#and little ol’ me though he was so hot

[userparamore]

do you guys have like lost media but it’s just lost in your memories? like you heard a song or watched a movie and remember only a glimpse of it but not what it’s called?

[hoshigray]

Mean sukugo smutty smut 🩷🩵

in a sukugo mood, soooo . . .

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Sukuna + Gojo x gn! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - face-fucking - impact play (spanking) - spit-roasting + back-to-front positions - degradation + humiliation - choking - spitting - unprotected sex - creampies - pet names (crybaby, plaything, pet, sweetie) - mention of drool/spit, tears & pain.

“Suck it, pig.”

A night with Gojo and Sukuna is one you could never forget in your entire life, especially when they’re just plain ole’ nasty and mean to your poor little body. It doesn’t matter if there is a good cop or bad cop — somewhere down the line, those words will hold no meaning in that mushy, fucked-out brain of yours…

Picture it: your face smooshed to the mere pink pubes of Sukuna’s dick, forced to orally accommodate the foreign limb that invades your cavity and hits the back of your throat without your control. Not that you’d bother; your hands are already balled up into fists on the couch armrest while Gojo plows his cock into you from the back. 

Your words are substituted for tone-down cries as Sukuna shoves his length to and fro from your aching lips. He pinches you by the cheek, and you howl on his member. “Dumb bitch can’t suck it right, huh? Loosen that fucking jaw,” his commands harsh yet roll off his tongue like honey. “There you go…fuck, there you go, pet.”

Another hit onto hot skin, this time from behind. “Shiiit, you get so tight when I do that!” Gojo sighs heavily after intaking a gasp at how well the walls of your entrance clamp around him from striking your butt. And, of course, he does it again. “More—tighten up more for me…!”

Good Lord, look at you. Your fuzzy eyes are locked on Sukuna, who smirks and drills himself into you. The warmth of your body spreads and amplifies throughout your face and lower half. The skin of your butts stings with the prickles of pain that befall from the onslaught of slaps Gojo puts on you, and the snow-haired man only groans lowly at the glorious sensation of your squeeze. So sweet and tender on his member, the hammer of his pelvis causing your ass to jiggle as he ventures deep into places you could never fathom and scratch spots on your walls thanks to the curve of his cock. 

The pink-haired man’s pace quickens, his wet balls smacking your chin where your drool spills and drizzles down to the armrest. Your head pounds with every rut. Fuuuck, fuck…! This is too much!!

“—Hmmph, shit, stay fucking still, you fucking slut! Quit squirmin’ and cryin’.”

How could you not, though? When the back of your knees holds your legs up by Sukuns while he pistons up to your chasm filled with come, and your brain gets foggier by the second, it’s evident that you start to act in hysterics. 

Your sweaty ass is inherently glued to the salmon-headed one’s thighs; Sukuna sits on the couch with you on top of him. His black-painted nails digging into your skin, adding more marks to your body to leave you sore afterward. Come from your ridge escapes with every plow, trickling past the white ring around Sukuna’s base of his dick and down to the couch seats.

Gojo – can’t forget him – wrings your neck, his pale, slender fingers constricting airways to worsen the headache. “Awww, is that tears I see?” He coos in a pleasant tone — patronizing, no doubt. “Heh, such a crybaby,” his hold narrows, pushing your head back to Sukuna’s shoulder. 

“—Mmm, keheh, so tight…Like getting choked out, huh?” Sukuna cockles hoarsely, dropping your legs to grab onto your waist, same fingernails leaving lines of indented torture for you to wallow and squirm. “Hmmm…shit, look at you, twitching around me like you’re getting off to it like a real dirty bitch. Pathetic plaything.”

“Ahaha, whatcha got your mouth open for?” Gojo inquires, his grasp on your neck getting tighter forces your mouth agape. “Keep it open,” as if you have a choice in that matter, letting the tall man degrade you by spitting into your mouth. He grabs his erect dick and strokes, and then his hand covers your lips. “Now swallow.”

Moans are all that’s left of you; thinking hurts while your body is being used to please the rough men putting you through such a rush. Gojo’s hands return around your neck to choke you, your head reaching a new level of light-headedness that you can’t comprehend. And Sukuna’s fat shaft, with the merciless speed of his hips, pounds, and burrows into your inner channel that you can’t keep your eyes open. The haze is unavoidable, and the lack of oxygen has you gag. 

Until Gojo removes his fingers and palms for you to cough, hacking up under strained breath as your body decides to hit you with the sharpest keen of your life, shocks coursing up your spine to your brain to leave a sting. Tears stream down a hot face while your chasm flutters around Sukuna’s length, and Gojo jerks himself in a rush, enjoying the view of your lewd appearance.  

Eventually, strings of his release eject out of the urethra, hitting your tummy and sliding down to your sex, right as Sukuna lets himself loose and bursts his load to stuff inside you. And he doesn’t let you go until he’s certain every drop of him is where it’s supposed to be, pushing you off him. Semen coating your sweaty frame and hole, and all the men could do was chuckle at the crude display.

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part one ���

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

been thinking ab this post 4ever and need to get it out tbh.

**I’ve never done something like this b4 and I haven’t proofread so pls be nice 2 me ._. **

You have been divorced from your ex husband John Price for two years. Still, he comes over and shovels your driveway for you every time it snows.

He’s come inside and warmed up in the mudroom nearly every 15-20 minutes, puffing hot breath into his hands and rubbing them together for warmth before stepping back out and shoveling again.

You meet him in the mudroom for his fourth warm-up break and hand him a mug of hot coffee. Dash of cream, one sugar.

“Still how you take your coffee, right?” You offer a small smile, hugging your arms around yourself as John takes a sip from the mug.

“Still the same.” He nods before he takes another sip, the small smile that had appeared at the corner of his mouth quickly fading.

He leans up against the doorframe, the shovel leaning against the wall next to him. He peers out of the door's window, checking over his work.

“I'll get goin' soon enough. It ain't snowing right now, the drive's nearly clear.”

You thank him again, even though you never asked him to do this in the first place. You can’t help but look up at him, meeting his blue eyes for just a moment.

Before he could reply, your two children came running around the corner cheering and squealing when they saw their dad.

John's smile brightens at their presence, his body language immediately softening as he squatted down to their level.

“Hey, my little monkeys. Come give yer ol’ dad a hug.” He opens his arms out wide, inviting both of them to come to him. It doesn't take long before they both go crashing into him, squealing, smiling. Their giggles filled the small room.

You just smile. Even if you and John aren’t always on the best of terms, you can’t deny that he’s a great father.

“Daddy’s cold.” Your youngest shivers a bit from hugging their dad, who still had snow on his clothes and frost on his beard from shoveling.

John tries to shrug it off, but you ask him to stay and warm up for a while.

For the kids, of course.

Plus dinner is nearly ready, and you definitely made too much for just you and the kids, anyway.

More cheering, more squealing, more giggling as John finally agrees and kicks his boots off, hanging his coat on the hook.

John’s blue eyes scan the new decor and different paintings on the wall, but he doesn’t comment on how much the place has changed since he moved out.

After dinner, the two of you stand in the doorway as you watch the kids play together in their playroom, that used to be John’s “man cave”.

“They're gonna make you tuck them in.” You mention, sipping your glass of wine.

John smiles, a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Maybe you can convince them to go up and brush their teeth?” You lower your wineglass and offer a fake, pleading pout.

He looks down for a moment, pretending not to see the gesture. Instead, he looks back to the children.

“Right then, you two little monkeys. It’s gettin’ late. Go on up and brush your teeth. I’ll come tuck you in.”

Both children protest for a while, but eventually give in without too much of a fight. That’s a new one.

John lets out a chuckle as the children roll their eyes and go up the stairs. He watches them disappear from view before turning and meeting your eyes again, still smiling for this small victory.

As if he had just realized he was staring, John’s eyes darted down into his now empty mug.

"Let me take that." You reach for his mug but he shakes his head.

"I haven’t forgotten where the kitchen is," He smiles a bit. "'ll clean up and then tuck the kids in."

John makes his way over to the kitchen, placing it in the sink and starting water. You follow, and notice that he was also washing the dishes from dinner as well.

“John, you don’t have to-“

“I know.”

And that’s that.

You chew your bottom lip. This looked too familiar. It felt too familiar.

"I'm... gonna go check on them and get them in their pj's." You gesture to the stairs in the hall.

He looks up at you briefly and nods; "Be up in a bit, love.”

Once the water is emptied from the sink, he starts loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Once completed, he starts to wipe down the counters and stovetop, wanting to make sure he left no mess behind. Then he trekked back up the stairs to tuck in the kids.

You’re downstairs again, on the living room sofa. You wanted to let John have a moment alone with the kiddos before he left again.

He makes his way down the stairs and sees you sitting there in the dim lighting. He clears his throat a bit as he walks through the living room and back into the mudroom.

“They're tucked in. Not a whisper from ‘em.” He mentions casually as he gets his snow boots back on.

You thank him, turning to watch him leave, but notice him looking out of the door window and pause. So you make your way over to the door to see what he’s seeing.

It's started snowing and the driveway is completely covered again. It looks like he hasn't even shoveled.

John lets out a grunt of disbelief and sighs, pulling on his beanie and reaching for the shovel once again.

“Don't-“ You shake your head, placing your hand on the shovel. “It's snowing hard, there's no point in shoveling it all up just for it to be covered again. Why don't you... stay on the couch or something tonight.”

He stares down at the shovel for a moment, debating it. After a beat, he sighs a bit, nodding.

“I... could do that.”

You go upstairs to the bedroom and bring John some extra pillows and blankets to make a bed on the couch with.

You set everything on the coffee table and the two of you sit on the couch for a moment, just catching up and chatting about the kids.

“The kids both want to do soccer in the spring.” You mention, your cheeks a bit rosy from the wine you had with dinner.

“Football.” He corrects with a small smirk. You roll your eyes.

“Let me pay for the lessons.” He says; not asking.

Of course you refuse.

Of course he insists.

You settle on splitting it.

Then it happens again. Your eyes meet his. Neither one of you speaks. Suddenly you’re transported back to the first night you met; you were newly 21 and already tipsy when your eyes met those of an older man in his fatigues as he sat at the bar. You remember drunkly telling the older man that he had the prettiest blue eyes, and that you wanted a hundred of his babies that looked just. like. him.

You have two, at least.

“Oh!” You sit up a bit straighter, snapping out of your daydream. “I was going to ask you to look at something on my laptop. It's doing that thing again. It's upstairs.” You get up and head to your home office, John right behind you.

You open your laptop and hand it to John. He knew how to fix it last time, so it should take him no time.

He sits in your office chair and you step away into your bedroom across the hall to get into a pair of pajama shorts and a hoodie, since it's getting late.

The laptop whirred softly before he got it running again. Only took a minute. He sets it on the desk, leaning back in your chair with his hands behind his head as he looks up through the open door where you can be found, changing in the bedroom.

You were his wife at one point, anyway. Isn’t something he hasn’t seen before…

After you’ve changed, you lay on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you wait for John to fix the issue with your laptop, unaware that he was watching. Unaware that the laptop has been fixed for a while now, and he was just wasting time.

Eventually, his voice wafts through the doorway.

“Think I got it, love-“ He pauses for a moment. “Er, Y/N.”

“Ugh, thank you.” You sigh and sit up, taking the laptop from him and setting it on your nightstand. “Stupid thing always acting up.”

John sits on the edge of your bed as you take the laptop back from him.

“Not a problem. It was a quick fix.” He offers a small smile, rubbing the back of his head.

He takes a glance at you, noticing the pajamas you had put on.

"...Is that my sweatshirt?"

You blush a bit sheepishly, looking down at the oversized, grey 2XL Special Air Service hoodie you’re wearing. "Um..."

Another small chuckle escapes his lips. He shakes his head a bit, trying to contain his amusement.

“S’what I thought. You look... comfy." He reaches his hand out towards your leg, running his hand lightly over your bare legs, exposed by the shorts you were wearing.

Without realizing what he's doing, he has his hand on your thigh, and he gives it a light squeeze.

Eventually his hand travels higher to rest on your sex over your pajama shorts.

Usually, you'd tell him off. Monologue about how this isn't how things work because it complicated things and you both need to set boundaries.

But tonight you don't.

Maybe it's because you had two heavy-handed pours of your favorite wine with dinner. Maybe it was seeing him with your kids again. Maybe it had just been too long since you'd felt anything other than a cheap bullet vibrator.

So you let him slip his hand down your panties.

But it's a bit jarring to feel his wedding band still on his finger.

You look down at his hand for a beat when you feel it.

You look back up and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in and crashing your lips together.

John wastes no time in laying you back on your bed and tugging your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere behind him.

His lips are on your neck, his hands spreading your soft thighs apart. You can smell the musky scent of himself on him, mixed with that familiar cologne of his, and you breathe a sigh.

“Take this off f’r me.” He mumbles against your skin, sliding your his hoodie up your body.

Your body aches for this to continue, and John doesn't plan to disappoint, but he takes a moment to admire what's sprawled out in front of him. He lets out a satisfied smirk as he pulls you closer by your thighs. He's undone his belt and shrugged out of his jeans in no time.

You pull his shirt off over his head before you close your eyes and tilt your head to give him easier access to kiss your neck.

His scruffy beard tickles your neck, his calloused hands gripping your thigh and rubbing your slick, dripping pussy.

“So needy.” John observed as your back arched and your body squirmed at his touch. "Poor thing... No one's been keepin’ you satisfied, hm?”

You shake your head a bit. You hate that he’s right. You hate that he can tell. That he knows you too well.

But he’s right; no random Tinder hookup and no blind date that your friends have set you up with could ever compare to your ex husband.

“Should’a told me...” He murmurs as he leans lower, positioning his head in between your thighs, pressing desperate kisses to your aching clit.

He’s got you figured out completely. He’s always been good at that.

A smile forms as his hands move to grip your thighs. He lets out a quiet groan as your legs instinctively clamp around his head. The look of his veiny hands gripping your plushy thighs with that damn wedding band still around his finger is doing things to you.

His tongue slowly plays in circular motions, teasing you, loving the game. He takes his time, enjoying himself, as you continue to squeeze your thighs against his head. Hell, he’d let you suffocate him if it meant he could eat your pussy this one last time.

You try not to, but you let out a desperate moan of pleasure. He knew exactly what you like, exactly where to lick, exactly where to kiss, exactly where to nibble.

Damn him.

“You sound s’pretty, lovey. S’pretty f’r me.” He pants, his praise ending with a whimper.

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, he has you. He knows he has you. Your moans and whimpers are uncontrollable as he picks up the pace, all but slamming his thick cock into your pretty little hole.

You’re his, and he knows it, and in the moment, it’s true. Just him. Just you. The rest doesn’t matter right now.

John pulls out for just a moment while he swiftly flips you over, roughly gripping your hips and pulling your backside into him. He’s got the angle just right now, and your breath catches in your throat, followed by a needy whimper.

“Mine… All mine… Isn’t that right?” He whispers, more of a command than a question.

Your face is pressed against the mattress as John’s grip on your hips tighten. This angle, this position, John is so familiar with it. He knows what it does to you. He knows the way it makes you respond.

John lets out a loud groan as your whimpers and moans get more needy, desperate. He knows that you’re about to come.

He finishes right then and there, along with you.

You gasp a bit, surprised by the synchronization. Should you really be surprised, though? Only he would know your body like that. You’re his. He’s yours.

John slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, lying on the bed and pulling you into his chest. His hand grabs your thigh, draping your leg around his waist in an attempt to hold you closer.

He lets out a few deep breaths, letting the adrenaline and endorphins just fade away. Neither of you wants to move right now, both just content being in each other’s arms. Both content feeling the heat of each other’s bodies, just listening to each other breathing.

“Better than I remembered it.” John murmurs, his voice laced with a smirk.

You catch John’s left hand after he reached up to push your sweaty hair from your forehead. You hold it in yours, playing a bit with the wedding band.

next >>

[msgexymunson]

Dr E. Munson, D.D.S

Description: praise from your dentist is the last thing you thought would stoke your passions. During another meeting, intoxicated after surgery, you accidently tell him how he makes you feel. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst and smut, my favourite trio. NSFW Minors DNI, reader mid 20s and Eddie mid to late 30s but not explicitly stated, no real time given implied 90s but written as open, reader is AFAB, no use of Y/N, tooth extraction (don’t worry it's not gory), little to no knowledge of the dental industry (please don't come for me I tried my best), fem oral receiving, overstimulation, massive praise kink, p in v protected sex.

A/N: Well, the tale of my praise kink being activated at the dentist appears to have struck a chord with you all, so as unbelievable as this is, just go with it. Eddie's a dentist. Not just a dentist, but a soft pleasure dom dentist ;) I tried to make it believable!! Also, I can't write short fics anymore. I gotta get elaborate before I get into the good ole porn. 

🖤 Comments and reblogs are my lifeblood, please reblog if you want me to keep writing, it really makes my day sweethearts. 🖤

8.8K words

Masterlist

Fidgeting restlessly with your rings, your leg shakes compulsively as you sit in the sterile waiting room. You really wish you didn't have to go through this alone, but your best friend Alex is working and you are far too old to be going to the dentist with your mom. 

Needs must, though. Yesterday, whilst you were eating one of your nieces candy suckers of all things, you bit down and shattered a wisdom tooth. Just thinking about it you can see Dr Burke's stern face, with his ridiculously bushy eyebrows and wrinkled frown, telling you off for eating too much sugar. 

When the perky receptionist calls your name and instructs you to go to room 2, you're a wobbling bubble of nerves. Walking over the cheap linoleum on click clack heels, you pause for a moment outside the door in confusion. 

The little plaque on the wooden door is different. It used to hold old Dr Burke's name on it, but it's changed. 

Dr E. Munson, D.D.S.

Swinging the door open, you see a much younger man sitting on a swivel stool looking over some notes. His hair is long and wavy, so long he's scraped it into a low ponytail, and there's a sprinkle of stubble over his face. As he looks up, you're met with the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you've ever seen. And is that, an eyebrow piercing? He flashes a grin, one filled with such mischief that for a second you forget why you're here. 

“Well hello! You must be my next patient. Take a seat right here.” 

He pats the treatment chair but you still stand gormlessly by the door. 

“You're not Dr Burke.”

Well done idiot, state the obvious.

“Seems your eyesights OK.” 

He shoots a wink at you which immediately turns your insides to jello. 

“Dr Burke retired actually. I'm Dr Munson, I just moved to the city. You can call me Eddie.” 

He extends a hand out to you. Shuffling forward in your pencil skirt you click your way over to him and take his hand. It's huge, enveloping your own, but he holds your hand with care and shakes it very gently. 

He lets go to wash his hands and put a pair of latex gloves on. 

“You know you don't have to dress up to go to the dentist, but it's appreciated.” 

Is he flirting with me? 

“I-I was at work this morning.” 

You perch on the seat and pull your legs up, sliding your handbag to the floor. 

“So, what seems to be the problem?” 

“I was, well…” 

“It's OK sweetheart, I ain't gonna tell you off.” 

Sweetheart? Oh Holy Shit. 

You found yourself clenching your toes in your heels. This guy is far too hot to be a dentist.

“I was eating a sucker and I, well, I bit down, broke my back right wisdom tooth. It shattered.”

He scoots his stool towards you and instructs you to open your mouth. As he examines you he hums, feeling inside your mouth with a gloved hand. 

“Yup, that's broken up alright. I'm sorry, that must be painful. Don't worry, I'll do my best to help. I'm gonna do an x-ray, that OK?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pulling a little plastic T instrument from his desk, he wheels back over.

“Now, this is going to be uncomfortable, and I'm real sorry. Open your mouth and I'll slide it in gently.” 

Face flickering a violent shade of red, you nod. Surely he's aware of how this sounds?

“OK, open wide, that's it.” 

He puts the little contraption in your mouth.

“OK, now bite down. I know, it's uncomfortable. It'll just take a second. That's it, just breathe for me.” 

It's not intolerable but it's not exactly nice. A moment before it would have been too much he takes it out. 

“That's it, did so good for me. Well done sweetheart.” 

Now, this is not the fucking time to have these sorts of feelings. A heat had started  spreading between your legs that you haven't felt for quite some time. 

“Hmm,” Eddie said as he looked at the x-ray, “I definitely need to remove those pieces. I'm a bit concerned about the tooth above it. That's got a cavity, it'll need to be removed, but it'll need surgery I'm sorry to say.” 

“Surgery? Oh God.” 

“Hey, it'll be alright. I'd do it now but it's too risky. Never had to go into surgery before?” 

Laughing nervously, you fiddle with your fingers. 

“I've never had a tooth removed! I'm a tooth removal virgin.” 

The words just flew out and there was nothing you could do to pull them back. Eddie leaned in a little, a cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Well, then I'll be extra gentle.” 

A stare that's a fraction too long, and he scoots back over to his desk. Not long after he's got a needle in his hand.

“Now, I'm gonna need to numb the area, and this is going to be painful. But once this is done, that's the worst of it. If you need me to stop at any point, you just raise your hand. That OK?” 

“Sure, do what you need to.”

“Atta girl, so brave for me. Open your mouth wide.” 

My good God this man and his words; you can picture yourself on your knees in front of him as he says the same things.

Atta girl, take it a little deeper, that's it, so good for me… 

Squirming hotly in your seat, you do as instructed and his gloved fingers invade your mouth once more. 

“OK, you're gonna feel a sharp scratch, it'll go on for a few seconds, doing it now… good girl.” 

As he says ‘good girl’ two things happen. He injects your gum, and you flood your panties. The pain is inconsequential at this point, you just want him to keep talking to you like that.

“OK, one more sweetheart… that's it, so brave, look at you, taking it so well.” 

He stares at you with those soft brown eyes and once again you forget entirely why you're here. 

“Now, you should start to feel your lips tingle, it'll mean it's working.” 

Your dirty mind can't help but think; which lips? 

As a numbness invades your mouth, you let him know. 

“Yeah, it's definitely working.”

“Good stuff. Now, I'm gonna feel in your mouth again, OK?”

You nod, beyond words, and he puts his fingers in your mouth. 

“Now, if you need me to stop, what do you do?” 

Sheepishly you hold your hand up.

“That's it, atta girl. Such a good listener.” 

Nothing you can do but beam inwardly at the praise.

“Now, you can feel me right here, but there should be no pain, yeah?” 

Resisting the urge to moan around his fingers, you make a sound akin to a muffled ‘uhuh’.

“Awesome, now just hold still, you'll hear some crunching and feel pressure, and then it'll be done.” 

As he pulls a shiny implement from a tray and starts working the tooth shards from your mouth, you focus on his forehead, at the look of total concentration. How the lines on his forehead furrow. How his beautiful eyes harden slightly. How his perfect pink tongue dips out… 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He laughs, a rich, bubbling thing, and nods.

