#and a string dart around his waist for points

[swampythesweetsketch]

i drew him too small on the canvas and i didn't fix proportions a lot and i gave him a weapon

[luvsupa]

JUST ONE HOUR!

tags: exhusband!toji x fem!reader, businessman toji (guys pls he’s rich in this </3), petnames, smut (p in v), unprotected, mentions of reader being a mother again, etc. mdni.

w.c: 1.4k

a/n: sawryy been kinda ia bc of uni </33

you step into the crowded venue alone, the air thick with chatter and the lively notes of a string quartet filling the beautifully decorated hall. everyone around you is dressed elegantly for your ex-husband’s extravagant charity event. you hadn’t wanted to show support for him, but after much convincing from your friends and children, you reluctantly gave in, promising yourself you’d only stay for an hour.

as you navigate through the crowds of familiar faces, many of your old friends greet you, their compliments on your long, black, sparkly dress feeling insincere. awkwardly making small talk, you realize how distant you’ve become from these people since your divorce from toji.

“how are your children, mrs. fushiguro?” a married woman asks, her arm linked tightly with her husband’s—who, as you know, is traveling abroad to cheat on her.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t call me fushiguro; we’re not married anymore, remember?” you respond, lifting your empty ring finger to emphasize your point. gasps of shock ripple through the group at your “rudeness.”

“oh, darling, I completely understand your desire to drop the fushiguro name. it’s not like you have the charm or elegance to carry it anyway,” another married woman chimes in, laughter erupting around you, igniting a fiery rage in your chest.

“honestly, if toji were with someone like me, I’d take care of his every need in ways you can only dream of. I know how to keep a man satisfied, which is clearly something you’re not equipped for,” a third woman interjects, pushing your anger to its peak. the background chatter fades away as your breathing becomes heavy and your vision narrows.

“well, it’s a shame you think you’re so special because, from what I hear, your husbands are cheating on you. I guess when you can’t satisfy them, they go looking elsewhere—”

before you can finish, toji strides in from behind you. his large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest as he leans down to your ear. “easy, brat. I can’t let you go on with that mouth of yours,” he scolds, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you can’t help but hitch your breath at the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

the expressions of the married women shift, their eyes darting to their husbands, who stammer awkwardly at their words. you suppress a giggle as chaos erupts around you, arguments bubbling up as they turn on their partners. with everyone distracted, you push toji’s hand away from your waist and turn to scoff at him. but fuck, he looks good. his black, luxurious suit hugs his frame perfectly, the white button-up shirt undone just enough to reveal a hint of his toned chest. toji smirks, the scar on the corner of his lips rising as he notices how you scan him.

you push past the crowd, making your way up the large spiral staircase while exchanging polite greetings with those you pass. you can feel his eyes boring into your back—an almost burning sensation—as you glance over your shoulder to catch him in the sea of wealthy businessmen, sipping on champagne. your heart races when you see him flaunting the matching wedding ring you once shared, its brilliance shining in the bright venue.

hastily, you rush up the steps, opening door after door in search of an unoccupied washroom. frustration mounts with each locked door, but hope reignites when you spot double doors at the end of the hall. as if your prayers have been answered, the doors swing open to reveal the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen—a private lounge. your eyes sparkle as you take in the elegant decor, complete with a private kitchen and balcony.

your heels clack against the polished marble floor as you place your clutch on the large island table, relief washing over you as you settle into the quiet space, far removed from the pretentious crowd downstairs.

“trying to slip away? don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the chase; I know you’d miss me way too much,”

a low voice booms in the serene atmosphere, startling you. you turn to see toji standing there with his hands in his pockets, slowly striding toward you until he’s right in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk.

“you look so good, doll,” he says, his voice low as he leans against the island table, biting his lower lip as he admires your figure in the elegant dress.

and you really—really tried to resist him.

but it was impossible to think straight with the way he was pounding into you, hitting every perfect angle and reaching the deepest parts of your throbbing hole. your slick walls clenched around his thick shaft, making it all the more maddening. toji had you bent over the island table, your dress bunched up around your waist, leaving your bare ass exposed in the private lounge. your eyes rolled back as his relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, his grip on your hips nearly bruising. the room filled with the sinful sounds of skin slapping and the broken melodies of your moans mingling with his low groans.

“my. . . pretty. . fuckin’. . wife.” toji growled, each word punctuated by a deep, punishing thrust that slammed into your sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure through your trembling body. his hand shot up, tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your back to arch while he relentlessly pounded into you.

“t-toj’—” you stammered, your voice barely coherent between breathless moans, your body jerking with each rough thrust. “’s too m-much…” your words trailed off into high-pitched whines, your mind too hazy to form anything more than desperate pleas.

leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear, his hot breath igniting every nerve in your body. “you can take it, you’re a big girl,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, his voice dripping with dominance. “look at you, babbling for me.”

the wet, obscene sound of your cunt squelching around him only fueled his pace, your moans intertwining with the sinful symphony as he continued driving into you without mercy, pulling more helpless words from your lips.

in a swift motion, toji hoisted your leg up, his grip firm and unrelenting, holding it in place as his hips snapped forward at a brutal, faster pace. the new angle sent shockwaves through you as his thick tip pressed deeper, practically rearranging your insides. the intense sensation made you crumble, barely able to hold yourself together as he drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

“gonna make you a pretty mama again, mmm? all filled up.” toji rasped in your ear, his voice low and teasing as you sobbed loudly, tears spilling down your cheeks, nearly drooling at the thought of being filled to the brim. a smirk tugged at his lips when he felt you clench around him,

so fuckin’ nasty, he thought.

he snaked the hand on your neck down to your sensitive nub, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you as your leg began to shake.

“i can feel it—hahh— you in my tummy,” you whimpered, the realization igniting a rush of pleasure and desperation within you. toji lost it at your words, his breath hitching as he looked down, watching the outline of your stomach stretch against the fabric of your dress, the bulge unmistakably visible.

the sight drove him absolutely feral, a primal hunger surging through him. “hn, f-fuck, baby,” he whimpered, the words slipping from his lips as he struck even harder, each powerful stroke pushing you closer to your limits.

“mr. fushiguro, i-it’s time for your speech.”

your heart dropped at the sound of a female voice behind the doors, a stark reminder of the world waiting just outside. but toji—oh, toji—his primal instincts kicked in, and the thought of being interrupted only fuelling his desire to finish inside you. nothing would stop him from pleasing his baby.

“t-toj’… you— ngh— you have to go…” you squeaked, desperation lacing your voice as he harshly slapped your slick, throbbing cunt, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. your thighs sticky as cobwebs of your arousal clung to his fingers, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

“upp we go,” a smirk spread across toji’s face as he stepped back, maintaining his cock snug against your gummy walls. with a firm grip, he lifted both of your legs, carrying you as he approached the doors leading to the balcony where the majority of the guests awaited his speech.

fuck.

“just a little longer, baby,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “i want them all to know you belong to me.”

[angelscribes]

thinking about f1 racer! gojo satoru and how you're his pretty little good luck charm.

while other f1 drivers took the time before the race to meditate or maybe talk to their race engineers and pit wall about their car, satoru would find himself knuckles deep into your pussy.

"a-ah– toru!" you mewl, manicured nails braced against the wall of the waiting room as you let your boyfriend work out all of his racing stress on you. the sound of your dripping cunt is lewd and loud, juices trickling down your thighs as you quiver in your heels, panties bunched at your ankles.

"shh, baby," satoru coos against the shell of your ear, lips brushing against it as his free hand snakes to cover your mouth. "you don't want everyone outside to hear how good i'm making you feel, right?"

of course, you were worried that satoru's engineers outside could hear you. after all, you were only separated by a door that may or may not be unlocked – satoru never confirmed or denied it. his race engineer or his personal trainer could walk in any moment and all they'll see is your teary eyes and how your cunt was greedily sucking in satoru's long and deft digits.

you shake your head, unable to coherently form an answer while satoru rearranges your mind and guts with only his fingers. your lover knew your body like every race track on the grid, the sharpest corners, the flat-out straights, the quickest ways to get you to cum.

call it performance anxiety, but he could never do well on race day until he manages to get you to squirt all over his fingers at least twice.

"c'mon, pretty girl," you hear your boyfriend's honeyed voice through the haze of pleasure as his fingers bully your g-spot, almost like a wake-up call, making your body clench around him. "i don't have much time left before i gotta get into the car. you're not going to deny me my championship win, are you?"

you shake your head once more, drool catching at the corners of your mouth. eyes rolling back and hips thrown back, you could only whimper and whine as you barrel towards your second? third? orgasm of the day, rendering you weak to the whims of your boyfriend.

satoru's fingers curl against your gummy walls before stretching them out, a dragged out and cocky "yeaaah" from your boyfriend as he stares at your glistening cunt with an almost prideful look. your pussy seizes satoru's fingers when your orgasm finally crashes over you which sends your knees buckling towards each other and satoru's hand slipping from your mouth to wrap around your waist quickly.

drivers and their reaction speeds.

"woah there," satoru chuckles dreamily, an almost boyish tone to his laugh when he watches you tremble like a newborn foal, his arm strong against you to steady you. "maybe i can put world orgasm champion to my resume, huh?"

you glare at him weakly over your shoulder as your body comes down from your pleasurable high despite the empty feeling of satoru withdrawing his digits from your sopping cunt. strings of your essence stretch as he pulls away, and you watch your boyfriend clean his fingers up with a gleeful hum.

"oh, come on, don't at me like that," satoru coos as he manhandles you into standing straight so that he can crush his lips against yours, letting you taste just how sweet you are. "you know it'll just get me going again, pretty girl."

you can't help but roll your eyes a little but you kiss him back nonetheless before pulling away with a sweet 'mwah'. the two of you make quick work of making yourselves presentable again, a routine at this point where satoru cleans you up with a towel while you adjust your clothing before slipping your panties back up, business as usual.

"are you sure you don't want help with that, toru?" you ask him, eyes darting down to the almost painful looking bulge in his race suit before you look back up.

"nah," satoru dismisses your concerns before he suits himself up and then flashes you a cocky smirk.

"it's my motivation for driving fast."

[dmitriene]

cw: blood

vampire simon riley feeding from you while you sit on his cock, without even squirming, calm with his sharp canines sunken deep in the thin skin of your neck, the beady, crimson liquid of your blood flooding his mouth, smudging along his pale lips, cock throbbing rapidly at the taste, making you whimper, gummy walls of your gooey cunt squeezing tight, rippling in response, chasing the feeling.

you card your fingers through the short, buzz cut hairs at his nape, tugging when he readjusts his mouth, opening wide, fangs moving in the deep, rounded notches he indented deep in your flesh, fresh, aching and swelling the more simon feeds, tongue darting out and lapping over the marks, suckling in between his almost aching teeth greedily, drunk on your taste to the point his eyes, deep ebony that gleam ruby under the right angle, flutter shut heavily.

simon tries to be as gentle as possible with you, heavy, calloused hand looped around the slope of your waist, supporting your back, knowing that if he won't, you can accidentally fall, with your body, boneless and weakened, leaning on the sinewy hardness of his chest, eyes blinking slowly, your forehead knocking against the side of his head, sliding aside until you nudge in his temple, while you let him eat, your hole warm and viscous, your blood sweet and nourishing.

he fucks you slowly then, with short, rutting bucks of his hips, breaching his engorged, pulsing cock deeper inside your taut, fluttering hole, folds messy with glistening strings of slick, spread wide around his length, as you keen and babble simon's name almost feverishly, nosing in the wrist of his hand that brushes, covers delicately at the throbbing wounds on your neck, and it's enough to make him cum, biting down a throaty growl.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[mariasont]

i loved lipgloss!!! i was wondering if i could pls request smth where spencer walks in the BAU unaware of the lipgloss on his lips from kissing bimbo!receptionist or on his cheeks from being kissed then everyone's like "👀☝️🤨" (english isnt my first language im sorry😭)

STICKY SITUATIONS - S.R

a/n: back with the lipstick trope yeehaw, can't tell you all how much i appreicate u all and how patient u guys are with me when i ghost for like 5 months at a time. thank you so much for the request sug <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: spencer daydreaming about inappropriate things! PDA!

wc: 1.1k

Spencer woke up feeling untouchable, like nothing in the world could shake him. The kind of invincible where even the sky didn't seem like a limit. You had stayed the night, as you often did, and yet every time he woke up with you beside him, it felt like walking on air. Today was no exception.

You made sure he was late today — both of you were. He blamed you entirely, though he didn't mind. You pinned him down with a thousand little kisses, laughing as you insisted that it's essential for a day filled with good luck, and how else was he going to catch all the bad guys without a little charm from you?

Spencer's body vibrated like it was attuned to some invisible, higher frequency, one you alone could set. The smile threatening to break free felt inevitable, like a law of nature, as his mind drifted to thoughts of you — so unavoidable it was as if trying to pinpoint an electron's exact position and momentum in time. 

