to listen to him ramble, when what you want is right in front of you. Your hips rock, pressing your needy cock just barely against the denim of your jeans— it’s not enough, you need more, you want to feel it, you want to take it— “Kinda like you,” He grunts out, nearly crumbling above you, your pretty lips ghosting over his cock as his fist grips the dip of his balls. Blinking up at him, your eyes remain glued to the veins littering his hand as he fucks his fist, nearly losing your composure. “How they gasp after bottoming out,” Lifting your hips up, brushing your clenched fists against your thighs, your eyes flutter shut as he moans, maneuvering your face into different angles— however he pleases. “When they accidentally shoot a load on their own face. Ha, kinda like you.”

You hiccup on your own desperate, breathy sobs, choking on your gasps— in and out, in and out, Eren’s cock squelches as he fucks his fist, gathering pre and smearing it against your cheek.

“And they always take it so good. Pretty, slutty little holes made for taking dick,” He strokes loud plaps of wetness out of the head, finally, finally, pressing it against the plush of your lips. Glazed over and sticky, a thin, sheen layer of pre paints your lips like the prettiest gloss, and your lips part, carrying a thin trail of saliva between them. “They look so stupid, too. Best part was—” Mumbling under his breath, the brunette gathers spit on his tongue. He's salty and bitter, spreading along your mouth, and you can't help but drool. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head, and— oh. “I’d make sure they looked like you.”

He’s spitting in your mouth. “You should’ve known when I had your ankles above your head and fucked a load into that boypussy of yours.”

You’re close, you can feel it, a tingling warmth in your spine and your balls, your abdomen tightening and hands reaching down to rub it out, but— Eren swats your hand away, a scowl on his lips.

Repent, repent, repent.

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trashmouth-richie · 2 days

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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky.

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message :

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;]

that you knew you had nothing to worry about.

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma.

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced.

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way.

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?”

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.”

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie.

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans.

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?”

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?”

—

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement.

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples.

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now.

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom.

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit?

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs.

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor.

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer.

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust.

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland.

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm.

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together.

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity.

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies.

What the fuck?

How could a frat house not have a bathroom?

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were.

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!”

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!”

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee.

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it.

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall.

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.”

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection.

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already.

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt.

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!”

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here.

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos.

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.”

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah— hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.”

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him.

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture.

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.”

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk.

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty.

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?”

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?”

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble.

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?”

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her.

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place.

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.”

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well.

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve.

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.”

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.”

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out.

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.”

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.”

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.”

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief.

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.”

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?”

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?”

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?”

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.”

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.”

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?”

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh.

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement.

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!”

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?”

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull.

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse.

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity.

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer.

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house.

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?”

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you.

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored.

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc.

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him.

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did.

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes.

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him.

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes.

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?”

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine.

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.”

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.”

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.”

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers.

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.”

The music changes and a throwback song

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years.

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!”

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids.

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?”

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.”

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him.

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves.

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him.

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most.

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.”

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more.

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard.

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle.

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game.

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you.

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat.

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound.

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top.

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’.

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure.

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.”

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.”

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before.

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.”

That did it for him.

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick.

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall”

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle.

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened.

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you.

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.”

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals.

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?”

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.”

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.”

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.”

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.”

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted sugar on Eddie’s tongue.

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted.

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier.

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity.

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color.

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples.

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.”

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.”

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before.

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips.

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.”

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!”

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake.

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs, Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time.

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most.

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless.

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove.

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his.

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear.

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more.

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.”

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep.

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you.

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face.

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.”

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.”

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.”

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy.

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest.

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that.

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight. — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July.

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that.

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught.

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone.

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear.

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?”

#Spotify #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you smut #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you

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moechies · 7 months

Text

toji + littl stepdaughter 🧁 tw dark content st3pcest, daddy

toji who hears little whines of his name coming from your bedroom when he comes back home from work.

your mother is missing, and it’s only him in the dimly lit living room of your shared home.

“toji.. to..ji..”

the noises are hard to make out, but the man’s senses are easily able to pick up the vowels of his name. therefore, he begins pacing himself upstairs towards your room.

he doesn’t bother to knock before twisting the doorknob open.. to reveal a sleepy little girl subconsciously crying out her stepdaddy’s name.

your room is illuminated by the small lamp next to your bed, and he assumes that you may have fallen asleep accidentally. you squirm slightly atop of your pastel pink sheets, holding tightly onto your plush with no intent of waking up at his intrusion.

“please..”

he smirks at your desperation, even unconscious you’re dreaming about him; how sweet.

“need.. it.. pleaseplease..”

“shit..” he mumbles with a light laugh,

he decides to climb atop of your bed, hovering above your body as he watches you. your lips turn into a frown, legs squirming underneath him with need. he pulls at your sheets, revealing your bare legs and sweet cunt only covered in a thin pair of cotton panties.

and that sweet trail of slick that seeps through from your cunt; just the sign he was looking for.

and when his gaze lowers for a second to readjust his pants, upon looking back up he finds you rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand;

“mmf..”

“hey princess.” he smiles at you,

“daddy..!”

even in your hazy state, you still manage to throw your arms around him pulling the man into a tight hug, closing off the space between the both of you.

“i had a dream about you daddy!”

“mm, i know.” you pull away, looking into the face of the man,

“whaddya mean?! how would you know? i don’t even remember what it was about!”

“really?” the corners of his lips curl up further, now resembling a more so malicious smile,

“mhm.. wish i remembered, then i could tell you..” you pout and he chuckles again,

“daddy’ll make your dreams come true.”

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dead dove do not eat #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #dark content #tw dark content #tw.dark content #tw.stepcest #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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stars4chratt · 7 months

Text

Pins n' Needles

Pairing: Chris x fem!reader

Contents: piercing shop, piercer!Chris

Warnings: SMUTTYYY / blowjob / public sex (kinda) / male stimulation / throat fuck / praise / pet names; (ma, mama, sweetheart, sugar, doll, good girl) / begging if you squint / switch Chris / Chris + vertical labret, eyebrow & tongue pierced / implied aftercare

Summary: The reader has a booked appointment with Chris to get a new piercing, you’ve become a regular at his shop from the few piercings you’ve gotten before. Unbeknownst to you, he’ll be doing more than just sticking a needle in this time.

Author’s note: Hey y’all, this is my first ever fic I’m posting on my blog. I’ll keep this note short n’ sweet but I hope you guys like it!! Please also give me feedback/constructive criticism because I want my writing to be 100% satisfactory for you all. This is also VERY long; apologies in advance, but again I hope you enjoy it!! From Maxine, with love ❣.

“I wanna put you in my mouth… I wanna crush you in my jaws.” - IN MY MOUTH, BLACK DRESSES

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were full of anticipation while dreaming of getting yet another piercing done. You really loved your others you received before, and you never once had an issue with them rejecting or becoming infected. It’s what made this particular location your favourite.

As you climb down the steps to the bottom floor of a punk-rock, alternative store; it reveals a funky, LED-lit piercing shop. To the right, there stood a desk with posters of underground grunge bands that mixed soulfully with big and upcoming rappers and R&B artists hung up on the brick wall.

There’s a mellow softness of music in the background. From what you can hear, it sounds a lot like FE!N by Travis Scott and Playboi Carti. On the opposite side; there were satiny, leather black couches that hung low from the weight of many customers who had sat there before. The place was desolate and quiet, aside from the tunes muffled in the back.

You naturally assumed it was empty and you were simply a bit early, until you heard a door barge open.

As you turn your head 45 degrees to look back at what the sudden clamour was, you see a silhouette of a man staring at you. His brunette hair hangs low over his eyebrows in heavy contrast to his icy blue irises.

The dimness of the room brings shade over his profile but a glimmer of light shines at you from the centre of his lip and eyebrow. He’s dressed up in a plain, black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had the words “FRESH LOVE” embroidered into the fabric. The Vivienne Westwood orb necklace hanging around his nape glistened that matched his diamond earrings.

The fashion statement he obtains makes you come to the realisation that it was Chris, your body piercer.

Suddenly his cold gaze wipes away once he gets a good look up and down at you, he curls his lips up into a friendly grin and inquires; “Hiya sweetheart. How can I help you today?” The low deepness of his voice makes you jump slightly.

“Hey Chris, I have an appointment booked for 12:30 to get my piercing done.” You reply trying to hide the trembling in your question from the painful mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Chris peers down at the nimble clipboard of names and dates. His slender index finger slides down the paper, he shoots his eyes back up at you for a split second giving you a smirk.

He looks back down to the clipboard and spots your name and taps his finger on it.

He turns his head back up at you with a toothy leer as he states “I always look forward to writing your name on my clipboard, y’know.” The stubble resting peacefully on the sharpness of his cheekbones spike up beautifully. He feeds his bottom lip into his mouth while he beams a smile at you and he grits on the metal ring with his enamels.

You say nothing because you’re too flustered to muster up consonants or vowels. A flush of cherry blossom pink pours over your face in embarrassment at his casual compliments and nicknames.

You’re too sheepish to admit it but you have a massive crush on your body piercer.

He gathers up a long piece of paper that looks like a waiver, he hands it to you as he states; “I need your signature here, as per usual I will be your body piercer for today. If you could be a doll and read the terms and conditions along with the do’s and don’ts that are listed above that would be great. You can follow me into the back once you’re done, sweetheart.”

He stares at you patiently with a light beam on his face while you swivel the pen around on the paper.

You plop the pen down on the hard wooden desk and hand the waiver back to Chris. “Perfect. Thank you sugar. If you could just follow me in here, please?” He makes a beckoning gesture with his hands, his eyebrow ring almost fully hidden under his hair.

“Okay”. You respond, giving him a smile as you walk over to him and make your way into a room behind the establishment you were just in.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Moments later, you’re sitting peacefully on the flat bed. Admiring Chris while he slides on a pair of black latex gloves with his sterilised equipment laying still next to him.

Soon after, he pops open an alcohol pad and sets it down in the metal tray with needles and studs. He turns his body around to face you and he grabs the tray. He approaches you with the alcohol pad in his hand, his figure leaning into your face to wipe at the skin where you wanted your piercing to be.

Chris then acquires a sharp pointed pen and a long needle, he marks your face with a purple line.

“Go and look in the mirror and tell me if you’re happy or not with the position.” You get up on your feet and stroll over to the mirror and turn your face to where the mark sits.

“Mmm, can I have it more to the left please?” You ask him softly, while you stare at your reflection. “Of course, of course. Lemme get that off ya real quick”. You go over to the bed and sit back down in your original position.

Chris is laser focused on your face and he semi-consciously grips your chin so you look the right way and he can mark your face correctly.