“Yup. You're good. Need to make an appointment at the desk for the other tooth though.”

“Will you be doing that?” 

It rushes out in a blather which you can't control. 

“Sure thing sweetheart. Just ask at the desk for me.” 

“OK. Thanks.” 

“Not a problem. Got to be there for my favourite patient.” 

He flashes another wink at you which seems to rush straight to your knees as you get up and leave on newborn foal legs. Reaching the door, you hear his voice ring out behind you. 

“And what should we do with suckers next time?” 

Turning to face him, he raises an eyebrow, awaiting your response with the most serious expression he's given you so far. 

“I should… suck?” 

“Yeah you should.” 

A mind altering grin later and he's turning back to his desk. 

I should suck? What the hell is wrong with you! You need to get laid like, yesterday.

********************

It's a couple of weeks later and you're laying in the most unflattering hospital gown known to man with your best friend Alex who is trying to distract you. 

“Honey, you'll be fine, they're putting you under! It's like, free drugs!” 

You laugh at his antics, smiling with nerves. 

“It's not the surgery, its-” 

You hear mumbling in the doorway, two nurses gossiping in what they must think is out of earshot. 

“Did you hear? Dr Munsons performing the surgery?” 

“Yeah, he's not even supposed to be here. I hear Dr Stevens is pissed.” 

As they walk away, continuing their whispering, you look over to Alex who is smirking at you. 

“Oh, so he's not even supposed to be here? Ooh he likes you!” 

You blush, thinking about the other day. 

“No! I… I asked for him, that's all. You know I don't like this sort of shit.”

“Ah, so you thought Dr Dreamy would make it bearable huh?” 

“Shut up!” 

Dr Munson walks in then, smiling that smile that held a firm grip on your panties. Alex's eyes widen as he mouths the word ‘hot’ to you. You subtly nod your agreement and then smile at Eddie.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” 

“Couldn't stay away,” you respond, rolling your eyes. He chuckles back and looks you up and down. 

“I told you sweetheart, no need to get dressed up for me.” 

“What, this old thing?”

You share a laugh whilst Alex's eyebrows raise practically through the roof. This is clearly crossing some line, this banter between you, but he's the doctor and he started it. 

Soon, the procedure has been explained and they're wheeling you out of there and putting you under anaesthesia. 

“OK, good job, such a brave girl. Now, countdown from ten for me.”

“Ten, nine, eight…” 

********************

Blinking bleary-eyed, you look around and catch the eye of your friend. 

“She's awake! You OK?” 

You are OK. In fact, you're fantastic. 

“I'm great! M'I goin’ in surgery now?” 

“You've been, it's done! It's all fine.”

“Huh?” 

A fantastically handsome man walks in, entirely distracting you. Long hair, sparkling eyes, a gorgeous smile, and a slender tall frame. He's so hot. Wait, you can just say he's hot, right? 

“Wow, wh'ryou? You're suuuper hot.” 

He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. 

“I'm Dr Munson, remember? Eddie. The er, drugs will wear off soon.” 

“Eddie!” 

You sit up immediately, despite the hands that shoot out to keep you still. 

“Now, take it easy, the ketamine makes people act a little funny. How are you feeling?”

“M’great! All… floaty like. S’good shit.” 

Eddie laughs as Alex holds his head in his hands. 

“Good to hear. It'll wear off soon, I'm sure your boyfriend will take good care of you.” 

“Nooo he's n’my’boyfrien’. He's suuuper gay. Ya’single? I no’had- not had any for nine months!” 

Alex pipes up. 

“Honey, you know I love you, so much, but you need to shut your mouth.” 

Eddie laughs, flashing his perfect teeth. 

“He's got a point. Glad you're doing good, the surgery went smoothly, so you'll be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Thank's'much Eddie. God, you're s’gorgeous. Did I do good?” 

Eddie looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. 

“Course you did. The best. That's why you're my favourite patient.”

Holding your hand up to your mouth and doing the worst stage whisper known to man, you look at Alex. 

“See? Tol’ ya, his wors’ make me wet.” 

“...aaaand that's the line. Thanks for taking care of her Dr Munson, I'll get her home safe.” 

With protests from you, Eddie shuffles awkwardly out of the room. After a little while you're discharged, with Alex promising to look after you until you're back to normal.

********************

The strong coffee aroma assaults your nostrils; you take a massive inhale of your cup as if the caffeine could be absorbed by smell alone. The coffee shop was busy this Saturday morning but you'd managed to carve out your little comfy seat and tiny table so you can work on your writing. It was a relief after the busy week you've had to actually focus on something you love. 

The noises and chatter of the place wash over you as you zone out, thinking of how to handle the plot twist coming up. It needed to be thoughtful, but unforced, as if the characters… 

“Well, if it isn't my favourite patient.” 

“Huh?” 

You look up and see a very familiar pair of eyes. Eddie. The rest of him however, looks very different. 

Eddie's in an old Iron Maiden t-shirt, worn with age, and tight black jeans. A chain hangs low at his hip, and his large hands are adorned with silver rings. His hair is loose and unkept around his shoulders, but his signature smile still beams at you. His forearms are on display, covered in tattoos. It's certainly not what you were expecting. How did he just get even hotter? 

Remembering what Alex told you about how you made an utter fool of yourself brings you out of your revelry. The stuff you said to him after surgery makes you visibly cringe. You were torn between wanting to ask him out and wanting the ground to swallow you whole. 

Cheeks blazing with heat, you find your voice.

“Eddie! Er, hi.” 

“You mind if I sit here? It's pretty packed.”

Gesturing at him to make himself comfortable, he swings his leg over the stool opposite and sits down, mug of steaming coffee in his hands. 

“What brings you here?” 

“Well, I write. As a hobby, you know? Needed to get out of the house and get some done. And you?” 

He points a thick finger across the street and you gulp in your throat, remembering the feel of those fingers in your mouth. 

“There's a record store across the way, I was scouting for anything I've missed. Unlucky today it seems.” 

It was weird seeing him here. Like when you see a teacher in the wild. Except you're not a kid, and the teacher is fucking fine. 

You nod and share a very uncomfortable silence. 

“Listen, I'm sorry for anything I said-” 

“Hey, don't worry about it sweetheart, it was the drugs. Trust me I've heard some weird shit!”

He seems to shrug it off and you breathe a sigh of relief. The last few weeks all you've managed to think about is how much of a fool you've made of yourself. Hopefully he's chalked it all up to the drugs. No need for him to know you were speaking the truth.

“I gotta say, you don't look like a dentist.” 

Eddie laughs, a perfect deep laugh that has you squirming in your seat. 

“Yeah, I get that alot. I er, used to get beat up when I was a kid. I got punched real hard once, broke my jaw. It was wired shut for like six weeks. After that, well, you find some respect for dentistry. Thought I'd give it a shot, went to school. Seems I have a knack for it. I have an impeccable bedside manner, apparently. Or so I'm told.” 

I'll say. 

“I can- I can see that.” 

He blazes a grin at you that damn near combusts your insides. And that's what you blame for the thing that's about to fall out of your big mouth.

“Listen, I know this is crazy but can I have your number?” 

What the fuck are you doing?? Hitting on your dentist?

It seems your word vomit was indeed something that happened in real life and not just in your head. Eddie looks pained as he warms his hands on his coffee mug. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you're a very pretty girl but… I can't. It'd be wrong of me, you're my patient and-” 

“No, I get it, it was dumb, ignore me.” 

You grab your belongings at the speed of lightning and stuff everything into your bag. 

“Hey, sweetheart, wait, I literally ca-” 

Hell no. 

You've made more of an idiot of yourself than you're prepared to be comfortable with. Now, cheeks burning hotly you shoulder your heavy bag and bustle out of the store, leaving an open mouthed Eddie sitting there with his arm outstretched.

********************

Today was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake of embarrassment. You've never asked a guy for his number before and the first time you do you're shot down? Confidence well and truly knocked, you called around and found a new dentist, and then called your old dentist's office to let them know. There was no way you could face Eddie again after you'd made a fool of yourself three times. 

In an effort to cheer yourself up after that disastrous rendezvous, you'd dressed up, put on your highest heels paired with your shortest skirt and a red silk blouse, and went out for a night on the town. 

Now, you don't make a habit of sitting at the bar on your own. You've dealt with enough creeps in your time to know that it was a bad idea. However, when it comes to your friends, you can give a little leeway. 

Hence why you sat in your very short black skirt, heels tapping on the little rail on the bottom of the bar as you sip your Manhattan, watching your friend Alex out the corner of your eye have a make-out session with his new boyfriend. They were sitting at a table just to the right; you were on a barstool giving them a couple feet of privacy. 

It was getting a little old though. In the past half an hour three men had approached you. You can't lie to yourself, it was the reason you'd agreed to be a third wheel in the first place. Trying to manifest the right kind of man clearly wasn't working however. 

The first guy looked around twelve, with the wispiest facial hair you've ever seen. As he'd nervously bumbled a line at you, you told him you've never seen a theoretical moustache before. That saw the back of him. Contestant number two was the sleaziest douchebag in the whole bar, perhaps the entire city. He was the hardest to deal with; you'd ended up just turning away and ignoring him until he'd left. Number three was some balding, middle aged man with a pot belly and a stained tie. Exhausted by the previous two, you interrupted his practised line with one clear and concise ‘No’.

Almost certain that your date tonight would involve you with your vibrator, you order another cocktail. On your left directly next to you a guy starts leaning on the bar and calls to the bartender. 

“Hey Jack, can I get a beer please, and whatever this lovely girl is drinking.” 

Rolling your eyes and turning to look at contestant number four, ready to tell them to fuck right off, you realise its Eddie. Of course it fucking is. The universe seems to have a horrible sense of humour today. He's still in his jeans and boots, but now sporting a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Stupid dentist and his stupid hot tattooed forearms. 

“Are you following me? I don't need a pity drink thanks, I'm good.” 

You reach into your purse to pay for the drink you ordered but Eddie already has cash in his hand. He pays for it anyway and leans on the bar facing you. 

“It's not pity, it's an apology for earlier. And I think you're the one following me, I live two floors up.” 

Lips pressed into a firm line, you stir your drink with its cocktail stick and pretend that dentists don't exist.

“You can't just ignore me, you know.” 

Taking a sip of your drink you continue to stare resolutely forward. 

“OK, you can just ignore me, but I'd like it if you didn't.” 

Another sip, and you pull the little cherry off its stick and chew it. 

“So, you got a thing for dentists or is it just me, sweetheart?” 

That's it, you turn angrily to face him and scowl. 

“That's totally unfair you can't just-”

“Ha, got ya talking.” 

He's grinning at his little victory, laughter lines creasing near his eyes. If your eyes could shoot daggers you're sure he would have died from blood loss at this point. 

“Listen, I'm sorry, OK? I would have said yes in a fucking heartbeat, but I could lose my license.” 

Your eyes soften; he's clearly telling the truth and it does make sense. His licence hadn't even entered your mind. 

“I understand. Sorry for being rough on you.” 

“Don't worry about it. I just thought I better clear the air if I'm gonna be your dentist.” 

“Oh, don't worry about it. You're not.” 

“Huh?”

Looking down at the bar and drawing circles in the condensation from your drink with a finger, you explain. 

“I couldn't face seeing you again, so I, ha, ran off to a different dentist. It's a half hour out of my way, but never mind.” 

Eddie's posture changes immediately, standing fully to attention. 

“You're not my patient anymore?” 

“Nope,” you reply, and knock back the last of your drink, “I'm not.” 

“You're not my patient anymore.” 

You risk looking back at him; he's wide eyed, nodding in your direction, as if he's just told a joke that you didn't get. Face scrunched with confusion, you blink it away as a light bulb pings on inside your head. 

“Oh. I'm not your patient anymore.” 

The grin that slowly unfolds across Eddie's face is damn right sinful. 

“You wanna come upstairs?” 

“Hell yes.” 

Leaping lightly off of the bar stool, you turn to dislodge your coat from the back of Alex's chair and wave at him frantically to tell him you're leaving. He turns to you, then Eddie, then back to you with what can only be described as A Look. If you weren't so excited you would have admonished him, but who the fuck cares. 

Eddie grabs your hand firmly and pushes through the thronging crowd with you in tow. The cold night air hits you like a blow to the chest when you escape, as does your rash decision. 

Eddie seems to sense your hesitation. Pulling you into a doorway he grabs your other hand and looks at you. 

“Sweetheart, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just go upstairs, have a drink, or not, and chat. Really.” 

“Really?” You cock your head with the question as he licks his bottom lip with a pink tongue, dragging it to his perfect teeth to bite. He looks nervous, and for some reason, that is doing it for you right now. 

“Really. I'm just saying we don't have to rush-” 

The rest of his sentence is swallowed whole by your kiss as you tip your head up and push your lips against his firmly. Eddie grabs your waist with one hand, the other snaking into your hair to cradle your head. 

For a moment you forget about the cold, about the fact that anyone can see you like this right now. All that matters is the pounding heat of his body smashing against yours and the passion pouring from his tongue as it swipes and rolls and fills your mouth with unexpected moans.

Nails digging into his back, as if attempting to claw under his clothes, you force his body against the wall in the wanton desire to be closer. His hand massages the silk of your blouse at your waist, warmth spreading from his palm into your very flesh and seeping down between your legs. 

You'd have him, right here, against this wall, right now, if he hadn't pulled your head back softly to break the kiss. The tips of your noses rub together as you both gasp for the same air. He's smiling and biting his lip again, but this time it looks like a distraction to stop himself from devouring you. Eddie breaks the feral spell first.

“So, just a chat, yeah?” 

You both laugh, a giddy silly thing reserved for the two of you. 

“Yeah, you're probably right. Don't want to rush these things.” 

Nodding sagely, you take his proffered hand and let him lead you inside and up the stairs. 

You're not sure what you expect his place to look like, but you're pleasantly surprised at how open and spacious it is. Hardwood floors, big windows, a big black sofa, and an open kitchen area with a little breakfast bar. There's a wall of shelves with what must be hundreds of records, CDs and tapes on it, all neatly organised and displayed, and an expensive looking sound system. Two guitars sit by the couch as if they'd been played recently, along with an amp that seems to be doubling as a side table. There's a small pile of boxes over by one wall that have yet to be unpacked. And that's it.

No wonder it looks so spacious, there's nothing in it. 

“Eddie, it's a great place, but er, where's all your stuff?” 

He looks a little sheepish as he flicks a standing lamp on and shuts the curtains. 

“Yeah. Got the basics sorted; kitchen, bedroom, music. Honestly, never lived anywhere this big before, and my last place came furnished.” 

He gestures widely at the sofa with a swing of his arm and you perch on it, ankles crossed, fully aware of how short your skirt is. 

“So, you wanna drink? Unfortunately I can't make a Manhattan but I’ve got rum, some vodka, sodas, maybe a beer?” 

“What do you mean you can't make a Manhattan? What sort of establishment is this?” 

You huff dramatically, folding your arms. 

“I'm terribly sorry Ma’am, I shall have a word with the management.” 

Eddie falls to one knee in a low bow, a mock plea for your forgiveness and the sheer goofiness makes your heart do a little hop inside your chest. 

“What can I possibly do to make it up to you?” 

His eyes are open, honest and sincere. But the grin fighting to crawl over his face is naughtiness personified.

“Well I shall have a beer now, and maybe you can make it up to me later?” 

Smirking, he presses a soft kiss to your knee, then another, to the side of it. Letting his teeth drag further he playfully nips at the outside of your thigh and smooths the area with a lick. 

Breathe. Remember, you need oxygen to live. 

You take a harsh, ragged breath in as if inhaling for the first time and try to concentrate on slowing your heart rate. This is madness, you feel wrecked from a sprinkling of kisses. 

Feeling Eddie's soft chuckle as the air from it dances on your thigh, he gets back up looking far too pleased with himself. 

“You know, you shouldn't be that forward with a lady.” 

Throwing his head back and laughing loudly he walks around the back of the couch. Directly behind you, he begins talking again. 

“I don't see a lady here.” 

Whipping your head around to reprimand him, he bends to your level and whispers in your exposed ear. 

“I see a very good girl.” 

Words die in your throat having never reached your tongue. There's no witty repartee, just an odd noise that blurts out of you, halfway between a whimper and a squeak. 

Eddie walks away towards the fridge to grab your drink, no doubt with a very smug look on his face. In his absence you fan yourself to try to quench some of the raging heat within, but at this point it's like throwing a water bomb at a house fire. Undoing one button on your blouse, you let the girls have a little air at least. 

He returns, drinks in hand, and offers one to you with a bow of his head. 

“Milady.” 

You take it and sip as Eddie sits next to you. 

“I thought I wasn't a lady?”

“You are right, absolutely right,” he responds, shuffling closer to put an arm around you, and nuzzles your neck teasingly, “and I am not a gentleman.” 

You reach out to the side, and realise there's nowhere to put your beer. 

“Eddie, you need a coffee table or something.” 

“Just, put it on the floor.” 

Placing it gently on the floor, wincing as you do so, you mumble half to yourself, “if my mother could see me now…” 

“I'm sure she'd have more important things to say than about the lack of coasters, sweetheart.” 

“You have a very good point.” 

Eddie holds your jaw, softly turning your face to his own, and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, and finally to your lips. It's more gentle than the searing heat of the last one; a languid spell of tongues finding their way against each other. 

As you both break away, Eddie strokes your bare thigh, whispering in your ear as he does so. 

“God, when you walked in my office, I thought I might have to switch professions. I just wanted to hike that tight skirt up and bury my face right here.” 

His hand moves up your leg, a finger ghosting over the top of your panties that makes a shiver work all its way to the tips of your toes. It's a bold move, and one you wouldn't stand for usually, but this is Eddie. You've been fantasising about this for the last two months. Hell, this scene has played in your brain so long it was almost like it didn't feel like the first time.

So, if he's going to be that bold, then bold it is.

“Well, I gotta confess, it took a lot for me to not moan around your fingers in my mouth.” 

Eddie groans loud, throwing his head against the back of the couch. 

“Fuck that's so hot. C'mere.” 

He's coaxing you into his lap and you follow his lead, swinging your leg across him and most likely giving him a choice view of your lacy underwear. His large hands wander over your frame, mapping out your curves with his eyes as well as his fingers. 

“Eddie.” 

You breathe it out, your hands resting on his shoulders. He's getting hard beneath you, you can feel it as your hips start to move back and forth of their own accord. 

“Hmm?” 

He doesn't look up, busy stroking your sides, thumb brushing your breasts with each pass. Every nerve feels like a live wire, feeling more needy than you think you've ever been. 

“Eddie, please, just kiss me.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

He does look at you then, giving you a cheeky smile.

“I think I've got the hottest girl in the city on my lap right now, let me savour it a little.” 

Rolling your eyes, you reach to the front of your blouse and start unbuttoning it slowly, letting the silky fabric fall off your shoulders and away. The fates seem to be in your favour for once; this is your best bra, adorned in satin and black lace.

“Well, someone's eager. Were you looking to get lucky tonight?” 

Eddie says as he smirks at you, a hand stroking up, over your laced covered chest, coming to rest on the side of your throat. 

“It's been a while Eddie, forgive me for being keen.” 

“Oh yeah, what was it? Nine months, right?” 

Cringing at his words whilst he chuckles, you rest your forehead on his shoulder to hide your face. 

“Technically no.” It's muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

“No?”

Still unwilling to look at him, you reply, “that was a few weeks ago. It's ten now.” 

Pulling you upright again, he playfully pouts, a little mocking face that's making your insides pulse. 

“Aw, poor, poor baby. Guess I shouldn't tease so much. Why don't you take this ridiculous skirt off and sit for me sweetheart.” 

It's comical how quickly you follow his directions, shuffling your skirt off and laying back on the sofa, ass near the edge, as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you. 

“That's it, right there. Such a good listener.”

As he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, you spread your legs to make room for him, breath quickening in anticipation. 

“I suppose I better check,” he says as he looks up at you with a serious expression, pierced eyebrow arching. 

“Check what?” 

“How wet my words made you.” 

‘Oh God!” you squeak, hiding in your hands, “I can't believe you remembered that!” 

“Remembered it? I can't think of anything else.” 

His thick rough fingertips reach higher and higher; he slips two under your panties, hooking them to one side as his digits glide through your wetness. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're soaked. That must be uncomfortable. Don't worry I'm gonna do something about that.” 

You're thinking of something clever to say back but your mind empties entirely as his touch moves to your clit and rubs slow, deliberate circles. 

The relief of him finally stroking just where you need it has you near tears, breathy gasps pulling from your chest and rushing out your mouth. 

His fingers leave you suddenly and you resist the urge to stamp your foot like an impatient toddler, fists tight at your sides. Eddie raises up on his knees, leaning toward your chest. 

“I'm gonna take this off first, that OK sweetheart?” 

He runs a finger between the valley of your breasts as he speaks, making your back arch into the hint of a touch. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Atta girl.” 

He reaches behind you and flicks your bra clasp, opening it with such ease that it makes you question internally how many times he's done that before. Then, he pulls the straps down slowly and with such reverence that you forget your thoughts. 

“Jesus Christ, you are just perfect aren't you.” 

Solid knuckles rub gently over a pebbled nipple making you whimper and bite your lip. Leaning in, his mouth is wet and warm, almost leisurely massaging your nipple, then giving the same amount of care and attention to the other. 

When his teeth graze you an unfiltered moan shoots out from you, entirely unbidden. 

“Wow, you're really sensitive,” he says when he unlatches his mouth. He pinches one abruptly and you cry out, hand grasping at his bicep in pleasurable shock. Licking his lips, he grins at you. 

“Oh we are gonna have a lot of fun sweetheart.” 

Running a finger just under the hem of your panties, he pulls them down as you assist him, lifting your ass to give him room. He shakes his head, biting his lip as he takes all of you in with his eyes now that you're entirely exposed, as if he can’t believe his luck. 

Kissing down your quivering form, he finally slips that overbold tongue of his between your folds, running it back and forth over your sensitive nub. His tongue searches you, taking care to leave no spot untouched. It's deliberate; a slow and intense exploration of your sex, as if mapping out every sweet spot, spurred on by the moans spilling from your lips with ever increasing frequency. 

Each sound you make is echoed, mirrored by Eddie, as if he was taking as much enjoyment in eating you out as you were in receiving it. The build up is as slow as his movements, but that certainly isn't a bad thing. Far from it. The feeling fizzing in your very blood is deep and profound, and it keeps building. 

Until Eddie does this twirling thing with his tongue that makes your eyes cross, that sets each one of your nerves on fire, fingers desperately grasping at his soft waves as you moan even louder. 

“Fuck, Eddie! Right there!” 

His words are muffled, a hint of amusement in them, but you're sure he says “yes ma'am.”