He had half a mind to swing by the reception desk just to see you. Just for a second. He'd convince himself it was enough, even though it never really was. Today, however, there was no chance he'd make it to his meeting. Not when you were wearing that skirt — his favorite. The one that fit you like it had been hand-stitched by hand for you alone, showing off your thighs in a way that made him picture them around his —

“Reid, you're —,” Hotch's voice snapped him back into reality, his brows down turning as he regarded Spencer with a curious frown before shaking his head. “Late. C'mon.”

Spencer followed Hotch into the conference room, their entrance as routine as ever, or so he assumed. But the moment they stepped inside, something shifted. The room crackled with stifled laughter, a ripple of poorly contained snickers breaking out across the team.

He froze mid-step, confusion knitting his brow as he scanned the room. His gaze flitted from face to face, trying to uncover the source of their amusement. The laughter, he realized with growing bewilderment, was somehow aimed squarely at him.

His pulse quickened as self-awareness kicked in, and his eyes darted downward, trying to detect the anomaly that had captured everyone's damn attention. A loose thread? A stain? Panic bloomed in his chest as he mentally ticked through a list of possibilities. His sweater seemed intact, no wayward strings. His pants were fine, no errant coffee stains or wrinkles. And his hair — well, his hair always had a mind of its own, but it wasn't that unruly today. Right?

Bastards.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, what did I miss?”

Emily tried, and failed, to smother her laughter behind a closed hand, shaking her head. “I think you might need to go to look in the mirror, lover boy.”

Spencer didn't bother questioning her. No explanation would be offered, at least not freely. He knew he'd get no real answers from this group, and honestly, he wasn't even sure he wanted them at this point. Instead, he slipped out of the conference room and headed down the hall, his mind a muddled tangle of confusion.

He was so distracted, so consumed with trying to figure out what he'd missed, that he nearly missed the sound of quick, approaching footsteps. It was only at the last second that he looked up, just in time for you to collide with him.

His hands moved instinctively, catching your waist as you stumbled forward, stopping you from toppling over.

Spencer's breath caught. Gods know if you'd fallen in those heels, you'd be lucky to escape with just a sprained ankle. But you didn't fall. Instead, you let out a startled giggle as you looked up at him wide-eyed.

“Whoopsie,” you said with a smile. “Hi there, handsome.”

The instant the words left your lips, you clamped a hand over your mouth, fighting back a high-pitched squeal of laughter.

Spencer, even more bewildered, furrowed his brows in confusion. “Okay, what?”

“Hold still,” you instructed, though your voice wavered between stifled giggles. You reached up for him, your fingertips hovering near his face.

He followed your hand with his eyes, still clueless, until you gently cupped his cheek. Whatever it was on his skin drew another wave of laughter from you, and in response, he prodded at your sides, each poke sending you into another fit of delighted squeals.

“Hey, that's not holding still, Dr.!” you gasped, halfheartedly swatting at his hands while you finished wiping away the last bit of whatever had clung to his face.

“Whoopsie daisy,” you said again, still brushing invisible flecks from his cheek, your voice reminding him of what he envisioned sunshine poured into a teacup would manifest as. “Aw, Spence, looks like I kinda-sorta-maybe left a tiny little lipstick stain behind.”

Your tone was drenched in honeyed innocence, as if this kind of thing just happened and you had no earthly clue how.

Spencer's eyes narrowed. “Is that why I've been subjected to my team's thinly veiled harassment?”

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped as if you'd just witnessed a high crime. “They were giving you trouble? Oh my gosh!”You pressed your fingertips to your lips. “Do I need to have a word with them?”

The determination in your voice sounded all too serious, and he was a little scared that you were actually prepared to march back to that conference room in your pretty heels and give the entire BAU a piece of your mind.

Spencer nearly chocked on a laugh. Of all possible reactions, yours was the sweetest, most fiercely protective, and downright hilarious. He held up a hand in a placating gesture, lips curving into a boyish grin. 

“Hmm, I appreciate the offer,” he murmured, gently tapping his chin with a finger as if considering it. “However, I think you might need to have a word with the real culprit who decided my face should double as her personal canvas this morning.”

“Me?” You pressed a hand dramatically to your heart. “I would never! I mean, sure, I might've given you a million good-luck kisses before you left, and maybe one or two... or three of my lip gloss stains decided to stick around, but that's hardly my fault!”

You shifted your weight to the balls of your feet and wiggled your fingers in a helpless sort of gesture. “That's just how good my gloss is, y'know?”

“Right,” he replied, voice quieter now, eyes warm as they traced your face. “Clearly the lip gloss is at fault. We'll have to issue it a stern warning later.”

“Exactly! Don't blame poor, innocent me.”You paused, lowering your voice conspiratorially, leaning close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume. “And if any of the team give you grief again, you know where to find me!”

Spencer hummed, placing a light hand on the small of your back, steering you gently away from the corridor.

“I'll keep that in mind,” he murmured, smiling as if the world had just aligned perfectly in that very hallway. “But for now, maybe we should try to make sure I get back to my meeting... gloss-free.”

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72

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[moonchild9350]

Bows, Lilac, and Kittens

Summary: Han doesn’t think he’s needy, unlike what his band mates believe, but that all changes when he sees you in his favorite type of lingerie.

Pairing: established relationship idol Han x fab reader

Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: pussy job, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), cum tasting.

Notes: idk I think Jisung would be into this haha I hope you like it! If so consider a reblog, comment, and like ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Babe, do you think I’m needy?”

Your boyfriend Jisung had just walked through the door, screaming the question as he made his way to your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body since you were fresh out of the shower. You looked at Jisung, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, a pout on his face, making his cheeks seem bigger. He had his arms crossed, as he looked at you with his big boba eyes, as he awaited your answer.

“No, of course not baby,” you replied as you walked over to your dresser, pulling out a pair of panties and a shirt.

You pulled the shirt over your head and then slid one leg and then the other through your panties, pulling them up over your hips, the band snapping in place as they settled over your ass. You wanted to tease Jisung, to prove a point. Your boyfriend thought he wasn’t needy, but that was far from the truth, especially in the bedroom. Proving your point, you heard Jisung let out a whimper, your head immediately turning to look at the man after hearing the sound.

His eyes were trained on your ass, his mouth open. Anyone would say he was enamored with the flesh, not too flat but a nice roundness to the globes, but you knew better. Yes, you know Jisung loves every part of you, but there was one thing that drove him crazy, bringing out the neediness in him. That was your panties and not just any panties, but the ones you kept that were cute more than sexy, little patterns decorated across the fabric and a little bow in the center.

You looked down and noticed what panties you had chosen this time, a smirk forming across your face. The fabric was a soft lilac with little kittens littered across them, a little pink bow on the band. Looking up, you took in how Jisung wiggled in place, his eyes never leaving your pelvis. You felt your pussy clench at the attention, his gaze turning you on.

“Mmmm,” you said, slowly walking towards your lover, “maybe you’re a little needy after all.”

Jisung was practically drooling, his mouth open, and eyes wide. You noticed the tent in his pants, watching as he let out yet another whimper.

“Wanna see more?” You teased, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Jisung nodded his head, his hair flopping up and down obscuring his eyes. He pushed the hair out of his face and looked up at you.

“Yes, yes please,” he begged.

You giggled at his desperation before pulling your shirt up, your panties on display. You were dripping, your arousal seeping into the material. Jisung gripped your waist suddenly and yanked you toward him, burying his face in your pelvis, as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent.

He placed kiss after kiss along your mound before dipping his head lower and darting his tongue out, the tip of the muscle brushing against your clothed clit. You jerked at the sensation, your hands gripping your shirt tighter as Jisung continued to lick the bud. You felt more slick gush into your panties as you slowly rocked your hips, fucking yourself on his tongue.

You tossed your head back, lost in the pleasure Jisung was giving you, the warm feeling spreading throughout your belly. You felt you could cum like this, the feeling close, the band expanding in your belly letting you know sweet bliss was close. But, before you could open your mouth to let him know, he pulled himself back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the material of your panties.

Jisung groaned, looking at the mess he made, the material soaked and sticking to your skin. Without warning he yanked you onto the bed and spread your legs.

“Take your shirt off baby,” he said breathlessly as he slid his sweats and boxers down, his cock springing free of its confines.

You slid your shirt up and over your head, your tits on display for the man above you. You spread your legs wider as he stepped in between them, eyes glued to your covered core, stroking his cock.

“You’re soaked baby,” he groaned, reaching out his finger to press the material of your panties to your core.

Shivering at his touch, you replied, “all for you Sungie.”

“All for me,” he whispered, grasping his cock once more to drag it through your covered folds.

You let out a moan, grasping the sheets below as he slid his cock again and again through the fabric. You were dripping, your slick soaking the panties creating a sheer effect. Each stroke of his cock slipped against your clit, the tip kissing the swollen bud over and over.

Jisung let out a strangled cry, before he shifted your panties to the side, slipping his cock beneath the material. He pressed the hard appendage down, the head slipping through your thick folds, causing a squelching sound to be heard.

“Ohh my god, babe,” Jisung moaned out as he frantically began to thrust his hips, pressing his shaft to glide through your folds. Your breath kicked up, as the pleasure increased, that sensation building up once more in your belly. You moaned out as Jisung whimpered, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on fucking your lips.

“Look at that baby,” he managed to breathe out, “your soaking, can see my cock between your cute little folds.”

You looked down, your pussy clenching at the sight. Jisung was right, your panties were soaked through, Jisung’s cock clearly visible beneath the material. You looked up at your lover, watching as he scrunched up his eyes, lost in pleasure, and guided your gaze down, your eyes landing on his pelvis and then back to your soaking pussy.

You laid back onto the sheets, a sigh leaving your lips as you focused on the warm sensation, emptying your mind as it spread throughout your body. You were floating in that space you go to every now and then, as it was quiet throughout the room, the only sounds heard were your soft moans, Jisung’s whimpers, and your wet pussy. Your reverie was broken at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, your eyes fluttering open.

“Play with your tits baby,” Jisung said.

You could tell he was close, there desperation in his eyes as he sped up his thrusts, the head of his cock hitting against your clit. You whimpered and shook your head, bringing your hands to your tits, grasping the flesh in your hands. You flicked your nipples, your eyes on Jisung as he watched you, his hips never faltering. Your moans grew louder as you squeezed and pinched your nipples, shocks of pleasures running down your spine to your core.

“I’m close Sungie,” you whined, the added sensation to your nipples causing the coil to tighten even more.

Jisung whimpered and shook his head, as his thrusts became more sporadic. “Cum with me baby,” he whined, “please, please, please,” he chanted over and over before he stilled, letting out a loud groan as his hot cum spurt onto your mound and panties.

The sight of your boyfriend’s high and the feel of his tip sliding up against your clit caused you to tip of the edge, as the coil snapped, warmth spreading throughout your body. You moaned out, pinching your nipples as you rode out your high. Jisung watched you from above, his eyes darting between your face and your little hole, watching as it clenched around nothing.

Taking a breath, you dropped your hands and reached down, sliding your finger through his cum on your pelvis before bringing it to your lips and wrapping them around the digit. You moaned as you sucked his cum off your finger, the salty taste settling on your tongue. Removing your finger from your mouth with a pop, you grinned at the boy above you.

“God I love you baby,” Jisung said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

He looked down at your panties, completely ruined from your slick and his cum.

“Aww what a shame,” Jisung said, as he pushed your panties back in place. “I actually liked this pair. Guess I’m gonna have to buy you a new pair huh.”

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92

[notarmedandnotdangerous]

+18 mdni! bucky refuses to say reader's name, and reader tries to get him to say it. unfortunately bucky switches the dynamics between him and reader, and reader ends up unsuccessful.. for now.

cw: sub!->dom!bucky, dom!->sub!m!reader, oral sex, handjobs (multiple), overstimulation

word count: >2.3k

a/n: maybe there'll be a part 2 ... you never know .. 😝 if you guys have suggestions, please do not hesitate to flood my inbox!!!!!!

-------------------------------------------------------

you’ve recently saved bucky from a few sticky situations, and he slowly warmed up to you more. you’ve asked him to call you by your name multiple times, but he would rather die than say your name, and it confused you.

“you.. can say my name, you know that right?” the both of you just got home from another mission, you talked to him but he avoided your gaze and put his boots away in response. “or do you want a more forceful way? it’s like you need me to fuck it out of you or something.” you said absentmindedly, not knowing the effect you had on him.

“i don’t need you to lay it out for me, alright? like you do with everything else.” he shifted, eyes darting around the room before landing back on you with a glare. he sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair as he leaned against the doorway. “let’s just.. forget you said that, okay?” his voice was a husky whisper, as he cleared his throat to regain control over the situation.

“i heard your breath hitch, by the way. hope you know that.” you turned away, walking to sit on the couch as you turned on the tv to watch the news, as usual. your casual remark sent a shiver down his spine, his heart hammered in his chest as he remained silent, unwilling to give you the satisfaction of an admission. he felt a familiar heat growing in his lower stomach, his cock starting to stir in his jeans, but he played it cool as he tried to will it away. you could hear every single hitch of his breath, but you stated quiet.