This makes your heart almost explode out of you chest. You can feel yourself shiver but you try to refrain from it for you to stay stable under Chris’ touch.

He lets go of your chin and grins ear to ear at you again. “Happy now, sugar?”

You glance over at your reflection, you can clearly view where the mark is. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problemo, sweetheart.” He utters while he positions the needle where the mark is.

“This will hurt..obviously, just take a few deep breaths for me. It will go in on three, one. two. three…”

Instantaneously, you feel a harsh, sharp pain. The needle slithers through your skin smoothly. You hiss at the sudden sting and your eyes start to water. You open your eyes to see Chris admiring you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it sugar? You did so well for me.” He tugs on his lip ring with his teeth again, showing you how pearly and light ivory white they are.

“Hold on for another second, the jewellery is going in.” You feel another slight pinch, it wasn’t as bad as before yet you still flinched. But Chris’ reassurance made the soreness fade away seconds afterwards.

“Try not to touch it too much, clean it with salt water every day and night and avoid sleeping on it. Leave it in for 6 weeks before getting it replaced and you should be golden.”

You glance back at yourself in the mirror while tears are rolling down your cheeks from the pain earlier. Your face lights up as you see the new shard of stainless steel dug into your skin. “I love it! Thank you, Chris.” You exclaim at him with pure joy, giving him a big smile as you wipe the tears off of your face.

“No worries, sugar. Anything for my favourite customer.” That phrase makes your stomach tingly all the way down to in between your legs. You had to squeeze your thighs to secrete the euphoria Chris’ comments and sweet nothings made you feel.

“How much is this again? I’ll pay you in cash.” You query him. “Oh, you won’t need to pay me with money, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at this statement. You look up at him through your eyelashes for a few seconds with scepticism.

“What do you mean?” You mumble slowly at him while he gazes tenderly down at you.

“You can either pay me a different way, or you can walk out of here with a free piercing. This is sudden, I know that, sugar. But I’m not really feelin’ receiving money from my prettiest customer today.”

Your stomach churns and twists at Chris’ words. The butterflies are scrambling around inside you, to the point where the sensation spreads down to your core. Causing you to become slick with your juices beneath your clothes.

“I-I don’t get what point you’re trying to make, Chris..” You stutter and fumble on your words. Your veins are surging with tension and hesitancy.

“Jeez. Do I have to spell it out for ya, ma?” Ma? That’s a new one. Very similar to the other plain jane nicknames, and yet so different and fulfilling to hear.

Abruptly, Chris starts to inch towards you. You two are only centimetres away from each other, practically breathing on one another.

You feel your heart start to quicken and your breathing pattern to become heavy and irregular. Your heat starts to soak even more as you gawk and admire Chris’ lip piercing now wet with his spit.

“Don’t you have other customers after me..? I’m not sure if this is a good idea Chris..” You break eye contact with his blue rings and start to fidget and twiddle with your fingers.

“Do you not want to..? Shit, I’m sorry ma I didn’t mean to come onto you like that I was just really lookin’ forward to see ya today and I just thought y’would be okay with it like how you’re okay with me calling you sugar n’ stuff like that and-”

You gape at Chris, dumbfounded for a second. You start to hear his Boston accent the more he rambles on in embarrassment. “Chris it’s okay, trust me. I-I do want to… I’ve just never done something like this in a public place.”

His ears perk up and his central lip ring glints, his eyebrow piercing hidden under his locs.

You mentally scream at yourself saying: what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

“We can do whatever you want Chris, does this door have a lock?” You question him poking and prodding at the handle. “I wanna make sure we really, really have privacy.”

Your mind is zooming and sporadically muddling up millions of thoughts. You were asking yourself; Why aren’t you walking out? Why are you doing this for him? He said I could walk out with a free piercing.

“Yes, ma. It has a lock. Also before you ask, I have no other customers after you for today. Did you not notice the poster I put outside? I’m closing up earlier than usual today.”

You feel your face become hot and your body starts to sweat out of every crevice. The colour of your cheeks go scarlet when you realise he did all this for you. He planned all of this out, since the jump. Ever since you put the phone down on him once you booked the appointment.

“Chris..”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s very unexpected. Like I said, you can walk out with the piercing for free. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not forcing you.”

Somehow, the tenseness in your body loosens. Your muscles stop clenching.

You rush to Chris’ face and pull his lips into yours. Your teeth almost clash into each other. Your puffy, red brims of your mouths intertwine together almost like tying a tight and rigid knot.

You then pull him away from him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Chris ogles at you with his mouth agape yet curved up into a slight smirk.

“What?” You ask. “Didn’t you want this? If you want me to pay you this way, then c’mere. I hope you don’t take cash or card, pretty boy.”

Chris hums in severe approval at your words. He then clasps at your waist and pulls you into another sloppy kiss. More wet and passionate than the one before.

Chris grovels his tongue in between your rows of teeth and you let out a surprised moan at this manoeuvre. Your tongues dance gracefully against each other.

You feel a freezing cold sensation on your lips. The taste of metal consuming your palette. You slowly open your eyes to gaze down at Chris’ mouth… Chris has a tongue piercing.

Your core drips in the slickness of your juice after this information was revealed to you. You no longer held back the temptation and tugged at his lip ring with your teeth.

A choked whine crawls out of Chris’ throat, the grasp on your lower body now tighter and more aggressive. His hot breath combines with yours and condenses the air above you. Making the atmosphere humid and thick. Harder to breathe under your utmost desperation.

“Fuck, Ma. I wanna feel my dick inside your mouth so bad after what my tongue got out of it.” He chuckled, gasping for a breath. Chris’ mouth circling these filthy words on the tip of his tongue to spit them back at you pulls at the tendons of your chest. Your folds become velvety and drenched, almost like his words are casting spells over you. Your mind goes foggy as you both are intoxicated by a horny haze of each other’s presence.

“C’mon then baby, get on the bed.”

“Yes, sugar.” Chris obliges obediently. He rushes to the bed with no delay.

You follow behind and lower yourself down until your full weight is rested on your knees. Focusing on Chris’ craving and horny scrutiny. You slowly part his legs and he lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and breaking eye contact at your unexpected but swift touch.

“No baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes.” Chris whimpers at your command and drops his head down to take in your eager stare.

You push the hem of his shirt further up his body, leaving his lower abdomen fully exposed as you tangle your fingers around his drawstring playfully.

Chris writhes with impatience while you teasingly remove every article of clothing on his lower half slowly. His chest slowly rises and falls in an irregular pattern. His prick aching to be set free from the enclosure of grey cloth.

You use your teeth to grip onto the material and loosen the knot in his drawstring, the very act of you doing this to Chris makes his dick twitch constantly.

You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants to steadily pull them down. Chris lifts his hips up gently to allow you to pull them off briskly.

What once were his unseen Calvin Klein boxers, are now fully revealed. He kicks off his sweats for them to fall on the floor. Your manicured hands rub and slide leisurely across his hairy thighs. His happy trail carved out like a perfectly sculpted statue. Curved and slimmed in all the right places.

You then make your way to the throbbing bulge creating a tent in the jet black fabric. Your hands clasp at the tip making Chris jolt and his hips buckle up into your hand.

A quiet “F-fuck..” could be heard spilling out of his mouth. You hum at the pleasurable sight of him. Your body piercer who sticks needles in your skin for your money and satisfaction, has his dick in your hands.

You start to make your way down his shaft. Chris hisses and covers his mouth with his hand while the other grasps at the edge of the bed. Fully concealing his lip ring.

A slow up and down motion is created by your hands on Chris’ cock. His hips thrust upwards again, basically fucking your hand.

You swallow thickly with restlessness and take your hand off of his dick. It sits there pulsing a beat every now and then.

Chris groans dismally. “Please don’t stop mama, you were doing so well. It felt so good..” Chris spews out of his mouth mixed with his loud and rowdy moans. It’s very clear to you that he isn’t ashamed of how good you’re making him feel, so why should you?

You hastily rip off his boxers out of pure greed which makes his dick come sticking out immediately. Smacking his abdomen.

The lust in your eyes intensifies as you stare with your mouth wide open practically drooling and fawning over the thought of what he tastes like on your tongue. The shape. The colour. The size. Holy fuck he had the whole package. Just you imagining him slamming it inside your pussy made you grow carnal with desire.

The vein popping out the side fleshly. His dick practically begging to be sucked and licked at.

You pepper small kisses around his shaft. Chris heaves as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

“That feel good, angel?” You ask him tantalisingly knowing damn fucking well the answer is yes.

Chris is completely unable to muster up sentences or even words to the point where he just mumbles an “Uh-huh” of approval.

You lick a long stripe up to his tip, making him squirm and whine underneath your touch.

On the spur of the moment, you feel two hands grip onto the back of your head as they force you down onto Chris’ cock. Your lips clench around the very base of his dick.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Chris exclaims. “Your mouth feels so fucking good… yeah take that fucking dick like a good girl.”

Your head bobs up and down on his length at a rapid pace. The tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat makes your eyes water again and your makeup comes running down your face.

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh, sweetheart.. I’m s-so close..” you feel Chris’ fast rhythm start to quiver and twitch uncontrollably. His hips locking into place as his cock sits inside your mouth balls deep.

“I-I’m gonna cum ma.. I’m g-gonna…” at that moment, Chris spews his white load into your mouth. It squirts out of his tip in long, thick ropes as it paints all over your mouth and on your tongue.

He pulls out immediately afterwards. You’re both trying to catch your breath. You feel Chris’ thumb graze against your lip. Your entire throat still coated in his seed. “Swallow.” He commands spitefully.

You close your mouth and gulp down Chris’ warm cum. You have trouble consuming it all in one go from the amount and how thick it was.

Soon after, you stick your tongue back out to show him that it was all gone. You took it all.

“Good girl.” Chris states smiling down at you, pulling his boxers back up. Moments later he reaches to the side counter to get tissues and a hot towel.

“No more money from you, from now on.” He declares.

“No more money.” You repeat, gazing up at him. Still on your knees.

“Good. Now let’s get you cleaned up, sugar.”

.・。.・゜✭・✫・゜・。.

Author’s note no.2: WHEW.. done and dusted. This was actually uber fun to write. Ofc i’ll be writing TONS AND TONS more for you all. I hope you had fun reading this and i’ll see you again soon!

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

#chris sturniolo smut #smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut

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readychilledwine · 6 months

Text

The Story of Us

Summary - After Nyx is given a school project on his family, the Inner Circles Quad is stuck trying to explain their love life to their nephew.