Then he does it again, and again, tongue twisting like it's independent from his body, swirling you into a deep pool of overwashing ecstasy. Back leaving the soft confines of the couch you clutch at his hair as your hoarse moans pound out of you, until you flop back down, a glistening panting mess. 

Eddie's still kissing your delicate parts, leaving soft, almost innocent kisses. He presses his lips to your clit again and you squirm, trying to get out of his gentle, grasping hands. It's a soft touch, but his hands are immovable, like velvet wrapped around a steel bar. 

“Eddie, fuck, I-I'm really sensitive-” 

“Oh I know sweetheart,” he says, pressing his mouth against you over and over, “but we're not done.” 

Staring at him wide eyed, he lifts one hand, ring and middle finger outstretched, and brushes the tips of them to your kiss bitten bottom lip. 

“Can you get these nice and wet for me sweetheart?”

Parting your lips slightly, he slips the fingers inside and you do as instructed, licking and suckling on them, surprised by how fiercely you wanted to. They felt rough and heavy on your tongue. Eddie's staring at you with a burning admiration in his eyes, still pushing his lips to you. He suckles softly at your clit making you writhe and moan around him. As he pulls his fingers out you call to him. 

“Eddie, I can't it's too much-” 

“Shhh, princess, do you really want me to stop?” 

A little drop of shame trickles down your throat at the thought. 

“No,” you whisper. 

“That's what I thought,” he says as his fingers circle your silken entrance, “be good for me sweetheart, good girls come twice.” 

You're not sure if the heady moan that you release is due to his fingers slipping inside you, or his words. It could be a combination of both. Stroking at you incessantly, his fingers drive into you, perpetually caressing that soft spot inside that makes your toes curl. 

Your release creeps up unsurprisingly fast. It's all force and pressure, a tightening, full feeling that's gripping your insides in its strong claws. One minute you're holding on to reality and the next, you're gone, floating away as the pressure melts and cascades from you like stardust. 

Your vision unblurring, you realise what's happened when the sound of it reaches your ears. That squelching, soaking noise of Eddie's fingers working you through the last throes of your pleasure. 

As you look down Eddie's staring at your dripping pussy with awe, having to pull his fingers out of you with a bit of force since you don't seem to want to let go. He sits back on his heels with a smile that could rival the Cheshire cats, absolutely coated in your juices. It's covering his face, his hand, and it's even darkened the front and sleeve of his shirt. 

An apology nestles on the tip of your tongue, but it stays there when Eddie speaks. 

“Atta girl, did so good for me. Fuck, I kinda want to see if you can do that again.” 

Opening your mouth for a witty remark, it escapes you. Your usually sharp mind is now the consistency of spray cheese. All that comes out is a soft little noise, a cross between a hum and a thank you. 

“Stay right there, I'll be back.” 

You giggle a little as he runs off. Where on earth does he think you'll go? And more importantly, how? 

When he returns his face and hands are clean, and crucially, he's shirtless. Lean muscle gleams in the low light, decorated with a dozen or so tattoos. He's got a cloth in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. 

“Here, drink up sweetheart, you need it.” 

You search for a hint of playfulness or smugness in his face and come up empty. In fact, he's staring, waiting for you to take a sip. When you do, he smiles, and goes about wiping the tops of your thighs. The cloth is even warm. You've never been given a warm cloth before, the closest being a handful of scrunched up tissues. 

“Eddie, where have you been all my life?” 

Laughing loudly, he sits next to you, stealing a sip of your water. 

“I came as quickly as I could.” 

It was a cheesy line, but you're beyond caring, a goofy grin smeared all over your face. 

“Can I take you to the bedroom?” 

You nod and before you can get up he's scooping you into his arms. 

“Eddie, I can walk you know,” you say as you drape your arms around his neck. 

“Oh I know, I just want to take care of you.” 

Fuck. You could move in tomorrow. 

The only things you notice about the bedroom are the soft blue of the duvet as he places you gently on top of it and the bedside lamps he flicks on that bathe the room in a warm glow. The rest doesn't matter, not right now. Your eyes are on him as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking at you as if you were a beautiful sculpture carved from the finest marble. 

Getting up on your knees, you smile cheekily up at him as you hook your fingers into the worn denim and pop the top button. 

“And what do you think you're doing?” He asks, hand moving up to cradle your face. 

“I was going to return the favour.” 

You unzip the fly and pull them down, eyes widening at the swollen bulge in his trunks. They're tight, leaving little room for the imagination, but anything you may have imagined couldn't possibly compare to the real thing. 

“Not tonight sweetheart. Like I said, I want to take care of you.” 

He turns to the nightstand and rummages around, pulling out a packet of condoms. It's new, you notice, as he unwraps the film and takes one out, placing it on the side whilst he rolls his underwear off.

As he's putting it on you gawp shamelessly, truly wondering if it's actually going to fit. No wonder he's so confident. 

“Did you actually just turn down a blow job?” 

He smiles, crawling between your legs and caging your head between his arms. 

“What can I say, I'm a giver.” 

He stops for a moment, knuckles stroking your cheek. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” 

Smiling gently, you reach down and grasp his solid member making him jolt, and rub the tip through your slick. 

“Yes.” 

You line him up and his smile turns into an open mouthed groan, eyebrows knitting together as he starts slipping inside of you. 

“Eddie, holy- fuck.” 

“You're OK sweetheart, doing such a good job for me.” 

He pushes in further and you realise why all the foreplay was necessary. Clearly, he enjoyed it too, but you're not sure you could have taken him without it. When he's finally sitting flush inside you wince a little, hands tight on his shoulders. 

“You feel incredible, so tight for me.” 

Whimpering, you can feel your cheeks heat with the praise. 

“God you really do like my words don't you?” 

Grinning mischievously, he plants a soft kiss to your lips. It weirdly feels more intimate than him being inside you. 

“Y-yeah, it's really sexy Eddie.” 

His cock kicks up inside you, making you gasp a little. 

“You're really sexy. The little sounds you make, your moans.”

As if demonstrating that, he pulls out a little and thrusts in gently, forcing a quivering sigh from you. 

“See? Fucking perfect sweetheart.” 

He begins rolling his hips into you, never pulling out too much, as if he couldn't stand to be any further apart. 

One of his sinewy arms snakes its way underneath you, holding you close as he playfully nips your earlobe and breathing whispers into your ear. 

“How many times?” 

“Huh?” You respond, utterly lost in the feel of him dragging against your gripping walls. 

“How many times do you want to come?” 

You giggle, despite the situation, or maybe because of it.

“I don't usually, oh, get t-to choose, is there a- oh fuck- there a menu or something?” 

He chuckles and slows down just slightly, pushing into you devastatingly deep. 

“What's the most you've managed?” 

He's so thick, and the feel of him is otherworldly; it had you wondering how it'd feel without the layer of latex between you. 

“I can't- fuck- I can't think- like two?”

He stops, looking at you incredulously  with a furrowed brow.

“Two? We can do better than that.” 

He speeds up, leaning on one arm as his other hand finds its way down your torso and begins to rub your clit. That pulse inside you is sent into overdrive, mouth open and panting as you cling to his back, nails digging into his skin. 

Your release swells inside, growing, and intensifying, until it suddenly pops, showering you in pleasure. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as you moan out your release an inch from his face.

“Atta girl,” Eddie says as he nudges you with his nose, “do that again.” 

Your clit feels a little sore, swollen and sensitive after so much pleasure. His touch is gentle, but it's still overwhelming. 

“Eddie, I-I can't, please-” 

“You want me to stop? I'll stop if you want that sweetheart.” 

The sharp feeling begins to dull, making way for another wave of euphoria that washes over your whole body. Legs twitching uncontrollably, you whine long and low, a flood of noises bursting from you that no damn could ever stop. 

“That a no, sweetheart?” 

“Don't stop don't stop don’t stop - oh!” 

You'd be embarrassed by the crazy noise you made as you come again, if you were even aware of it. A screeching loud moan, eyes scrunched as your body leaves the bed and your nails drag across his bare back. 

“That's it, knew you could, so good for me. Fuck, nearly lost it.” 

He does stop then, biting his lip to stop himself from unleashing his own orgasm as his breath comes in short huffs. 

“Eddie, you don't have to- ohmygod!”

The last of your sentence evaporates on your tongue as he hooks his arms under your legs and pushes your thighs flush to your chest. It seems even Eddie has lost the power of speech, dirty moans pouring from his mouth that rival your own. 

He's so deep, impossibly deep; as if he were in your guts at this point. You've never felt so full in all your life. Your third release is almost there, a tightening string wound around you, pulling and twisting and contorting your body into a writhing sweaty shambles. 

You're clenching and convulsing around his pumping length as he twitches inside you, his groans and grunts spurring you on. It's faster now, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Sweat clings to the very air, the heat in the room creating this cloying humidity that dampens each breath out, making hair stick to skin and creating loud slapping sounds of your conjunction. 

Eddie's face is red with effort, teeth gritted and lips tight. 

“Are you gonna come again? I can feel you. Please, sweetheart, please- fuck- I need it, I need it, come with me!” 

You let go. The tight string breaks and your orgasm spreads through your very soul; it's so profound and savage that tears spill out and down your cheeks with its intensity. Eddie joins you, coming as one with a drawn out groan that borders on feral. 

For a moment, you both revel in it, just panting, feeling sticky skin against skin, heartbeats slowing, muscles unwinding and relaxing. 

He finally unhooks his arms from your legs and you lay them shakily on the down as he clambers off, collapsing next to you on the bed. 

“You OK sweetheart?” 

“Hmm.”

It's all you can reply with, a little satisfied noise. Scooting closer to him, you place your hand hesitantly on his chest. 

“Hang on a sec.” 

He gets up and disposes of the condom, slowly padding out the room. Returning again with another glass of water for you, he hands it over with a raise of an eyebrow. This time you take it gratefully, chugging half of it before passing it back. 

A moment of panic grips your chest, followed by shame. You barely know him, yet you'd gone to his place with hardly any hesitation. 

As he lays back down next to you, scooping his arm around your back, you clear your throat. 

“I just, er, wanted you to know I don't usually do this.” 

“Hey, it's alright. Neither do I.”

Feeling slightly less trampy, you stroke his chest with delicate fingers, wishing for the moment to last but knowing it can't. 

“I don't think my legs work anymore, I think you'll have to call me a taxi.”

Eddie sits up suddenly, looking at you with anguish written all over his face. 

“You're not leaving, are you?” 

“Well, I don't fancy doing the walk of shame tomorrow in that outfit.” 

He pouts, looking much younger than he is. 

“Oh. Well, you can always borrow something to wear?” 

“That's even worse!” You laugh, hitting his chest softly. 

“Fine, then I'll go out in the morning and buy you something to wear.” 

Staring at him wide eyed, you realise he's not joking. 

“Really?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd buy you a whole new wardrobe if it meant you’d stay.” 

Heart beating just that little bit faster in your chest, you fight the tears that want to build up. 

“I just thought, you know, well, we don't know each other that well and that you might think this was just, a thing.” 

“You mean a one night thing?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. 

“C'mere.” 

Melting into his open arms, he kisses the top of your head.

“I want you to stay. I'll take you home Monday and-” 

“Eddie, tomorrow's Sunday.” 

“I know.” 

“Eddie, I have to work Monday. So do you!” 

You laugh, trying to break free of his arms but he doesn't let up. 

“Fine, I'll take you home tomorrow. Late. Then see you Monday night.” 

Face hurting from smiling, you settle into the cuddle, the swell of feeling in your chest almost too much for you right now. 

“Eddie I can't stay. I don't have a toothbrush.” 

You say it jokingly, and he squeezes you. 

“It's fine, I've got like 20 of them from work.” 

“Thief.” 

“I prefer to think of it as resourceful.” 

Suddenly he pulls you on top of him making you squeal. 

“So you gonna stay?” 

“Yeah, fine I'll stay.” You try to say it in a mocking manner but your silly grin belies your rolling eyes. 

“Good.” 

Holding you close, Eddie breathes such a sigh of relief; a deep one, one that sounds like he's been holding in for some time. A sigh that makes you feel special. 

Permanent Taglist (couple of these are assumed, if you want off let me know! Same if you want to be added sweethearts)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi! Sorry i wasn't specific!

The the virus/usb/ software one with retractable cock/pussy boothil like omg... Like there's a lot of things you can do with this promt nini... I'm going feral like i have a lot of ideas

Please tell me your ideas <33 I’d love to hear them mannnn, hsr isn’t treating my space cowboy right so I have to

Dom!reader x sub!boothill

Warning: boothill has a pussy, fingering, dirty talk (a little), finger sucking, overstimulation

“You muddle-forker! What did ya do?” Boothill stormed into your room, slamming the door shut behind him. “What’s the problem, cowboy?” You stayed seated on your bed, tapping away on your laptop without looking up at him. “That update ya promised me, that would help me identify oswaldo even among tausends of people! Are you shirt-bag kiddin’ me?” His footsteps got louder as he approached you, then he slammed his hand onto your nightstand, leaving behind an USB-stick. “This thing here is nothing but trouble, it’s fudgin’ broken!”

Your gaze eventually left the screen on your lap, now staring up at the cyborg. His face was all red and sweaty, suggesting he hurried over to you. “And what exactly is broken with it?” The expression you wore was nonchalant, your voice was unimpressed and almost condescending. As if you looked down on him. “All it did was causing my system to overheat, fudge, it’s already hot enough without it, no need to make me get a heatstroke.” Boothill clenched his teeth, scratching his head a little. Huh? But you didn’t remember adding a heating function to that Programm you’ve written. Without giving you any time to think, he continued with, “.. and there was a text saying I should fudge with someone. Seriously, are you forking joking?” Oh. So that’s what happened. You thought about it for a while, before coming to a conclusion. “Hah.. I told you to use the blue USB-stick, you took the red one didn’t you?”

He blinked, searching through his memory bank before snarling at you, “Forke me, you told me to use the red one!” You shook your head in opposition, “I’m pretty sure I said blue.” An audible sigh came from the galaxy ranger, he then uttered under his breath, “Why am I even arguing with you… just fix this, ol’ friend. What was that port for anyway.” Your hand plugged a wire to your laptop, before commanding, “it was just a pass-time project, now turn around.” The male did as you said, showing you his hips and pulling his hair out of the way. Soon, you plugged the other end into his body, thus connecting the two machines.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t a little on edge the whole time, especially when you sticked the end of the wire in, he felt a weird sensation coursing through his body. So he cursed in response, “mother-fudger.” A slight tremble could be heard as he spoke, as well as the troubled expression on his face. “Alright, I’ll start looking into it now.” You gave him a heads up, now resuming your previous actions and staring at the screen before you. The USB-stick this unfortunate cowboy used was originally meant for him, but according to your words it wasn’t time yet. You quickly tried to suppress the virus, groaning a little when it turned out to be more difficult than expected.

Boothill on the other hand got more impatient with each passing second, for him it was like torture. Somehow he was feeling all hot, and up to this point he’s been blaming it onto the weird thing that infiltrated his system, though it seems like the heat only grew after being in your company. “Tsk, there is no other way then.” You mumbled, your expression was serious. “What?” The man who was still standing next to your bed asked, he had a confused look on his face. “I’m saying, we will have to solve this in a less appropriate manner.” Even though you were pretty bold, you still tried to word it in a refined way, but it only frustrated the cowboy more. “Don’t talk in riddles, just forking tell me.”

“Haaah.” You sighed, before shouting, “it means you’ll have to do what that text wants from you, easy enough to understand?” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but your eyes glimmered, as if you’ve been waiting for this. “I-… forkeroni, why would you create something like that?!” He screamed back at you, his face now completely flushed red. To think you got him flustered and blushing so easily, you didn’t even need to make that virus. Gently, you plugged the wire out and put your laptop to the side, instead you grabbed his hips and pulled him in. He yelped and stumbled a little, yet he didn’t resist and sat down on your lap without much trouble. Then you said, “for you, of course. I didn’t expect it to happen this early though.”

For him? So you wanted him to catch this virus and become a mess, hah, you really did look down on him didn’t you? “So it’s because ya want to get’in ma pants?” He snarled cheekily, though that front of his wasn’t very convincing, considering how he shook in your grasp. “You caught me.” You replied, before fumbling with his belt. “Ughh.. is this- really necessary?” Just like that his confident attitude vanished, now back to being the shy cyborg he was. “You don’t have to do it with me, I think you can take care of it by yourself as well.” After finishing your sentence, you took your hands away from him. His weight was still pressing down your thighs, and his metallic body leaned back against your chest.

His eyes widened at your suggestion. Next thing you know, he immediately denied that possibility. “Y-you are the one who started this mess, so you cant back out halfway.” You noticed how his hands were bawled into fists, resting on top of his own thighs. Not to mention the stutter in his voice, so he did want you to help. “Right, it wouldn’t be proper of me to not take responsibility.” A chuckle slipped from your lips before you agreed to his statement. He nodded, as if to confirm what you said. “Then, am I right when I say I have your consent?” Boothill gulped loudly, before nodding again, trying to act unfazed. “Do what ya have to.”

You stared at his face for a while, taking in his features. Then your hands moved on their own, pulling away his belt and unzipping his pants. “Mhm, I’ll.” The poor man didn’t even have time to register your action before feeling your fingertips on his artificial cunt, caressing the area around it. “Ughh! Don’t.. don’t try anything funny.” He snarked at you, the embarrassment he felt was almost too much to handle. “I won’t, I’ll only do things you like.” You reassured him while rubbing his clit gently, intrigued by his reactions. It was truly amazing how he was able to feel pleasure even though it was a real one, considering it was made out of rubber or latex. Heck, you even thought he was a Ken doll for the longest time.

“HNng- you son of a.. bench. What are ya doing to me?” Boothill gasped, now his hands were clenching onto your arms for support. He turned his head to the side, to gaze over his shoulder and glare at you. To his surprise you took that opportunity to kiss him, causing him to whimper. “Nghh!! I’m really a J-joke to you ain’t I?” A breathy moan escaped him afterwards, and he shuddered when he noticed your finger circling around his entrance. “I’m taking this very seriously.” You commented, one hand moved up to his face and cupped his chin. Your thumb was resting on his bottom lip, after that you chuckled, “here, if you don’t have a better use for that foul mouth of yours, why don’t you suck on my fingers?” The cyborg glared at you again, his eyes sharp and half-lidded. You would have taken him seriously if it wasn’t for the adorable blush across his cheeks.

With lingering hesitation, boothill opened his mouth, letting you stick your finger inside. When you did, you took extra care to not brush over his sharp teeth, instead you instantly started playing with his tongue. It didn’t take long until your finger was coated in his spit. “GuuHh, nGhhm!” He gagged around your fingers a little, eyes now tightly sealed and brows furrowed. “Shh, focus on your breathing.” You advised him, before slowly sticking one finger inside his surprisingly soft cunt. The first one went in pretty easily, the second one was more difficult, considering he couldn’t get wet or anything like that.

“Hey, boothill, can you take out the lube from my drawer?” You ordered, right now only wriggling one finger around his insides while the other one was still in his throat. “Mmmhff… uhhhnm, mmHFFf!!!” He tried to complain, but it all got muffled by your digits. In the end he just complied without causing anymore trouble. Hands shaking uncontrollably as he fumbled around, trying to find the bottle. He couldn’t see it, only feel it, because he head was thrown back and resting against your shoulder. Just one finger was enough to make him feel this way, be this loud, you couldnt even imagine how it would be if you replaced it with something bigger.

After a while, he finally managed to find the bottle, hands still quivering as he hand it over to you. “Good boy.” You praised him, then took your finger out of him. After popping the bottle open, you squeezed some of the lube onto your fingers, and covered his hole with it. His entire body twitched and he arched his back off your body again. If only your digits weren’t down his throat, then he would have cussed you out already. At the same time he is grateful for it, because it helped him silencing some really shameful noises. A sudden whine broke off his train of thoughts, when you pushed two of your fingers inside him with one smooth movement.

“HnngGGHh! MHnHgg.?!” Now he was chocking on his own moans, drool hanging out from his lips as he gazed down at your hand. The two digits you sticked into him were burried inside his walls up to your knuckles, until you reached the most humiliating and deep parts of his body. There you accidentally grazed over his weak spot, causing him to throw his head back once again. His eyes were blurry and hazy as waves of pleasure crashed down onto him. He never knew this could feel so good, fudge it, he never knew he could feel anything at all. You saw how his entire frame was quivering like crazy, overheating even. The metal was almost too hot for you to handle.

Without further delay, you started thrusting your fingers in and out of his sloppy hole. He tried to close his legs, thighs pressing against your hand, but you just continued to finger him roughly. Boothill could swear he was going to shortcut if he doesn’t do something, he could already feel his consciousness fading away. Only whimpers left him since his groans were stuck in his mouth, high-pitched whines paired with lewd squelching founds filled the room. You kept brushing your fingertips against his soft spot, and each time you did so electricity would be send to his brain. All those sensations were too much, really. He couldn’t take any more.

You eventually took your fingers out of his mouth. Now, one hand was playing with his puffy cunt while the other one was smearing his saliva onto his cheeks. As soon as your digits left his lips, he cursed at you, “fo-fork you… hNgg..” You only smirked at him, before picking up your pace. Boothill was gasping and panting, tongue hanging out as he tried to calm down his breathing. His hands were clutching your arms so hard you were sure it would bruise the next day. “Sh-shirt… tis’ so good, mmHgnn, too mu-much..!” All these sensations swelling within him were too overwhelming, yet you didn’t even pity him! When he’d ask you to slow down, you’d answer with, “aw, but I want to fix you as soon as possible!”

His eyes widened when suddenly waves of pleasure and ecstasy washed over him. He would have screamed if he didn’t suffocate on his own voice, biting his tongue in the process. The little cyborg finally reached his orgasm, though nothing came out. Even then it was so good that his eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his bangs stuck to his face and his metallic body was shaking uncontrollably. You also noticed how his hole was gaping around you, as if it wanted more. Poor little thing was so unresponsive now, his head was all empty. He didn’t even have the ability to form coherent sentences or think about anything but the pleasure. All because he’s been consumed by lust and bliss, because of your touch.

Sadly you didn’t notice that he reached his orgasm already, so you continued to pound and tease his squishy walls. “HnnGh, no.. I can’t ♡!! NGhnm, no mo-more, ah-nHgh..!” He managed to mewl out after much efforts, but you only grinned in response to his pleads. The virus has also been taken care of, so there is no need for you to keep going! Boothill tried to tell it to you, so that you would finally stop. He was so sensitive he can’t possibly go for another round, or he’ll really break. So why did his voice have to fail him in such a crucial moment? It’s all because of your fingers overstimulating him like this, he can barely even sit straight now because he felt so weak.

What a pitiful boy.. all he could hope for was for you to realise the situation. He trusted you and your sharp intuition. But, to be honest, would you stop even if you found out?