“fuck.” bucky gritted out, his voice strained as he felt his resolve crumble. “just.. just turn around.”

“that’s a start, well done. didn’t expect you to actually admit it.” you shrugged, not wanting to turn around just yet. you wanted to break his nonchalant facade, to make him ask for what he wanted. he couldn’t meet your gaze anymore, his eyes stung as he fought to regain his composure.

“what’s it to you?” he murmured, in an attempt to deflect the situation. “just.. do whatever you want.” the words spilled out before he could properly consider them. at this point, whatever he was doing was pointless, you’ve already seen through his act.

“yeah? and you’d let me?” you walked over to bucky and reached for his waist, wrapping your arm around his and bringing him to the couch. his entire body tensed as your arm wrapped around him. “wanna consider calling me by my name now, handsome?” he turned his head away and avoided the question. “guess i’ll really have to fuck it out of you.” you pulled him into your lap, making him gasp slightly. his hardened cock pressed against you, making you smirk teasingly.

“jeez..” he hissed, trying to squirm free but you just made him so weak. “you can’t just.. fuck me into submission like some puppet on a string.” his words came out breathless, almost pleading, despite him trying desperately to maintain a tough front. “it’s not that simple.” even as he protested, his hips shifted instinctively against you.

“we’ll see about that.” you let go of his hips, making him turn back to you immediately.

“what are you waiting for? weren’t you gonna ‘teach me a lesson’?” he asked softly, the tone of his voice betraying his current persona. the release of your grip threw him off balance, his eyes remained lowered, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “just.. do it already.”

“hm.” you grabbed his neck, leaning him forward, and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. the motion sent a shiver down his spine as embarrassment filled his system, his cheeks burnt with a flush that spread all the way down his neck.

“f-fuck..” bucky stammered, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. he squirmed slightly, not used to being so physically close to someone. you smiled, pulling his head back to kiss him gently. his eyes flew open in shock, before fluttering shut again as he visibly relaxed. he clutched at your shoulders, his mechanical arm whirring at the motion. when you finally broke the kiss, he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire as he gazed at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“room, now.” he tried to get up from your lap, stumbling as his legs were weak from your relentless teasing. when the both of you finally got to your shared bedroom, he laid back on his elbows as he gazed up at you. you pressed your knee to his crotch, making him hiss out, his hands gripping at the sheets. “want my cock on your tongue, buck? maybe you’ll finally learn to say my name after this?”

“mmph.. yeah.. want it.” his words were barely a whisper as his mind glazed over with arousal. “please.. i’ll give you anything you want..”

“anything? even saying my name?” bucky avoided your gaze once more. perhaps he thought that he wasn’t worthy enough to have your name roll off his tongue. you whipped your cock out, tapping the tip on his lips, and his eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of it. “oh, you’re dumb already? i haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

“n-nothing to do with my smarts.. believe me.” he breathed out in a needy whisper, his tongue flicking out to lap at the glistening tip, savouring the salty taste of your pre-cum. “this handsome cock can dumb me up any day..” and with that, he wrapped his lips around your tip, sucking gently as he began to bob his head. he slowly took more and more of your cock in his mouth.

“holy fuck.. that mouth of yours.. you’re fucking filthy. had a lot of experience in sucking cock, haven’t you?” you grabbed his hair and slowly fucked into his mouth. you ended up fucking his mouth rougher though, making him drool all over as he hummed dumbly. saliva dripped freely from the corners of his lips, pooling on his chin before dripping onto, and staining his black t-shirt.

“mmph..” he mumbled, his voice muffled around your cock as his eyes rolled back. after a few more thrusts, you came in his mouth. your knees buckled as you slowly fucked his mouth to ride out your high, only stopping when you were on the verge of overstimulation. even though he swallowed as best as he could, some of your cum had already trickled down his chin. “tasted so good..” his words were slurred.

“mm.. fuck.” you pulled away, just to see bucky absolutely wrecked. his hair was a mess while tears and drool covered his face. you moved to sit back against the bed frame. just as you sat down, he took your cock in his hands to jerk you off, catching you off guard. “b-buck, stop that.” you tried to grab his wrist, but he sat himself on your stomach, weighing you down. “n-no, fuck..”

“hey, no backing out now..” he spoke, his hands wrapping around your still-soft cock, as he started to stroke you in a slow rhythm. “after all, i really.. really wanna see your face once more, when you cum.”

“w-wait.. can’t. slow down..” you grabbed at his wrist, helplessly kicking your feet against the mattress.

“oh.. i think you’re enjoying this though, don’t pretend like you aren’t.” he smirked down at you, making your breath hitch. you were sure he wasn’t this hot before. “but don’t worry, i’ll make sure to put that pride of yours back in its rightful place.. once you’re done giving me exactly what i want.” he murmured, before he leaned in and dragged his tongue against your neck. “relax, let me help you with this, hm?”

“i.. mm..” you gave up the moment his tongue was on your neck, how did he know it was your weak spot? you let your head drop to the mattress as you had no choice but to take what he was going to give you.

“much better.” bucky chuckled, tracing your cock in a way that made it twitch. “let’s finish what you started, shall we?” he leaned in, teasingly planting a kiss on the tip, before he dragged his tongue down your cock. .

“oh- oh, buck..” your thighs tensed in an effort to process the pleasure, as you reached for his hands. too bad he was sitting with his back facing you, and he was sitting on your stomach too, it was impossible to stop him now

“shh.. just relax. when i’m done with you, you’ll be pleased with everything that i’ll give you.” with a shit-eating grin, he focused on the underside of your cock, tracing swirles of pre-cum around the veins. normally, you’d have the strength to manhandle him, to throw him off of you, but with his hands on your cock, it was hard to even think, let alone have the strength to rip this man off you.

“w-wait.. stop please.. too much, b-buck.” you gripped bucky’s hips tightly, trying to push him off of you. you were wrecked, and it was all his fault.

“but it’s nowhere near enough just yet..” he muttered against your skin, he unbuttoned your shirt, letting his fingers trace around your nipples. “no.. no. i’m just getting started.” with that, he changed his pace, moving in long and slightly slower strokes now.

“oh fuck, fucking hell, buck.. uuh..” you let out a shaky whimper as you came again, and guess what? bucky turned around just to see your face when you came, your body going limp underneath him as your cock softened. “o-okay.. that’s.. need a break.”

“aw, is that all the fight you’ve got in you?” he had turned back around, and he nipped on the skin on your shoulder playfully.

“you.. fuck, ugh..” you let out a sigh, not used to cumming multiple times at once.

“shh it’s alright, i’ve got you.” he rubbed your cheek lovingly. “but next time, i expect you to put up more of a fight. resist at least a little, hm?”

“wait no.. i want more.. just.. i was supposed to be on top..” you were cut off with a nip to your earlobe.

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” bucky teased, tracing a finger down your torso. “but i kinda do want to see what you’re like.” he let you flip your positions, now that you were strong enough to manhandle him.

“that’s more like it.”

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Atsumu Pt. 3

The morning sunlight streamed through the cracked window, golden rays spilling over the tangled mess of sheets and the scattered remnants of the night before. Outside, birds chirped in the early quiet, their songs a stark contrast to the utter wreckage inside the room.

You groaned as consciousness pulled you from the depths of exhaustion, a dull, persistent ache spreading through your body. Every muscle protested as you attempted to move, soreness radiating from the very core of you. Fucking hell.

Shifting slightly, you became aware of the steady rise and fall of someone else's breathing beside you. Your gaze flickered to your left, and sure enough—Atsumu Miya, sprawled out, snoring like a chainsaw, one arm flung over his head, the other lazily draped across your waist.

That smug bastard.

You blinked, your brain still foggy, your limbs still heavy with exhaustion, and then—

Oh. Right.

Your eyes darted around your bedroom, the aftermath of last night coming into focus. Condom wrappers littered the floor, some torn open in haste, others carelessly discarded. Tied-off condoms rested in evidence of just how many times you had let him ruin you. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sweat, sex, and something undeniably Atsumu.

You clenched your jaw. You let this happen. Multiple times.

Your body throbbed in agreement. Yeah. No shit.

Gritting your teeth, you slowly pushed his arm off of you and began the excruciating process of getting up. The second you sat up, white-hot soreness shot through your thighs, your stomach tightening from the sheer ache of overuse. A hiss escaped you as you gingerly swung your legs over the bed, muscles screaming in protest.

"Goddamn it, Miya," you muttered under your breath, wincing as you stood. Your legs wobbled dangerously, knees threatening to buckle before you caught yourself on the edge of your desk.

That cocky asshole fucked you stupid.

You cursed him again, more viciously this time, before dragging yourself toward the bathroom, muttering a string of colorful profanities as you went. A hot shower was the only thing that might save you now.

The sight in the bathroom mirror was humiliating.

Your hair was a tangled disaster, barely clinging to the remnants of the ponytail you had thrown it into at some point last night, stray strands sticking to your forehead and neck. Tugging the elastic free, you ran your fingers through the knots, hissing slightly as you tried to tame the mess. And then your gaze caught the deep, bruise-like hickey from your very first encounter, still staining the side of your neck, dark and undeniable.

Fucking fantastic.

Rolling your eyes, you reached for the shower handle, twisting it until steam began to rise. The second the warm water hit your skin, your muscles sighed in relief. You let out a breath, resting your forehead against the cool tile as last night replayed in your head.

How the hell had this happened?

More importantly—why the fuck had it been so good? It had been so long since you’d had genuinely good sex, since someone had touched you like that, made you come apart so completely. And it just had to be him. Of all the people in the world, it had to be Atsumu Miya.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. He had been too good—an irritatingly smug bastard with a filthy mouth and a body that knew exactly how to work yours. He had torn you apart, left you in shambles, ruined you, and the worst part? You wanted more.

Shaking your head, you rinsed the suds from your hair, trying to push the thought away as you finished up. When you stepped out, fresh and clean, you felt marginally better—until you walked back into your room.

He was still there. Still sprawled out, still snoring, dead to the world like he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

You scowled.

The audacity of this man.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped up to his side, glaring down at him. With a sharp flick to his forehead, you muttered, "Hey, this isn’t a bed and breakfast. Go home."

Atsumu groaned, shifting slightly but refusing to open his eyes. His golden hair was an absolute mess, strands sticking up in chaotic tufts, evidence of how thoroughly you had pulled at it throughout the night. His broad shoulders flexed lazily as he rolled onto his stomach, the curve of his back leading down to the sheets pooling dangerously low at his waist. The way his muscles shifted with the movement sent an unwanted spark of heat through you—fucking unfair.

His voice, thick with sleep and laced with satisfaction, rumbled through the room. "God, for how well I fucked you, you’d think you’d be less of a bitch," he mumbled, barely lifting his head before burying his face into your pillow, exhaling deeply like he had all the time in the world.

Your nostrils flared. Oh, hell no.

With zero hesitation, you ripped the blanket off of him, exposing his very naked form to the cool morning air. He let out a disgruntled noise, blindly reaching for the covers, but you had already thrown his underwear at his face.

"Get dressed and get out before your brother starts wondering where the hell you’ve been."

Atsumu groaned into the mattress, arms tucked under his head like he didn’t have a single care in the world. "S’too early for this," he grumbled.

Your glare intensified. "Miya. Get. Up."

He peeked at you from beneath his lashes, that lazy smirk creeping onto his face like he knew exactly what he was doing. "Y’know, sweetheart, ya didn’t seem too eager for me to leave last night. If I remember correctly, ya were beggin’ me to stay inside ya."

You saw red.

Lunging forward, you smacked him upside the head with a pillow, sending him coughing into the sheets. "Shut the fuck up and put your pants on!"

Atsumu wheezed out a laugh, rubbing his head as he sat up, his toned body stretching with a satisfied groan. "Aight, aight, I’m goin’—no need to get violent."

You rolled your eyes as he slid into his clothes, his stupid smirk never leaving his face. As soon as his shirt was on, he strolled up to you, eyes raking over you in nothing but your towel.

"Y’know," he mused, cocking his head, "I could just stay. Help ya recover."

Your eye twitched. This man had no shame.

Grabbing his hoodie from the floor, you shoved it into his chest. "Out."

He chuckled, stepping through the doorway before pausing, glancing over his shoulder.

"See ya at practice, sweetheart. Try not to miss me too much."

You crossed your arms. "Oh, suck my dick."

Atsumu’s smirk widened instantly. "I’ll do that next time."

Your face flamed as his words registered, but before you could react, he was already laughing, dodging your attempt to shove him as he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, breathless, flustered, and ready to launch something at his retreating figure. That bastard.