Prompt Day 1 - Beginnings

Warnings - Nyx is smart and sassy, flashbacks, kind of forced mating bond, jealousy and fighting, rough patches before a happy ending, slightly implied smut

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek

This is based on one of my friends having to explain this similar situation to her daughters. We, as a society, could do so much for eliminating stereotypes in the poly community if we openly discussed it and normalized it with kids. Her daughters have been raised in a household with a Quad and see the love their parents share as completely normal, and isn't that such a beautiful thing? To be able to freely love without judgement.

Peep the Poly+Acotarweek Masterlist here

Nyx blinked so innocently at you. His tiny fist gripped his pencil as he mimicked your blinking, waiting for you, Azriel, Nesta, or Cassian to answer him. Rhys and Feyre stood behind him with shit eating grins, waiting for how you all would respond.

The heir stared mainly at you, his damn near mirror image, as you looked up at your older brother Rhys and then back down to your nephew. “Auntie Y/n, I need to know! It's for school,” his little face pouted, and all eyes landed on you.

You sighed, leaning your elbows top your knees. “Well, baby, I don't know how to explain or where you want me to start.”

Nyx huffed, looking at you like you were stupid and making Rhys further chuckle. “I know you sleep with Uncle Cassian,” the mentioned male spit out his water, praying their nephew simply meant sharing a bed and not other activities. “And Auntie Ness,” Nesta held no reaction, not even an ounce of shame. “And Uncle Azzy.” Azriel looked away, scratching his jaw line. “And last weekend when I came up to surprise you, all four of you were in one bed and Uncle Cass made me wait before I could snuggle, and daddy only makes me do that when he and mommy -"

Rhys covered Nyx's mouth, his own face flushed as Feyre's ears turned pink. “What he wants to know is how to explain the dynamic.” Since you know for our kind this is not normal, Rhys said gently into your mind. A three-way bond is rare. A 4-way bond is unheard of.

Azriel spoke softly. “We all love each other, Nyx,” he said it like it was the easiest thing to explain to a child with parents who enjoy their monogamous marriage and traditional mating bond, as if Nyx would just understand. “We all love each other so much, and we all enjoy being together. All the time.”

Nyx rolled his eyes. “I know. But how?” He waited again, brows raised and a small pout growing in his face.

Cassian smiled nodding to you. “You tell him, princess.”

You looked at Az, the smile on his face told every single emotion he had. “A long long loooooong time ago,” Nyx giggled as you held the vowel, “Your daddy and Uncle Cass brought home this weird,” a soft watch it came from beside you, “but kind of cute Illyrian, and I had my first crush.”

The quiet male standing behind Rhys and Cassian rocked back and forth on his feet as you looked at him. He was beautiful, all be it, awkward, but still beautiful. “Sis, meet Azriel,” you waved from behind your mother's leg. “He's going to live with us.”

“Third brother!” Cassian threw his arms up, yelling and then hugging the male with scarred hands and damaged wings tightly.

“Brother!” Rhys then also went in to hug him, rambling about all the cool things they'd be doing together. Hazel eyes met yours, and plush lips mouthed, “Help me.”

You smiled softly at him, offering him a hand and pulling him away from the idiots around you two. "Do you like chocolate?" He nodded at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. "Good."

“They were inseparable after that,” Cassian grumbled. His tone was filled with old aching jealousy. “Unless Azriel was training or agreed to hang out with us. He was with y/n.”

The sparkle in Nyx's eye as he looked at where you and Azriel sat, lost to all of them as the male kissed your knuckles made Cassian's heart skip. “Did they know they were mates?”

“No,” Cassian was soft now. “That happened under different circumstances.”

"I've apologized many times, Cassian." Azriel stared towards the larger male. "Will you ever actually forgive us?"

"It's not you two I still hold anger towards."

Cassian had you alone. Finally alone.

You had been courting for months now, but every date always had at least one tag along. The kiss you two were in was frantic and heated as he held you against the wall. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip, smirking as you gasped softly and gave him more access to you. His lips moved to your neck, pulling the dress you had worn out of the way.

Cassian shivered as you whispered his name. Loving how he could reduce his educated little princess to nothing more than a girl desperate for his touch. You both jumped as the door slammed shut, two arguing voices carrying through the house. “Y/n!” You sighed as Cassian's grip grew tighter. “Cass!”

Azriel walked in seconds later, eyes going wide as he stood there in shock. It took him a moment, composing himself the best he could while looking just at you. “Your father is here. He will be coming to the house any second now.”Azriel's mind was slowly becoming a storm as he walked away. Allowing you to compose yourself before your father came and demanded dinner with his son, daughter, and their tagalongs. Your mother was trapped in Velaris heavily pregnant, unable to help you all, to help him. Of all the times for a bond to snap, it had to be while your legs were wrapped around Cassian, delicate fingers threaded through his hair.

You were downstairs, setting the table quickly. Silently grateful you had planned to cook enough for a small army to ensure there was food for Rhys and Azriel. You felt him long before he spoke. That dominating presence just sucking the life and air from the happy cabin.

“Ah, little star,” soft hands held your jaw from behind. “You smell..” His nose was in your hair as your eyes shut, sniffing it deeply to place whatever scent he had caught. “Interesting. We will discuss you degrading yourself late." A pointed look when Rhysand's way, causing your older brother to flinch internally before shielding Cassian from any attacks. "Serve dinner, y/n. We have much to discuss.”

“So grandpa made Auntie serve Uncle Az dinner? And Auntie was dating Uncle Cass?”

Rhys nodded from the spot he had now taken next to Nyx. “Yes.”

“But that meant her and Uncle Az were married now.” You all couldn't help but smile at Nyx's innocence of what had happened that night. “But that's not fair.”

“No buddy, it wasn't,” Cassian looked at you and Azriel. “It took us a while to be friends again.”

"But again," Azriel waited until Nyx looked to him. "We love each other. So we wanted to become friends again."

“What made you two friends?”

The question caused silence to hang in the air as you suddenly moved close into Nesta, seeking her comfort to stop you from crying. Azriel took a deep breath, “We lost some people, and Uncle Cass saved Auntie Y/n.”

"Like a knight saving a princess!"

Cassian scented your blood as the warriors ran to where the reports of a disturbance came from. It mixed heavily with the scent of soil, of your mother's blood, of little Stel’s blood.

He felt a weird pulling. As if something was desperately clawing at his chest, begging him to find you, and when he did, he went silent.

You were unconscious on the ground, wings carved from your back, bruising everywhere. He flew you to your father, growling as healers ripped you from his arms. “How did you find her before I did?” Azriel's eyes were cold, staring at him from across the room.

“She called for me.” Cassian refused to leave your side as you healed. He was the first to hold you when you woke up, the one to teach you how to walk again. As much as it had irritated Azriel, the shadowsinger felt it, too. A strained pull bringing the three of you together. Binding your lives and very souls.

“So the three of you all dated?”

“Yeah,” Azriel leaned forward, reading Nyx carefully. “And you know how Auntie Ness got involved. Does it bother you?”

A little lip trembled. “If you all love each other, how can you love me?”

Nesta was to him instantly. Cradling her little life line so tight. “It's different, baby. But there's so much love for you. All the love for you. We'd all do anything for you, Nyx. We all love you so so much."

You moved by him, too, kissing a small hand. "Some people have so much love to give that their hearts overflow, Nyx. Trust us, we love you as much, if not almost more, than we love each other." You kissed his palm again. "But that doesn't answer the question, baby. Does it bother you that we all are married?"

Nyx thought for a while, young eyes filled with so much hope and knowledge studying each of you. "No. It's my favorite."

Silence fell between the 4 of you that night. “Do you think he understands?” You were the first to break the quiet. “Do we need to stop until he gets it?”

“If we don't raise him with this being the norm, he will never see it as a norm,” Cassian sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “He needs to grow up knowing it's normal for some people to love more than one person like this. Not everyone has one love of their life, y/n. Some of us get the honor of falling in love over and over again."

“I've never heard the full story.” Nesta moved next to Azriel. “Of how you three began. I have a feeling you left details out.”

You answered plainly. “Several fights. Verbal and physical. A lot crying. A lot of sex. Rhys yelled a lot. Like. More than he ever has at you. I got locked in the Palace by father at one point."

“So what was the final decision? What made two three?”

Cassian, you, and Azriel all smiled. “The first Solstice with Rhys trapped Under the Mountain.”

You refused to leave bed. Refused to eat. You refused to so much as even think about solstice without your brother.

It felt wrong.

Like you were playing this role of someone you were never meant to play. You stayed in his room, Azriel, Cassian, Mor, and Amren long forgotten. You had not spoken with your mates since Rhys left your head, whispering soft words of how much you mean to him, of how his greatest joy in life was being your big brother.

You didn't even respond as the door opened and the bed dipped in two places. “We miss him too,” Cassian moved his hand to find yours under the blanket. “We tried having a snowball fight, but it just didn't feel right.”

Azriel hummed from where he had moved to lay behind you. “Not just because Rhysand is missing, but our girl wasn't there cheering us on from the sidelines.”

“I'm sorry-”

“Do not apologize, princess.” Cassian laid next to you then, too. “If this is where you'd like to be today, we need to be good mates and be here, too.”

Azriel's lips pressed softly on your shoulder. “We were hoping Solstice would be extra special this year. Cassian and I have talked a lot, and we both think there's enough love inside of all of us to make this work.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Really?”

Cassian nodded. “I loved you long before he came into the picture, and I've realized slowly how much I love him as well.”

“And I feel the same,” Azriel moved a hand to rest above yours and Cassian's. “And I know you do, starlight.”

“So this is my solstice present? No more fighting?”

“No more fighting,” they confirmed together.

“Rhys would be so happy. I wish he was here.”

The two males shared a look. One sparing glance. Azriel brushed soft onyx colored hair from your face. "We do too. Do you know what Rhys would have liked for Solstice?"

Cassian kissed your shoulder, finishing Azriel's thought. "You to eat something."

“And then 50 years later you came,” you smiled so softly. “And you shook everything I'd ever thought about myself.”

Nesta's face flushed. “Was I?”

“My first and last time with a female.”

“Oh,” Nesta's hands played with the hem of her dress. “When I was human, I never imagined this. The first time I saw the first of you together, I didn't know what to think.”

Cassian smiled, “We're a lot.”

“It wasn't that. I.. Deep down I wanted to be a part of it from the first dinner. It was like-”

“You found home?” Azriel ran a finger down her cheek. “You sure as fuck fought it, Ness.”

“Because it was scary. Loving so many people so deeply is terrifying.”

“And magical.”

She looked at you, and nodded to confirm. “Beyond magical.”

“Yes. It is.”

Cassian smacked your ass slightly before standing. “Rhys said Nyx is going to say we all just live together and love each other a lot and he likes it.”

Azriel stood behind him. “Separate beds tonight or one?”

“One,” the general answered with a shrug. “We will see you two in bed.”