[mochinomnoms]

Shut UUPPP now I need a little scenario with PTM jade and the reader where they're actually in a very risky place while they're doing the Ole tango lol.... In the very back of the library or in the damn janitor closet even, courtesy of yuu's knowledge during their short occupation as a janitor ehehehe

so like i just got super tempted and gave in cause i love the idea of ptm jade and yuu exploiting the fuck out of their telepathy to get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cause i was gonna save this as a fuller bit in the future cause im weak

Being a telepath has its benefits, especially in these little escapades of yours. You'd have never thought Jade of all people would be so insatiable (a trait more suited for Floyd as most would agree), but you also never thought he'd be so enamored by you, so he was just full of surprises.

“Uuugah~”

Though perhaps you should take just a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty bit of responsibility. Just this once, you decided to be impulsive and bring Jade with you to a corner of the library to fulfill one of his many fantasies he'd dreamt up before you two got together.

“Mmh~”

And, well, you wanted to fluster Jade like he did to you much too often. Though that definitely wasn't the feeling running through either of your veins at the moment.

“Aah, pearl—”

Besides, Jade made the loveliest of gasps, sounds in general really, when you got him like this.

“Seven help me—oooh~ Just like that, so good, my sweet pearl~”

As soft as those sounds were, if someone were to listen closely, they could make out very soft, quiet breaths and slurping sounds.

Now where are the rest of those students? I want to close up and go home!

Which was not ideal, especially regarding the librarian with an especially acute sense of hearing.

An icy cold shock ran through your body, making you bolt straight up, though you hand a very obvious 'mess' on your lips.

“Oh shit! What time is it?” You tried scrambling up, only to be met with Jade's hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a hot, wet lip lock, sharp teeth just scraping your tongue.

Just for a moment, you melted into the kiss in bliss, a loud, wanton moan leaving you.

Hmmp? Did I hear something?

“W-wait, Jade!” In an urgent, but panicked tone, you whispered. “Professor Murine! He's coming!”

You think you felt Jade huff against your lips, but he calmed your growing anxiety as he cleaned up his appearance, watching as you did the same.

Neither of you really undressed as much as you did just expose bare skin for the other's access, so it was rather quick. Shuffling from your spots on the floor and back up to your seats, your knees feeling particularly sore, the two of you did your best to make it look like you'd been studying all this time.

You did anyway, Jade seemed that he still needed to get out a bit more energy. As the footsteps grew louder, let out a surprise squeak at Jade, grabbing your chin to pull you in for a kiss.

The sound of the door opening was nothing to Jade licking the corner of your lips before deepening the kiss. The salty taste from the white beads made you hot as you both heard the door open.

“Why I—” Murine cringed and sputtered. “You—you—you two! Don't you have better places to do this? We're closing, get out!”

Jade let out an 'embarrassed' chuckle as he helped clean up the mess of notebooks and pens.

“Of course, my apologies. We will be out shortly.”

Murine scoffed as he turned around to finish patrolling the library for any further stragglers, leaving you two alone once again.

Quickly heading for the exit, you felt Jade move a hand to curl on your hip and pull you in close, letting him lean down to whisper in your ear.

“We should indeed head to somewhere much more suited for our needs. Perhaps in the privacy of my room?”

[misstycloud]

Yandere.childhood sweetheart ex X reader

Imagine a yandere childhood sweetheart ex going to visit his darling at university, but unfortunately she isn’t so happy like he thought she’d be.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, horrified at the sudden appearance of your ex-boyfriend.

He attempted a soft smile, but you could easily see the storm beneath it. With a small laugh, he said, “what do you mean? I’m here for you, obviously.” He stepped forward and reached for you hand, you pulled it away from his reach.

“No, like- why are you here at all?” You punched your brow in frustration. “I get that you’re here for me or whatever, but why? It’s not- we are not together. We broke up.” To emphasise your point, you used your hand(the one he wanted to hold) to gesture between the two of you.

He gulped, “Yeah, but that was just because you wanted to go to university here in the city- even though there are completely okay universities in our hometown.” His tone soured at the end of his speech. As if he somehow couldn’t believe your decision to leave that small, boring, hillbilly town that you were forced to grow up in.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “only if you want to learn how to milk a cow 50 different ways.”

Your ex frowned and expressed his clashing opinion, “don’t say that, it’s where we grew up, where we lived-“ he got quieter “-and…where we fell in love.” The man looks like he was on cloud nine remembering the good ‘ol’ days.

“Sure, yippie!” You sarcastically cheered and noticed how his mood went sour again. He definitely didn’t enjoy how you easily played off your past relationship. Too bad for him you were completely over it; he’s stuck in the past and needs to move on.

The young man chose not to call your out on your(in his opinion) somewhat rude behaviour. It was not your fault, after all. The city and its people clearly haven’t been a good influence on you. But wasn’t that the reason he was there? To convince you to come home with him. He sighed before putting on another smile.

“Well, are you gonna invite me in?” he easily looked over your head, into your apartment. “It’s a little cold out here, y’know.”

Ignoring how ridiculous it must look from a passerby’s point of view, you stuck your arms up to obstruct your ex-boyfriend’s sight. If you’d been as tall as he was, you’d simply stand in his way to keep him from checking out your home. Unfortunatly, not everyone can be built like a skyscraper.

“No, I’m not going to let you in. You aren’t even welcome!” You exasperated. Why couldn’t he understand you didn’t want him there?

He was quiet for a moment, which made you think he was finally getting the message, but your hopes were crushed when he said in a cold voice, “Don’t be rude. It’s not like you to act like this. I told you going to the city was a stupid idea.” You were a bit shaken at this new side of him. In the past, he was always happy and sweet to you. On the rare occasions(usually when he thought you were hanging out more with your friends than him) you did fight, he was never like this; chilly and looking at you like you were in his way. While both were objectively bad, you thought you preferred when he was all hot instead of…this.

You were silenced and could do nothing when he pushed past you and entered your apartment despite your previous objections. Not knowing what else to do, you closed the door. You turned around to see your ex standing in your living room, examining the room top to bottom with an unimpressed face.

He hummed, “It’s cute. Although, I could build you a house much better than this. But as long as you’re happy, I suppose.”

“Excuse me?” Ain’t no way you’d let this dude come and diss your home like that. “Did you come here only to insult my home? Because, if so, you are free to leave.”

He shook his head, laughing softly, but you could still hear the insincerity in his voice when he said “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” (He definitely mean it like that) He walked to the wooden bookshelf you had placed in the corner and picked out a book right away, even though the large selection should’ve kept him busy for a while. With his back turned to you, it was impossible to see which book he'd pulled from its spot.

When he finally faced you again, you understood why he chose it. The book’s cover was clumsily made, it was clear that the creator was not a professional. It was uneven and did not line up with the stack of pages of the book, thereby leaving paper sticking out. Despite its rough appearance, the title was made with gold lettering which still had its shine, even though years has passed since its creation.

‘Damn it!’ you thought. Everything was so messy when you first moved and not wanting to deal with lose things forever, you just found some temporary home for items and left them there. It was now that you regretted your laziness. You should’ve put it away(throwing it seemed a bit heartless, even for you)

“You still have it?” He asked, the previous coldness gone, now he simple seemed slightly bewildered. Caressing the cover, he continued, “I thought you threw it away, to be honest, hehe.” The man glanced up at you with those loving eyes. You used to adore it whenever he looked at you like that, now they brought you nothing but unease. “I’m glad you kept it.” He finished off before putting it back in its place.

You tried focusing on anything but him; hellbent on ignoring his silenced stare. The day could go worse than this, you thought. Why the hell did he have to show up? And just as your life here in the city started going smoothly. Of course your past had to come back and bite you.

Both of you were lost in thought(with very different ideas) and the only sound was from the ticking clock on the wall.

“Why did you leave me?”

“H-huh?” You focused your attention back on him and saw his serious expression gazing back at you.

‘He seriously need to control his mood swings.’

“You heard me. I want to know why you decided to leave.”

“You know why: I couldn’t be stuck in that little town forever. It was boring and nothing ever happened. I don’t want to live out an existence like that, it’s not what I want.”

“That’s not a reason. You can life a good life without being James Bond. We were so happy together. I even-“ he stopped to take a deep breath, “I was goin to propose. I had started saving up to buy you the ring you deserve. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You sneered at him and said angrily, “Well, hate to break it to you, but I obviously don’t feel the same. I’m sorry, okay. But I never wanted to get married- I don’t even know where you got that idea from. Why would I marry you?-“

“Because we love each other.” Your ex rolled his eyes in annoyance, “that’s kind of the reason people get married, Love.”

Ugh, he acted like you were the insufferable one. Like you were the problem! He was the one with too thick of a head to understand that you don’t want to be with him. And he even dared to call you Love, just like when you were together.

“No, I don’t love you anymore. Stop this.” You groaned as you felt a headache coming in.

“You’re the one who needs to ‘stop this’. Can you see how foolish you’re being? You broke my heart and for what? Some dumb degree you’re not even gonna get.” He grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned in close. “It’s me, (y/n). Your Theo.” You held your breath as he took your and and placed it directly above his heart. The heat from his body and the comforting beats had you remembering how much you did love this man. “This is yours. All yours, Love, you only need to accept it. I can give you everything you ask for. Come home with me, and forget this dumb university. You won’t find your dreams here. You’ll only be truly happy when you’re back home with me, I can promise you that.”

You stood still and watched as Theo kissed your knuckles; a common way for him to show affection. His words stung, yet you couldn’t hate him for them. It was true, things weren’t as great as you’d make them out to be. It’s all because you didn’t want to disappoint your parents. They still lived in your hometown and had worked their asses off to give you a chance to follow your dreams and make it big.

Originally, they’d been agaisnt you moving to the city. ‘But it’s so far away’ they had said, and ‘you’ll regret it’. You knew they wished for you stay and marry Theo instead, but that’s not what you wanted.

So you gave them a piece of your mind before storming off to Theo’s house. You spent the night there in fear of facing your parents, especially after that little action of liberty. It was ironic how you threw yourself in his arms, considering the whole argument was about something that’d ultimately have you leave him.

As you were contemplating your all your life choices, Theo dropped to his knees. You gasped, first thinking he’d fallen. But that was clearly not the case, because immediately after, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red velvet box.

It didn’t take Einstein-level of intelligence to see what kind of box it was and what it undoubtedly contained. The devotion in his eyes had you gulp.

“I know this is sorta late now, but every couple has to go through a number of challenges. So, (y/n) (l/n), will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

The ring inside was more beautiful than you’d imagined. It was, truly, your dream ring. It was also proof how attentive he’d been back when you were younger; he actually did listen to you and remembered every bit of foolish young thoughts you’d splurted out.

It was just a question. One that everyone has the right to say ‘no’ to if they don’t think a ‘yes’ is fitting. But there was something in Theo’s eyes that made you waver. You weren’t fully sure what it was apart from how feral it seemed. All your senses told you to reject his advance, however, you caught yourself wondering if that really was a good idea.

How will you respond?

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Brains & Barbie!

PAIRING: Michael Gavey x fem!BIMBO!Reader

WORDS: 1,515.

SUMMARY: Polar opposites attract right? It’s science. Who knew you would fall so helplessly in love with the math geek of the century…

WARNINGS: female receiving (fingering), swearing, degradation kink, some praise kink, edging, cum play, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing.

A/N - it has been a hot minute since I wrote for an Ewan character, so forgive me I’m a little rusty.

this fic is dedicated to my soul sister @sahvlren as it was her bday recently, and she requested this specifically. I love you so very much, and am so thankful to have you as my dearest friend, boo. one day we shall meet, but for now we get freaky online! enjoy xoxox

+++ in light of the recent drama unfolding in this hellsite, I thought some good ole' smut would do no harm, right?

forgive me I shall edit this properly, but I must sleep for my night shift lol

You weren't exactly the perfect pair to exist, nor would any like minded person think it best to put you two together in a roo, let alone become intimate. And yet, so effortlessly you both meshed rather well...Michael, your "Norman No Mates" boyfriend [as he enjoyed putting it], was quite a mathematical genius. His family were somewhat stable and well off, however, he rejoiced in the idea that he worked his way into the academy, where as your situation was quite the opposite. Your father had attended Oxford and graduated, as did your grandfather, who also sponsored and funded many of its restorations and renovations. The ancient establishment owed many of its complexes to your family name, and hence, granted you a position in their literature field, warranted you did try to maintain your grades above a credit average, trimming it with a pass even...

You had tipsily stumbled upon Michael at some college party: he stood by some dark corner, a drink in hand and the other in his pocket, before you had ignorantly walked into him, mindless to your surroundings from intoxication. You had either gone to refill your drink or was seeking the bathroom [you struggle to remember the fine details of the night you had met], laughing obnoxiously at some joke your friend had uttered, before walking into the man that would ultimately make you weak in your knees.

"S-Sorry-" You softly slurred, spilling your drink on the floor, a droplet landing on your heel.

At first it sounded as though an apparent swear seemingly seethed between his curved lips, halting himself before cursing you further, as he adjusted his thin framed spectacles, marvelling at you.

"Y-You alright, love?"

The next thing you knew, you found yourself hot and heavy, heated bodies, grinding against one another, as Michael teased and etched his impressively long cock, at your silky folds. His mouth latched to your unmissable cleavage, as he suckled on your breasts like a new born babe to its mother's teat.

No man had ever made you feel more desired, and yet a fool at his beck and call. He uttered despicable taunts and jabs at you, whilst simultaneously, worshipping the ground you strut on.

"The sluttiest girl on campus just couldn't resist the cock of a geek, huh? Making her even more stupid than she is, look at you... Pathetic baby."

His words stung a compelling sensation, and yet you craved for more of his undivided attention. And seemingly, Michael granted you every fathomable bit he could muster. You were the girl beyond his dreams, needless to say, he never thought he even stood a chance with any girl, of that matter. And he as a man, beyond your tastes. However, the tension was palpable between you two, the chemistry undeniable.

You often found yourself unwittingly seeking his company, even risking your privilege in the confines of his dorm...

"How long left, Mikey. I'm s'bored!" You whinge, as you fidget and reposition yourself sprawled on your boyfriend's single-sized bed. Flinging your flip phone to the side, without a care for consequences [your parents would simply purchase a new one for you]. Despite being in somewhat sheerly covered attire, your ass cheeks just peaking through beneath your skirt, Michael barely felt the temptation to see [if he was even aware of your current outfit].

"Wait. Need to finish this equation."

His stern, unwavering voice and unfazed focus ontp the paper and textbooks before him, made your eyes roll with such annoyance, defeatedly sighing. The repetitive sound of his pencil thudding at his head, and your rhythmical humming, filled the silent void.

"Ugh- Michael, you should have just told me to not come- There was a party, I could have been at—"

"Do you not have an essay due by the end of the week?"

You contemplate for a few, solid seconds, before realising there was truth to his words. You did have an assignment due in the imminent days to come, and you had yet to begin.

"W-Well, yes... But I was hoping you would help me, handsome."

"Is that so?"

His attention still remained down, fixated on the text before him, yet his tone elevated, intrigue plaguing his words.

"I-I mean I'll still write it out, y-you just need to guide me—”

Swiftly he swivelled his entire body in the desk-top chair to turn unto you, a cheeky grin plastered across his chiselled face.

"Baby, you can barely do your times-tables, you think you can write an whole essay? Adorable..."

"But I sure know how to fuck you good. What man of your calibre can have a girl like me, say that to a man like you, huh?"

A darkness tinged in his piercing blue orbs, intently watching your every move and gesture, as he notices your hand hovering between your thighs, before disappearing beneath the short, skimpy skirt.

"Mhmm—"

Your thoughtless moans began to echo between the confined blank walls of the dorm, squirming against the neatly folded fabrics of the bed.

"And what do you think you're doing, exactly?"

Two digits continued to delve deeper between your folds, drawing slow, circular motions as your thumb remained rubbing at your clit. You had been biting your lips, only to release a moan, as you intended to respond obediently.

"M-My boyfriend's a bore, s-so I'm t-taking matters into m-my own h-hands—"

"Is that so?"

Without so much as a warning, a force pried your hands out from beneath your walls, your wetness coating your fingers and knuckles, glistening in the dim light. Within a few seconds, the emptiness between your legs vanished, as a rougher, more sizeable host embedded itself between your velvet folds.

With roughness, and vastly more pace, Michael's lengthy, slim digits began to etch deeper and deeper inside of you, pumping his fist in and out of you, as his other hand laid to rest against the mattress, propping him upright. Your hands immediately laid at your sides, firmly clenching the quilt between for some steadiness.

"Does my little slut have no patience? Brain to numb to think, she just wants to be fucked all the time, huh?"

"Y-Yes—"

Just as your ecstatic cries and moans grew more frequent, Michael's breathing sounded heavier, feeling your warm wetness making a mess all along his hands and the crevices of your entrance.

"This slut could've bent over to anyone. No-No, but she did for me, yeah? So needy for cock, she didn't even learn her times tables, huh?"

"I-I need you, M-Mikey—"

A third long digit shoved itself deeper into your tight hole, panting beneath your grip as you felt yourself fervently clench around him.

"That's right, princess. You need me. No man is worthy of this pretty cunt of yours, I earned it."

As you felt yourself progressively lose all your senses. gaining traction to the heat stirring below, Michael's sudden release felt cathartic. Watching him lick and lap every inch of your wetness lingering over his hand, made you feel delectable. Your lustful eyes searched below, for a fleeting second, you caught the growing commotion in his pants, as the bulge was evident, its shadow against the restricted fabric. As he tasted the last drop, a snarky smirk expanded across his handsome face, before beginning to unbelt and unbutton his beige trousers.

"C'mon princess, spread those legs like you always do, like you were born to do. Such a fucking whore, that's all you were meant for. Meant for me."

Aligning himself so effortlessly perfect against your, his reddened tip blushed against your sight, teasing your silky folds. His veins throbbed with excitement, almost palpable between your sensitive entrance, its length girth suddenly plunging itself ever so slowly inside of you.

With a first, rough shove, delving himself completely inside of you, his balls hitting at your rear, an escape of a low grunt vibrated against his lips, that remained hovering over your soft skin. Michael kept himself steadily propped atop of you: with each thrust, equally time and paced, his weight began to drop over you, applying the pressure down from above with his cock inside of you.

"The most perfect cunt, for the most perfect girl. And it's mine."

"M-Michael—"

"S-Stastically we a-are an anomaly, b-but my princess f-found me, like a good girl—”

“A-Anomaly?"

A deep, growling chuckle escaped his lips, his pace growing sloppier as he attempted to articulate: despite Michael having you weak in the knees in bed, he was still somewhat new at the act of sex. Struggling to juggle with the need to fuck and the need to explain, his lean, tall figure cowering over you, his eyes shut with ecstasy momentarily, before opening to glare and marvel at you breathlessly. Your lips latched onto his neck and collarbones in between your moans, intently sucking at his tender flesh, desperate to taste him, to leave remnants of your physical love, strewed across his body. Desperate to savour every inch of him.

"An odd couple, baby. B-But you take me so fucking well—"

"Mhmm—"

"There's no going back now, Princess..."

credit for divider - @/prettypixels-love

[hungharrington]

 ☁ — sweet talk !

summary: you're interested in your boyfriend's history- well, more like what he used to do that made the stories about king steve in bed spread like wildfire during school. you find out for yourself. fem!reader. 2k. minors DNI

Look, you love your regular ol’ Steve. Stevie. Steeb. He’s a sweetheart through and through — holds the door for you, holds your hand, gives kisses on your cheek, in your hair.

He’s a generous lover. Knows each little thing that makes you tick and just gives and gives to you. Answers your whimpers for more with a deeper grind of his hips, holds your hand as he buries his face between your thighs. He’s a giver.

But a small part of you, just a small part, has always wondered about King Steve.

You don’t want his sneering jabs and aloof disinterest — no, that’s all very much better off left in the past.

But the stories, the stories of how he left girls’ heads spinning, of the filthy fucks at bathrooms, all teasing and cocky King Steve, panty dropper.

You’re just a little bit— alright, marginally interested. Maybe decently interested.

So, you ask. It’s one of those games Steve likes to play sometimes at parties, the two of you begin as though you’re strangers. You’ll act coy, leaned against a wall with a low-cut shirt and a tight skirt and Steve puts on the moves.

It’s always the same stuff and it always makes you nervously giggle. A hand rested above your head against the wall so he can lean in low, whisper in your ear, something cheesy like, “I saw you from across the room and thought you looked so sexy,” that never fails to make you both break, spilling into laughter.

It’s one of the song and dances you two do, flirting like it’s your first time time meeting to keep things fresh. But tonight, when he cages you against the kitchen counter, hands planted on either side and he’s leaning in close, showering you compliments— you ask.

Your fingers tuck into his collar, keep him close, keep his lips ghosting the shell of your ear and whisper to him. “And what would King Steve say?”

You turn, just enough to see his face. The flush that climbs his cheeks as he considers it is glorious to see, but too his credit, he remains cool.

Steve’s eyes darken, rake over your expression and finds what he’s searching for. One of the hands on the counter shifts to cup your waist, dragging his thumb over the exposed skin tantalisingly.

“He would ask what colour your panties are,” Steve murmurs in your ear, voice somehow lower than before. The gravel in his tone shoots straight to your core. “And then ask you to prove it, in the bathroom.”

Before you even get a moment, his thumb dips into the waistband of your skirt, just an inch — and you suck in a breath instinctively. Steve chuckles and it has a condescending lilt to it. You’re nearly ashamed of how much it turns you on.

“So,” you reply, more breathy than intended. “Are you gonna take me to the bathroom then?”

Steve’s eyes light up and a pleased smirk plays on his lips — his hands wandering further from your waist, over your ass, toying with the edge of your skirt.

“Pretty girl like you?” He hums, the air of cockiness you know is King Steve beginning to take over. “No way, baby. I’d have you in the car.”

The way he says it, like he knows he’s already got you wrapped around his finger has heat crawling in your tummy, thighs squirming just a bit. The party is all but abandoned and you have to try your best to not look too eager on your way out. Steve’s wandering hand, which follows a line straight from your tummy down your thigh, doesn’t help in the least.

His hand is glued to your thigh, the entire drive home, the sweet caress of his thumb driving you crazy. Worse, Steve knows it — he takes his eyes off the empty road to watch your expression when he grazes closer to your hot cunt. Laughs a bit at the flutter of your lashes, the shuddering breath you take.

“Y’gonna let me fuck you properly when we back?” He asks, all smug, rolling his head in your direction. He doesn’t even give you time to respond, not that you can think of words at the moment.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” He hums, his other hand draped lazily over the wheel. He squeezes your thigh, some murmur of ‘being good’ you can’t quite catch.

Despite his cool composure, you can the effect this whole act is having on him. His hips shift upwards for a moment, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. It thrills you more to know you’re both getting off on it.