~~

The morning sun had risen higher by the time Atsumu finally dragged himself out of your house, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket as he walked back home. The crisp morning air did little to clear his head. His body ached—not in a bad way, but in that thoroughly-used, completely-spent kind of way, muscles sore from hours of exertion. Every step sent a reminder of exactly what he had been doing all night, and with whom.

And his mind?

It was a fucking mess.

He wasn’t dumb. He knew exactly what this was. You hated his guts, and he gave you just as much shit in return. That wasn’t changing anytime soon. You were bossy, relentless, always looking for a way to put him in his place—and goddammit, it infuriated him.

But last night?

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as flashes of you—your legs tangled with his, the way your breath had hitched every time he pushed deeper, how you had fought him for control—flooded his mind.

Fuck.

He could still feel you, phantom traces of your nails scraping down his back, the warmth of your body, the way your thighs had locked around him like you were daring him to stop. And that look on your face when you finally gave in? Yeah, that shit was burned into his memory.

And damn it all, it was the best sex he’d ever had.

Atsumu wasn’t naive—he’d been with girls before, and sure, he liked to think he was good in bed. No one had ever complained. But with you?

It was different.

Not just the sex—though, fuck, it was phenomenal—but the build-up. The tension, the aggression, the way you had fought him every step of the way, and still melted under him just the same. It made his blood run hotter, his instincts sharper, like every second with you was some kind of battle he was dying to win.

And now? Now he had fucked you senseless, and instead of feeling satisfied like he normally would, his body was already itching to do it again.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as his house came into view. His entire body felt heavy, spent, and the only thing on his mind now was crashing into his bed and sleeping for the next eight hours. Maybe then he could stop thinking about the way your breathy moans had completely wrecked him.

"Shit."

The front door creaked open as he stepped inside, toeing off his shoes. The kitchen was quiet, but a note caught his attention, stuck to the fridge with a volleyball magnet.

Went to grab groceries. Be back later. Try not to destroy the house.

Atsumu huffed a small, tired laugh and crumpled the note in his fist before heading down the hall, desperate for the sleep he hadn’t gotten. His bed was calling him, and he could already feel the exhaustion creeping up his limbs, finally ready to crash.

But the second he stepped into his bedroom, a familiar voice made him pause.

"I covered for you last night, you know."

Atsumu barely spared his twin a glance, too tired to argue. "Uh huh. Thanks."

Osamu was sitting up on his own bed, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. "So, you’re just not gonna tell me where you were last night?"

Atsumu groaned, running a hand through his already-messy hair before flopping face-first onto his mattress. "Samu, I swear to god, I’m too tired for this."

Osamu, unimpressed, leaned back against the headboard, watching his twin like he could see through his bullshit already. "That so? ‘Cause ya look like ya got hit by a truck."

Atsumu grunted into his pillow. Yeah. A truck named you.

Osamu let the silence stretch between them before sighing. "Was it a girl?"

Atsumu tensed for half a second before he forced his body to relax, rolling onto his side, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"It does when yer actin’ all weird about it." Osamu's tone was far too knowing for Atsumu's liking. His twin wasn’t one to pry, but he was also damn observant, and Atsumu had no doubt that if he wasn’t careful, Osamu would piece everything together before the day was over.

Atsumu exhaled heavily. "Can ya just let me sleep?"

Osamu narrowed his eyes, something clicking into place behind them. "Wait a second... You were actin’ weird as hell yesterday, and the manager didn’t even show up to practice in the afternoon..."

Atsumu forced his expression to stay neutral, shoving down the immediate impulse to react. "What? You think I was with her?" He scoffed, shaking his head as he rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Relax, Samu. It was just some girl from class—Airi Sakamoto."

Osamu didn’t say anything for a second, but Atsumu felt him still watching. Weighing his words. Judging his reaction.

"Huh." Osamu finally leaned back against the headboard. "Didn’t think ya liked Airi."

Atsumu shrugged, doing his best to sound unaffected. "Nothin’ serious. Just some fun."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

The way Osamu said it made Atsumu’s skin itch. Like he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he also wasn’t going to push—yet. His twin was perceptive as hell, but thankfully, he wasn’t nosy unless something really bugged him.

Atsumu exhaled slowly, trying to let his body relax. Good. This’ll blow over.

Osamu didn’t push any further, but Atsumu knew better than to assume this was over. His twin had that look, the one that said he wasn’t entirely buying it but was willing to let it sit for now. Atsumu could only hope that was enough to keep him from digging further.

But as he finally closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at his limbs, the image of you still wouldn’t leave his head.

This was gonna be a problem.

~~

Monday morning arrived far too quickly, the weight of the weekend still lingering in your muscles, your thoughts, your everything. The cold air bit at your skin as you made your way toward the gym, your feet dragging slightly despite your best efforts to act normal. You had spent the entire weekend trying—desperately trying—to push everything that had happened with Atsumu to the back of your mind. But now, with practice looming ahead, it felt like all of it was crawling right back up your throat.

How the hell were you supposed to pretend like nothing had happened?

It had been two days. Forty-eight hours since you had let Atsumu ruin you, and now you had to walk into practice and act like you hadn’t spent half the weekend moaning his name. Like he hadn’t touched you in ways you could still feel.

Fucking fantastic.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you took a deep breath. It was fine. You just had to do what you always did—be civil enough to get through practice without anyone suspecting a damn thing. You could ignore him. You could pretend that nothing was different.

You had to.

But it wasn’t just about ignoring him. No, that would have been too easy. Because the thing with Atsumu was that he wasn’t the type to just let things go. He was an asshole, a relentless one at that, and you had no doubt that the second he saw you, he was going to say something. He was going to look at you with that stupid fucking smirk, that self-satisfied, cocky-ass grin, and you were going to have to find a way not to strangle him in front of everyone.

Up ahead, you spotted Kita unlocking the gym doors, his usual composed demeanor unchanged. He glanced up as you approached, his sharp eyes immediately settling on you as he gave a small nod in greeting.

"Mornin'. Feelin' better?" he asked casually.

You froze mid-step. What?

Your brain went completely blank for a solid second before the realization slammed into you.

Oh. Right.

You had told Kita you were sick to get out of afternoon practice on Friday. Shit.

You forced your face into neutrality, schooling your features as quickly as you could. "Uh—" you blinked, then cleared your throat. "Yeah. Head cold."

Kita gave a small, approving nod, his expression unreadable. "Good. Glad you’re back."

You exhaled, relieved that he didn’t press further, though the reminder of your flimsy excuse only added to the pile of things to stress about today.

The real problem wasn’t Kita.

It was stepping into that gym and seeing Atsumu again.

You could already feel it, the weight of his presence, the way the air would shift the second you walked in. You knew him too well. You had been fighting with him for years. And now? Now you had to pretend like his hands hadn’t been all over you, like you hadn’t spent the weekend letting him fuck you in every way imaginable.

And the worst part? You had no idea how to handle it.

With one last deep breath, you squared your shoulders, plastering the most neutral expression you could manage onto your face, and followed Kita inside.

The gym was empty, still wrapped in the early morning quiet, save for the distant hum of the overhead lights flickering to life as Kita stepped ahead, checking the locks and switches with his usual efficiency. You made a beeline for the storage room, the familiar echo of your footsteps bouncing off the polished floors, each step grounding you in the routine—a routine you needed now more than ever.

Pulling out the cart of volleyballs, you set about your usual tasks, rolling out the net, setting up the poles, unfolding the mats in the corner of the gym—all movements embedded in your muscle memory, allowing your mind to drift even as your body worked.

But your thoughts weren’t cooperating.

Each small motion felt heavier today, like every act of normalcy was forcing your mind to ignore the very obvious elephant in the room: Atsumu fucking Miya.

The past weekend had unraveled something you weren’t ready to confront. The sharp, burning pull of hatred, desire, competition, frustration—it was still there, coiling beneath your skin like a live wire. How were you supposed to erase the feeling of his body against yours? The way he had looked at you in the dim light of your bedroom, golden eyes dark with something you refused to name? The way he had made you come undone over and over until you had lost track of time?

Your fingers curled around the net, gripping it too tightly.

You had to get a grip.

You gave your head a sharp shake, forcing the thoughts down, deep, deep down where they wouldn’t interfere with practice. Because that was all it was—practice. A normal morning, a normal routine. You just had to act normal.

And more importantly, you had to act like Atsumu didn’t still linger in the ache between your thighs, in the phantom press of his fingers along your waist, in the way your pulse picked up just thinking about him.

You scowled at yourself. Pathetic.

Straightening, you grabbed a volleyball from the cart, tossing it idly from one hand to the other, trying to reset your mind. The doors would open soon. The team would pile in. Atsumu would walk through that door.

And you needed to be ready.

It wasn’t long before the distant echo of voices signaled the arrival of the team, the usual mix of early morning grumbles and lighthearted banter filling the space as the gym doors swung open. You kept your focus on the net, adjusting its tension with a practiced ease, but it was impossible to ignore the way their presence shifted the atmosphere—the way his presence shifted the atmosphere.

A few of the guys greeted you as they passed, their voices casual, unaware of the storm inside your head.

"Hey, you feeling better?" one of them asked, pausing briefly near the cart of volleyballs.

You nodded, forcing a polite smile. "Yeah. Just a head cold."

"Glad you're back. Kita was worried."

That surprised you. Kita worried? You glanced toward the captain, who was already overseeing warm-ups with his usual composed expression. He must have noticed your hesitation because he gave a small nod of acknowledgment, as if to confirm the statement. Huh.

But then, you made a mistake.

Your gaze drifted across the gym, landing on him.

Atsumu had just stepped inside, his duffel slung lazily over one shoulder, his hair slightly disheveled as if he hadn’t bothered fixing it properly before rolling out of bed. The second your eyes met, he smirked.

Not just any smirk.

That smirk. The one that sent heat rushing up your neck, pooling low in your stomach, the one that made you clench your fists just to stop yourself from reacting. It was lazy, self-satisfied, and undeniably knowing—like he could still feel you on him, like he could still hear the way you moaned his name in the quiet of your room.

Your body betrayed you instantly.

A rush of heat, a sudden tightening in your core, a traitorous pulse between your legs that sent panic flaring through your mind. No. No, no, no.

You locked up, fingers tightening around the net’s frame, every ounce of rational thought crumbling beneath the weight of that goddamn smirk.

"Uh—earth to manager?"

You jolted slightly, blinking rapidly as Suna waved a hand in front of your face, his sharp eyes flickering with mild amusement. Shit.

"You good? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I—" You cleared your throat, willing yourself to snap back to reality. "Yeah. Just—distracted."

Suna’s gaze lingered for a second too long before he shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "If you say so."

You exhaled sharply, heart still hammering against your ribs as you forced yourself to focus.

Practice was starting. You needed to get it together.

The drills started off as routine as ever, the rhythmic sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, volleyballs slamming against the net, and voices calling out sets filling the gym. You went about your usual duties, keeping water bottles filled, retrieving stray balls, observing. Everything was exactly as it should be. Almost.

Because you were noticing things you had never noticed before.

Atsumu had always been an impressive player. You knew that. His skill was the reason he was the starting setter of Inarizaki, the reason scouts were always eyeing him for future prospects. But you had never let yourself notice him like this before.

The way his muscles flexed every time he set the ball, the way his strong arms held complete control over the game, the sheer power behind every calculated move—it all felt too familiar. His body was built for this sport, lean but strong, his movements fluid and commanding, just like that night.

You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze to shift anywhere else. No. Absolutely not.

And yet, your thoughts kept circling back to him, back to the way he had moved over you, with the same precision, the same power. Your thighs clenched involuntarily, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to snap yourself out of it. This was insane. This was Atsumu. The same Atsumu who had spent years annoying the shit out of you, pushing your buttons, picking fights just to rile you up.

You needed to leave. Now.

The second practice ended, you grabbed your things and bolted, moving toward the exit before anyone could stop you. The last thing you needed was more time around him. You just had to make it to class, shake off whatever the hell was happening in your head, and forget—

A hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into the shadow of the gym just as the rest of the team filtered out. Warm, calloused fingers wrapped around your skin, familiar and firm.

Atsumu.

You barely had time to register his presence before he was speaking, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"My place'll be empty tonight," he said, his tone so damn casual you could have punched him. "Samu's got a project."

You scowled, immediately tugging your wrist from his grasp. "And why should I care?"

Atsumu didn’t answer right away, just raised a brow like he knew something you didn’t. Like he knew exactly what was going on in your head. And then, with that insufferable smirk, he said, "Come over after practice."

And then he walked away, leaving you pissed—because you knew in your heart that you were going.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - two mafia! charles leclerc x fem! reader ( angst ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

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II, Good Morning Starshine . . . It’s hard to shake the feeling of stepping into a game where the rules are still unclear. The house is vast, echoing with unspoken histories, and each step feels like a quiet negotiation with the space( 1.4k words ) content warning . . . ( x )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sunlight filters through the curtains, spilling warm streaks of gold across the grand room. You blink against the light, sitting up slowly, only to glance down at the mess beside you. Charles lies sprawled on the bed, soft snores escaping his lips, his hair a wild mess against the pillow. The sight tugs at something soft inside you, and you almost smile before his hand darts out, wrapping lazily around your arm.