You both wished them goodnight as Nesta smiled softly into the fire. You leaned to her, holding those perfect manicured hands. She smiled before laughing out a soft what. “I know it's still strange for you, but it's amazing how much room we all truly have for people in our hearts, if we're brave enough to allow them in.”

“Sometimes my heart is so full, I just worry I will wake up and it's all been a lie.”

“Never, Ness. I have you. You have me. We have them. They have us, and the beautiful thing is that love flows freely. And it always will, so long as you wish for it to.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Nesta. Let's go to bed and hope our nephew doesn't make us look like heathens.”

“There's no one else I'd rather be a heathen with,” soft lips met yours before resting a forehead against yours. “You were my favorite to fall in love with. You know that?”

“Really?” The oldest Archeron nodded. “Tell me our story from your eyes someday?”

“I will.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys

Poly Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar x reader #poly+acotarweek #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek 2024 d1 #azriel x reader x nessian #azriel x reader #nessian x reader #cazriel x reader #nesta x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #nesta acotar

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romantique-dreams · 2 years

Text

IT'S GONNA KILL ME - E.M

summary: your parents just happened to not be home, and hawkins' infamous sex-god needed an outlet for his anger, but pink rooms and relationships were not his thing.

wc: 3.8k

it's gonna kill me vol. 2 (here)

warnings: 18+ minors dni! spit kink, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, fwb (kinda), fuckboy/mean!eddie, making out, dom(ish)!eddie, creampie, masturbation (m&f), nipple play, petnames. that's all i can think of, but please let me know if you find more!

You could sense the way every time you would give Eddie a kiss, his body would go rigid. It wasn’t hard to ignore—he didn’t like physical touch when it came to purposeful intimacy. It was a routine for the both of you though; you’d meet wherever he saw fit, went inside, laid on the picnic table, leaned against the stall door, or sprawled out on the floor of his van. You would fuck like rabid animals, swap each others stash, and go your different ways. You were almost positive his heart was ripped from his chest. It was possible his core could have been filled with cement, with each ventricle plugged, or nerve endings severed to prevent the dreadful emotions from slipping in or out.

“Where are we meeting tonight, hot stuff?” You sniggered over the other end of the phone.

“God dammit, how about you not call me that, yeah? And, well, my uncle is home.”

Eddie hated pet names outside of making you feel good during sex.

Your eyebrows pulled together while thinking of something. He was going to hate this. “You’ve never been to my house, what about here?”

“No can do,” his vowels were drawled out, “Pink, girly rooms, not my thing. Major turn off. Besides, your family is way too into each other, ‘makes me sick.”

“Dude, get over yourself. Do you want to get your rocks off, or what? My parents aren’t home, I’m alone, no one will even see you pull into my driveway. I’m plenty far enough away from the main road.”

Eddie’s entire being shuddered thinking of being caught with you, and having to go through the ‘is this your boyfriend?’ conversation.

The line was silent until Eddie muttered under his breath.

“Alright, fine. I’ll just come there.” He hung up.

“Love you too, sweetcheeks,” you sneered and slammed the phone down onto the receiver.

Eddie went as far as shaving. He had a sex-god reputation among the girls in Hawkins, and there was no way he was going to lose that title due to being unshaven on one of the worst weeks of his life. He splashed some aftershave along his jawline, and rubbed some on the freshly shaven skin below his belt, a hiss escaping between his teeth. He dressed himself in a black and white flannel, the top two buttons undone, his mane framing his face and cascading down his back, with his infamous bulge-hugging black jeans. Regardless of anyone wanting to admit it at Hawkins, he was some goddamn eye candy. The metalhead placed himself in the driver seat of his van, he ruffled his flannel, and smoothed down the collar. He started his van, and drove off.

You had dressed yourself into a tight tank top that accentuated the apex of your breasts just right, and pulled your hair to the crown of your head in a ponytail held up by a tattered scrunchie that was tradition to use while sucking him off. It was in no time that he was pulling up to your driveway, hearing him stroll down the winding trail that led to a hidden house away in the woods.

You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose. You could feel it again. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t as if this was going to be different than any other time, it was merely a routine—each position and touch just another item checked off on the list. You and Eddie were each other's relief. While others meditated, you guys fucked.

You gathered yourself, picking up all the sentiment that had seeped out onto the floor beneath. “”Sup, bitch?”

“Just here to fuck your brains out, I guess.” Eddie shoved his hands in his front pockets.

“You should try taking a girl on a date first, sheesh.” You stepped out of the way and bent down, signifying royalty entering your humble abode.

“Um, how about try shutting the fuck up?” He snipped back towards you while kicking his shoes off. “You know I don’t do that, I like getting to the point. Less hassle, less attachment, freedom.”

“How do you even keep a girl around? Going on a date and actually having fun isn’t that barbaric to you, is it?”

He turned to you, eyes narrowing. “Let’s just say my skills make up for lack thereof in the dating department, ‘kay? And are you trying to go on a date, or are you trying to come? Because right now it seems like you want me to take you out and spend my hard earned money selling to minors on you. You gettin’ all mushy on me? Do I need to end this?”

You shrugged with a sly smirk. “Believe whatcha’ want to believe, honey. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Eddie was taken aback. Was he really making that up because he wanted to, or did it just seem like you wanted to?

He took a slight step towards you with his mouth pressed into a firm line, his jaw clenching tightly as the muscles moved under his pale skin. “Can you stop with the pet names, for the love of god?”

“Mmm—, I’ll think about it.” You shot him a finger towards him and then scratched your chin with a half-assed pondering look on your face.

“You piss me off, you know that?”

“It’s what I do best, right?”

You were putting up a facade that didn’t feel like you, clearly. You enjoyed the banter between the both of you, but sometimes you wanted it to be laced with something for one another. You just wanted him to have some sort of care in the world, the smallest hope wanting it to be for you.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You tell me all of the time, can’t forget.”

“So, are you going to show me to your bedroom, or are we just going to sit here holding our dicks in our hands?” He peered at you, sticking his head out with an annoyed look.

“Well, considering you’re the guest and all, and I’m a nice host,” you jabbed his chest with your finger that was still hanging in the air. “I was going to ask if you wanted water or anything, but you can’t wait to get into my pants, so I’m assuming you aren’t thirsty.”

Eddie’s wall faltered, a brick crumbling and dropping to the ground. He stepped back from you while he fiddled with the metal around his fingers. You were just trying to be nice, that’s all, but all he could do was take his anger out onto you at the end of a long week. Wayne was on his ass, business at school was slow, and the shop had a month's wait that was filled with cars needing to be fixed.

“I mean I could use some water, sure.” He was quick with his words and rounded the couch next to the entryway of your house.

“Alright, I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Don’t get too impatient.”

His wall was reconstructed and his posture firmed. The couch was too hard, it was too sterile in here, it looked like no one even lived in here. His hands rubbed up and down his upper thighs, too uncomfortable to lean back. He was out of his element. These events never happened anywhere but his house. He didn’t have the comfort of his home to be able to keep up the crassness of his persona.

You scurried yourself off to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, hair trailing behind you as you turned the corner. You began to realize the neverending roller coaster of emotions you had purchased a ticket to when you first endeavored in this risque escapade with Eddie. He gave you whiplash with his constant demeanor changes and his vulgar words.

You were quick to return to the living room with the glass of water in hand. You stopped in the doorway noticing his unyielding silhouette, he was sticking out like a sore thumb in your living room that was littered with family memorabilia. Eddie had told you once a small snippet of past life; the desolation of it all as his mom worked countless nights at the hospital, while his dad was out doing ‘business deals’, or so he told him. You could do nothing but hurt for him as he opened up to you. Although you were both stoned out of your minds, you appreciated the small intimate moment you’d cherish between the two of you. It had been the only occurrence, yet all you tried to do was get to know him from then on, and he never budged.

“Alright, order up!” You slid him the glass of water across the coffee table.

“Yeah, thank—,” He began monotonously.

“You’re welcome my kind sir.” You bent before him and curtsied.

Eddie was quick to gulp down some of his water as you sat down next to him, setting the cup down after with a content exhale. He was still sitting upright, his back never touching the sofa behind him. This was not him, nor will it ever be. He didn’t do the cordial conversations in the living room, or the witty flirtatious remarks, or the talking stage in the first place. He was there to liberate all of his pent up emotions into you and get out. You were his release, merely but a short hour of his day.

You were quick to place yourself next to him with a raised brow. “Why do you look like you have an actual stick up your ass right now?”

Eddie turned to you and glared as he gestured between the two of you. “Because this shit is stupid, that’s why. I don’t want to be here longer than it takes to fuck you. Get in, get out. That’s all I’m here for, so can we get this show on the road?”

Your heart twinged within your chest. Was it really that bad to actually spend some time together without fucking your brains out? Was it oh so terrible to not be around you without your tits out? Those were questions that were meant to be left unanswered, unaccounted for; because in all honesty you couldn’t stomach the actual truth.

You clicked your tongue against your teeth and motioned towards the stairs. “Yeah, you’re right. C’mon, my room is upstairs.”

You briskly walked away, leaving a scrambling Eddie behind you as he followed to your bedroom. Without hesitation you slammed the door behind you, immediately removing your clothes from your body. Your blood was boiling, pumping hot beneath your skin and fuelling the fire that was burning. You grabbed Eddie by his broad shoulders while your fingernails dug into the fabric hanging off of them and stood him in front of you, following by undoing each button on his flannel. Your jaw was tightened and your eyebrows were low, pupils growing in size from the anger that resonated within you.

Eddie looked down at you quizzically, both hands beside him in the air to surrender. He didn’t mind the idea, but your abruptness startled him. You never took initiative when it came to starting these moments, but he wasn’t complaining.

You continued on with your mission; unbuttoning his pants next and removing them, completely taking his flannel off of his slender body. You were already shirtless and pantless by now, only remaining in your bra and underwear. You placed both of your hands onto his bare chest and shoved him down onto the bed, straddling him instantaneously. Your bra was gone within seconds as you ground your hips down onto his confined length, slotting your mouth above his. Hot, sweet breath was fanning against his cheeks as you stared at him with intensity. Eddie was the first to connect your lips together, with each eager kiss ending in you both gasping for air.

“Goddamn, baby, what’s got you all riled up?”

First he’s mean, now pet names?

“You, asshole,” you spat at him as you slid your hand into his boxers, only after you spit into your hand. Your anger was evident in every movement you made.

A sharp inhale was heard from Eddie as your velvety hand that was slick with spit connected with his now swollen cock, precum beading at the tip. You gave him quick pumps to his mid-shaft as you could feel it twitch beneath while your hand grazed the under ridge of his head. His head was thrown back, his hair cascading down to either side of his while his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp he took. A carnal instinct was building within Eddie’s aura, he attached his lips to yours once more, savoring the sweet flavor of your saliva against his taste buds.