You don’t make it inside once Steve kills the car’s ignition, parked in the shadow of his house. It’s dark out, a few streetlights here and there, but just light enough to see Steve. He smiles at the way you turn to him, looking for what’s happening next.

He puts his seat back just a bit, backing away from the wheel, and beckons you over. It’s an awkward clamber and when your knee knocks the gear stick and you whisper an “Ow”, only then does Steve break character for a moment.

“Shit, honey, y’alright?” He asks, pulling you into his lap, one hand travelling to your knee instantly. He gives a comforting rub. Concern knits his brows together. It hurts, but barely. You smirk and wind you arms around his neck.

“Wow, who knew King Steve was such a sweetheart.” You tease. You sink down, settling atop his thighs, and move to grind down against him but Steve’s hands are faster. His hands grip your hips, holding them tight in place, and you whine in retaliation before you think.

Steve huffs that cocky laugh, squeezes the flesh of your thighs, pawing back to grab at your ass. “Too needy, aren’t you? You’ll just have to wait, mhm.”

Then his lips are on your skin, on your neck, sucking and scraping. Steve knows all your sensitive spots, the way to play with your lobe to make you slick and whimper aloud. He’s merciless, nibbles and licks that make your tummy burn tighter and hotter — your hips move against his hold automatically, beginning to get desperate for friction.

“Stevie…” You rasp after a couple minutes. The air is just your heavy pants, Steve’s fervent motions, the sound of his hands scraping across the fabric of your clothes. His hands cup your ass, move to under your thighs, and he curls his fingers around the edge of your skirt and tugs it up just a bit.

“I know, baby.” He coos against your skin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You groan aloud softly, all his words travelling right to your cunt with a throb. You nod instantly, hoping, praying he’ll give you more. That he’ll let you kiss him.

“Let me have a kiss,” You pout, fingers curling into his hair, ready to tug his face up. Steve smiles at your words, despite his act, but he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even move his face out. Just mumbles, “Nuh uh, baby. Not yet.” against your neck, breath hot, just to draw it all out.

While you still have a single coherent thought, you consider this the main difference between your Steve and this King Steve. King Steve is a fucking tease.

Your hips shift again, feeling his hardness beneath you. The desperation for some relief is building but Steve’s hands are already firm, holding you in place. He pulls back this time and fuck, if it isn’t a beautiful sight.

Lips pink and sheened with spit, cheeks a tad pink, eyes half-lidded in his lazy motions.

“Baby,” he begins, an annoyed drawl to his voice. “I’m taking care of you, yeah? Wait your turn.”

And before there room for protest, he’s back on you, lips pulling out every single sound from you he can. His hands move up to grope at your boobs, his fingers pinching at your nipples to make you whimper, then massaging it into pleasure to make you sigh. Your neck must be littered in hickies by this point.

It’s heaven. It’s torture. You grip his hair tighter as he works at a spot below your ear that forces little mewls out your throat and you try to contain your hips.

As Steve’s hands work downward, tracing the crease of your thighs inwards, you shudder and lean forward into him. Your forehead presses against his shoulder, still exposing your neck, and you can’t help how good it feels, you go a bit slack. Steve notices in a moment.

“Mmm, there you go.” He hums, voice low and still coated in smugness. “That’s it, just like that, huh?”

The dirty talk is making your head spin, making your cunt throb in want, your nipples tighten. You know the moment Steve’s fingers delve under your skirt, he’ll find a wet patch of slick.

His hands, however teasing, don’t venture under your skirt — and instead, he grips your hips again. This time, he pulls you closer and down, grinding up against at the same time. The pleasure burns hot and you moan lightly, fingers clenching in Steve’s hair and you find yourself chasing another grind instantly.

Steve doesn’t let you, hips still holding you in place. He sets the pace, a slow back and forth grind that pulls filthy noises from you. “That’s it, huh baby? That’s what you need, isn’t it? Taking what I give you, so good.”

His low voice, dripping in smugness, makes it hotter. Just a little mean. You force yourself to tug your head up, wanting more friction against him.

Despite the hardness in his jeans giving him away, he’s the most collected you’ve ever seen him for the situation. Eyes half-lidded, pink lips curled into a smirk, like he’s just observing you, not even partaking.

It’s all apart of King Steve; he gets you all hot and bothered, chest heaving and nails digging into his skin, while he looks cool as a cucumber. You let out a pathetic sounding noise, hips bucking against his hold.

“Oh, baby,” he crows, all faux-sympathetic, like he’s not grinding back up at you in that moment to make you mewl. Finally, one of his hands shift, pushing the fabric of your skirt up you thighs. Steve’s eyes gleam at the sight- sticky panties that are every bit of evidence of your arousal.

“Look at you,” He murmurs. You fight back every noise building in your throat, but they melt out when his thumb comes down to rub you through your panties. It’s a soft touch, a gentle stroke that’s nowhere near enough for you. Definitely on purpose.

You whine, arching against him and try to press forward, asking silently for more, more more. To your surprise, Steve doesn’t tease you, doesn’t draw this part out. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing firm circles that he knows makes you fall apart — and your resounding moan is much louder than you’re expecting, barely managing to muffle it into his shoulder.

Steve chuckles at it, doesn’t let up his pace, adoring how your hips twitch against his touch — you want more and yet, this feels like so much. You feel delirious, feel flushed in every part of your body, feel your hole clench around nothing and whine aloud because of it.

“Too much f’you?” He asks cockily. “We haven’t even made it inside yet, baby. How are you gonna handle it then, hmm?”

How indeed.

now with a part two here.

[ravenslvt]

why does your best friend’s brother have to be so hot??

☆ suna rintarou x f!reader! (pt.3)☆

pt.1 pt.2 pt.4 links!!

cw: smut! porn with feelings, fluff!, oral sex f recieving, confessions, alcohol use (responsibly), reader is hot and she knows it, tiny bit of angst but not really, party!, atsumu is annoying.

you stare at yourself in the mirror, cursing trying to put the obnoxious earring backing on.

“here let me help you.” your best friend mumbles, moving your hair and easily putting the jewlery on in place.

“thanks… are you sure it won’t be too cold tonight? maybe the skirt is too much.” you pout, looking over your outfit. the only ‘going out’ clothes you really brought was a short skirt and your favorite top that you’d wear to parties back at college.

it was your last week here at the suna residence, with classes starting up again soon.

so of course, the miya twins decided to reunite everyone at their family home, and throw a party. you were at least thankful it was only a street away so no one had to drive over there.

“you’ll be fine. atsumu’s hosting, i’m sure he’ll offer to warm you up” ami giggles. you roll your eyes. the more eccentric miya twin had always pined after you back in high school. of course you never paid him any mind, your heart was always focused on rintarou.

everytime you’d go to the inarizaki volleyball games back in high school, he’d come up to you with his charming smile. ‘aww, come all this way just to see little ol’ me? how sweet!’ he’d say before his brother would come in and grab him, apologizing for his nagging behavior. what you’d never notice though, was the way rintarou would glare daggers at his friend, always flirting with you right in front of him.

you wouldn’t hear their conversations in the locker rooms back then either.

‘i think i’m gonna ask her out, what do you think, suna?’ the blonde setter comments, smirking at the brunette who sat on the bench on his phone.

he just scoffed, sounding unconvinced. ‘good luck with that.’

‘hey! what’s that supposed to mean?’ he pouts, his ego taking a blow.

‘just saying, doesn’t seem like she’s that interested in you.’ suna replies, taking a sip from his water bottle.

‘oh yeah? sounds like you’re just jealous, mister.’ atsamu’s lips quirk back up into his usual smirk.

rin’s eye twitches.

‘no way. she’s like a sister to me.’

“ami you liar, it’s cold as fuck!” you shiver slightly, holding your arms to your chest as you step out the front door, rintarou locking it behind you three.

“consequences of dressing like a hottie. some liquor will warm you right up” she beams at you, making you sigh. “i guess” you squirm uncomfortably in your outfit. the second you walked downstairs, rintarou’s eyes went directly to your bare legs in the skirt. he still seemed so nervous around you even after he’s quite literally been inside of you (twice).

“let’s go before atsumu drinks everything and starts challenging people to sing offs.” the older suna says, walking ahead of you guys on the sidewalk.

“jeez, why’s he in a mood” ami mutters to you, you just shrug, eyeing him.

rin wasn't too excited at the thought of watching guys fawn over you all night while he had to stand back and not be able to do a thing about it.

once you approach the house, you could hear music playing from the backyard. rintarou knocks on the door first, texting someone to let them know you were there.

the door opens a few seconds later, a grey haired twin smiling at you three. “look who it is! long time no see girls. suna.” he gives the man a side hug, they still saw each other from time to time after college. you noticed the way osamu’s eyes lit up when ami smiled back at him. your eyebrows quirked.

“everyone’s scattered around, mostly in the back. drinks in the kitchen, beer pong in the garadge. the usual.” he lets you guys in pointing to each area as if you all hadn’t been there before.

“thanks, samu! c’mon” ami grabs your arm, giving osamu a kirt wave before dragging you into the kitchen where a few familiar faces stood around. you two pour yourselves drink after drink, conversing with some girls you ran into.

“atsumu!” one of the girls waves behind you. you hear him approach, turning around to face him. rintarou stood across the room with the osamu, keeping an eye once he saw the blonde come up to you.

“if it isn’t my favorite girl! how are you, gorgeous?” he slings a strong arm around your shoulder. if you weren’t in such a good mood you probably would have shrugged him off.

“hi, miya” you play into it, giving him a friendly smile. but still, rintarou lingered in the back of your mind.

“miya? ouch, no need to be so formal to the future love of your life.” he puts a dramatic hand to his heart, as if he’d been stabbed. you just roll your eyes, moving his arm and stepping away from him. he puts on his usual pout, ignoring the other girls who were trying to get his attention.

“you’re funny. should be a comedian instead of an athlete.” you comment, taking a sip from the plastic cup in your hand. you ignore the familiar burning sensation of the alcohol in your throat.

“i think that’s the only compliment you’ve ever given me, i’m flattered.”

you roll your eyes at his antics. you should’ve expected this from him.

rin watches from the side, downing his drink a little too fast.

“don’t let atsumu rile you up, man. dude’s just trying to rebound from his last girlfriend who dumped him.” osamu reassures the tall middle blocker, noticing his glaring at his brother.

“rebound? he’s trying to hook up with her or something?” suna’s grip on the cup tightens at the thought of you even being near atsumu in that way.

“who knows, he’s been crushing on her since like second year. why do you care so much anyways? i thought you saw her like a- oh.” his eyes soften. he got it. the time he got lunch with suna a week ago, noticing the hickies on his neck. him mentioning that you were staying at their house over the break.

you two were fucking.

“jesus dude, does your sister know?” he questions, his voice getting a little quieter.

“huh? what, no. we’re both adults, i don’t see why…” rintarou drags on, noticing the way the blonde twin was getting closer and closer to you.

“then why do you- hey! where are you going?” the grey haired twin calls after him, but he just ignores him.

your eyes meet rin’s as he approaches. a hint of relief washing over you. osamu took this chance to chat up ami.

“what’s goin on, dude?” suna puts a hand on the setter’s shoulder.

“suna! missed seein’ you around!” the tipsy man gives his attention to his old friend, giving you a chance to slip away. you give ami some excuse like ‘need some fresh air.’ she just nods, making sure you’re good before continuing her conversation with the calmer twin. you smile at the way her face lit up when talking to him.

you sit on a loungchair by the pool, far enough from everyone. you pull out your phone, giggling at the thought of how mad rintarou would be realizing his sister and bestfriend were flirting. it was kind of ironic though, given your own situation.

your mind started to wander. were you wrong for openly lying to your bestfriend who you adored so dearly? you’d liked rin for years, but since you guys started hooking up, you’ve had a guilty conscience.

what even were you two? you weren’t dating, but more than friends. the stolen kisses you two shared when ami wasn’t in the room. the looks you give each other over dinner or when passing in the hallway. it would all be over in a weeks time. would he move on? find someone else to occupy his time?

“what are you staring at?” the low voice you know oh to well cuts through your thoughts. you realize you spaced out, staring into the changing colors of the pool lights. suna takes a seat next to you on the spacious chair.

“nothing, just thinking.” you shrug, bringing your gaze back to him.

“what are you doing out here?” you add, picking up your drink from the floor and taking a sip. he gives you a small smile.

“couldn’t let you sit out here all alone. especially if tsumu tried hitting on you again.” he watches as your lips meet the cup. your eyebrow quirked.

“hmm. someone jealous?” you smirk, placing your drink back down on the floor, your head already dizzy from all the alcohol you’ve already had. plus your close proximity to the man in front of you did not help.

he snorts. “of him? no way. if you wanted him you would’ve gone for it years ago. plus-“ he leans a little closer. “-he’s not the one who got to fuck you.” oh the liquor made him bold.

it was true, he wasn’t jealous of the setter himself. he was more jealous at the thought of anyone else having you. especially when you leave in a week.

“y’know, tokyo’s only like, three hours away from where i go.” he says. he refuses to look away from you. you just look so good.

“what are you implying?” you cross one leg over the other, leaning a little back to get a better look at him.

“i-i don’t know. just mentioning it.” you scoff at his sudden dry response. your heart feeling a small pang of hurt from remembering what atsumu told you just a few minutes ago before rin came over to save you from his nagging.

‘aw that’s cute. looking over at suna over there. y’know he told me he sees you as a little sister. such a sweet guy looking out for you like that.’ the worst part is he wasn’t even trying to be sarcastic or spiteful, just genuinely praising suna.

“right…” you sigh, standing up to leave. before you can even turn around he reaches for your hand.

“hey, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of worry. your shoulders slump, he stands to meet your height. he still held onto your hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“i-i’m just drained. think i’m gonna walk back home.” your skin tingles at the way he’s so gentle with you. compared to the way he was in sports.

“let me walk you.”

“no, that’s not necessary rin.”

“you’re drunk, i’m not gonna let you walk home alone.”

“i’m not even that-“ you start, but he cuts you off with a stern scold of your own name.

“fine… but let me text your sister first.” you sigh, sending her a quick ‘don’t feel too god, rintarou’s gonna take me home. are you ok? we can stay if you want.’

she sends back a text that makes you giggle. ‘oh girl, do not worry about me’ you look up and spot her with osamu, she gives you a thumbs up. you knew you were right. she’s been wanting to hop on the samu train since high school. glad she finally got the chance.

‘don’t wait up. probably gonna stay here tonight. do NOT tell my brother he will murder me and samu both.’

you laugh at your phone, suna gives you a confused look.

“what’s so funny?”

“oh, nothing. let’s go.”

you two snuck out the back gate, not wanting to draw any attention. it was bad enough you two were walking out together, a lingering mark still on his neck from just a few days ago.

“you still cold?” he asks, your shoulders brushing as you walk down the dark street.

“nah, ami was right. tequila warms me right up.” you say. plus the close proximity to him kept you warm, his body heat radiating from under his jacket. it stayed silent for a few moments before you speak up.

“was… was atsumu telling the truth?” you say, looking up at him.

“what did that idiot say this time?” he gives a small laugh.

“that you think of me as a sister.” this makes him stop dead in his tracks. he looks at you nervously.

“do you really think we’d have done all we did if i thought that?” he says, pushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. you shrug, making him sigh.

“i said that shit in high school. before…”

“before what?” you peer up at him, his callused hands moving to cup your face.

“before i realized i… had feelings for you.” he confesses, making your eyes widen.

when rintarou first realized he was in love with you, it was a little later than when you developed your own crush on him. it was your eighteenth birthday, suna was nineteen and in his first year of college. ami threw you a suprise party at her house, inviting all your friends. you wore your prettiest little outfit. ami even convinced her uncle to get you guys some beers, needless to say, the birthday girl drank most of them.

when the night went on, you spotted rin nursing his own beer on the couch. you come up to him, sitting maybe a little too close than you meant to.

“why’re you sulking here by yourself. s’my birthday! i command you to have some fun, rintarou.” the way you said his name made something stir inside of him. your body faced his, you didn’t even notice the way your dress rode up on your thighs, or the way his eyes immediately went down to them.

“how’s it feel to finally be an adult?” he says, forcing his eyes back on yours.

“s’alright. kinda anticlimactic but i’m glad m’here. glad you’re here.” you admit, the alcohol clearly making you more bold. his eyes widen a little. you weren’t just his little sister’s best friend, you were a smart, funny, beautiful woman. he’s always known you were pretty, it was obvious. but he’d never had a genuine conversation with you like this.

you two talked for half an hour. everytime you’d smile or laugh at something he said, his heart beat would quicken in his chest.

your head whipped when you heard a call of your name from one of your friends. “c’mon! we got you a cake!”

he never forgot the smile you had on your face when your friends put this much effort into your birthday. it just proved what a good, special person you were. he found himself not wanting you to leave, wanting you to stay talking with him. the nagging pain in his heart when you got up to leave, giving him a cute little wave and a ‘talk to you later!’

then it all clicked.

years of glaring at any boy who approached you, smiling whenever he’d see you in the stands of his games cheering him on, the small tingle of excitment in his chest when he knew you were coming over to see his sister.

he’d loved you for so long, and he never even realized it. not until you left for college, leaving him with his own feelings to sort through. so when he found out you were staying with them over the break, god was he estatic on the inside.

you two stand only a few houses down from his. you could easily walk over and continue the conversation there, but he needed you. needed you to know how much he truly cared.

“oh” a hint of nerves crawled up your spine. your head spins. you’d been this close so many times before, but behind closed doors. except that one time in the kitchen.

but he held you in the middle of the street, not caring that anyone could walk out of their house and see you two. his forehead presses against yours, breathing in your air.

you didn’t know what to say, so you just lean up on your tipy toes and peck his lips, making him smile. he wraps his arms around your waist, not a chance of letting you pull away from him.

“rin, someone might see.” you giggle into the kiss, he just shakes his head gently.

“i don’t give a fuck, let them.”

you stand in his room. it hadn’t changed very much since the very few times you’d peeked in walking past it before. a few hoodies laid out in his chair from when he was deciding what to wear earlier.

he had a few posters on his walls, some of random volleyball teams and even some random bands. the room smelled like him.

“here, drink some water.” he walks back in, closing the door behind him as he hands you a clear plastic bottle. you take it, your hand brushing with his own. you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, tapping your foot against the carpeted floor anxiously. you take a few sips to relieve your nerves.

“you look really good tonight.” his voice cuts through the silence. your head perks up, eyes meeting his.

“so i don’t look good every other night?” you give him a playful smile. he scoffs, hopping on the bed next to you, making the mattress squeak.

“you know what i mean.” his large hand finds your own, playing with you fingers.

this was probably the first time in the last few weeks you’d been alone for this long together without fucking.

“osamu knows about… us.” his hand doesn’t leave your own. your eyebrow quirks.

“you told him?” you softly ask, not angry or demanding. if anything, you were somewhat flattered he wanted people to know.

“he figured it out. mentioned i was ‘oogling’ you too hard” he gives a small chuckle, squeezing your hand gently. his small little acts of affection always made you relax into his touch. you lead your head on his strong shoulder, sighing.

“you think he’ll tell ami?” you peek up at him, moving a peice of his dark hair away from his eyes. he just shrugs.

“probably not. even if he does it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” he kisses your forehead.

“i’d rather her find out when i’m hours away. i don’t need to be murdered in my sleep for lying to her.” you reply. he just laughs.

“c’mon. you’re the only girl she’d ever approve of me being with. she loves you, my parents love you, i-“

you cut him off with a kiss to his surprisingly soft lips, pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

he smiles into the kiss, his hands going to your waist to bring you closer.

“c’mere” he grabs your hips, helping you straddle his lap, facing him. you hold back a gasp when you feel his half hard dick

“someone’s impatient…” you mumble into his mouth, he bites your lip in retort. you try to pull back but his mouth just follows yours, hands gripping your waist for dear life so you didn’t fall right off his lap.

“look so pretty in your little skirt-“ one of his hands reaches under your skirt, groping your ass through your panties, making you gasp.

“-wanted to drag you in the bathroom and fuck you over the counter.” his kisses go down your jaw, sucking new marks into your neck and collarbones.

“jesus, rin.” your voice is needy. you unconsciously grind your hips into his, needing some some sort of friction. the action made him groan.

your breath catches in your throat when he switches your positions, you laying on your back on his bed while he stands over you. his eyes go to your lifted skirt, holding back a groan when he sees the growing wet patch on the fabric of your panties.

he breathes out your name, looking up at you while slowly kissing down your exposed thighs, kneeling down. you squirm under him, he just gives your thigh a threatening squeeze. “stay still, pretty.” his nose finds your clothed clit, making you gasp.

“y-you don’t have to-“

“shush. i want to, so badly.” he assures, licking your clothed cunt. the fabric adding to the stimulation, making you grip his sheets underneath you.

he slides your soaked panties to the side, the cool air hitting your now exposed pussy.

“always so pretty for me.” he immediately delves into your cunt, lapping up and down you folds before focusing on your clit. you let out mewls of his name, gripping at his dark locs of hair.

he brings you closer to him, his arms locking under your thighs so he’s holding you up to his mouth. he could do this forever.

he moans into your wetness, the sounds of your pleasure making him practically get off. he slowly grinded his own hips into the bed, but not letting himself cum unless it was with you.

you’d never felt like this before. the constant laps of his hot tongue compared to his mouth sucking on your clit making you clench your thighs around him. he groaned at a certain harsh tug to his hair, the vibrations on your pussy only adding to the pleasure.

what really got you close to the edge though was when his tongue prods itself into your tight hole, making you try and pull away from how overwhelmed you were with how good it felt.

“f-fuck, rin, s’too much.” your thighs start to shake around his head, but he only speeds up. his nose catching on your clit while his tongue dips into you, pumping in and out. you let out a loud moan when you start to cum around his tongue, suna not even daring to stop. if all he could eat for the rest of his life was your pussy, he’d be between your legs all day everyday.

your hips roll into his face, wetness coating his chin and nose. you have to push his head away when it starts to get too much. he pulls away, panting. he wipes his mouth with his sleeve, crawling up on top of you to kiss you. you sigh into the kiss when you taste yourself on his tounge. it got you aroused all over again.

“rinnn” you whine, hands tugging at his hoodie.

“what’s up, baby?” he kisses your cheek, a smug smirk on his face looking down at you. he looked absolutely heavenly looking over you, hands on either side of your head.

“need you” you pout up at him.

“what do you need, hmm?” he sits up on his knees to pull his hoodie over his head, his bare chest and toned abs on display. you practically moan just at the sight of him. you’d never get bored of this view.

“you- your cock… please” your hands go straight to his abs, kissing down his pecs and stomach. he chuckles at you, hand smoothing down your hair.

“want me t’make you feel good?” he pushes your shoulders back down so your back is completley pressed against the sheets. you nod frantically.