“Don’t,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep, pulling you back toward the warmth of his chest.

You pause, torn between staying and slipping away to explore. The pull of the house wins out. You gently try to pry his grip loose, only for him to groan in protest and tug you back again. He huffs, burying his face in your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You can feel him take a long, deliberate inhale.

“Are you selling me?” You ask. The Monegasque simply answers with a nod in his sleepy stat, taking another deep wiff..

“Stop sniffing me, Charles,” you murmur, your voice low but amused. “I already smell like you, don’t make it weirder.”

His response is a half-awake grumble and a tightening of his grip. It’s only when his breathing slows again—deep, steady, unmistakably asleep—that you seize the chance to slip away.

The house is silent as you step into the hallway, pulling the robe around you more snugly. Each step echoes faintly in the vast space, the sheer size of it almost overwhelming. But you’re not just wandering aimlessly; no, this is reconnaissance. Every hidden security camera, every discreetly reinforced window, even the strange, too-perfect panel on the wall that might be a trap door—you catalog it all. A mental map starts forming, weak points and retreat routes tucked neatly into the back of your mind.

Your fingers trail lightly along the railing as you approach the grand staircase. A quick mental calculation tells you this would be a good spot to stage a diversion—or a disaster. You glance back down the hallway, your thoughts flickering to Charles. 

There’s a fine line between settling in and claiming territory, but you’ve never been one to play passive.

The sharp chime of the doorbell pulls you from your thoughts. You make your way to the grand double doors, tying the waist string of your robe as you go. When you open the door, you’re greeted by a few maid being ushered in by your younger brother. The women don’t waste anytime going into the kitchen to start on breakfast, leaving to give Kimi an empty look.

“You don’t miss me?” He asks, giving you his weirdly cheerful smiles.

“Not yet,” you sigh.

Breakfast is already spread out on the dining table when you join them. Charles sits at the head, his sharp eyes darting between you and Kimi, his confusion obvious but unspoken. You take the seat to Charles’s right, and Kimi settles beside you—not in front of you, which you note amused. Id he want to sit beside you, or keep away from Charles. The maids quietly move around the room, serving freshly baked bread and perfectly folded omelettes, the kind of luxury that still feels a little too much.

Midway through comseing the meal, Arthur makes his entrance. He strides in, his shirt slightly wrinkled, running a hand through his hair as he mumbles an apology. “Sorry for being late,” he says, taking the seat across from you, next to Charles.

The quiet tension in the room is almost amusing. You can feel Kimi glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his usual bluntness barely contained. Charles sips his coffee, looking like he’s waiting for a shoe to drop. 

When breakfast wraps up, Kimi stands to leave, ushering the maids out ahead of him. As he reaches the door, you catch him by the arm, pulling him aside. “We’ll talk soon,” you say softly, just loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t worry so much.”

“Are you sure you’re safe here?” His voice is low, edged with concern, his words aimed at you but not subtle enough to escape Charles’s notice.

You tilt your head, your fingers tapping the edge of your mug thoughtfully. “Kimi,” you start, your voice calm but firm, “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. And you—you need to focus on our family’s future. One of us has to be there.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his jaw tightens. You know he wants to argue, to remind you of all the reasons he doesn’t trust this arrangement. But he couldn’t do anything.

He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding.

You watch him from a few steps away, arms crossed loosely over your chest, a small smirk tugging at your lips. He’s so polite, your little brother. Too polite for this world. But as the last of the maids begins to step out, you catch sight of Mary. She’s younger, probably around Kimi’s age, with wide eyes that dart between you and the exit like she’s afraid she’s forgotten something important.

“Mary,” you call, your voice steady but not harsh. She freezes mid-step, turning back to you.

“Yes, Madame?”

“You always wanted to live in Monaco, didn’t you?” You wave her over casually, as though you hadn’t just thrown her entire morning into question.

Her cheeks flush pink, and her lips part in surprise. She nods quickly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. “Yes, Madame.”

You tilt your head toward your side. “Stay.”

Mary’s eyes flick to Kimi for a moment, as if asking for permission, but he just shrugs with an easygoing grin. “Looks like you’ve got a new boss, Mary,” he jokes lightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Mary nods again, the nervousness on her face shifting into something closer to excitement. She takes a few steps back toward you, standing quietly at your side, as though waiting for her next instruction.

After breakfast, the air in the room shifts—less familial, more businesslike. Charles leads you to the sitting room, where Arthur waits, hands clasped behind his back, his blondish hair catching the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. He looks every inch the younger version of his brother, though there’s a calmness in his demeanor that Charles’s sharper edges lack.

Charles doesn’t bother with small talk. “Arthur will be your right hand in every operation,” he says, his tone leaving no room for debate. “If there’s something you need to know, he’ll provide it. And if there’s a decision to be made, he’ll be by your side.”

Arthur nods once, his gaze settling on you with quiet amusement, though it’s clear he’s sizing you up. You meet his steady stare with one of your own, calm and unflinching. You’ve been through enough to know this moment isn’t about him—it’s about you.

“I look forward to seeing what you bring to the table, Arthur,” you say, your tone measured, yet carrying the weight of someone who’s already decided she belongs here.

Arthur’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile, and he inclines his head slightly. “Likewise,” he replies, his voice as smooth and even as his demeanor.

Charles watches the exchange with a tight smile, pleased with the unspoken agreement between the two of you. His confidence in your ability to step into this role is as unshakable as the foundation of the villa itself, and the weight of it presses down on you just a little. But you don’t let it show.

As Charles moves to take his leave, Arthur shifts slightly, his stance still relaxed but more personal now. “So,” he starts, his voice light yet curious, “any idea what you’ll do today?”

Your gaze sweeps the room, landing on the grand yet cluttered surroundings. A house this big carries more than just history—it carries the weight of someone else’s preferences, someone else’s life. That wouldn’t do. You gesture vaguely around you. “This place needs to be cleaned up. A fresh start.”

Arthur follows your line of sight, nodding in agreement. “Makes sense. I’ll hang around,” he says easily, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Call for me if you need anything.”

There’s no condescension in his tone, no questioning of your authority, just a simple, straightforward offer. It’s almost refreshing.

“Don’t go too far,” you reply, half a warning, half a tease.

Arthur smirks, giving you a small salute before stepping back, leaving you to start shaping the villa—and your role in this world—on your terms.

[princessbrunette]

If kook!reader ask pogue!rafe to come with her to midsummer would he go?

𐙚₊˚🎀⊹♡🧁˚₊‧

yes but not without rejecting you one million times. it’s not because he doesn’t wanna hang with you particularly. he’s already fucked you a few times by this point and he’s starting to get a little too attached to the point it makes him mad. it’s because he knows he’ll stick out like a sore thumb. you’re a kook, and you’re just about tolerable — so he would rather not spend the evening cosplaying as wealthy and talking to people he knew looked down on him. it challenged his dignity.

but then you’re looking up at him, that fucking baby bunny rabbit lost puppy needy kitty look with the big eyes and pouty lips and twitching nose, tilting your head and lowering your voice — asking him if you’d done something wrong, as if you couldn’t fathom why a pogue like him wouldn’t wanna be paraded around midsummers.

“there was a god damn storm a few days ago, m’up to my neck in repairs for the same assholes who’re gonna be there ‘cos they can’t do shit for themselves. you really think i wanna spend the night in a fuckin’ rent-a-tux gettin’ talked down on? nah, sorry. no. take one of your other little friends.” he dismisses you, throwing the rag over his shoulder beneath the blistering sun on his work-site where you’d come to visit him, wearing your prettiest sundress in hopes to have buttered him up.

“rafe! s’not like that. the vibes are like, really good there so everyone’s gonna be nice! and drunk! they had this really good champagne last year and it’s all free, don’t you wanna try it rafe? you don’t have to talk to anyone but me!” you beg, all whiny and fuckable so he’s walking away to his station, hoping you get the hint and leave him alone. as usual, you don’t.

“answers no, kid. go home.” he drawls but you tug on his arm until he turns, forcing your body up against his making some other builders wolf whistle in the distance. “y’know you’re on some real thin ice, okay?”

“i’ll let you put in in my butt?” you pout and he frowns, eyes darting around.

“you— what?”

“c’mon rafe, anything you want. don’t make me go there alone. s’embarrassing.”

“so don’t go alone. already told you, take one of your kook friends, know you got plenty of those who i’m sure are dyin’ to hang off your arm the whole night.”

his lack of care over you seeing other people stings, and you blink up at him, all hurt and scorn.

“fine. i’ll ask jj, i think he’s gonna be there anyway, working and stuff. maybe i can pull some strings and get him to be my date inste—”

“jesus chr— alright… fuck. i’ll come. but if i hate it i’m leaving…yeah?” he forcefully detaches your arms from him and bends at the waist to stare into your eyes, making sure you got the message. you seem happy enough, nodding and shooting forward quickly enough to peck him on the lips. he stands up straight with an exasperated eye roll. “and what’d i tell you about the PDA shit whilst i’m at work?” he scolds, but he doesn’t really care that much, he’d even go as far as to say you looked pretty adorable, skipping off happily.

“yeah, yeah — i’ll text you the details!” you squeal, disappearing away from his workplace. you were gonna be the death of him.

𐙚₊˚🎀⊹♡🧁˚₊‧

[gladiatorcunt]

patrick probably whines when you bounce on his cock.

cw: 18+ mdni, au of the ending where patrick wins (no infidelity btw, he and tashi never did anything), implied drug use, car sex mention, riding, afab reader, reader is naked/patrick is fully clothed, lowkey gross & nasty, breeding kink (i’m ovulating rn), unprotected p in v sex, slight degradation, unedited

You’re just so proud of your boyfriend, you can’t help but jump his bones immediately. You see Patrick running towards after his match, and you race to vault yourself into his arms. He laughs wholeheartedly and spins you around, partly happy because you seem to be so happy for him. He’s still in a state of shock, to be honest. Everything was leading up to Art cementing his place in his career, but Patrick had managed to beat him in the end. No one could believe it, Patrick’s hope had been almost completely gone by that point. But he did it, and maybe now he can leave behind the needles and scrimping pennies.

He still hasn’t processed anything, but your lips and giggles are too good to ignore. You gasp as he picks you up by gripping onto your thighs and hoisting your legs around his waist. You rock your clothed core against his abs for a second, in dire need of a little friction. Patrick makes the kiss messy, pushing more of his spit into the intense lip locking. He flicks away the string of saliva that connects your lips when he ducks back to look at you. You grin, eyes wide and cheeks blazing with heat. It’s a stupid decision, but you throw your body weight around to get Patrick to fall onto the bed with you.

“Fuck!” He shouts, darting his hands around the back of your head and digging his knees into the mattress so he doesn’t fall out. “Couldn’t have waited a little bit, are you a greedy whore all of a sudden?”

You shrug, “Maybe, but you’d like it if I was. Now come here, we have to celebrate.”

With that, you leg your legs fall open and put on your most convincing pout, beckoning your boyfriend to get a move on already. Seeing him sweat in those slutty shorts and hearing him grunt whenever he hit the ball really gets you going, something that you didn’t think was possible until you got an athlete boyfriend. It’s a competition to find out who can be the most insanely horny in the relationship at this point, and if Patrick ever got a hold of your diary, he’d agree that you win by a landslide.

Patrick latches onto your shoulders and spins to lie flat on his back with you on top of him. You adjust your position, jostling your hips until you’re positioned right over his hard bulge. You’re too busy getting lost in a flurry of clothes as you both kind of awkwardly undress on the bed, but eventually his pants are pulled down enough for his cock to spring free while you’re fully naked. You look like a porn star to him, teasingly swiveling your hips in the most seductive way possible.

He smirks and throws his arms behind his head, “I thought you were supposed to be my prize, what happened to making me feel like a winner?”

You bite you rlip, digging your nails into his pecs, “It’s not my fault you’re too keyed up to not cum immediately, savoring this is possible, you know?”

Patrick rolls his eyes and smiles, not picking a fight with you on that. Sometimes you like to get yourself worked up too, with his thick cock gliding in between your folds and mixing your juices together.

You lift your ass and throw a certain look towards him, and he tries not to be too smug as he wraps a large hand around the base of his hard cock. He holds the rigid length upright so all you have to do is hover over it and plop yourself right down on it. He doesn’t pump himself while he waits, he wanted to fuck before the match but you wouldn’t let him. You said it’d be better for him to have all this energy stored up.

You get restless and start to sink down on his cock, the stretch always takes some breath out of you but you were the one that decided to wait until now. Once he’s bottomed out, you’ve given up on teasing him until he breaks you entirely. You lift your hips until the tip of his dick catches on your hole and then slam down, starting off with a realsitically unattainable fast pace.