Eddie wasn’t about to be the one taken control of. You made him come to your house, you made him come into your room, you were the one making him only think about you. He flipped the both of you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he pinned both wrists down against your duvet cover.

“I’m going to set the record straight for ‘ya—,” He paused as his hair tumbled down to cast a shadow over your features, “I’m in charge, not you. It’s bad enough we’re at your house, in your room, got it?”

You were quick to submit, curtly nodding up at him, lips forming into a pout.

“Good, wasn’t taking no for an answer anyways.” He shrugged, pulling your bottom half to the edge of the bed.

Eddie was quick to have his hands on you, making sure to let his hot touch linger on your skin. He danced his fingers down your side, harsh squeezes being made to each malleable part you held, sure to leave imprints in your delicate skin. Your lip was pulled between your teeth and you exhaled short breaths through your nose. He continued his expedition down to your puffy core with one slender digit trailing up between your folds and collecting your arousal. He replaced his now slick finger with two others rubbing abrupt circles into your clit, his other finger slipping between his lips and releasing with a pop.

“Y’taste so fucking sweet, ‘ya know that, baby?” He cooed, a harsh contrast to his actions.

Your legs squirmed beneath him and your eyes shut tightly as crinkle lines formed by your lash line. Your body was jerking with each of Eddie’s swipes over your bud, electricity shooting to the end of each neuron in your brain. There was one thing about Eddie you couldn’t deny, when he said his skills in bed made up for where he was lacking, he wasn’t wrong. He was so good at making someone feel good. He knew just what made you give yourself up to him, and what left you wanting more. He could read you like a book, and had memorized each word with sticky notes next to each quirk that made you come in an instant.

While his left hand was working his other had traveled to your throat, fingers wrapping around to the nape of your neck. The veins in your neck were bulging and you could feel the air becoming harder and harder to breathe, your air supply was being cut off now. Eddie could feel your rapid pulse that was bounding beneath his calloused hand, a smirk of satisfaction resonating on his lips. Your climax was building, but interrupted by his fingers sliding into you with an embarrassingly wet squelch.

The metalhead's fingers slammed into you with force, the edges of his fingertips were curled to graze the spongy spot with each entrance and exit. Your eyes were now rolled to the back of your head and your jaw went slack, mouth dropping down to touch your chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Gasps and chokes for air, slapping skin, and your arousal being spread beneath you were the only sounds heard in the room.

Positions were eventually switched and Eddie was soon enough plunging his aching cock inside of you. You swallowed him whole, each thrust inwards being met with a clench of your slicked walls.

“God, you’re so fucking warm, fuck—,” Eddie cooed, pussy drunk already.

This was one thing you had over him. Your whole being when you were intimate had him intoxicated, so inebriated to the point you could get him to do anything for you. You wanted him to eat you out? Done. You want him to finger you a certain way? Done. Whatever it was, he was at your beck and call. You knew you were special compared to the other girls, the way he paid extra attention to all your curves and delicacies, but also sold to you for free on the side. You were higher on the totem pole compared to the groupies who hung around The Hideout.

Eddie’s thrusts picked up in pace and depth, giving your cervix slight kisses with each dive into you. Your lips attacked the soft alabaster skin of his neck while your nails did a number on his back—scraping harshly, leaving puffy trails of red behind. Little did anyone know it, but you owned him. You always made sure to leave marks, whether that be just for you to see, or others.

“Shit, baby. Y’gonna leave me lookin’ like a leper when I show up to school tomorrow,” he grumbled against your neck, syllables emphasized by his plunges.

“That’s okay, god damn—, that’s fine. Gotta let them know I’m your favorite,” you hissed through your teeth, whimpers trailing behind.

Eddie’s smirk glistened in the dim light of your room and he nipped at your neck. “You caught me there, you feel so fucking good compared to anyone else, mhm.”

Your orgasm was rising in your lower stomach, only noticeable from the immense heat flowing throughout your body, while pleasure kissed each overstimulated neuron. Your muscles were tensing; all the way from your calves to your jaw, the skin above going rigid. As Eddie continued his relentless pace your hands were entangled in the mess he called his hair, harsh tugs ensuing after.

Eddie had come to the decision to really set you ablaze beneath him. His ring clad hand found its way around your neck once again, only applying pressure to the sides, making sure to be careful of not cutting off your airflow too much. How considerate. His mouth attached to your pebbled nipples, and gently rolled them between his two front teeth, while contrasting with brutal bites to the supple surrounding skin. He finished with his free hand moving to your clit, the sad, pitiful bundle of nerves that ached for him.

It wasn’t long before you were overstimulated. “Eddie, ‘s a lot, c’mon,” you choked out.

“Ah-ah, what did I say? I make the rules tonight sweetheart, fuck‒,” he grunted with a particularly gruff thrust into you. “I came here, this is my night. Do you understand?”

His words were succeeded with a splat of saliva from Eddie that landed on your tongue. You were quick enough to savor his taste sucking on the remnants dancing on your tastebuds. Something about him tonight seemed so primal, so salacious. You couldn’t help but succumb to him and nod your head.

“Thatta girl.” His pace accelerated significantly to the point you were sure he was tearing you in half.

He raised an eyebrow towards you and released his hand from your throat to snatch your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb. “You’re gonna let go for me in just a second when I tell you to, okay? I want you to come so hard on my fucking cock while I come inside of you. I’m gonna let you have all of my sweet stuff, and make you all sticky and shit. Y’gonna feel so fucking dirty, ‘mkay?”

All you could do was nod, you were desperate. You were already robbed of your first orgasm, and each thrust of his was bringing you closer to the brink of your release. It was becoming painful, tears brimming at the bottom of your eyes. You had known from experience what it was like to come when Eddie had told you not to.

Eddie replaced your newfound necklace, his hand, and smirked. He had already angled your hips slightly upwards so your bottom was off of the bed, and your spongy spot was being hit with a relentless amount of force. Lewd sounds were filling the room—nothing but slicked symphonies and desperate whines were to be heard, and Eddie was the director of it all. Surely it was the most sinful orchestra you had listened to.

With each dive into you, your breasts recoiled and your eyes screwed shut. A layer of sweat was visible now as small droplets formed at your temples and above your lip. You could feel it. Your orgasm was approaching and you were hoping to god his was too, practically praying on your hands and knees to have some sort of relief. It was as though angels were singing to you when you finally heard him speak.

“Go ahead, baby, come for me,” he gasped out as his own release came.

Your body jerked as the wave of consolation consumed you. With toes curling, hands ripping at the sheets beneath you, walls convulsing, and your back arching you were letting out the unholiest of sounds. Wetness pooled beneath you while Eddie’s potent seed covered your gummy walls.

Eddie’s hips slammed into you a few more times until he was hopelessly rocking into your sticky hole, the both of you riding out your orgasms. He fell completely forward while small wisps of his mane tickled your neck. He let out a shudder and slowly pulled himself from inside of you.

“Good, huh?” He chuckled and laid himself down next to you, a content sigh coming after.

“It was mediocre.”

This wasn’t a common occurrence for Eddie after your visits. He never laid down next to you, instead he was lighting up and ushering you out the front door as soon as you were dressed.

He looked over at you, bewilderment covering his soft features while he slid closer. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“Great catch, smart one,” you quipped as you rolled your eyes. “I wouldn’t have came if it wasn’t mind blowing, ‘ya know? I have high standards after all.”

“As if you’ve ever been with anyone besides me,” he grinned. “Your standards are literally me, idiot.”

“Whatever.”

Eddie stood himself up from the bed, legs a bit wobbly as he carried himself over to your vanity. He bent down to inspect the damage done to his neck and back, gently tracing his fingers over the love bites that were beginning to form.

“Looks like I’ll only be exclusively seeing you for the next week, my dear. Can’t have my other babes knowing I let you give me these, no one gets to mark me up.”

Did he just say that?

There was a strange feeling residing in Eddie, he wasn’t sure what it was. Did you just break through to him? There was no way you had steam rolled the wall he built for himself when he was around you. It was secure, strong, fortified with every emotion blocker known to himself. Was it really all that bad?

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb as he let out a shaky exhale.

There was no way Eddie could possibly indulge himself in this mess, he couldn’t. Relationships weren’t his thing, or were they?

a/n: this was a whole process of writing, i apologize if it isn't my best! i have been very busy and mentally ill LMFAO. i hope everyone enjoys it tho! i'm very insecure about this one hahahads. i went through and proofread it myself, so i'm hoping there are no mess ups, but if there are please feel free to let me know! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

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whimsicalpolitical · 4 months

Text

Tongue pierced anyway // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: let’s just forget about the healing part of a piercing right ;) and I’ve never had a tongue piercing so let’s forget about this as well.

content warning: smut, dirty talk, praise, oral (m receiving), 18+ mdni

summary: you surprise Matty after a show with your new piercing

based on this request

────────────────────────

Waiting for Matty to come backstage has never been this torturous. You pulled out your phone at least 30 times in the last 5 minutes, to admire the glint of the silver stud against your tongue.

You’re very sure that Matty’s gonna love your little surprise, but it’s going to be hard to hide it, before you’re on your knees.

The backstage buzzes with excitement as the muffled sounds of fans echoe through the walls. You shift nervously, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for Matty to finish his set. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door swings open, and Matty saunters in, sweat glistening on his skin and a smile lighting up his face. His eyes meet yours as he takes in your appearance. Sitting on the couch, clinging to your phone.

“There you are, love.” He says, walking towards you, his white shirt open, showing his tattoos and his black trousers which are tight around his thighs.

Honestly, you don’t have a plan. You just down want him to notice your piercing when you’re kissing, you just have to prevent a french kiss.

“How was the show?” You ask, as he settles next to, intertwining your hands, giving each knuckle of yours a kiss before he moves to kiss your cheek.

“Outrageous, the crowd was mental,” his face is glowing, glistening even and the smile on his face doesn’t seem to fade. Making music is everything for Matty and it just turns you on so much.

“It’s cause of you,” you say, starting to kiss his neck, “fans love you Matty.” Matty hums as you throw his shirt from his body.

“Flattering me much, love?” You feel his hand at your neck, trying to attach his lips to yours and you let him. The second you feel his tongue against your lips you pull away.

“You deserve it,” you whisper, dropping to your knees, running a hand over his crotch, squeezing his bulge. “Let me suck your dick?” Matty groans above you, nodding his head.

“Fucking go for it yeah,” Unwilling to waste another second you tug down his boxers, he lifts his hips just enough for you to drag them below his ass and free his swollen cock.

Matty exhales in relief as the cool air tickles his searing skin. You take a moment to truly admire him, your mouth watering as your gaze fixated on the girth of him, his weeping tip flushed dark pink with a prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft. Wrapping your fist securely around the stiff and hot base, you place a single peck to the head.