“anything for my gorgeous girl.” he slides his pants and boxers off, throwing them somewhere on the floor. while he does this you take your chance to rip your top off, along with your bra.

he crawls back over you, slotting himself between your legs. you look at him expectedly as he pulls out his already hard cock. pre cum already leaking from his raging pink tip.

he lines himself up with you, impatiently siding himself into your needy hole.

you’d never felt him from this angle before, the way he was perfectly slotted inside of you.

he slowly moves his hips, cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. your eyes screw shut.

“g-god rin, feels so good, fuck!” your hands go straight to his shoulders, not caring how badly your manicured nails were dragging down his arms.

but it wasn’t enough for him. he grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders as he pumps even deeper.

“there we go. so f-fucking perfect, baby.” his breath hitched as his pace quickens, fucking into you at the perfect speed and angle.

you let out the most borderline pornographic moan when the head of his cock hits that spongey spot deep inside of you. his hand goes to pinch and tug at your nipples, making you mewl.

“rinn!” you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. this was by far your favorite angle with him.

“right here, pretty.” he wants nothing more than to reach down and kiss you, but he didn’t wanna hurt your poor legs. plus you felt so good he didn’t wanna move. so instead his thumb goes to your slick pussy, rubbing and pinching at your clit.

“so fuckin’ messy.” he grunts, your cunt practically trapping him in. you watch as he spits down where you two meet, adding extra lubricant. the sight made you feel so dirty, but so fucking good.

his eyes watched the way his cock entered you so insanley perfectly. like you were made to take him. the wet noises coming from your arousal whenever he thrusts in and out and the sounds of your mixed moans filled the quiet room.

his head rolls back and he groans, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

“fuck- switch. want you to ride me.” you pout when he pulls out, leaving you feeling so empty.

you sit up, as he sits leaning against the headboard. he gives his cock a few pumps when he watches you climb on him, hands on his shoulders as you line his cock up with you. his hands hold your waist for support as you sink yourself down onto him.

you let out a moan when he’s fully seated inside of you. you move off of him almost all the way, bouncing yourself up and down his cock.

“oh-“ you moan as he snaps up his own hips to meet your own. you hear as his head slams against the wooden headboard with a grunt.

he grabs your throat, bringing you in to kiss him. it was messy and needy. all tongue and teeth at how fucked out you both were. he pulls back, his hand still lingering on your throat as the roll of your hips gets faster and faster.

his eyes focus on the marks he left on your neck, running a finger over the fresh dark purple hickies lingering all over your neck and chest. then his eyes go to your bouncing tits, grabbing them and bringing one into his mouth.

you groan when he bites down.

“rin- can’t anymore. g’nna cum” you whine out, your hips getting tired and messy. he sits up more straight, grabbing your hips and slamming up into you, making your eyes roll back.

“cum all over my cock, baby. told ya i’d make you feel good.” sweat beaded up by his brow, he was focusing on his thrusts.

“c-cum inside me rin! please, wanna feel you inside.” you plead. brain feeling like it’s short circuiting, the only thing running through your brain was how good his cock felt pumping inside of you.

he kisses you as you moan into his mouth, cuming around him and squeezing his dick. he pulses inside of you, warm cum filling you up as you share eachothers moans. your kiss goes from rushed and hot to sweet and tender as you come down from your orgasms. neither one of you makes a move to pull away, his cock softening inside of you.

“again?” you pant, kissing his cheek and looking at him with pleading eyes.

you yelp when he pinches your waist, but it turns into a small whine when you feel him get hard inside of you again.

“you’re gonna kill me, gorgeous.”

the clock read 6:28 AM. the sun was barely rising, you lie on rintarou’s chest as you two peacefully slept, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. his fluffy blanket wrapped snug around you.

the front door quietly creeks open, and shuts.

“shit that was loud as fuck” a hushed high pitched voice whispers. the younger suna sneaks up the stairs, shoes in hand, expecting to find you asleep in her bedroom. but the room was empty. the house was silent, her brother’s door closed.

hmm, that’s weird. you guys came back from the party, right?

ami knocks on her brother’s door, loudly in attempt to wake him up.

“hellooo?” she asks where you are, opening the door abruptly. “did you guys not come back from the party-“

“what the fuck?!”

a/n: need suna (requests) i love this man.

masterlist

[froggoon]

The one where he over hears you I Five x reader

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Short five x reader fluff ( non descriptive ) where he overhears you and Klaus talking about him.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆｡‧˚

You had met Klaus in a night of drinking gone wrong. After working your menial 9-5 having your boss yell at you in front of your coworkers then having a stressful presentation, there was nothing else you needed more than to drink the day away. There you met Klaus, he was funny and charming. The two of you got sucked into a drinking competition due to his comment "You look like a lightweight." The rest of the night was a blur between you dancing on tables and hopping from bar to bar. It was only after you both woke up the next day in the park looking like zombies you decided that fun night was meant to be.

A few months later you became really good friends and hung out often. After finding out about his drug habit and Dave, you two decided that distracting him with fun times would be a better solution than cold turkey. It became routine for you to go to the Hargreeves estate after work with a sweet treat, maybe cookies, ice cream, or a movie night. Some nights Klaus would even go to your place just needing a safe space. He said your apartment felt like what a real home should be like.

You don't know when this happened, maybe slowly, or maybe one day you just noticed something. But Five, Klaus's older younger brother was...hot. You knew about Five's little... situation and honestly, it was the best of both worlds. You liked older men who could take care of you and he was easy on the eyes. He was taller than you and had green eyes that bore into you when he talked. His voice could be soft and smooth almost a whisper in your ear. Other times it was an insult thrown at his sibling or a sly comment that you could feel lit a fire in your gut.

This would be a thing you kept to yourself though, not like Five would notice you.

He did notice you. The minute you walked through the academy doors with Klaus slinging off your arm, laughter ringing through his ear. You were pretty. Your smile caught his eye first. Sure the eyes are the windows to the soul but the smile is the mirror of the heart. He didn't know why you would spend all your time with Klaus but he noticed a lack in his brother's desire to be high. Not wanting to entertain whatever fantasy his time travel fried brain might cook up, Five avoided you at all costs. At the academy, you would only then catch glimpses of him, a flash of blue, or a blurred jacket swiftly moving by. You were just too good for him, and you deserve a normal man who could give you a normal life without all the baggage.

It wasn’t until that afternoon where you and Klaus were lying in the foyer trying to find what movie to watch when he turned to you and asked “So what do you like about ole Fivey anyways?”

You snapped your head so fast towards him. “What gave you the impression that I liked him?”

Klaus flipped to his stomach, kicked his feet in the air, and with a sly look replied “Oh come on I see the way you look at him when you think no one is looking. I’m your best friend just tell me.” He pouted in your direction, the kind of pout that said "I'm not going to give up on this."

Five was about to retreat to his room after grabbing coffee from the kitchen when he overheard you and Klaus.

“Uh, he’s hot, smart, a bit cocky and arrogant but in a sexy way. I don’t know Klaus what do you want me to say?” Um, who the fuck were you talking about. You never mentioned another man before or posted anything on your social media ( not like he was checking). Anyman definitely wouldn't like your friendship with Klaus.

“Doesn’t help I love an older man. They always have a mature take-charge mentality. It turns me on." Klaus gave you a sly look that said "Oh ! Naughty" but you continued,

"Anyways, I see the way Five cares for you guys in his own way. He loves you more than he lets on. Family men are also attractive, it shows the way they'll treat you.”

A bit embarrassed that he was angry at the guy, the guy being himself, Five chuckled to himself. You were so confident and beautiful yet, thought that much of someone like him? Mentally old enough to be your dad? He did feel an ego boost when you called him hot.

Five felt like if he stayed any longer you would be able to hear his heart pounding and call him out for eavesdropping. He turned to blink into his bedroom opening up his laptop that Viktor so kindly helped him figure out how to use. Fingers typed into the search bar closest flower shop near me and Italian fine dining. ( disclaimed : I didn't reread/ edit year I probably will tomorrow morning, i just wanted to get this out)

[skeletonapricationday]

Collaboration

Dead dove do not eat

I do not condone any of these actions and neither should you. This is purely fantasy. Do not forget that.

Warnings: blood kink, choking (gone a little far), bondage bench, face fucking, knotted genitals (fox pp), dark web streaming, recorded sex, and too many more to count.

Minors dni

You move around your messy warehouse excitedly and nervously. All the cameras placed perfectly, even a few mics placed caustiously as to not be in view. You walk over to your computer screens, their bright lights the only lights in the room. They shine on your face as you slip the mask on. Securing it tight. The familiar feeling of power surging through you.

1...2...3...Action!

"Hey my little degenerates! Cobra here today with a very exciting stream." You see the chats and views roll in quickly. The followers you've gained over the years quick to join.

'A new exciting stream! We've missed you Cobra' one writes. 'I've been so lonely without my favorite whore.' Another chimes in. All types of messages on your screens.

"Awee you've missed me. That's so cute." You say, your lips curling into a foul smile. The mask covered the top half of your face, leaving your plump round mouth as the only thing in view. "I missed yall too, but you won't regret why I've been gone for so long...today we have a very exciting guest. Can yall guess who it is?" You ask sickly sweet.

'A guest? Is it a new toy?' A chatter asks. 'No, she never introduces her toys this way.' Another correctly assumes. 'Could it be another streamer?'

"Oh my. You've gone from cold to burning hot chat. You're close~" You purr. Waiting for them to catch on. "C'mon yall begged for this. You should know!" You say fake pouting. Setting up a silent hype for your viewers.

Suddenly the door opens behind you, setting your nerves ablaze. You've never met him before, but you've seen his streams. Always quick to jump in and even tip him. You look over as he stands out of the cameras view, slowly putting on his mask. He's so quick you didn't get to see his face. "Guys! Your surprise is here." You giggle standing. Walking over to him, flaunting your hips as you walk for the camera.

The man barks out a laugh. "My, you seem more excited than your chat." He says in that usual mechanical tone you've come to love.

"Can't help it, I'm also a fan yknow." You giggle nervously.

You can hear the chat going wild. Some already catching on from his voice alone, and others left in utter confusion. You toy with the stockings on your lingire nervously. Wondering what to say or do, but you quickly go back to being professional.

He walks slowly into the frame, walking straight up to a camera. "Hey chat- did you miss me too?" He asks expertly, his reveal making the fans go nuts.

'No way! Cobra did it!' 'I wanna be her, I've always wanted to meet Fox.' 'Shut up and just enjoy this!' The chat goes wild, sending in tips before the show even starts.

You walk over and playfully grab Fox's arm, pulling it close to your barely clothed chest. "Isn't this just exciting! Who knew you'd ever respond to little ol' me." You tease, looking into his cold eyes.

"I'm not dumb enough to reject such an offer! I'm sure plenty would kill to be in my place." He teases back, quick on his feet. "Though I'm sorry for the time crunch, I wish we could've met behind the scenes first." He says earnestly, like he's also excited for this show.

"It's no problem. We're both busy people." You purr out like honey. Voice more animalistic than the fox being in front of you. Excited merely at the thought of this shoot.

He wrenches his arm out of your grasp, grabbing your waist with it. His sharp nails caressing your bare side. "I hate making pretty woman wait, especially when they're famous. Should we get to it?" He asks, then looks back the screen. Fans biting their nails eagerly for this.

This was it. You're a famous gore streamer yourself, frequently buying from Fox's underground trade. Breaking toy after toy. You even did a few streams of just yourself, a nice toy, and a knife, those seem to be the fans favorites. They want to see you in a reversed position. Used the same way you use others. You're pulled out of your thoughts by a harsh grip.

His nails now digging into your side, small spots of blood pouring down from the small puncture wounds. You hiss and groan, receiving a small chuckle in return. "Now now- we haven't even started. Can't have you zoning out...yet." He says, a dark looming foreshadow. You blush under your mask and look at him.

"Sorry I'm a tad nervous. I'm not exactly used to handing over my reigns." You say like an announcer, trying to keep the act up for the fans. He simply looks humored as he pulls his hand away. When he does you quickly show off to the camera the small cresant shaped injuries. Nothing major, not even worse than what you've done to yourself. Simply telling of what's to come.

"So I've brought something special, since I'm being gifted such a special toy." He purrs, walking over and opening a suitcase. Inside is a choke chain you've seen on stream before. "Don't worry doll, that's just the beginning." He hums out. Pulling out the chain and placing it aside. Underneath is a peculiar looking stick. You don't know what it is until he pulls it out, it's a cane. Long, hard, and sturdy. The perfect tool to get yelps out of someone. You gulp nervously, unsure of this, but also entirely sure.

He walks over and grabs your bandage bench, setting it up to fit you. Hooking the choke chain into the ceiling above it. If he wasn't wearing a mask you could swear he was smirking. "Do you understand the plan now doll?" He asks darkly with a honeyed undertone. You nod slowly and understanding. Seeing that the play has already begun.

You look at the camera and pretend to fan your face. "Geez chat it feels like it's already gotten hot in here!" You beam. Feeling Fox come behind you, running his hands up and down your sides.

"I think it's just you." He says into your ear, gripping onto your breast in front of the camera. Pushing them together for the viewers pleasure before teasing your nipples through the lace. Getting a small moan from you. "Afterall, what a cute little outfit. Is this all for me?" He barks out curiously, running his hands down to your thighs. Wiggling and playing with them like a cat.

"Of course it's for you silly. Gotta put on my best wear right?" You respond right back, trying to keep your confidence.

He whispers low into your ear, so quiet the microphones can't pick it up. He's speaking just for you. "Perfect darling. Perfect. Because I'm going to destroy you." He then looks at the camera and crinkles his eyes innocently. He grabs your throat, squeezing lightly.

You gasp as your airflow is weakened, not completely restricted. "Now where do we start with a little inexperienced thing like you?" He quips to the camera. Reading off chat requests till one catches his eye.

'Just strip her already and put her in that chair. I wanna see a Dom squeal.' He laughs at the chatter. Turning your head so you can see the message too. "You hear that doll? Your cute little fans wanna see you turned into a mess. Normally we'd do some kind of light play before getting into the meat of the show but...I can see you're too tantalizing for that." His grip on your throat tightens. Completely cutting off your ability to breathe.

You struggle a bit, surprised by his harsh grip. He only lets out a huff through his nose and squeezes tighter. Causing you to feel a small ring like bruise form on your precious skin. He lets go.

You fall to the floors coughing, holding the concrete floor as a life line. He picks up a camera and zooms it in on your face. "We've only just started and she's already sputtering. Are you sure you aren't just a bottom in disguise?' He asks curiously, running his boot up your thigh, pressing painfully into it.

"Nope, I'm a switch, Fox. Never claimed to be a dom." You giggle out cockily. Looking through the holes of your mask defiantly. Rubbing your throat to ease the pain of the mark, feeling wetness pool at your thighs. His harsh and unloving gaze already turning you on.

"Doesn't mean anything if you're still pathetic." He says, barking out another laugh. Taking his boot off your thigh he notions towards the bdsm bench. Telling you to get ready to be strapped in.

You slowly stand and walk to it. The bandage bench forcing you into a downward dog position. He straps you in carefully, till you can only move your head back and forth, and mildly rock your hips. "You look better positioned like the bitch you are." He says looking down at you. Putting the choke chain around your neck, forcing you to keep your head up. One wrong move and the nails would pierce through your throat, rendering you dead.

"I'm not a dog." You say in a bratty tone. Smirking at him like 'what are you gonna do about it.'

"Sure you are." He smiles, running a cold gloved hand down your back all the way to your ass. Goosebumps forming whereever he touches. He quickly brings a hand down to your ass causing you to yelp. "See? You just barked." He giggles out. Entertained by your shattering ego.

"I don't bark, I moan get it right." You huff in response, rolling your eyes. He can't see it since he's behind you, but you're sure he catches it in one of the several viewfinders. Your kinky play broadcasted to thousands. It makes you grow wetter at the thought, and distracts you enough for Fox to surprise you

A sudden blinding pain vibrates through your body. Starting at your ass and zapping all the way up your spine. You whimper when it subsides. "What is-?" You shout confused.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten? I even showed you." He purrs behind you. Rubbing over the mark on your ass, soothing it with his cold palm. "That's one."

"On-one?" You stutter. Keeping your head painfully up despite the urge to hang your head in pain. "How many are you gonna do Fox." Suddently you scream in pain again.

"Wrong." He states coldly. "Whats my name?" He asks.

You bite your bottom lip in thought but come up blank."Fox-its Fox- AAA." Another slap of the cane.

"Fox is only when you're human." He coos. "And right now you're a toy. What do toys say?" He hums, tapping his nails on your back expectantly.

"Daddy..." You hush out quietly.

"Say it proudly or you've earned another." He grabs the back of your hair, forcing your head even further upward. "Say it, slut."

"Daddy!" You shout, tears pricking your eyes under your mask. You hear a laugh behind you and he lets your head go. Leaving you to hold yourself up.

"Good girl!" He says proudly, a lustful tone underneath. "See it wasn't that hard...but I am." He jokes to the camera. Looking right into the lens like a famous actor.

"You're hard?" You ask excitedly. Your ego lighting aflame in your chest. You made Fox hard. You've won. You did it.

"You don't believe me?" He says with a fake pout. Rubbing his cock against your ass. "Do you believe me now?" He says, rutting his hips a tad, groaning at the clothed contact.

"Yes daddy." You purr. Feeling it twitch in his pants, his tip probably already soaking wet just like you. "I'm wet~" You respond.

You yelp when the cane comes back down on you, this time hitting your thigh. It's difficult to keep your head up on your own through the fire but you manage. "I don't need a naughty girl stating the obvious. Do I?" He ask retortically, not looking for a real answer. He's looking for submission.

"No daddy. You don't." You whine, biting your bottom lip.

"Behave and you'll get rewarded, so will your fans." He hums, a smile in his voice. He walks in front of you and removes the choke chain. Letting you finally hang your head limply, giving your neck a rest. He tsks his tongue "No, no baby. That isn't why I freed you. You got a show to put on!" He says micheviously, like he's reprimanding a toddler.

"What do I do daddy?" You say trying to convince yourself to look up, no matter how limp you felt.

You hear the pop of buttons and that gets your attention. Looking up at him through blurry eyes, blinking rapidly. "So that catches your attention huh?" He teases. He rubs his claw against your bottom lip, smearing your blood from earlier on it. "Open. Do a good job and you won't get the cane for the rest of the night."

'That's right, treat her like the whore she is!' 'This is the best show yet!' 'I'm so glad I paid for this.' Echos of chats and tips come in, but they simply bounce off your blurry mind.

You open your lips slowly, feeling his knotted tip entering your mouth. Jaw being stretched impossibly wide. You hiss at the angle but open your mouth further, allowing him to push in the rest. "Remember, no teeth doll. I feel a single tooth and I'll pull them out of your skull." He beams cheerily. Throwing his head back with a groan as he slides in and out of your wet tight mouth. "It's like you were made for this." He says with a smirk in his wavering tone. His voice gravely, but his groans higher pitched.

You can't properly respond so you hum around him. Sending pleasurable vibrations through his dick. "Oh yea that's it doll. Fuck." He curses and looks back down at you. Making direct eye contact through your mask.

You whine around him, feeling your throat painfully restrict on every thrust. His tail swishing from side to side behind him, betraying his cold gaze and revealing his excitement. You move your tongue around rapidly, hoping it'll make him cum. Wanting nothing more than to feel his salty seed pour down your throat. He starts to thrust faster. Holding you by your hair to angle himself better. "That's it. Take it. Fucking take it." He repeats his words as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. The veins pulsing more and more, tipping you off that he'll cum soon. You suck harder, desperate. "I'm going cum- that's it. Imma' pour my cum right down your throat. You want that baby?" He urges. Almost like you could say yes. You can't speak so you hum again and that sends him over the edge. Cum painting the inside of your neck. The thick liquid clinging to the walls, almost gagging you. He pulls out slowly with a relieved sigh. You cough and sputter, drool and a little bit of cum leaking down your chin.

"My, my don't you just look pretty. Let's see how wet you've become huh?" You look at him blushed, not wanting him to see the mess you've made. He walks behind you and laughs, gently slapping the side of your ass. "Wow, you really enjoyed that didn't you. Do you often dream of being a cocksleeve?"

You think of lying, but his cold sharp gaze can be felt behind you. You decide against it, clearing your throat. "Yes daddy. I do." He barks out another laugh.

"I made her suck me so hard I made her an honest woman." He teases cockily. Proud of everything. He rubs a hand against your still clothed folds. Collecting slick even through the fabric. You hear lick and slurping behind you, he was cleaning it off his hand. He was tasting you, and he moaned while doing it. "Geez, wish we could bottle this taste."

"That wouldn't sell well daddy." You joke back, he chuckles.

"On the contrary, I think it would be top teir on the sales chart." He giggle and rips your panties in half. Leaving your aching hole in the open, the cold air making you clench around nothing. "I don't even wanna bother preparing you, I mean you're already so wet. What's the point."

"You can just enter daddy...please." You whine, rocking your hips purposefully. Begging to finally get your rocks off after all this pain.

"Whatever you say, don't complain if it's a tight fit." He says proudly, stroking his own ego.

You feel the tip of his cock slip through your folds, teasing and collecting wetness. He even slaps the tip against your clit a few times, earning hefty short moans from your lips. "Daddy please!" You shout and as soon as you do he enters. Painfully stretching you open, filling up your aching cunt all too quickly. You cry and sob out a moan. A mixture of pain and pleasure as his hips meet your abused ass. His balls slapping against your clit.

"This is one tight cunt." He growls approvingly, like he was rating it. Slowly slipping in and out again. Actually giving you a few thrusts to adjust. You moan out babbles of thank you and daddy. "Oh baby I'm not gonna be nice, it just feels like I'm going to break in half. You got one beast of a pussy baby." He chuckles out.

He starts slamming back into you at an impossible speed, each thrust earning a yelp and moan. You whine as his tip kisses your cervix with each aching movement. Your thighs already shaking like you're going to cum. "Not so soon~" He purrs between his own moan. "Daddy has gotta get close first." He says cockily. Leaning down and sniffing your neck. "God you smell so fucking arousing!"

You moan and press your hips back against him, begging nonverbally for more. "Daddy please m' needa cum. Gotta cum daddy please-" You pant out. Bucking and trashing in the bondage bench desperately. More drool dripping down your already coated jaw. Each inahle you can taste his cum again, it only heightens your senses. "Daddy-daddy!" You shout.

"Just a little longer baby mm." He responses softly despite his animalistic pace. "You're gonna take it, and take it, and take it till I tell you otherwise." He punctuates every word with a sharp thrust. Fucking you deep and fast, not even pulling out completely. Every slap of his balls on your clit causing you to scream, tears falling down your face.