His fingers dig into the fat of your bouncing ass cheeks, “You’re inflating my ego too much, making me feel like a big shot getting fresh pussy in his hotel room.”

You moan, keeping eye contact as you fuck him into the mattress, “You- You are a big shot, babe. Shit- Just lie back and relax…”

The smell permeating in the room is already so pungent. Patrick’s natural musk intertwining with your own, if anyone else walked in they might faint, but to you two, you could cum from the scent of your sex by now. Being the same kind of freak in that regard brought you both so much closer if anything. You grind your pubes down against his, clenching on his dick on purpose. The friction is delicious for your clit, so you do it again.

He throws his head back, reaching up to curl one of his hands around your throat as you ride him, “Uh huh, that’s my dirty slut, so wet and tight for me.”

His words trail off into a squeaky whine as you speed up, truthfully losing stamina a bit but still determined to celebrate your boyfriend properly. You lean to press your sweaty tits right up against his own, and you whisper in his ear about this being a repeating occurrence.

“Maybe someday we’ll have a baby to put to bed first before we can do this, get them to wave at you from the stands and then pass them off to you when we’d see you after you win.” You lick the shell of his ear as you speed up, ignoring the embarrassing wet smacks of your slick ass against his hip bone. “Wouldn’t it be cute, me with a chubby baby on my hip that looks like you and another one already in my belly?”

“You’re a fuckin’ demon, i swear.” Patrick moans, giving you little whines here and there when you seem to really hit the spot. “Yeah, it’d be cute.”

What better way to celebrate than by having a baby?

He pulls you down by your neck to french kiss you, his tongue twisting around yours. The sheets are soaked by now and you don’t want to even imagine what the staff who have to clean his room will find. Random bits of fluid and the stench of sex heavy in the air, you’ll have to remember to leave some cash for a tip to ease your conscience.

You tighten your walls around him in short bursts until he’s clawing at your ass and smacking it extremely hard as he cums inside you. The stinging is a pleasant catalyst for your own orgasm soon after. You can’t wait to see how dirty you get his car seats.

[rainydayfix]

Three’s A Crowd pairing: Female Reader x Anders Lassen x Gus March Phillips summary: Sometimes a Danish officer needs a big push to claim what is his.

warnings: 18+ content (MINORS DNI!!!), Threesome (Missionary, Slight choking, Oral, Fingering, Riding, Rough Kissing, double teaming, An*l, Voyeurism)

word count: 3.1k

Notes: Please do not copy, steal, etc. My ask box is currently open if you want to send fic ideas / imagines / etc.

You didn’t mind the company of Gus getting into a dicking contest with Anders. He was mostly reserved, but there was a spark when he was around, that made another side emerge - one that was more showy, more extroverted, more like he wanted to ensure your eyes were only on him.

Except Gus seemed pointed to get your attention as well. Although you were all for Anders, Gus wasn’t a hard sell either; Anders mostly let loose in combat. He was a force to be reckoned with that no one saw coming. On the other hand, Gus’s bravado was a fuse that never relented. You could see it in his smirk, the tip of his brow, the way he walked, he was always up to something. It made you desire what the both of them together would be like. A string of laughter and seemingly harmless round of darts charged the tension before quieting down again.

Anders muscle flexed through his shirt with a special intensity. You made a habit of drinking other men under the table, but the heat between you already a few cups in with Anders, and now Gus, you suggested getting fresh air. Judging by the unrelenting grasp Anders had on his drink, the strain was about to hit a breaking point. Grabbing your jackets, Anders places yours around your shoulders making a show to shake Gus’s hand in the way out.

You thought you could hear Gus’s tort reply by the time you reached the front door.

You wanted to blame the cobblestone roads as you wobbled walking alongside Anders. This might be the first time you’ve really let go of your composure, trying to bring his arm around your waist to let your head rest on his shoulder. You inhale and exhale deeply trying to take in the chill air as the warmth of the pub faded away.

“Maybe we should take a breather, hmmm?” He said, tugging you closer to him and pulling you into a corner of an alleyway. Your back nudged against a brick wall behind you, bringing him to step in closer. You made it look like you’re gonna caress him in all the right places, and instead reached for the halfway empty bottle of gin.

“After all this time, you still don’t think I can hold my own?” you ask before taking a swig of the bottle.

“I think you can…mostly, I need you to hold your own,” he said, practically pressing you into the hard edges of the building behind you. “You might be barely able to walk down these cobblestones tomorrow morning after I have my rightful way with you.” It’s been six months since the last time you saw each other, much longer than what you two had anticipated, but the war in left you both in dire straits and improvising your way through. Times like these were rare and impossible, and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of it to get you through the other side when it all ended.

You hurriedly pressed your lips against his, reaching your hands to his neck and pulling you in. The bottle shattered against the road as Anders gripped your thighs and hoisted you upwards, giving you enough leverage to wrap your legs around his waist. Your mouth searched his frantically, hands and lips everywhere as he squeezes you tighter, close enough to feel a slight of his hardness through his trousers. Laughter of drunken soldiers filing out of the bar down the block spills out over the street.

“Why don’t we do this with less company around?”

“Is that the only time you can have your rightful way with me, Officer?”

There are many looks Anders has given you when he wants you all to himself. Maybe it was because of the dimly lit alleyway, you trying to sober up for the potential that lay ahead, but this look on his face mystifies you – a mix of defiance, of daring, and validation.

Your hand grips his while he leads the way, jogging through the streets to the shabbiest flat nestled in a string of shabbier rooms for rent. “All expenses paid by king and country.”

His room was decorated with two chairs, a bed in middle of the space, a dresser closet. Next to the dresser was a second door. You’ve seen and slept in worse.

“Gus has the next one over.”

You shrug out of your jacket and tug your sweater from your skirt before grabbing his spare bottle of whiskey from the shelf. You noted a worn envelope that appeared to have your handwriting on the front. So he does keep your letters, you think, as you kneel down to remove your heels.

His eyes on you as he matched your pace, taking off his leather jacket and unbuttoning the cuffs on his shirt, moving towards you. Anders frees your distracted mind for a second, placing his hand on your waist and turning you to face him. You swig back liquor, and when his mouth meets yours, you pour what you could into his. Some of it dribbles down both your chins causing you to laugh, and let your tongues dance together.

The one thing about fucking a Danish officer, no matter how rebellious he was with his crew, is that he could still agonizingly take time to make his move. You knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him. Was his skin tingling the way yours was? Was he as hard as you were wet? It was up to you to to find out and you really don’t mind. A release was gonna happen one way or another.

Even in your partially inebriated state, you manage to push him back a step, desiring to ignite a fire in him. You crawl up on the bed, catching his risen eyebrows and his jaws clenched, not taking his eyes off you trying to place the bottle and his glasses back on the dresser stand. You remove your blouse to reveal a bra with a waist slip and tug the worm skirt and stockings off as far as you can. He steps towards you, almost in a trance finishing to remove the left of what was left of the stockings, his hands grazing your back when you reached for his buckle.

In one swift motion, the belt hit the floor with his pants, and your hand sneaks into his boxers - “There you are,” you said gleaming, running your hand up and down his length before slowly lowering yourself on the bed and he follows. He leaves a trail of kisses down your breasts and stomach ready while his hand gingerly caresses your swollen nub and brings the wetness up to his lips.

You’re sure that he whispers “sød”, and your small recollection of times Anders has tried teaching you Danish, reminds you that he means sweet. You’re wet and ready for him, whatever he has to give with his hands rubbing over and under your slit. His concentration and confidence only strengthened your want of him more as his cupped hand burrowed inside swiftly moving in and out of you, your wetness, your moans filling the room. Once you’re barely over the edge, refusing to let you have your fill, he crawls up along the bed next to you, fully splaying out with his hard on, and raises his arms above his head, waiting. If he was anyone else, you’d shake or slap him from the gall he has not to let you come, but Anders gives a look of such want and respect, that you crawl over his, letting your fingers trace down from his broad shoulders to his chest and the little nape of dirty blonde hair to his cock. There you reached down, still reeling from his hard he is, how sensitive he must feel to come too and placed him at your entrance. Once he’s fully sheathed, you start rocking back and forth. His hand entwined with yours on his chest, then soothed over your arms and towards your hips. He settled there, gripping so hard you swear he’s gonna make a mark on you. It’s not long before you’re finding a rhythm together, and your body is catching up to where you were minutes before. Grunts of his native language filling the room with your desperate moans and sighs. You lean over him as his hands forcefully rock you harder, it’s hard to ignore how deep he is as you grind on him.

“I’m so close,” you huffed, your face close to his as he slams his hips upwards towards yours. Your eyes clasp shut as his lips latch onto every part of your bare skin, and his hands pin down your hips shuddering around him. You’re starting to catch your breath as every inch of your skin tingles with euphoria, when the side door swings open causing you both to jump. There he stands in the door frame wearing a tattered long sleeved shirt, rustic pants, untied boots, and a steely determined gaze.

Gus raises a glass of scotch to his lips, “Thought it’d be a good idea to put faces to the noises of my neighbors…” Closing the door behind him and placing the bottle on the dresser. “If you can’t beat them….”

The energy returns to what it was in the pub, except you know Gus is making you a contest instead of darts, or drinks, or machismo on the battlefield. You’re not sure if it’s shock or intrigue that purses Anders lips closed, but you’re almost shocked by his lack of rejection. You are his, but maybe you need him to prove to you just how much.

Just when he seems to make a move, pull you closer to him, you climb out of the bed, walking towards Gus and taking a sip of scotch from the bottle instead of the glass. After running a hand on your wet lips, waiting for Anders to say something, anything, you finally make the move for him.

“Join me.”

Your eyes are settled on Anders and you swear you can see him flex his muscles as he gets out of the bed. For half a second you thought he’d throw a punch, instead he drinks from the same Scotch bottle as Gus grabs you by the waist and land his lips on you, his tongue working his way to meet yours. Surprisingly, things heat up quickly between you, and before you know it you’re both rushing to remove all his clothes. You slip your fingers to your mouth and down to your slit as he raises you against the wall and enters.

The quick entry makes you gasp, he’s just as big as Anders but feels different. The first few strokes are long and slow before Gus grumbles ‘fuck it’, and delivers the pace he wants, hard and firm. He presses you tightly against the wall, no other place to look except in Anders unreadable expression. You’re completely pinned, your legs sprung in the air, with nothing to do but hold onto Gus and looking towards Anders as Gus takes you. It’s not long before you’re coming, not that he cares if you did, but at least you did. He seems satisfied enough, carrying you over to the bed where he withdraws, teasing how he wants to use you next.

Before he set you up on all fours, Anders saunters over- “my turn.” There’s a twisted sense of pride in his voice. “Her mouth is just as good.”

Your jaw drops out of surprise and you barely have time to add snark back when both of them steadily flip you over.

Anders pads you well across the mattress as Gus kneels in a similar position in front of your face, leaving you to take his hardness in your mouth, taking him as far as you could go and using your hand to stroke what was left. Your attentive rhythm of long and slow and quick and short strokes barely wavers when Gus held your hair from your face and his hips slightly bucked into your mouth. Anders hands are on your hips, pushing you back with such new intensity you never felt with him before. Taking them both makes you feel full, more than you could ever imagined but feels even better. You can’t help but moan against Gus, vibrations running up his body that results in a slap against your hips - surely leaving enough of a raw hand print to make Anders jealous.

You hear Gus say “such a good girl, she really can take it all,” with a few deep moans. He deviates between heavy grunting like a wild animal and soft gentle groaning before Gus lets you up for air. Uou start to come on Anders cock, grunting as he feels himself milking you for all your worth before grabbing you by the forearms and twisting you upwards - your breasts and front fully exposed to Gus. He smirks at you, moving closer as Anders halts his movements, his hardness still inside you. His restraint comes through with heavy breathing on your neck, as if to say ‘he can’t have his way with you without me.’

You’re sandwiched between the two of them, waiting when Gus wraps one hand around your neck and pulls you in for a heated kiss. The force of it contracts Anders arms to try to hold you closer and tighter as Gus’s lips tightly engulfs your mouth roughly, barely giving a chance to duel with your mouth, one of his hands reaching at your neck, the other playing with your breasts.

Anders released your arms just slightly, enough to reposition himself straighter and taller behind you, your breast releasing from Gus mouth before he finds you again.

“Please,” you whimper. But you’re not sure who you’re whimpering too. You just need more of a release and want one of them to break the coil inside you first.

Anders hips buck slightly before stopping again in refusal, when Gus reaches between your legs with one hand. First he pad your folds, taking an uncharacteristic amount of time teasing you. When his other hand reached you to twist your nipple, you guided it to your neck for him to hold. Something you’ve only ever given Anders permission to do.