You drag your tongue up his cock, tracing the cold piercing with. Matty’s head shoots up at the coldness, his thighs trembling. His dick becomes insanely hard.

“Jesus fucking christ, you fucking didn’t,” he says, pulling you from him by grabbing your hair. “Fuck, let me see.”

He groans out, leaning forward then gripping your cheeks as he grabs your tongue and pulls the pink muscle out of your mouth. The shiny ball in the middle glistens in the dim lights. He huffs out a scoff, as his tongue digs into his cheek when you start to jerk his cock, hand squeezing slightly around the base.

“You like it?” You ask innocently and his back hits the couch again, watching you. “Got it for you Matty.”

He actually moans, thrusting his hip up into your hand. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are.”

“Fuuuck,” he groans, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath. His fingers drag through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You push yourself forward, taking more of him in until he is pressing into your throat, and you swallow tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

As his hips buck upward again, you gag around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moans lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. “Don’t deserve you.”

You work your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightens as you pay close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, his eyes closing at the feeling of your piercing stroking him. “Can’t-“ he mumbles, thrusting up faster.

You know he’s close, the new feeling on his dick completely overwhelming him. One hand of his tugging at his own curls, trying not to cum so fast, and the other on your hair, not letting you get off him.

“I can’t- fuck-,” He tightens his grip on your hair, his hips instinctively thrusting into your mouth as he surrenders to the overwhelming sensation. His release finally washes over him in waves, his body trembling with the force of it as he empties himself into your waiting mouth, and you swallow the hot spurts down your throat eagerly, savoring the taste of him.

"Holy shit," you choke, voice raw, when you pull off of him. You use the back your hand to wipe over your face, stains on the sleeve of your hoodie.

You get up from your knees, settling down on Matty’s lap, “wanna know how it tastes?” You ask and his eyes widen, a grin spreading across his face.

His lips find yours and he wastes no time slipping his tongue through your lips, eagerly wanting to feel your piercing on his tongue and when he does he groans into you. “Turns you on huh?” You tease, sticking out your tongue at him.

“Minx,” he chuckles, slapping your ass, making you yelp. “I love you so fucking much.” You crash your lips on his again, your hands all over his face, trying to hold on to this moment.

“My favorite girl,” he says as your back finds the couch and he settles on top of you but only for a second. “Dinner first and then you’ll get your reward?” He asks and you nod.

“Can’t wait,” you wink and watch him put on his pants again. He laughs, shakes his head and pulls you up. “C’mon love.”

He’s still in shock because of your surprise and you’re very sure he wants you to show him again later.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy oneshot

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ariseur · 26 days

Note

Hi!for your event can i ask messy half asleep kisses with sephiroth pls:)) thank you so much

“alright my love, i must take my leave for now,” sephiroth’s voice barely echoes past the barrier of your sleep, velvet tone seeping into your mind as it only delves further into the corners of your brain.

“hmmph—?” you hum sleepily, lifting your head up ever so slightly from the silky pillows only to peek a bleary eye at your beloved, seeing his face gaze down at you with only adoration. his slender eyes track yours as your lashes flutter with the leftover residue of sleep still remaining in your eyes. the vision of him comes out blurry yet you can still clearly make out the bulky uniform of his armor.

“i must leave now — but i promise to you that i shall return tomorrow, alright?” he asks, and although it’s posed as a question you know he needs to go anyways. to attend to his duties as a SOLDIER, a role you had always resented only due to the minimal time you had together.

he basks in the glow of the room, how the dawn had barely shed its light and it had already blessed your figure. gloved hands go to bring the covers a bit over your shoulder once he hears your breath shudder at the sudden cool temperature of awareness.

“nooo..” you keen, dragging out the vowel for as long as your raspy voice could. he chuckles, shaking his head before he takes a small seat on the mattress. you sigh comfortably at the familiar dip in the bed before your hands reach out to him out of instinct, knowing that he’ll always interlock your fingers together ( leather clad or not ).

“i know, i know — but you’ll see me again soon, will you not?” you huff at his rationality. little did you know that it was getting harder and harder to get out of bed with you around; feelings of guilt swelling his heart when he sees you cling onto him as he tries to get out of bed or seeing the note you prepare on the nightstand beforehand knowing he wakes up before you do, so he’ll read it and at least know that you love him.

he hears you sigh and he lets out another soft laugh at the sound. “always so theatrical,” he mutters.

“one last kiss?” your head tips up to look at him, and he doesn’t think he’s seen anything more gorgeous. your bed head splayed out in every which way with indents on your face from the markings of the pillow was a sign of heaven for sephiroth, and if he didn’t listen to this by far religious call then he knew there must be something wrong with him.

you display your best puppy dog eyes with a pout, pointing at your lips as he takes in the pink color of them — natural and swollen with perhaps just a little bit of drool at the corner, but he has never minded any bad habits of yours. he loved you too much for that.

he scoffs in amusement, clearly entertained by the sight, before he leans down to press a light kiss to your lips. you barely lean upwards to meet him halfway, allowing for more messier kisses afterward. you hum, seeing as he lets you kiss him more. he tastes like mint and bergamot, something so familiar, oftentimes you forget it’s not your default palette.

“i really must go,” he mutters before your eyes flutter closed and you kiss the bottom corner of his lip, making sephiroth quirk a brow as if it was intentional or if you’re just too sleepy to care.

you exhale through your nose. you don’t bother to open your eyes because you know he’ll be there, and you know that you’ll try to keep him longer and longer once you see those eyes, filled to the brim with mako and crystallines so gorgeous you could lose time.

you place a hand against his chest before gracefully falling back down against the pillows. sephiroth scoffs. you’ve definitely been hanging around genesis too much lately, he thinks.

“you’ll come back to me, right?”

“always,” he says before grabbing your hand off of his chest and grasping it within his own, pressing chaste kisses along the prominent vein on the back of your hand.

your eyes peel open as your lips purse, mocking consideration with letting him go — even though you know he has to anyway. so you huff and tilt your head to the side, trying to fall back asleep. “okay,” you mumble.

sephiroth softly smiles, before pressing a small kiss to your forehead. he got up from the bed, hoping the slight creak in the frame doesn’t disturb you too much. all you see is silver hair flowing behind him as he takes a swift exit.

he was a carcass with the walls of a weapon, only made to serve and protect — walls only you were made to melt as you wriggled your way into the soft interior that littered this man. something so delicate, you’d felt the need to cherish it forever.

you smiled, your lashes already flitting closed as you felt the gentle thump of your heartbeat against your ribs; and you thought of sephiroth.

𐙚 dottie’s 500 event - 🍡 ( action ) prompts !!

𐙚 taglist ; @xiansiii @ch3rryfiles @snoopicle

𐙚 non-500 requests are closed — august twenty-fifth, 2024

#ffvii sephiroth x reader #ff7 sephiroth x reader #sephiroth fluff #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth fanfiction #sephiroth x you #sephiroth crescent x reader #ffvii x reader #ffvii fanfiction #ff7 fanfiction #ff7 x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader #dottie’s 500 ᝰ.ᐟ꩜#ODOTTIE *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*#kiss kiss

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wisteria-blooms · 1 year

Text

*NSFW* strawberry wonderland (ii) (bill weasley & reader)

*MINORS DNI!*

PAIRING: Bill Weasley/You SUMMARY: Unbeknownst to you, you have more of an effect on Bill than you could ever imagine. And he can't stop thinking about all the things he wants to do to you in Nice. WARNINGS: sex, fingering, oral, masturbation, unprotected sex

A/N: To get me out of a writer's block, I present you this. I've only read it over it once so I'll fix any mistakes as I go. I hope this doesn't ruin long hair & tattoos for you... it doesn't need to be part of the original series if you don't want it to be. It's set after Bill and Reader arrive in Nice.

STRAWBERRY WONDERLAND (II)

Strawberries.

That’s what you smelt like to Bill Weasley. And very much overwhelmingly so as you nestled into his arm, preparing to disembark the ship that had just docked the nauseatingly rocky French shores. He attributed it to all the fresh strawberries you crushed up at the bar.

“What kind of liquor do you reckon goes well with this?” you asked, holding up the bleeding purée to his face.

‘Anything that would get you to kiss me,’ a voice in his head willed him to say. He swatted that thought away and instead replied, “Rum.” All his family recipes and all his female cousins’ favourite girlish drinks came to mind.

“Hm.” You turned away from him and perused the shelf for the highest of top-shelf rum. “And what else?”

“Maybe some simple syrup, a dash of lime and—,”

You slammed a bottle of rum on the table and twisted it open. Bill closed his mouth and let you speak. “Keep rambling and one might think you’re an expert at cocktails or something of that sort.”

“You asked me!” Bill said in defense, a chuckle erupting from his lips. A lush haze was concentrating in your eyes from the wine you’d inhaled the moment you boarded the ship. Bill figured his taller and heavier figure was better in diffusing the alcohol than your smaller one.

“Whatever,”—you slid the cup of strawberry puree towards him—“let’s just drink.”

And now the scent of fresh strawberries, lime, and wine lingered on your person, stuck to it like summer honey. It was the most heavenly of scents. He imagined it would be most concentrated on your lips and tongue, and he would risk everything—a lot—to test that hypothesis. And what if that old saying were true? ‘You are what you eat.’

Would you taste like strawberries elsewhere, dare he dream, on another pair of lips?

“Do you think we had too much?” you asked him, snapping him out of his dirty reverie where he was in between your legs. “I might be sick.”

“I’m sure the sea made it worse,” he reassured you, letting you grip him tightly. He looked back at the relentless waves. Merlin, if you kept touching and squeezing his arm, he wasn’t going to make it until after you left. “And you best recover before your dinner tonight.”

“Right—ooh.” You drew the last vowel, lips rounding, which sent a chill up Bill’s spine.

Then when you let out a deep sigh into the crook of his arm, he found himself at war with himself. He looked down at your eyelashes, fluttering down to cover your eyes and traced your pouty pink lips. You were the sweetest, most innocent thing at twenty-three years old. And he didn’t realize how much desire had stirred up inside him in the past few months that he now really wanted to kiss you—Oh, what was he sugarcoating his own private thoughts for? He wanted nothing more than to fuck you.

He just wanted to know what your innocence would feel on him and his experience. But he couldn’t. He was much too old, much too tainted compared to the likes of you. What he wanted was above any voice of reason.

Fuck it, he was tempted by the thought of ruining you.

Bill Weasley had to wonder how he got himself in this tricky predicament as he settled into a bed miles away from home. With age came maturity and emotional growth, right? At thirty-one, he had years to leap over and meet his milestones. Clearly, he missed a couple landmarks because he felt as if he was trapped in the body of a fourteen-old boy who’d discovered pornography à la Wicked Witches Weekly for the first time.