" 'mma cum 'mma cum I can't I can't-" You sob out, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him. You hear a deep gravely sound pull out of him. He leans down into your shoulder and you hear his mask unclip. He bites harshly into your shoulder, blood dripping down onto the floor in front of you. You scream loudly, clenching again. He licks and laps at the wound, hiding his face from the public in your skin.

"Look into the fucking camera when you cum." You hear him put his mask back on. A strong hand gripping the base of your jaw, forcing you to look up. "Cum slut, now." He hisses between clenched teeth.

You do, the whole world turning white. Your walls spasming like crazy on his dick. Squirting onto the floor, his pants, and cock. Clear liquid streaming out of you. The world feels blurry and unreal as all the pleasure hits you. You don't even know if you're moaning, maybe you're talking but you don't know. It all feels too good, it's feels too too good.

"That's it. That's fucking it doll. Cum on daddy." He growls. Shooting hot ropes of seed inside you, burying himself in your cunt. Each pulse is another round of cum slipping out of him and into you. If you weren't on the pill you'd be pregnant for sure. "God I could fucking breed you. Whore." He hisses as he pulls out. Cum dripping down your abused folds.

You chuckle cockdrunk, drool leaking out of your mouth uncontrollably. "Hehe daddy~" You purr.

The lights of all the cameras shut off as you see the room grow darker. He had ended the stream. You're unhooked from the bench and fall right into his arms. He pulls your mask off and his too, bringing you in and kissing you deep. Your blood on his tongue and the taste of his cum of yours. It was like lightning.

"Let's see how good you preform off stream." You hear the dark voice as you fade out of consciousness. Passing out.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 7 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the fourth year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning helping one another

warnings (TW): swearing, sexual themes (mdni 18+)

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, sexual-situations (in act i), good ol’ protective-stan <3 

notes: me thinks me has big chapter coming up (pt. 8), me thinks i like to do things in fours (the last big chapter was 4). also did anyone notice that my sorry ass had to go back and change some dates/years womp womp but extra points if u didn’t notice my dumbass mistake. 

i think relationships are about being a total hypocrite at times also, like you are constantly trying to fight biases you have over yourself, and also trying to fight for the betterment of your partner also. like im a total hypocrite when it comes to my partner so i think this is another good chapter of what i like to call “flesh” 

that being said i have it sketched out in my journal that next chapter will be… important. hope you all enjoy, and as always love love love all the comments and notes and reblogs! thank you all so much, lots of love <3 (again, masterlist with the other chapters is linked down below!) 

word count: 5.1k

| masterlist | part viii |

“The kids will be gone for a while,” he says, hand slipping warm up her thigh. “How about we pretend it’s 1995, doll?” That slick smirk on his face, glasses drooping on his big hooked nose. 

She laughs. “1995? More like 2012, baby. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve tried to seduce me in the car.” 

He laughs too, hand pushing through his gray curling hair. Shifting in his seat to get closer and share his warmth. His covered thigh was hot against her own. She had laid out short sweatpants for him to put on that lazy Saturday with the kids when he made to walk out the front door in his boxers. Something she found endearing at their older age, the slip of his mind when it came to spending time with the kids. 

It’s darker out, their car the only one in the closed parking lot they had busted into. Mabel had been upset that day, after an altercation with another girl at the mini golf course. Her brother and Stan had almost been more upset for her, and they had rallied behind her in her need for revenge against her blonde foe. She had been upset as well and had a swell of choice words for the little rich girl's parents before Stan pulled her away.

So she had let it slide, the breaking and entering she was currently allowing the kids to do. That and Soos was with them. She trusted him more than he knew. 

They hadn’t been alone in a while, well except for their typical midnight trysts. They had to be more quiet, as of recent though. 

“Feels like a long time,” he hums, bringing his warm palm from her thigh to his cheek. “Come on… we have a bit here.” 

She looks up at him through her lashes, a flush to her face. “I wasn’t protesting.” 

He moves to her like he always does, distracted by the closing space between them. Curling his large palm around her cheek, kissing her like he knows her. 

He’s slick like usual also, smiling against her lips, creeping his hand to move her seat down so he has the high ground between the two of them. Something he loves to do. 

She’s laughing now, lounging back in the reclined seat. When had he reclined his own also?

But she’s pushing at his insistent chest, smiling at his slyness. Flushed below him, his torso hot against her front as his hand made itself comfortable on her cheek again, another on her waist. 

“No funny business Stan, the kids will be back soon and you know it.” 

“No funny business.” He says, pulling back to look at her soft face. His eyes drifting back to her lips once more. There's a breath between them, as they surge back and forth in the connecting space. Breathing heavy in the stretch between their lips, as she tries to chase him forward and he pulls back. His hand caresses her cheek, playing with the hair around the nape of her neck with his pinky. 

“Beautiful.” He whispers between them finally, breaking some spell he’s cast in the space amongst their breaths. It breaks something, when he finally surges forward, meeting her in the middle, at her insistence. 

It’s slow and building and grows hot between them. She tries to focus on many things at once about her lover, how his large hand cups her cheek, and jaw, and neck all at once. How he breathes heavy on top of her, warm against her front, but not against the most intimate part of her. How his lips move, move her, force her open and closed again. How his hand creeps up her waist to the sides of her chest, trailing hot upwards. 

Suddenly it’s not slow anymore, not after the noises she unconsciously makes, and not after his hand trails back to the seem of her shirt to pull it up, his palm warm against her chest now. She’s gasping now, nodding her head at his insistence. He moves instinctually, like how he does every time, but how it feels brand new and different also, when he shoves her bra down, cupping her exposed chest now. How his fingers are slight against the sensitive skin there, it all feels new each time. 

It has her moaning again, mouth open against his to create space, to create noise that bubbles at the base of her throat and sprouts between them. It has him throwing himself forward again, his hand tight against the junction of her jaw now, as he moves her lips and face to meet him again. To move against her again. 

His hand is warm on her front, slipping against her chest, his palm moving to massage her, twirling her bust between his large hot hand. He’s so warm and whole against her, that it has her moving, adjusting along the reclined seat sideways so more of him could be a part of her. Creating space, and area, for him to manipulate as he pleases. And it does please him. 

He’s fast along her lips now, and she does her best to keep up. Her hand gripping his hair, the other digging into the muscle of his broad shoulder, trying to bring him impossibly closer. But he wants to hear more of her, more from her. And he knows how to do it, moving from her mouth to her jaw to her throat, his mouth just as warm as the rest of him. Open mouth, breathy kisses follow in his wake until he makes for the junction of her throat and her shoulder. Kissing there just to hear her react, just to watch her squirm below him. Biting and kissing and lingering by her ear, groaning in her ear as she unknowingly cants into his lap at the tweak of his finger at her chest. 

“You’re so good to me.” His mouth hot over the junction of her throat, his hand heavy on the curve between her jaw and her pulse. “Always so fucking good for me, angel.” 

It serves to always rile her up more when he’s so honest with her like this. Something so simple as the truth has her disregarding her words from before, has her parting her legs and pulling him against the entirety of her as she searches for his lips again. He meets her in the middle of the heat of them, just as taken by her insistence, just as riled up by her enthusiasm for him to this day. 

It has him slightly pulling back though also, swearing as he pulls his button-up off his body. Smirking as he crumples it up to wedge under her hips, to have her pressing up against the heat of his lower body correctly. To ensure he could angle his own hips to meet her where she needed him. 

She’s flushed below him when he glances back up from his handy makeshift substitution for their usual orthopedic pillow. Breathing heavily against the seat of their car, her head almost leaning off the back of the reclined long bench. Her hair haloed around her head as she reached her hands back in front of her to drag him against her again. To feel his weight against her parted legs, her neck already crooked to allow his lips resurgence, her shirt around her chest crumpled from shifting her bra around his large palm. 

A knock. 

It shocks her awake, groggy in her bed, but not on her usual side. 

The wall is cold behind her, but the shoulder she's nestled into is hot beneath her cheek. Stanley slumbering, a slight snore building up in the back of his throat as his chest rises and falls under her hand. 

Right, Stan. 

She had taken to sleeping next to him, some nights. After the appearance of the shocking dream just last October, she continued to have flashes of odd frightful nightmares interspersedly between then and now. It had shocked them both awake several more times in those following months, as she called for him when she was deep within her subconscious. He never protested, never really asked before he would crawl into her bed during those occasions, shuffling her to her spot furthest from the door. 

Now they stuttered each night in the hall, held themselves together in the shadow of each other's doorways before bed. He’d look down at her those nights, at her dark circles and wrinkled pajamas. A question on his tongue every night. A silent ask, if she would need him that night. He would come if she called. 

She could almost sense when one would creep into her mind most nights now, like an instinctual correlation to her overworking herself. So some nights she’d grasp his hands in the shadows in the hallway and drag him to her room. Something he didn’t comment on, the one thing between them he didn’t joke about. 

On other nights they would separate, his lips would linger on her hairline after whispering goodnight to her to leave for his empty room. But those nights seemed far and few in between her need to have him close now, because the dreams were all but fleeting with him close for some reason. She listed off the benefits of co-sleeping somewhere in the back of her head before slipping away most nights, reasoning out her need for him. 

It explained his presence below her now, how she was folded into the junction of his shoulder and his outstretched arm. How her hands had made a home in his warm chest. But it didn’t really explain the dream, one that she had never had of that nature. 

It made something stir in the back of her mind, made her think of his lingering breath now and how it felt so real in the dream, shepherded in the crook of her neck. How he felt on top of her, the way he fell into the junction of her parted legs. How it had her shifting her own legs now, unconsciously trying to get closer to him now. 

She knew he was attractive. There were things endearing about his personality, things that made her think after laughter, and her heart swell when he got close. But he was, physically, quite attractive to her also. The curl of his hair, the smirk of his lips, of course. But also his broad arms, and large palms. The swell of his lower stomach, the patch of hair below his belly button, the parting of his legs when he sat on the couch. It really wasn’t surprising that she had such a dream about him, not surprising at all. She quite… enjoyed it. Which is why she let her hands linger on him even now, creeping up his shirt to rest on the rise of his lower stomach. To seep in some of that warmth, to try to remember the weight of him above her. 

But she had also dreamed of the kids again. 

She tried to keep note of what she could remember of them. Of pink sweaters and braces and smatterings of freckles that looked like constellations. It faded again though, as she rested against his rising chest. Lulled back to sleep by his steady breaths against her.

June, 1986 

He pulled himself from work that day so they could wander around town and inevitably regretted it once they hit Main Street. 

She had found it amusing that they had stumbled into some sort of reenactment of the 1830s, something he had found joy in, his hands drifting from his pockets to her own hands. But something he was now more than a little frustrated by, watching her giggle every time an old-fashioned dressed-up reenactor passed them by, every man tipping their tophats in her general direction. 

It had him almost fuming, honestly. That they could have his Doc’ blushing and giggling at every turn with ease. His hand had drifted again, pulling her closer to his side as they made their way from booth to booth at this god-forsaken Pioneer Day festival. 

She was distracted by homemade candies at their current booth. Calling his attention and dragging him closer to show him the assortment of sweets she wanted to share with him. Until the booth-keep approached them, his goddamn hat tipped at his Doc’. 

“What can I do for ya miss?” The slightly older gentleman asked politely, taking his tall hat off in the presence of her. 

She giggled again, of course. Glancing back at his flushed form, before glancing back at the clerk about to answer. 

“It’s missus, actually, ya schmuck.” He had to open his mouth. Almost like he couldn’t help it, something bubbling below the surface, his fist clenched defensively at his side, the other still balled up around her waist. 

She seemed slightly shocked at his infringement, flushing embarrassed at his side. He didn’t even think of apologizing, especially when she looked like that. 

“Apologies, sir!” The clerk said, glancing between the assumed couple. “Your lady here needs some assistance, yes?” 

“Wife, pal. My wife.” 

Stuttering, waving away Stan’s charged statement, the poor clerk is crimson in front of them in the July heat and under the scrutiny of a man who is on his last leg with the current fair he finds himself at. 

She seizes the moment, turning back to Stan to push his chest back away and out of the stall, throwing a quick apology over her shoulder in their hasty retreating wake. 

It had been absurdly endearing, how annoyed Stan was all day. It wasn’t easy to derail the man, from what she knew of him. So she had reveled in his apparent annoyance all day. Weirdly protective of the space they took up on the walkway through the fair, trying to shield her from the polite tipping of hats which was custom to do, she figured. Something the reenactors did rather flippantly and without thought. But something that had grated at her partner all day, despite that. So stubbly angry at the gesture that no one else but he thought twice about. 

She had let it continue throughout the day though, and had giggled at how his hand had made for her own, and migrated to her waist sometime during the day when he grew more aptly agitated. A protective hand on her, and when she looked back at him, his face was always a grimace. His usual glare directed solely at the men who would greet her on the street. 

The vendor apparently, had been the last straw. After the poor man hadn’t acknowledged Stan’s presence, in favor of helping and doting on her. Probably a good sales tactic, something Stan knew about also, but something he was blinded by in the moment. Annoyed at being ignored despite bearing down at anyone from her shadow along her back. 

They had enough for today though, she thought, pulling him farther down the street back to the parking lot at the end of Main Street, so they could find their car and head home. She doubted he would want to come back to the yearly Pioneer Days, but she’d try to drag him back each coming year. Reveling at his protective hold, giggling at his flushed face as he declared her as his to everyone who would listen. 

November, 1986

She found him up late, in his office that night. 

He had made a space in a random room on the first floor, close to the kitchen. One of those rooms they had both disregarded and initially put the swell of Ford’s belongings in.

But she had helped him clean it back out a couple of years ago when he opened their home turned tourist trap. Helped anyway he would allow, actually, which was more or less going through old research papers piled high and picking out a nice desk from the flea market to situate in front of the south-facing window. He had moved around just about everything else. 

The walls were still bare in his office, and he had filled the room with some of his old knick-knacks and newspaper clippings he had a tendency of keeping from the comics and punchline sections of the local paper. The ones that made her laugh. That and odd stacks of magazines from jewelers he liked. 

He had been unable to help her downstairs that day, something she did not begrudge him of, especially seeing him now bent over his desk, with his hands catching in his hair. She had called him for dinner, but when he didn’t answer or come within ten minutes she found herself wandering to his office with their dinner in hand. His office door was wide open, as it always was when it was just the two of them. She knocked despite this. 

“Stan?” She asks, balancing steaming plates of food in both hands. “Do you need help with anything?” 

“No, hun.” His head shot up, a smile blooming on his face, but his eyes were weary still from squinting at money margins for the last couple of hours. 

She makes her way closer, plopping his plate right in front of him on the desk, disregarding the odd papers he had spread out all over its surface. She leans herself on the desk, holding her own plate up so she could simply eat where she stood.

“Doesn’t look like it.” She says, pitching her head back to the mess on his desk. 

He’s almost too worked up to eat, not that he’d let her know that. He’d been wrangling around money all day, trying to equate the sum of the last couple of months’ tours into this month's mortgage payment. Something he struggled with last season also, but something he’d gotten worse at hiding from her despite his best efforts. She overworked herself enough as is, he didn’t want this on her plate alongside everything else. 

She did her best to handle the mess he had made downstairs, and he did his best to take care of her. Because she deserved that, after all she’s done for him. Given him four years, put up with his bullshit for four years after his four-second mistake of pushing his brother into another dimension. 

But looking up at her now, watching the darkness from the fall season outside seep in through the window. How she tilted her head down, leaned onto his desk, and basically plopped on top of the hardwood she had picked out herself. She made no indication of regret, in all four years.

Still, something tugs at him, he wanted to be the one to provide in this aspect. Something deep, once hallow in him, something his father had tried to teach him in his old ways. About how to take care of your wife, about how he needed to provide. 

But they were standing in a shell of a house, one that he could not even logically claim as his own. And he wanted to give her more. To celebrate during the holidays without pinching pennies, to give her gifts during these colder winter months, like he remembers his father doing for his mother. To get her those new throw blankets she eyes up at the craft store, to get her that new red pot she says reminds her of her grandmother. It made him feel more like a failure, set something deep in him, that he couldn’t give her some of those things while she so willingly gave him four years.

She wouldn’t relent though, because as determined as he was to take care of her in this semblance, she was just as eager to do the same for him. Something that always made him lean into her, had his hand finding hers instinctually nowadays. Something that no one has done for him since Ford, someone having his back. 

So he tells her anyway because she's smart. Knowing to lean up on his desk like that and bring him food to ply him from his leather desk chair and make him concede in his problems. Something all-knowing about her like usual, something perhaps ingrained in her. 

He leans forward, scooping up food to shovel into his mouth. Maybe he was hungry after all. “I’m having some trouble balancing some books.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Means I’m short.” Fisting some of his hair in his fist, mumbling around his food. “Holiday season, I’m always strapped for cash.” 

She hums, a fold forming in the ridge of her brows. She takes a moment, leaning farther into his desk, dinner half gone on her plate already. “You?” 

“What?” 

“You, Stan?” She sighs, suddenly looking tired in front of him. Frustrated with something, at the very least.  

He shrugs at her, turning away from her suddenly harsh gaze. But she won’t let him turn from her anymore. She finishes her dinner, discarding her plate farther away on the corner of his desk, reaching over his papers and piles to switch on the shaded desk lamp they also scrounged for. 

She sighs again, situating herself completely in front of him now. Leaning back against his desk again, basically sitting on the papers and books that were causing him strife not even ten minutes ago. His dinner is half cold on his plate now, situated on his own lap as he slumps back in his chair. His eyes move back to her instinctually now that she’s in front of him. The lamp light shining on her frustrated visage. 

“Stan.” She humphs, leaning forward, crowding him into his chair. “You? Just you?” 

Realizing his mistake, his shepherding of problems, continuing to shield them as his own despite him internally admitting he should at least voice them aloud. 

But it’s hard to admit defeat in this aspect, hard to concede control over something she thought so flippantly of as money. It was deeper than that, deeper than the mortgage of course. It was something he had left home in search of, something he still grasped for, and something he had buried asking for help with when he was merely eighteen years old.

His desires had somehow changed and shifted though. The warped image he had of his father, how it had become distorted in the face of his new desires. Desires that looked more and more like her these days. And it was just something he wouldn’t admit defeat to, couldn’t admit defeat. Because then what good was he to her? 

So he stands behind his own stupid idea of self-actualization. Despite it being weak in the shadow of her frustration. “Yes… just me.” 

“No.” 

“No?” He scoffs. “Yes. Just me, only me.” 

“Since when.” 

“Since this was all my fault.” He says, his own frustration pulling him up in his chair. Food forgotten and pushed aside on his desk in favor of getting closer to her. Never yelling, always explaining. And he wouldn’t and couldn’t yell if he was sitting ramrod straight in front of her. He didn’t have it in him, had no desire to watch her crumble like that. “This whole thing, all of it.” Waving his hands around, trying to emphasize the large capacity of the bullshit he had walked them both into. 

She shakes her head. “No, Stan.” He’s unbelievable at his worst, and charming at his best. But his unbelievable was becoming more mounting with every year. And some convoluted part of her mind had reasoned that it actually all hinged on her now. Thinking of that crumpled paper, and that coded string of words Stanford had left her. How he had been right about her all along, how she hadn’t even been smart enough to drag him out of his own hubris. 

“Don’t say it’s fucking yours.” He scoffs, leaning more into her. Placing his hands on her warm thigh, trying to ground her in her thoughts. 

“But it is. It’s my fault.” Choking around what she had believed to be true for the past four years. “I’m not smart enough to bring him back.” 

He surges in his seat, standing in front of her now. Shaking his head as he reaches for her. Folding her in his arms like he always does, her head balanced in the crook of his neck, humming along to soothe her like always. “That’s the farthest thing from true.” 

“But he’d be back! He s-should be back by now…” Voicing her frustration, it echoed around his chest to his ear. She’s warm in her frustration, her hands curling not around him, but up him. Finding the crook in his chest to rest them in. “And you wouldn’t be so stressed… you wouldn’t have to worry about the mortgage if he was here. We wouldn’t have to be here, it’s my f-fault he’s not here yet. It’s why I’ve been down there so often. W-why I hate when you say that.” 

She had confided herself to the basement almost indefinitely since their second year of cohabitation. More recently, it had kept her up routinely at night. First, it would drag her from her sleep, had her wandering down steep steps in the dark of the night in only her pajamas. Now it followed her into her dreams, seeping into her mind, taunting her of a far-off future she could only conjure up in her sleep. One where she succeeded. One where Stan still stood steady by her side, a gold band on his finger. It made her sick, and she knew she had been troubled by all of it for over a year now. 

He had known reasonably, that the reason for her lingering in the dark basement was for some sort of self-validation, something he could never fault her for. But he could fault himself for not dragging her into the light more often, for not being more worried about her pailing complexion and her dark-set eyes. It did worry him, it tugged him from doorway to doorway at night, made him more vigilante in the dark. But he had been so twisted in worrying about providing as of recent, he had forgotten the object of his adoration was weathering away under the weight of her own self-destruction. 

It was hard to let go of that part of his control, of what he felt was his own duty. But he knew there suddenly, looking down at her dark circles, and the way she curled up, looking so small against his chest. Knew that they’d both have to set aside some ingrained biases because in the end, they were both hypocrites. And he didn’t want her to become a mirror image of him in her grief. 

So he sighs, letting his warm hands cradle the back of her. Letting them run through her hair, letting him continue to hum. “I don’t want you to say that ever again because it ain’t true.” 

She sniffs, still goo in his hands. “You too.” She hiccups. 

He won't ever voice it to her again, he swears somewhere in the back of his mind. But it’ll linger for years, the fault in him. “Okay.”

Another beat, another adjustment from her before he voices anything again. “We both gotta help each other.” 

She nods against him, suddenly looking up at him with a weird amusement in her eyes. “Go team, remember?” 

He chuckles, “Yeah, hun. Go team.” 

She hums, finally pulling away from him and taking her warmth with her. Still folded up in front of him, her hands still in that space along his chest. Fisted in his shirt, wrinkled under her grief. 

“I can help with the money.” She says, a smile beginning to grow on her face. 

“And I can help with the portal.” He nods, his hands finding her shoulders, cupping up towards her neck. 

They congregated on the couch that night, discussing a new schedule between them. Something that would hopefully piece her back together, maybe not back to what she was all those years ago bursting in through the front door. She wasn’t herself then either, he reasoned. And it struck him then, with her curled in on the couch, still folded into the junction of his arm, her fingers tracing his palm as she finally breathed even against him. 

She looks most endearing, most like some glimpse of herself, someone he doesn’t quite know yet when she’s kneeled down talking to those kids on their back-lit porch. Halloween had come and gone again and it struck him, like it does every June and October. 