He thought he was getting you to face the gauntlet you threw down, of having Gus take you. Instead you used that against him, forcing him to watch another try to lay claim. The thought causes Anders to grunt and inadvertently tug on your arms behind your back. Gus, finally realizing he was just a pawn for your greater schemes, squeezes harder as his other hand finds the magic combination of strokes against your slit. He railes his hand between your folds, forcing you to look into his eyes, demanding you come for him. The relentless thumping of his hand practically fisting you and the wetness between your legs mixed in with your whimpering, and Anders grunting ‘do it, go ahead’ as he swiftly moves you against him, you found the release you so desperately needing. Gus eased his hand enough for you catch your breath as you saw stars and a white streak around you. When your focus comes into view, Anders releases your arms and pushing your back into the mattress. Gus isn’t stepping down without a fight. As Anders splays you out, you feel his head between your legs, soothing what Gus left over sensitive. You want to weave your hand through his hair but something is holding you back. Gus pinned both your arms down, while his tongue rolls over your nipples, your view of hi, hovering partially obstructing Anders. When you make a sob-like noise, unrecognizable sign of pleasure and over stimulation even to yourself, you barely feel Anders tongue leave your precious nub causing your legs from his shoulders and he places his hands on your thighs. A gentle tug towards the middle of the bed is enough to send a final warning to Gus.

“Mine.” In clear English.

It’s too much to bear - your eyes drift over the room with your hands reaching out to brush his abs or arms, to give you something to hold onto. Anders brings you closer still, caressing your folds with his finger then to his tongue. “Sod.” Sweet as if we’re going back to the start of our evening together. He replaced his finger where it is with his desire, and you’re reminded so easily how you both are the right fit for each other. He starts a steady motion, before locking you underneath him, your legs on his shoulders. You gasp at the sensation of how deep he is, causing your head falls back and your eyes catches Gus. He’s sitting naked in the wooden chair across from you - a glass of scotch in one hand, stroking himself with the other. Underneath the heavy mustache, you think see a smirk. Anders’ thrusting grow harsher, gliding back and forth and you feel the slightest pressure against your slit. He burrowed his finger there causing you to lift your head back, your focus on him. His eyes are boring into you like we’ve had our fun tonight but ultimately you are his and his alone. The build up in between your legs unfurl when he moves over you like a lion protecting its claim, all of his body weight presses your smaller frame into the mattress. The sweat of the evening’s efforts glide over his back and onto you; couldn’t help but lick the salty residue off his shoulders followed by wet kisses to match. You felt the last orgasm you have to give tonight reaching its high, and Anders knowingly swept your arms up and over your head and held them there. From behind the bed, you could swear you heard Gus - “that’s it, take it, take it…” and Anders grunting like you’ve never heard him before, but he says “You’re mine. All mine,” almost as clear as day. He leans back giving you a fuller view of his muscles and the sweat glistening in his chest. Your legs are clasped underneath you, tight enough around his chiseled ass but loose enough for him to ruthlessly glide in and out of you.

All you could hear was your combined heavy breathing, your rampant heartbeat, and the sound of a belt being picked up off the floor. You barely managed to see above you, just enough for the door to close and the chair next to the bed to be empty. The only words to form from your mouth, “Only want you….” uttered out from your lips as the last peak sent you into shockwaves of bliss.

You managed to finalize as Anders burrows over and over, holding your head in his hands, and burying himself into you. You feel one release after another, all the pent up aggression and passion finding a home inside. When he finally relents and releases, Anders finishes with a final “For altid.” Forever.

[hellinistical]

A little too warm and a little too vulnerable

WC: 614

Warnings: Afab reader.

There were no romantic candles. No roses. There wasn’t even music playing in the background.

Granted, even if either of you had time to plan it, it would have gotten in the way and would have been removed anyway.

***

The water was barely warm if you could even call it that- not that you’d noticed or cared; you’d been in the water for too long at this point, your fingers pruned from the time you’d been in the tub, Rafayel between your legs.

Blooms of purples, reds, and blues adorned both of your skins, your thumb smoothing over a fresh one you placed on Rafayel’s collarbone.

His necklace was cool against your skin, starkly contrasting to the water. His hair, wet, tickled your chin where his head rested on your chest.

Arms around your waist, he laid into your body.

Iridescent scales littered his body randomly. They shimmered blue under the moonlight streaming in from the window.

How long have you been sitting here?

Doesn't matter.

Rafayel’s tail was far too big for the tub; it draped over the porcelain edge of it and rested on the floor.

His breathing was heavy as if he had just run a marathon, but really, he was just hot.

Too hot.

“Rafayel, leaning into me isn't going to make your fever any better.”

“I know.”

“Why don't we get up? We can dry you down, let you cool down till your legs come back-”

“No. I'm comfortable here.”

“Clearly.”

He sighs, planting a quick kiss above your nipple. His index draws invisible lines on your skin, tracing the curves and dips.

“That's a new necklace. Where'd you get it?”

The silver chain wrapped around his neck was indeed new, and on it rested his wedding band.

“Not new, I had it for a while- didn't wanna accidentally lose my ring or get paint on it.”

You hummed, and it was quiet again.

His tail smacks the floor occasionally. You put water on it.

Rafayel looks up suddenly, pushing himself up a little till he's eyes level with you.

“You know you’re important to me, right?”

“Hm? Of course. Why?”

He relaxes a little. “I dunno…”

He avoids your gaze, and you grab his face, making him look at you.

Your lips form a small ‘o’ at what was revealed.

There's tears in his eyes. You watched one form, the droplet building up in his waterline, rolling over his lash line, crystalizing. A pearl drop falls into the tub with a quiet splash.

You both watch it, your gaze returning sooner than his.

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone... All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” it comes out quiet. You strains to hear it.

“Would you still like me…no matter who I become?”

He grabs your chin, not giving you a chance to answer before he presses into you, his lips pressing against yours desperately. You pull away to catch your breath but Rafayel dips in again.

It’s only till he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips, do you react.

Your curious look turns into a frown, and you flick his forehead.

“He-ow! What was that for?”

“Idiot, what do you think it was for? You think anyone would willingly get their bathroom floor wet?”

“No…”

“Question me again like that and you’re sharing your fish’s bowl.”

You grab the towel from the bar, wrapping it around your body as you gets out of the tub. His eyes follow your form, his tongue darting out, licking his lips. Rafayel brings a hand up, wiping his brow as he lays back down in the tub, the water sloshing around him.

Damn.

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | mechanic!joel x f!reader

*The Honeymooners*

Summary: A destination honeymoon is exactly what you and Joel need after tying the knot. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 2k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, established relationship, banter, teasing, so much fluff!!!, public sex, public nudity, oral (m! receiving), deepthroat, cum eating, mentions alcohol, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, language, dirty talk/praise kink, pet names (babydoll, darlin', cowboy...wife), does fucking in the ocean count as water sports? A/N: Ahhhh hello!! Of course, these two got married! I'd love to thank @mermaidgirl30 for creating the Ocean Challenge! It gave me the perfect opportunity to write this fluffy lil moment. And also, thank you, @swiftispunk, for letting me use this anon as inspo!! Enjoy the final installment to the Declined mini-series... I'll love these two forever 💗

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel was waist-deep in the water as you sipped on your second margarita. Occasionally, he’d turn and wave at you, his brown curls matted down by salt water and his tan skin glistening under the coastal sunlight. God, he was gorgeous. That was your husband now, your husband. Joel didn’t let you leave the bed the first day you arrived at your destination. You thanked your past self for packing extra underwear because at least three lacy thongs were now shredded and discarded somewhere in the honeymoon suite.

You settled against your beach chair, stretching your legs and digging your toes under the warm sand. There wasn’t a soul in sight along the stretch of water you had chosen to make camp, so you took the risk and undid the strings on your bikini top. Tossing the white polyester onto the sand by the chair, you settled back and let the sun beat down on your bare skin. It wasn’t long before Joel caught a glimpse of your body and barreled past the waves to race to the shore.

“Y’can’t be teasin’ me like this, babydoll,” he panted.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grinned, shrugging your shoulders. 

Joel bent down to grab his beer, the condensation collecting sand around the base from being nestled into the ground by the towel. You craned your neck up to watch him take a long sip, the muscles in his bicep flexing. 

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that,” he said. 

“Maybe I’m just thirsty.”

He glanced at the margarita in your hand, quirking a brow. 

“Y’got your own drink.”

“Don’t you wanna share with your wife?” You pouted. 

Joel rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a devilish grin. Your eyes roamed up his torso, watching droplets of water roll down the expanse of his chest and stomach. Sliding off your beach chair, your knees hit the terrycloth towel beneath you. It wasn’t hard to miss the growing bulge under Joel’s red swim trunks as they clung to his thighs. 

“Mrs. Miller,” he tutted. “We’re in public.”

“When has that ever stopped us, huh?”

“Good point,” he smirked. 

You pushed your hair off your shoulder and craned your neck further back. Joel took another drink of his beer before nodding his head at you.

“Open that pretty mouth, babydoll.”

You obeyed, your mouth falling open. Joel tilted the glass down, a slow stream of beer cascading onto your tongue. The crisp taste of the liquid rolled over your tastebuds, tiny drops falling from your lips and down over your bare chest. He tipped the bottle lower, letting the beer trickle down your breasts. 

“Whoops,” he chuckled. 

Joel moved the beer bottle upright, watching as you swallowed down the beer sitting on your tongue. 

“Still thirsty?” He asked.

“Parched,” you exhaled.

Joel bent down to twist the bottle into the sand, shoving his trunks down as he straightened out. His cock sprung out, heavy and leaking precum from the tip. You went your lips in anticipation, your clit throbbing against the bikini bottoms pressing against your wet cunt. 

“Wanna show me how thirsty y’are, babydoll?” 

You scooted closer, taking his cock in your hand, your tongue darting out to lap at the precum dripping down. There was still a faint taste of the ocean lingering on his skin, the salty smell clinging to the hair around the base of his cock. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the veins bulging down the underside. Joel shuddered above you, his hand tangled in your hair to guide you closer. 

You slackened your jaw, taking him slowly into your mouth. His hips pushed forward slightly, forcing his cock further until the tip brushed the back of your throat.

“That’s it, darlin’. Keep it right there. Let’s see how long y’can hold it.”

The hair at his navel tickled your nose as he anchored you to his cock, your eyes welling with tears. You worked at breathing through your nose, your mouth too full of him to even inhale a breath. Swallowing around him, your cheeks hollowed out, forcing a deep groan from his chest. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel crooned. “Look at you chokin’ on my cock.”

You tapped his thigh, begging for a reprieve, yet Joel didn’t move a muscle, only pushing himself deeper. You sputtered around him, gagging slightly until he finally pulled you off his cock. You released a violent round of coughs, the drool running down your chin as you heaved in a breath. 

Joel leaned over you, dragging your mouth to his as he licked at the saliva coating your lips. You grinned against his mouth, holding him to you as he kissed you fiercely. 

“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Joel sighed. “Can’t believe I get to call you my wife.”

“I’m just as lucky, cowboy.”

Hauling you to your feet, Joel scooped you into his arms, kissing down your neck and shoulders as he walked toward the shore. You wrapped your arms around him, watching the sun dip below the horizon. There still wasn’t a soul to be seen along the stretch of beach around you, and for some reason, that thrilled you. It was just you, your husband, and the endless expanse of the ocean. 

Perfect.

Wading into the water, Joel shifted you around his body, pulling your legs around his waist. Somewhere along the way, he had discarded his swim trunks onto the sand, leaving himself completely naked and you only half-dressed. 

His fingers worked at the strings on your bottoms until they floated off your body and drifted down the waves. You smacked Joel’s bicep, trying to reach for them before they completely slipped away.

“Joel!” You shrieked. 

He only laughed, pushing at the water until the tiny fabric was out of reach. 

“Y’don’t need those, do ya’?” He teased.

“Well, I don’t right now! But what happens when we have to go back to the resort?”

“I don’t know, it could be fun seein’ your bare ass walkin’ through the lobby,” he laughed.

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“Sure ya’ do, babydoll.”

Reaching between your bodies, Joel slipped his hand over your wet cunt, coaxing a moan from your lips as he rolled your clit between his fingers. You gasped at his touch, grinding down into his hand. 

“Joel,” you breathed. 

“Tell me what ya’ need, darlin’.”

“I need you.”

Joel angled himself at your entrance, pulling you down hard onto the length of his cock. You didn’t have a chance to adjust to his size as he filled you. With both hands digging into the skin of your hips, he guided you up and down on his cock, the pace hard and unforgiving. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back, your cries muffled by the sound of the water washing over your bodies. 

“Fuck!” You cried, his cock driving faster into you.

The ripples around you matched the rolling waves churning inside your stomach, every thrust Joel made sending you closer to the edge. You clung to him tighter, your cunt clenching tighter and tighter around him until the white-hot pressure building in your core could no longer be contained.

“Joel!” You gasped. “Gonna—fuck—gonna cum! Please!”

“Cum for me, babydoll. Soak me.”

With a broken sob, your orgasm exploded through you, stars sparking your vision as warmth spread between your thighs. 

“There ya’ go, darlin’. There ya’ fuckin’ go,” Joel growled, spearing into you over and over again.