Everything in his mind was just wrong, wrong, wrong.

After the whole debacle with you walking in on him mid-shower complaining that your own room had flooded and him checking that it really had, you’d insisted on taking the couch in his own room. He pulled off his shirt and shut the lamp off. Then, he laid on his left side and tried to make out your figure on the couch.

He shouldn’t be thinking about having sex with you as you were peacefully asleep a few metres from him. He was supposed to be the epitome of your older, more mature (pretend) boyfriend who could will away an inopportune erection at any time. But what was consuming his mind right now was, well, the fictitious scenario where you did agree to share a bed with him tonight. There wouldn’t be a cold and empty space beside him. You’d be right up against him, unknowingly grinding up against his aching nether region as you combed through a bad dream, and teased out his erection further as a result. The fantasy echoed in his mind again and again until sleep finally caught up with him.

“Ngh, Bill,” you whined, your voice thick with sleep.

You nestled into the cove of pillows, trying to chase away your bad dream. Your body followed suit. Your ass was turned towards him, giving him full permission and the ability to grind against you. He meant to be gentle, but his thrusts—like his breathing—were growing more rapid and frantic.

His hands weaved their way past your loose cotton top and landed atop your naked breasts. He was grateful that your shirt was cut so loose and short. His hands latched onto your breasts tightly, mainly out of lust and secondarily to find an anchor for his writing body. His calloused fingers began their usual routine of teasing your nipples. He pinched them occasionally as he continued to rub his stiff cock on your behind. You were responsive, both in the soft moans that left your lips only to be subdued by the pillows, and the wetness collecting in your cunt.

Your panties were fucking soaked. Bill could detail your folds through the slickness, and feel your spilling entrance through the thin fabric. And that thin fabric was the only thing preventing him from thrusting his full length into you. You writhed harshly when he pinched your left nipple again. The nub was standing at full attention for him.

“What do you think?” asked Bill, voice husky as he asked in your ear. “Can you take my cock or will I have to stretch that tight pussy out?”

You responded with nothing more than shaky breath. You grinded against him, trying to shove your panties aside. “....want… your big cock inside me, Bill.”

That was all the confirmation he needed.

One of his hands hastily left your breasts in pursuit of your panties. He shoved one side to join the other which gave him freedom to trail the head of cock against your cunt. How much better you felt without a fabric barrier was indescribable. The precum leaking from the tip of his cock met your own wetness. He felt like he was being enveloped in silk. And your opening swelled as if inviting him in, begging him to fill you up with his endless cum and impregnate you.

He dove two fingers straight into you, just to really confirm you were ready. He immediately began curling his fingers inside you, feeling the engorged, sensitive area inside that drove you wild.

“Your cock, Bill,” you whined.

His hand was drenched when he pulled his fingers out. Immediately, he replaced the emptiness with his cock. With one thrust, he entered you. You let out a sharp gasp. He knew his size was hard to take, and it always took you a minute or two to adjust to him. But he knew how much you wanted him to ruin you, begging him to fill you up to the hilt. And he could only oblige in those moments, watching as your eyes rolled back every time your orgasm washed over you.

“Please,” you begged through gasps. “I need… need all of you inside me.”

Bill flipped you over so your face was pressed against the pillows. His hands spread your ass cheeks apart. He could see the tight ring of muscle that was clenched around his thick cock. He was really stretching you out. And as much as it hurt him to do, he pulled out.

“No,” you whined, your hand flying back to find and guide him back into you.

“Patience,” he commanded.

He ran the tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering enough lubrication to meet your increasing demands. And when he felt it was sufficient, he slid himself back into you, pushing past the drier spot that was cutting him off halfway.

“Yes, that’s it, ah—,” you moaned, meeting him halfway for the last couple inches. Your ass raised in the air, desperate for more of him. You held yourself up with your elbows, using them to anchor yourself as you pushed back on him. You worked through the part of him that was thicker than the rest. It was always tricky, but how fast you got there depended on how horny you were, and tonight, you were insatiable.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling himself being enveloped by more of your sweet cunt. You were so helpless and needy for him. When he looked down again, he realized he was completely sheathed inside you. He began thrusting, the first couple of seconds working at a steady pace. He earned a few moans. Then, he pulled himself all the way out only to fill you completely again.

“Bill!” you screamed. Your legs trembled as you clenched around him. He did it again, and again, so hard and fast, aching to hear those delicious screams. Wetness dribbled down your thighs and onto the sheets as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“Stop, Bill, I’m going to cum—”

Bill woke up with a jolt. His chest heaved up and down and his breathing was significantly laboured. When he grew accustomed to where he was—the Malfoy summer house in Nice—he looked over to you. You were buried under your covers, blissfully unaware of the lewd positions he held you in in his dreams. He hoped you didn’t hear his breathing, or that he hadn’t said anything weird in his sleep.

He felt a severe ache between his legs. He had feeling this was the most intense erection he’d had in ages. He already knew he was intensely red and swollen.

Maybe he needed to have sex with someone, anything that wasn’t his own damn hand, but he wasn’t fond of an anonymous hookup.

Curiously, he reached past the waistband of his briefs, looking for some sense of relief. He was pulsating hard and it was barely what, seven in the morning? He gave himself a stroke, gripping hard at the base and letting go near his wet tip. He suppressed a moan. An image of you, edging him with your tongue, came to mind.

No, he couldn’t do this with you in the room. It would be most improper and he had to hold himself to a higher standard. Instead, he grabbed a newspaper on his nightstand. It was two days out-of-date, but he figured he should get up to speed with what was going on in Egypt. He was certain that reading about excavations and pyramids and uprisings would take his mind off things.

Not more than a few minutes later, he heard some ruffling and kicking about on the couch.

“Morning,” Bill greeted.

“Good morning,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Very well,” he responded. A fucking bold-faced lie. “You?”

“I slept well, too.”

You were all bed-headed, doe-eyed innocence in the white sheets and he was corrupt was hell.

You got on your feet and pushed open the curtains, letting the sun fully stream in. Bill gulped silently, watching your legs sway around the room. Fortunately for his sanity, you had on some white shorts. Unfortunately, they were so short that any unplanned movement could reveal your panties, and he wouldn’t be able to stop there.

“We usually eat breakfast together downstairs," you yawned, covering your mouth, “but maybe some caffeine is in order first. I’m still waking up.”

“A morning swim is the best way to do that,” Bill suggested. He was really treading a fine line with that suggestion; he was adding fuel to his own wildfires. He really loved the idea of a morning swim, he really did. But there was the bonus aspect of you having to be properly suited for the occasion, and you weren’t going to do it in those itty-bitty shorts and a tank top.

“It’s one of the things I miss about Egypt that we don’t have back home. And it helps quell the heat, too.” He, honest to Merlin, did do this in Egypt. But not for any underlying reasons.

“That’s a good idea,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do that.”

When you arrived at the private stretch of beach, Bill watched as you slowly unwrapped yourself from the shawl you had on. When you found the will to submerge yourself, even if it was just a toe, he approached from behind you.

“Gently grazing the water isn’t the definition of a swim, you know,” he said, lightly tapping the inward curve of your bare hip.

“I know,” you mumbled back, a tinge of pink on your cheeks.

He jumped in without thinking and you soon followed suit. He submerged his whole body into the pristine waters of the French Riviera. When he resurfaced, he was treated to a view he was sure he didn’t deserve.

The wet, white material of your bikini clung onto the skin of your breasts like it was a matter of life or death. Drops of water dotted down your cleavage, slowly, tantalizingly so. The weight of the water dragged your bikini straps down, giving him an expansive view of your breasts. And was that an erect nipple poking through? The cold water must’ve teased it out.

Yeah, the swim was a bloody awful idea.

“You’ll never catch me, (Y/N),” he teased. He sent another wave of water towards you to stall you, laughing as you squeezed your eyes shut and sputtered.

“This means war, Bill!” you cried. You outstretched your arms to pull him back towards you. You were aided by a little current that carried you closer and your fingers finally made contact with his strong shoulders

“Ha!” you exclaimed, your fingertips getting a grip on him. “You’ll be sorry!”

He held his breath as he fell back into the water with you on top of him. When he felt sand and little pebbles dig into his back, he knew you’d both arrived on shore. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw you directly on top of him. Your wet hair grazed his cheeks and—

It wouldn’t be technically wrong to say you were grinding on him, not with the way your legs were splayed on both sides of him and the pressure you were putting on him. Your breasts were planted on his chest, and he could appreciate the clothed erect nipple on his skin. And as he looked down, there was more to see of your breasts than before. One wrong move and he would have a full view of the girls. It would be such a shame if your top came undone. But never mind that, he had to resist to urge to plant his hands on your hips and—

“Bill, it’s too deep,” you whined.

Bill’s hands were planted firmly on your hip bones, holding you down, forcing you grind on him with his cock deeply planted in you. You’d enveloped him to the hilt before, but you’ve never had him like this before, not in this position, and it was becoming too much.

“I think you like it, (Y/N),” he said with a chuckle. You looked down, embarrassed at the sudden spurt of wetness that ran down your thigh from your sex. As he began thrusting, you lost any sense of speech besides the ability to give a silent moan. When one of Bill’s hands loosened their grip on your hip to tease your engorged clitoris instead, you threw your head back.

The moment you’d realized how you’d fallen, you yelped immediately and apologized.

“Time for breakfast?” you offered impassively, carefully looping your other leg over and rolling yourself off him. Sand stuck to the side of your wet legs. You offered him a hand.

“About time for it,” Bill responded as you pulled him up.

“That was fun,” you commented, wrapping the beach towel over yourself and slipping into your sandals. “Better than my usual idea of a swim.”

Bill hummed in agreement, saying, “your idea of a swim isn’t much of a swim,” and followed you back into the house.

When you were back in your room, you’d dried off hastily, saying you were going to be late to breakfast.

“Is there a set time for breakfast?” he asked, eyeing as you flew around the bathroom looking for a comb.

“Not really, but it’s always at eight, and I was already chastised for being late yesterday.”

He had suppressed a comment about how beautifully haphazard you looked. Your hair was half-tamed, your cheeks flushed. You looked like you’d just had a good long romp in the sheets.

“Then I’ll join you in a second,” he promised. “I’d like to look a little more presentable for your parents.”

“You look fine,” you commented. “But that’s alright, I’ll let them know.”

When you’d left the room, Bill headed straight to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and removed his clothes. As he felt his hardening cock spring loose, his frustration grew tenfold. He shouldn’t have suggested the swim; he was going to lose circulation to his brain if you kept turning him on like this. He stepped in the shower and placed his left forearm on the wall. His right hand reached out to stroke his uncomfortable erection.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. Drops of cold water ran down his back as he leaned over. He was so close already and thinking about your body atop of his, your wet cunt pushing down on him, begging to be fucked, was really expediting the process. “Shit.”