You were barely recovering from your first orgasm when the next began to surge inside you, this time stronger. Joel dipped you back against the water's surface, your hair floating around your face as he shifted his hands from your hips to your shoulders. Against the pull of the waves, Joel used his grip on your shoulders to angle his cock upwards into your cunt.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “Look at you glowin’ in the sunset, takin’ my cock like a good girl.”

“Yes…yes…” You chanted.

“Y’gonna give me another, babydoll?” He urged.

“Mhmm,” you whined, words failing. 

The waves crashing over your body silenced the scream that left your lips, and Joel grinned down at you as he felt your release gush over his cock. He pulled you up from the water, hugging you tight to his body while he slowed his pace. 

“I love you, cowboy,” you whimpered into his neck.

Joel carded a hand through the wet tendrils of your hair, sinking his teeth into the corded muscles between your neck and shoulder. His stifled groan radiated through your skin as he filled you with his release, your cunt pulsating around his cock through every shudder of his body. 

“Christ, I fuckin’ love you,” he muttered into your neck. “Can’t believe you’re my fuckin’ wife now.”

You clasped your hands around his face, pulling his lips to yours for a heated kiss. His hands ran up the expanse of your body as your tongues intertwined. The sun blanketed your bodies in golden colors of orange and yellow, the ocean around you mirroring the sunset painting the sky. 

You broke away from his lips, turning your head to admire the sun kissing the horizon. 

“Look,” you said softly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Joel didn’t respond, so you glanced back at him only to see his warm brown eyes watching you intently. A soft grin broke across his face, the creased lines etching around his eyes and dimpling his cheeks. 

“What?” You asked, heat crawling up your neck.

“That view ain’t nothin’ compared to what I’ve got right here.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Are you getting all romantic on me, cowboy?” You teased. 

“Guess I’m just a big softy for ya’, Mrs. Miller.”

Eventually, you and Joel emerged from the ocean, the soles of your feet covered in sand as you returned to the lone beach towel in the distance. Thank God, no one was around—both of you were naked and dripping wet. Joel collapsed onto the towel, his bare ass shadowed in the cover of the night. You gave him a teasing slap before falling down next to him, your head rolling onto his shoulder. 

“This has been a perfect honeymoon,” you whispered. 

Joel laid his hand over yours, his silver wedding band glinting under the moonlight hanging above you.

“I don’t know, babydoll. Seein’ you in that white dress might have this beat,” he mused.

“You tore it off in a heartbeat after the ceremony,” you giggled.

Joel nudged you with his shoulder, laughing at the memory with you. 

“Whadaya say y’wear it again when we get home?” 

“Only if you promise not to rip it any more than you already have.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled.

“Swear?” You asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“On my life.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Going under

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 6

Rated: E

Tags: Dubious consent; Monster Steve; Dark Steve; Monsterfucker Eddie; Tentacle Sex; Implied mind control; Murder Boyfriends; Blood and gore

Notes: Continued from here

Eddie shivers as he watches the boiling surface of the lake. The early August wind is cold, and Wayne's old rifle shakes in his grip. Maybe it's the early onset of fall in the air. Maybe it's because his hair and clothes are drenched in lake water, or because of the adrenaline slowly leaving his body.

Maybe it's because of the blood cooling on his skin.

The water stirs once more, large bubbles bursting on the surface. Then it goes calm.

The sun is gone, but the surface is red.

He should leave.

He should get rid of the gun and burn his clothes before anyone sees him. Get out of the county, or maybe the whole damn state, assume a new name and start over.

But he doesn't.

He knows there's no use in running. The Call would reach him anywhere. There's only one way out.

Something wraps around his ankle, cold and wet like the lake itself. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is. Instead, he watches how Steve emerges from the shallow water near the shore. His eyes are two shiny marbles in the gloomy half-light, tentacles writhing around him in a dark, twitching mass. A chill trickles down Eddie’s spine, settling in his bones, his soul. His fingers curl around the rifle.

“You're thinking of using that thing against me?” Steve's eyes are large and round, his voice hurt. He'd look boyish and innocent, if it wasn't for the blood staining his chin and chest. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Eddie can feel the Call slither inside of him, like the tentacle wrapping around his leg. He clenches his teeth against it, even as his feet start moving, lake water seeping into his shoes.

“You're a monster,” he whispers. “You ate-”

“I ate him, yes,” Steve says easily. His hands, too, are red as they reach out to beckon Eddie deeper into the water. He goes as if pulled on a string. “It's in my nature. You, on the other hand? You killed him, pet. What does that make you, hm?”

He smiles, soft and indulgent, with just a hint of fangs glinting behind those pretty lips of his. They're stained red.

Eddie shakes his head. He's in to his waist now, his shorts a heavy weight in the water. “I'm nothing like you, I don't- … I didn't enjoy it. He was a horrible person, he had to go.”

“Of course he had to,” Steve purrs, opening his arms to let Eddie in. His tongue, pointed and so much longer than a human one, darts out to lick the blood off his face in long, thorough drags. “He was in your way. Just like the others.”

The water is up to his chest. The ground under his feet is gone, but Steve's tentacles are around his waist, around his legs, trapping him in place and keeping him afloat. The tip of one wiggles its way down the front of his shorts, nimble like a human hand.

“That's not what-” he starts to say, but then the tentacle wraps around his cock, and the words give way to a breathy moan. Even with the awful chill filling every cell of his being, he's half hard already. Maybe the realization should fill him with terror or alarm, but he can't for the life of him remember why. Not when Steve is so ethereally pretty, with his tousled caramel hair, bronze skin dotted in moles and little specks of crimson.

“Just like all of them, right?” Steve says. His touch is slow and teasing, gentle almost, but the fangs scraping at Eddie’s rabitting pulse are sharp. “Just like everyone else in this godforsaken town. Looking down at you, calling you a freak and a monster and an abomination.”

“I'm not,” Eddie gasps. They're out in the middle of the lake now, red tendrils still floating all around them. There's more tentacles pulling down his pants, leaving him naked in the cold water. Desire coils at the base of his spine, clouds his head like mud in clear water. “I'm not … a monster.”

“Aw,” Steve coos, bloodied hands coming up to cradle Eddie’s head. It's the only thing left above the surface now. “But you are. Why else would you be so good at this? Why else would you keep feeding me so well? Why else would you respond to my Call so beautifully? Why else would you enjoy this?”

His lips taste like blood as he licks into Eddie’s mouth. The pressure and burn of his tentacles slipping inside, cold and thick and nimble, is the most beautiful pain Eddie’s ever felt.

Maybe Steve is right, he thinks, obediently opening his mouth for that tongue. There's blood on his face, blood in his mouth. Steve's hands in his hair, too-sharp nails cutting into his scalp. Steve's tentacles moving inside of him, a second and third joining the first, while another keeps toying with his aching cock. Maybe they are more alike than he thought. Maybe he should just accept that.

The rifle is gone from his hand, slipped under the water to join the remains of their victims on the lake bed.

There's no way out.

More holiday drabbles

He's going down, and the chill is taking over his entire being.

Tag list: @noodle-shenaniganery

[theemporium]

ESP bc he seems so peaceful that you’d never expect him to fight🤭🤭🤭🤭 kinda like lando

also can we talk ab him getting into a bar fight for you🤭🤭🤭🤭

no because you put this in my head and i just had to write a wee blurb because i couldn't stop thinking about it🫠

.

“Pay up, Moosey.”

“This is exploitation.”

“It’s called a bet and you lost,” you corrected before flashing him an innocent grin. “I won fair and square, don’t be a sore loser.”

Luke rolled his eyes, grumbling something under his breath as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket. He made a point of exaggerating the sigh that left his lips as he slapped the twenty dollars in your palm.

Jack watched the interaction with interest. “What bet? Why was I not involved?”

“Luke and I made a bet before the game,” you said with a casual shrug as you leaned back into Jack’s embrace, his arm thrown over your shoulder. “Twenty bucks that you’d score the majority of the goals tonight.” 

“And she was right,” Luke muttered. 

“I have faith in my man,” you stated simply, turning to see Jack grinning wildly. 

“My favourite fan,” he murmured before he tilted your chin back so he could lean down to kiss you, his lips breaking out into a smile against yours.

“Oh gross!” 

After a string of difficult games and long roadies, the Devils were back in Jersey and had managed to win their first home game in a while. The boys were on a high, your boyfriend especially after scoring two of the three goals tonight, and you had all but been dragged out with the rest of the team to a nearby bar to celebrate. 

Not that you minded. You were on that high as well, seeing your boyfriend smile widely and easily for the first time in a long time after a game made you eager to celebrate as well. And the bar was local, only about a ten minute walk from Jack and Luke’s apartment which meant none of you had to worry about playing the designated driver.

You could just curl up beside your boyfriend, have a few drinks and celebrate what would hopefully be the start of a string of wins. 

“Let me out,” you murmured against your boyfriend’s lips. “I wanna go buy some outrageously fancy cocktail with Luke’s money to piss him off.”

Jack snorted as he slid out the booth, holding your hand to help you out. “You want me to come with?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him before you pushed your way through the crowd, making your way towards the bar at the other end of the establishment. 

And it should have been fine. You managed to find a free spot at the bar to lean against the counter, your fingers aimlessly tapping the wood as you placed your order and patiently waited for your drink to be made. But it was busy and the place was a little crowded, and you found yourself being pushed by a few other patrons who were just walking past, and bumping into a man standing beside you.

“Sorry,” you said with a sheepish smile as you tried to move away, back into the spot you were standing in moments ago. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” the man smiled back. He was older than you, maybe by a decade or so. And he looked friendly until his arm wound itself around your waist. “You don’t have to move away soon.”

“Uh,” you let out a nervous laugh as you tried to wiggle yourself out of his grasp. “No, I’m fine over here. Please move your arm.”

“Don’t be like that,” the man laughed as his arm tightened around you, and a wave of panic hit you.

“I-I have a boyfriend,” you told him firmly, still trying to push his hand off you.

“Yeah, a sweet thing like you oughta be locked up,” he said like he didn’t really believe you, like he was playing along with some joke you didn’t get.

Your chest tightened in panic, a cold shiver running down your spine when you realised this man wasn’t just going to let you go. Your eyes darted around for a bartender but they were all busy before you glanced over to the booth the team were sitting at, hoping to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend. 

But he was no longer sat at the booth, because not even a few seconds later he was pushing through the crowd and making a beeline towards where you stood with the man.

“Let go of her,” Jack said, his voice oddly calm as he approached.

“She’s fine where she is, kid,” the older man laughed, almost mockingly.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance,” Jack stated simply. “Let her go.”

The man scoffed, lifting his chin. “Or what? What’s a pretty boy like you gonna do?” 

You barely had a chance to catch yourself when Jack ripped the man’s arm off you, causing you to stumble a few steps towards the bar. By the time you caught your footing and turned around, Jack had already punched the man until he was hunched over, clutching his bloody nose. 

He shoved the man until he lifted his head before he swung again, and you swore you could hear a crack despite the music and chatter sounding through the bar. 

Your lips parted in shock as Jack swung the third and final punch and knocked the guy out before he could even think about swinging back. You looked at your boyfriend—your sweet boyfriend who didn’t even fight on the ice when he was egged on and chirped at by other players—who was now looking at the man like he was almost disappointed that he went down without much of a fight. Bartenders and security were flocking around the scene, words muttered about first aid kits and ambulances and all sorts, but Jack didn’t even say a word as he turned to look for you. 

His face instantly softened the second he saw you and he was rushing over before security could even try to stop him. His hands softly cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over the apple of your cheeks as he gave you a once over.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a gentle voice, a crease forming between his brows. “Did he hurt you at all? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Jack,” you murmured as you wound your arms around his waist, nuzzling yourself against his chest. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Jack whispered as his arms tightened around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Do you wanna go or stay?”

“You guys won,” you mumbled into his chest. “You should celebrate with the boys.”

“The boys aren’t my priority right now. You are.” Jack said as he pulled back enough to look down at you. “Say the word and we can head back to the flat and just chill for the rest of the night.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “It’s fine, Jack.”

“Nope, you’ve used my actual name twice in the last three minutes which means you’re upset,” Jack concluded before leaning down to press a peck to your forehead. “Let’s say bye to the boys and head out.”

“Jack—”

“I don’t wanna stay anyways,” he said with a shrug. “I’d rather spend a night in with you anyways.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re not just saying that?”

“I promise, baby,” he murmured softly. “As much as I love fighting for your honour, I’d rather go home and watch Cars.”

You laughed softly. “Cars marathon?” 

“You read my mind,” Jack grinned. “Plus, I think I need ice for my knuckles. That dude had a hard face.”

This time you snorted, and the sound made his grin widen. You gently lifted his hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles before you looked up at him with a smile.

“Thank you for being my knight in shining armour,” you mused with a teasing grin.

“Anytime, princess,” he retorted with a matching smile.

.