In no time, he felt the intense pressure break. He bit down on his lip to keep from making too much noise. Ropes of cums spurted out of his cock, falling into the shallow water that’d accumulated in the shower base. He heaved, his heartbeat rapid, as his strokes slowed.

When he looked down at the mess he’d made, he could only think: ‘what a waste.’ It should’ve gone into some orifice of yours instead. Maybe your mouth, where his hold on your head would be iron-clad, and he’d make sure you swallowed every single drop. Or even better, your cunt, where it would all spill out on the sheets the moment he pulled out because it was just too much for you.

When Bill felt himself harden again, he cursed the higher deities. He’d never recovered this quickly before. Again, not since he was a teenage boy. And there was what, another two weeks of you frolicking in bathing suits and sun dresses?

You were slowly and surely going to be the death of him.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley smut #bill weasley imagine #harry potter smut

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ihavethedreamies · 6 months

Text

Cherry | Juicy Fruit | Haechan

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan - NCT Dream)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.2k

Pairing: Haechan x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Couch Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: It all started with a cherry stem…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but as you can see by the word count, that didn't happen.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

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🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Do cherries come from the same trees as the flowers?" Your boyfriend was holding one of the red fruits by the stem. It spun back and forth in the air with prompting from his finger tips, another one being chewed in his mouth. You could hear the pit clacking against his teeth as he sucked it clean.

"I don't think so…" You wondered what prompted the question, only briefly glancing up from your phone at him. You were sitting at your kitchen table to eat. You had been looking over the different delivery menus, spread across the surface and you were scrolling through your phone to see who was open. Not only was it past normal meal hours, which was normally not too much of an issue, it was some kind of political holiday that only old people cared about. The only problem was that most of the people that would make the food you wanted were said old people. It was also more of something for families, not young couples who did a lot of the baby-making practice but with not desired end product.

"Okay, this place is only open for fifteen more minutes so they're out." You took the noodle menu off the table, placing it on the discard stack.

"Anything else look good or do we need to go to the convenience store?" You asked and when he didn't reply, you slammed your hand down to get his attention. He startled and his wide eyes were really very cute, but you would never admit it out loud, even in private with just him. While you loved him to pieces, you were very reluctant to voice it. After trying to say he was annoying for so many years, you were loath to admit you didn't hate him. You never did, you were just in denial about how much you liked him despite your harsh words. He saw through it.

"Donghyuck!" You scolded and he blinked.

"What?" He emphasized the vowel, and you rolled your eyes. His shocked face softened to a smug grin as he watched you watch him put the next cherry in his mouth, the other pit still in his cheek. His tongue wrapped around the red orb as he took it between his lips, and you shook your head to pull your attention away. He huffed in amusement, you were such a tsundere.

"What are we having for supper? I only got snacks and stuff…" You poked the container holding the cherries. You had planned on eating out or getting delivery, but the stupid holiday interfered with your regular Saturday night plans.

"We could have each other." Donghyuck smirked, chewing the last bits of fruit off the pit before rolling the two around his open mouth playfully. He knew your eyes were not just on his face, but specifically his tongue. You swallowed hard and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth open to scold him again. He let the pits fall out of his mouth and onto the paper plate where the rest of them laid and his smug look turned bored.

"Idiot." You clicked your tongue, face pink, "I need actual food."

"Hm, you might, but I could just eat you?" He winked and your let out a disgusted grunt, getting up from the table and moving to leave the apartment and head down the street.

"(Y/N), wait!" He cooed at you, skipping to follow you. When you started to wiggle your foot to slip it into your sneaker, he kneeled down to tie his. You struggled to get the shoe on without untying it, so he leaned forward to help you get them on. The sweet gesture made your cheeks warm further, but you didn't say anything, so he helped you get the other on. He stood back up with a hop, still taller than you even though he was standing on the lowered part of the floor by the door.

"Ready, milady~?" He held his arm out for you to link with, but you just mumbled something and walked past him and out. Your boyfriend sighed dramatically but followed after you still. You always made up for your dismissive behavior after he railed you into the next morning, turning affectionate and playful. He continued to try and seduce you through the not subtle act of aegyo, and you kept shoving him away, especially as you walked down the road. Donghyuck held the door open for you as you entered the convenience store. The inside was just as dead as the streets, and it felt nearly surreal. You each shopped around a bit, and he got nearly twice as much food as you, and for some reason he felt the need to buy everything he could find that was cherry flavored.

"You know none of this stuff tastes like actual cherries, right?" you asked, watching him place the different candies and sweets down. The only thing you would actually consume was the cherry flavored cola he got as well.

"I know. That's what the actual cherries are for." He pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Not wanting to admit it even in your own head, the blank look he gave you was just as cute as everything else he did. It pissed you off a bit that he was so endearing. The tired cashier told you your price and your boyfriend had his card in the reader before you could even pull yours out. He took all of the bags as well and you opened the door for him that time.

"Did you need to buy all of that?" You grumbled, eyeing the five bags he was carrying.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Curiosity." He answered after donning a pondering look.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, not caring enough to delve further into that line of questioning.

"Did you get everything cherry flavored?"

"Not everything…"

"What did you leave behind, cough syrup?"

"The condoms." He stated simply and you halted for a beat, then jogged to catch up.

"Why not?" You finally relented to ask. He tossed you a coy look, "they didn't have the right size." You halted a step but conceded his point and jogged to catch back up. When you finally got back to the apartment, he put the bags on the coffee table, and you grabbed your meal to heat it up in the microwave. As you plugged in the numbers, Hyuck came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"What?" you asked flatly, and he whined pathetically, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

"Can't I hug my girlfriend?" You didn't reply to his question, so he took that as the go ahead to continue. As he smelled your food as it got done, he realized how famished he was and hurried to make his own. Some random variety show played on the TV while you both ate, he devoured twice as much food as you did in nearly half the time. Once you were both done and everything was cleaned up, he laid out all the cherry candies and snacks, as well as some real ones.

"We shall judge them for quality." He motioned broadly and you sat next to him at the coffee table. Hyuck was a bit surprised at how close you willingly sat, pressed to his side. You were warming up. You started to sort through them, pushing the ones you refused to try to the side.

"You need to have the full picture to make an informed decision." He told you with false condescension. He sniffed and picked up the first packet to rip it open. The fake cherry scent hit your nose and you sneered, reaching over the table to grab a real one. As you chewed, he started in on the candy and his face twisted, putting the bag down and grabbing a fruit himself. You pulled the pit from your mouth and set it on your napkin from supper and he did the same.

"Can you tie a knot with your tongue?" He held up one of the stems and you hummed.

"I don't know, I haven't tried." You took it from him, and he plucked another one off a cherry for himself.

"Let's see who can do it faster." He decided and you nodded in agreement and you both watched the other as you took the stems into your mouths. You focused hard, trying to maneuver the little piece with your tongue into the right configuration, but it was no use. When you almost choked on it, you pulled it out, nose crinkled.

"Nope." You turned to look at him and he stuck his tongue out at you, the tied stem resting on the surface

"How the heck!?" You grabbed the little stem from where it laid, looking it over.

"Want me to show you?" His tone had deepened, but you were too confused to register it.

"Yeah!" You turned to watch, not expecting his mouth to connect to yours. Your shocked inhalation allowed his tongue entry and you wanted to fight, but you also really didn't. Hyuck smirked into the kiss as you let out a tiny mewl, expertly twisting his tongue around yours. You moaned when he led you to straddle his lap, pushing the coffee table away with his foot. When you settled, his hands on your hips pushed you down, grinding your covered cunt over his hard cock. You whined, trying to pull back, but he held you still, sucking on your tongue so you couldn't easily pull back. He had a hard time not laughing when your entire body shuddered. Finally, he let you go, you leaned back, panting hard.

"Fucking hell-" Your fingers were clenching the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"I can do more than that~" He hummed playfully, and you blinked, "huh?" Your noise of question was followed by a yelp as he lifted you, setting you on the couch behind him, turning to he faced you. Another tug brought your butt to the edge of the cushion, and he took advantage of your surprise to yank your shorts and panties off without hinderance.

"H-Hyuck~!" You whimpered when he instantly brought his skillful tongue to your cunt, wriggling it inside, nose hitting your clit. You sighed shakily, legs twitching when he hummed, the vibration ringing through him to you.

"Wait-" You tried to get him to stop, extremely embarrassed at your position and feeling weird about how fast he was bringing you to climax. You shuddered again as his tongue left your core, stroking up through your folds to flick your clit. Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see his stupid grin right before he sucked on your clit hard. Hyuck's hands flew to your hips to hold them down as you came, helping you ride it out.

"Too bad I can't pop your cherry…" He mumbled, a little embarrassed at his stupid pun. You huffed in disbelief, having heard him perfectly fine even though he kind of hid it.

"Doesn't fucking matter, get inside me-" he had never heard you so impatient, but he was more than willing to abide. He removed your top as you helped him get rid of his own clothes, and your back barely hit the couch cushions before he was pressing into you. Even if you hadn't just came on his tongue, you were soaking wet, your gummy walls clenching desperately to his cock.

"Aw~ sweet girl~" He huffed in delight as your cunt quivered, getting used to the stretch and before you were fully acclimated, he started to move.

"Wait, Hyuck!" Your hands grabbed his shoulders. When he leaned over you move, he took your hands from him, holding them above your head with one of his. His lips hovered over yours, hips rolling slowly but hard, fat cock battering your back wall. You practically cried when he kissed you again, tongue reentering your mouth to capture yours. You were helpless under him, sanity quickly leaving between his cock in your cunt and his tongue down your throat. When air was getting a bit low, he finally removed his mouth from yours, moving it to your jaw and down the column of your throat. You whimpered with each thrust, getting steadily faster and harder as he sucked your skin. His goal was to make the hickeys are red as the cherries you both had been eating earlier.

"Hyuck, I~" You couldn't get the rest of your sentence out. His hand had let go of your wrists, both of them going to your waist so he could shift positions. He sat back up move, hiking your hips up to arch your back and after an extremely practiced and hard thrust, he chuckled as you came again. He groaned at the tight flutter of your walls and couldn't help but fall over the edge himself. You whimpered when he finally let your legs and hips relax, not pulling out of you yet. With a tired gaze, you watched him reach and grab a bottle you hadn't noticed before from the coffee table, barely within reach. He popped the cap on the red container, an equally red substance spilling out and dripping over your skin. You shivered at the cold, and he licked his lips.

"Hmm… cherry flavored (Y/N)~"

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