It twists into an idea in his mind, flips his stomach at the idea. Leaks into visions of her in front of the chalkboard downstairs, how she spoke of complex things in fragments for him to digest. How she paces around her chalkboard, spinning new ideas for him to consume. It came easy to her, teaching him, and he had the thought that she just might be the best he’d ever met in all his years. 

“What about teaching?” He hums, twirling his fingers around for her to continue to play with. 

She hums. “I’d be gone a lot of the day.” 

“And I’d miss ya.” He concedes. “But you need this.” He admits, leaning his chin on her head. She needed to get away from the portal, distance herself, and find a bit of life outside of what he had tied her into. 

“And you.” She glances up at him, a smile on her lips finally. Her breath warm against him. And he did, he’d admit. He needed her help with it all. But only if in doing so it helped her, too. Because he'd concede the weight of what he called duty if it shook that warped image of his father. He wanted to prove himself to her, only.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Here's the NSFW follow-up to my SFW Prewar!Cooper and Ghoul headcanons. Shoutout to the anon who asked for them.

General NSFW Cooper Howard Headcanons

Prewar!Cooper Howard

- I've touched on this before, but this man is absolutely an exhibitionist, and he's an exhibitionist because he's a show off, point blank. Cooper Howard isn't one to flaunt his wealth, really, but he absolutley loves to show off a gorgeous woman on his arm. He's also fairly possessive, but he keeps that little secret to himself as best as he can (which is "okay", at best). Bending you over in his trailer between takes, knowing full well that the curtains aren't completely closed and that you can't stay quiet to save your life. Fucking you in that godforsaken hot tub despite knowing the neighbors have at least a partial view of the backyard. Taking you to nice hotels and fucking you up against the street-facing windows. Y'know. The works.

- Praise kink out the WAZOO, both giving and receiving, but especially the former. He'd revel in every opportunity to tell you just how good you make him feel, to praise you for how you react when he makes you feel good. He's especially fond of praise in non-sexual contexts as a way to get you going. Works every time.

- In the same vein as before, he may or may not be susceptible to to the old "bat your eyelashes and appeal to his fame" trick. "Oh, big important movie star Cooper Howard wants to take little ol' me to lunch? I can't believe it! How could I possibly repay you?" He's a good guy, but his ego is strong, and he responds quite well to having it stroked.

The Ghoul

- Wants eye contact when he's penetrating you, almost to a fault. If you're blowing him, you're looking at him. If he's fucking you, you'd BETTER be looking at him. Blink or look away at the wrong moment, and your face is getting snatched back (or slapped, depending on the day).

- He's never heard of primal play, but it would be 100% his shit. You so much as mention wanting him to chase you down and he gets a wicked glint in his eye and a tent in his pants.

- The only part of his body he really has any positive feeling left for is his hands, which he actually quite likes; they're still dexterous and nimble, and so he's quite taken with you when you become infatuated with them. Compliment them, hold them, put them against your body, he's thrilled. Suck on his fingers??? You're getting bent over THAT second.

- Bonus: he definitely still has the praise kink, he's just way more reserved with it because it requires too much vulnerability. If you start it, he'll follow, though: tell this man how good he's making you feel and he will absolutely melt. Keep at it and he might start praising you, too.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hahahah! The little healer stall sign says

itty-bitty-healing-comittee!

Here to heal you today!

Little Healer Headcanons

Sun Wukong, MK, and Mei

(That is so damn cute to think about- lil’ Y/N all dressed up like a mage/nurse behind their stall, but only their eyes peek over the rim cause they’re short af)

The Great Sage personally “finances” your little (probably unlicensed and illegal) stand by scaring off any cop or Karen who wanders by to try and cause trouble. He’s your number-one supporter at any given time, always on standby with a snack or hug to cheer you up.

It’s not uncommon for a client to lean over the side of your stall for a better look at what’s inside, just to find Ol’ Sun Wukong lounging on the ground.

When the king isn’t busy scaring people away by “accidentally” getting into their faces and pushing them around with a strength beyond their comprehension, he’s babying you.

Trying to, at least.

You work so very hard at your little repurposed stall, a handmade banner strung across the top, red crosses and flowers painted on the sides. It’s clear to Wukong that all you really want to do is help as many people as you can, however you can…

“But you can’t do that if you don’t take care of yourself,” he’ll remind, using legitimately good advice as an excuse to drag you off for mid-day snuggles.

The Great Sage will gently force you to practice basic self-care, even if it means dragging you back to Flower Fruit Mountain on his cloud for a hot bath and a cozy nap. Expect him to extend your “vacation” afterwards by asking for help with a few of his monkeys.

He is so, so good to you, in the worst way. A part of him knows that it’s wrong to load you with junk food and soda, but when he sees you all worn out and shaky on that wooden stool you have to stand on to see over the stall, his self-control fizzes out and the Great Sage is bolting off to “buy” you a horribly unhealthy combo meal from the nearest fast food place. (He steals it.)

And when you’re all tuckered out from a day of hard work and a belly full of sugar and grease and deep-fried fat…

Sun Wukong scoops you into his arms and starts the journey home, right back to where you belong.

Oh, how this kid loves you. MK is always lounging around the corner of your wooden street stall whenever he gets the chance, kicking back with a copy of some Monkey King sponsored magazine or playing Monkey Mech on his phone- it’s a great chance to just lounge around and genuinely relax.

And sure, there’s some concern from his friends and family about how MK seems to suddenly be prioritizing protecting a blatantly illegal street stall over his job and work as a hero…

“Saving the city can wait! Y/N needs me to find a rare herb so they can make an antidote!”

Yeah, you definitely come very close to first in this hero’s heart. He doesn’t outright abandon the city, nor will he put you miles above his desire to protect it- but you are extremely close to being the most important thing in his world.

Just… a cute itty-bitty “sibling” that MK can’t help but to cherish. At first.

As the seasons go by, though… you start being a strange sort of living coping mechanism. An emotional crutch. As his anguish compounds and stacks higher by the day, MK starts using you as an impromptu and unlicensed therapist, trauma-dumping whenever you aren’t tending to a customer.

Being too young and naive to shut down these conversations, you can do little more than fidget and squirm while you try to soothe the worst of MK’s sorrows.

And he misinterprets these awkward consolations as genuine care on your part, which leads him to repeat the process again and again and again.

As MK slowly builds himself up, he in turn breaks you down- entirely on accident.

If he knew that the constant barrage of fears and worries were grinding you down, MK would absolutely turn the valve and shut himself off. He’d go right back to closing himself off and shutting up about everything that’s torn a hole in his heart.

But he doesn’t. You don’t know how to tell him.

So on and on he goes with these traumas, head in your lap during a slow day, right when you finally crack and start to cry.

Good thing you’ve got a hero on standby to cuddle your tears away.

Each and every day starts with Mei prepping you for a long day at your “job”, and damn if the dragon girl can’t dote.

Special attention is given to your hair, little jeweled pins clipped into place just to give your outfit a bit of (expensive) sparkle- the motorcyclist believes with all her heart that you’ve earned it.

All your clothes are custom-made in whites and greens so that the two of you match, displaying to everyone around the bond she shares with you. Since your hands are so important to the work you do, Mei avoids giving you rings (and loose necklaces, just in case they get caught) and instead settles for thick golden bracelets (with trackers hidden inside) as a “gift”.

She tends to see you as more frail than you really are, so motorcycle rides are uncommon and uncharacteristically slow because Mei doesn’t want to rattle you.

Expect her to loudly and proudly proclaim “This is my little sibling!” whenever she gets the chance- and Mei will actively try to make this heartfelt delusion of hers a reality.

If you’re got a good home life, Mei imposes herself as an “honorary big sister” to justify all the time spent with you, painting herself as the sort of person who genuinely just wants the best for her community by looking out for everyone’s favorite healer.

But the moment she finds something solid against your guardians, this dragon girl blasts it all across social media to justify dragging you away from them- even if puts you in an awful and precarious headspace.

If you’re an orphan or stuck in a very bad home situation, Mei might just get her parents to adopt you- having a hardworking and adorable mage is not only good for the family’s reputation, but offers them a chance to expand their reach by having you lend a hand to influential and powerful individuals in their time of need.

And sometimes it feels almost like you’re being used, but they bring you back home after the work is done and allow you to rest and recuperate in front of their fireplace with a warm blanket (her mother wraps you up extra tight and kisses your forehead) and a cup of tea (her father pushes it into your hands and smoothes out your hair) before they dim the lights and bolt their lavish doors.

Really, you’re just part of the family now.

[junedenim]

at the heart of what the business is

part two

if you work with him every day, you might as well fuck him

warnings: smut, eating, blowing, fingering, fucking, etc.

word count: 4.7k

He looks like he has had one too many drinks and you're almost certain he hasn't been without a cigarette in his hand all night. His hair makes him look scruffy like a stray dog. You're filled with a desire to kick him, not out of cruelty, but to see if he'd react. He's got a shadow of stubble that looks like sandpaper. You think if you run your hand down his cheek, scratches would cover the palm of your hand. He's disgusting. Before walking down into the restaurant, he spat on the stairs, leaving a blob of salvia just begging to be slipped in. (You're disgusting; covered in a want for you to be that cement stair).

You two haven't taken to one another exactly. He hasn't acknowledged your presence and you scoff whenever he speaks. There's an obligation to work together but you don't have to interact with him outside of it. You don't hate him, you find him strange in a fascinating kind of way. He definitely hates you, at least you think.

He's across from you at the table though neither of you has made eye contact. He's talking with Ben and you're talking with Elizabeth. Except you and Elizabeth are watching him out of the corners of your eyes and talking about him. 

"Is he looking at me?" She whispers harshly.

You glance over. "No, he's still talking to Ben."

"What about now?"

"Still talking to Ben."

She groaned. "Whatever. I give up. He'll just be the one that got away." She sighed heavily and sank into her hand.

You laugh. "I don't think you're missing out on much."

She gasps. "He's so dreamy. What are you talking about?

You shrug and sip your wine. "He's always seemed a bit arrogant to me."

Elizabeth sneers, "You've never even talked to him."

You object to this. "I talked to him at work today and he was a prick." He ignored you and instead talked to your project partner, Jeff. You took the slight as misogynistic. A fact Elizabeth vehemently denied when it came to Alex. To Elizabeth, Alex was a god. He could have no faults. 

The wait staff came out with everyone's orders and the conversation dissolved into a more central conversation as Ed, everyone's boss, asked after his crew. He seemed to know every detail about everyone. "And Alex, how's that lady you're seeing?" Ed exclusively called people "lady" or "fellow." It amused you every time. You giggle into your napkin.

"Uh, um." He awkwardly moves in his chair. "We aren't seeing each other anymore." Elizabeth practically shakes the table in excitement, which causes you to laugh louder. Alex's eyes land on you and you turn red at the embarrassing idea he thinks you're laughing at the demise of his relationship. You cover it with a cough into your napkin, but it sounds and looks fake.

Ed looks solemnly toward Alex and says, "I'm sorry to hear that, Al." Ed and Alex have about 30 years between them but got along like they had gone to university with one another—a fraternity of brothers. You often felt work was a good ol' boys' club, even if Ed was a great boss and the company was diverse, the upper management mainly consisted of men. 

"Her loss," Elizabeth remarks.

The comment makes you burst into laughter again. You're flushed with red before you have time even to catch yourself. All eyes were at the table directly at you from the sudden outburst. You cover your mouth with your napkin again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You alright, little lady?" Ed asks.

You clear your throat one too many times for anyone to believe the act. "Yeah, yeah. Yes. I'm sorry. Ignore me."

"Nonsense," Ed dismisses. "Your father doing okay?" That's the kind of boss Ed was. Your father had several bouts with his health that caused him to be hospitalized a few times this past year. Ed was always forgiving with your work attendance.

You dip a hand in your glass of cold ice water and tap your wet fingers on your hot cheeks. "Yes, yes. He's been feeling much better this past month."

Ed cheers, "Excellent. Please give him my best." He lifts his wine glass up in acknowledgment.

"Yes, mine too." Your eyes dart across the table. Alex is leaning back in his chair, that burning cigarette in the ashtray the restaurant provided—you wonder how much he paid them to allow him to smoke in here—and his glass up in the air.

You nod silently and dive back into your dish. Your cheeks are still flushed with mild humiliation but also smiling at the hilarity of it all.

Elizabeth sighs beside you and whispers, "Well, he's looking at you now."

You lift your head, your eyes meeting his, locked in a stare. You swallow your food and lean yourself forward on your elbows on the table. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you," you try to assure Alex. "Just something Elizabeth said."

He waves away your apology. A smile cracks upon his lips. "That's alright. You can laugh at my misfortune if you want to."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't do that. At least I don't think I would."

His smile grows wider. The heat on your cheeks forces you to disappear into your glass of wine. He lifts his cigarette to his lips. You feel entranced by the smoke as you watch him exhale through the blur of wine. He's chatting away with Ben again, making him laugh at some joke you didn't hear. You've never not been intrigued by him. You just didn't think he was ever intrigued by you.

You filter through conversations with Elizabeth and listen to Ed's ramblings but your eyes always return to the man across the table. You swear he must have unbuttoned his shirt a button or two. His chest is exposed deeper. The chain around his neck is more visible and the pale skin of his chest unclothed. It was all a hypnosis wheel. 

Ed orders dessert for the table. Tiramisu. You feast away on your small cut. You lick your spoon eagerly tasting the mascarpone mixture. You feel his eyes on you and it ignites a lust in you that's undeniable. You're reminded that hate sex is the greatest form of passion. Well, you don't really hate him but you can fake it if it makes the sex that much better.

"Did you know tiramisu means 'pick me up'?" The question isn't necessarily directed at anyone, but your eyes are on him.

He has a trace of cocoa powder in the corner of his lips. It makes you giggle. You're becoming more and more endeared by it. You're convinced it's due to your newfound desire to bed him tonight. "No. I didn't know that one," he answered.

"It was created for pleasure-seekers." You try your best to pierce him with your gaze. "Ladyfingers is such an interesting name for a dessert. Who'd want to imagine eating fingers with cream?"

He chuckles at the remark before sinking back into his dessert. He glances up with a smirk and you return with a tight-lipped smile.

*

Ed leaves after dessert, paying for the tab causing his employees to cheer for him as he exits. Various people scatter. Some for the bar. Some head home. Some, like you, lean back in their chairs. You copy Alex's carefree mannerisms. Your hand fiddles with the stem of your wine glass. If you focus for long enough you think you could bore holes through his clothes.

Suddenly, Alex stands up and rounds the table. He stands before you. His hand grazes the empty chair Jeff left. "May I?"

"I don't owe the chair. By all means," you invite.

He places his glass down first, instantly forming a watermark on the cloth tablecloth. He pulls the chair out far enough for it to be turned to face you. He sits in it silently and takes a sip from his glass. 

"I liked that project of yours," he complimented with another swiss of alcohol.

You can't help the smile forced upon your cheeks but you narrow your eyes. "My part or Jeff's part?"

Alex scoffed, "Jeff's a dickhead." You split into a peal of laughter, forcing you to cover your mouth once again. It incites a laugh from Alex too. "You've got a nice laugh."

You sip your wine to diminish the last ripples of giggles. "Oh, stop it. I've got a witch cackle going on."

He shakes his head. His hair is less styled than it was at work, growing unkempt as the evening has dragged on. It bounces with his movements. "No, no. It adds character. It's contagious."

You shrug. "Well, okay."

For the first time, you notice he has these beautiful eyes: downturned and brown. It's hard not to—the man gives good eye contact. "You're a good talker."

You snigger. "I'm pretty sure Jeff did all the talking."

Alex points a finger out from his hand wrapped around his glass. "Exactly."

His knee brushes up against yours. He doesn't seem to notice, but you sure do. The fabric of his suit feels luxurious against your bare skin. You're not sure what overtakes you. His eyes. His words. His hair. His hands. His knee. You reach down and place your delicate hand on his knee. A smirk covers his face and his eyes gaze longingly at you but he doesn't say anything. "Thank you, I suppose," you tell him.

Alex leans forward. His body practically huddles around you. If you wanted, you could nest in him. Take harbor in his suit jacket and stay there hibernating through winter. "Not sure if I'm allowed to say this," he whispers in your ear.

You turn your head and if you were an inch closer your lips would graze his. It might not be the most proper thing for him to hit on his subordinate. It wouldn't be right for him to leave you hungry either. "Go ahead."

He places his hand on your bare inner thigh, just above your knee. It's cold, still chilling from the glass. It's orgasmic, its effects. "Do you know how fucking hot you look?" His earnest tone makes you emit a horny giggle. "Seriously, pretty sure you're a pick-me-up."

"I could probably sue you for that," you joke.

His hand travels further. "Yeah, you probably should. I'm a piece of shit."

"We'll probably get fired if we move any closer to one another."

He pulls back slightly. "You mean, you don't want me to fuck you in front of HR?"

*

In the haze between the restaurant and his bed, you lost your dress and he lost his pants. He grabs your ass picking you up for long enough for you to land your back against his soft duvet. He tries to blanket you with his body but you stick your leg up, pressing your foot into his chest. "Lose the jacket," you command.

Alex is quick to shed. He wraps his hand around your ankle and lifts the foot to his lips, kissing the heel, then the ankle, slowly puckering his way to your center as he kisses your shin. He drops the leg and undoes the rest of his shirt, leaving him in just his underwear. You watch, propped up on your elbows in your lacy bra and panties. 

He covers you like a dark cloud about to rain down on you. His lips are softer than you imagined and his hands that caress their way up you are as rough as you imagined. His kiss is dominating and his figure is pining you down like you're on a bulletin board. His hand grazes over your clothed cunt. You moan into his mouth.

He pulls back and stands up completely. "Take it off." He gestures to your chest and his pussy.

You reach around and undo the hook. You slip your bra off and toss it off the bed. You reach down to the hem of your underwear but stop before pulling it off. "You too."

Alex listens, discarding his underwear on the wood floor. "You're a bossy bitch," he says. You let out a delighted giggle. "I fucking love it."

"I want to suck your cock," you announce. You sit up on your knees but wait for him to move toward you.

He puts his hands on his hips. "Okay, fuck." He comes closer and you crawl toward him. You wrap your hands around his shaft.

You look at him, eagerly. "Spit in my mouth," you say, leaning your head back and widening your mouth.

He looks slightly stunned but a smirk takes over his face. He wraps his hand around your neck and leans down, spitting directly onto your tongue. "You're a little slut, huh?" He asks it like a serious question as if you're sitting down for a job interview.

You shrug and take him into your mouth. He sighs as if letting out a breath that he's been forced to hold all night. You pop him off your lips and say, "You can decide at the end of the night."

He's large in your mouth. Your tongue moves around him in your mouth as you move up and back. His face is controted in pleasure and you're determined to continue it for as long as possible. You want to suck him dry. To take everything in him for yourself.

He has other thoughts. Roughly, he yanks you off of him by your hair. You land on your back, staring up at him like a beetle on its back unable to turn over. "I don't like you very much, you know," you tell him.

Alex snickers. "I know." It's a word battle of who can turn the other one on more with their insults. His hands move their way down your thighs and soon, his mouth follows. Alex buries his head between your legs. He starts off slow, lazily flicking his tongue around your heat, as if to test it. You shake at his touch, moaning and grinding your hips towards him, begging him to keep going. 

He scoffs, "You're so desperate." He trails his fingertips up your body, barely touching anything, soft strokes causing heat to gather. His tongue dances around your clit, teasing you, before finally giving in and allowing it his full attention. You tremble and he adjusts to a faster rhythm, a stronger pressure, finding just the right angle to make you quiver so hard he needs to hold your legs in place.

You're on the edge, arching your back, ready to fall over, when he suddenly lifts himself from your center and backs away to the foot of the bed. You groan and flatten out. "You're a fucking jerk, Turner."

He chuckles evilly. "Calm down, love." It brings a rare affection to the whole exchange. Of course, two seconds later he pulls you closer to the edge by your legs and flips you over, slipping a few fingers in you just for good measure. The thought of Alex fucking you right now is almost more than you can bare; the satisfied laugh he lets out only adds fuel to the fire.

He bends himself over to grab your breasts. You can feel his cock grinding against your ass, the pressure in your cunt growing with each passing second. You push back against him and he tightens his grip on your waist. Finally, he enters your dripping, throbbing cunt. Then, he slaps your ass. It's light. Probably won't even make the skin red but it makes you gasp, which encourages him more. 

He's bucking into you in such a provoking fashion it makes you loudly moan. He's stretching you out in a glorious way that adds such fervency to the pattern in which you're fucking one another. You're reassured that you feel as good for him as he does for you when he lets out a noisy, "Fuck."

Alex is holding onto your shoulders as he pounds into you from behind, each thrust making it even more intoxicated. He thrusts slowly, hitting the spot, his fingers digging into your hips. His cock slicked wet, covered in you. He grunts, pounding with more force.

He pulls out, flipping you over again. You wrap your legs around his back when he enters you again, groaning at the feeling of his hard cock once again meeting your warm pussy. He moves deeper, pushing himself all the way in. He leers over you and says, "I want to come in your mouth. Can I do that?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, but can you make come first?"

"Fuck yes." His pace is brutal but charged. You're clawing and desperate. You don't think you've ever been this desperate before. He's caused something in you that you can't label. He's shaking, trembling, and losing his rhythm. He's sucked you in and you're panting before he hits that back pocket and has you collapsing. 

He lets you ride out your high with your hips shaking around and your back arching before he pulls out of you. "Come here." He points to the floor below his cock that he is palming. You drop off the bed to your knees and hold your hands on his hips as he pumps himself. He shoots spurts out of himself landing on your tongue. As he comes, you pull yourself forward, shoving him down your throat as he finishes. His fingers claw in your hair and he's moaning and grunting curses out. 

His grip softens and you fall back onto your butt with a sigh. "Holy shit."

Alex chuckles and reaches down to help you stand up. "Good?"

The room is filled with panting and you decide to shrug your shoulders instead of verbally responding. He chuckles and slips off into the bathroom.

You stand in his room, naked and unsure of what to do. Your skin feels cold now that it's lacking his touch. You're unsure what to do. Whether to slip around the covers or slip out. You have plans tomorrow so it seems logical to go home.

You dress yourself and meet him at the door of his bathroom. "Oh," he utters.

"I'm gonna head home."

He nods. He has slipped boxers on and looks so meek. The power that he possessed in his suit is lost. He just looks small and soft. "Okay. You're welcome to stay."

You shake your head. "I should get home. I have some things I have to do early tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I'll see you at work on Monday."

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good weekend."

"Yeah. You too."

*

You want to be a siren. You won't lie that your attire on Monday wasn't intentional, wearing the shortest skirt you can get away with to the office. It covers you enough for when you bend over but it doesn't leave much to the imagination. Besides, it's Monday, a day you spend mostly in your cubicle so there's little need to dress a certain way. You've come in hungover and in your pajamas on Mondays before so a short skirt and a tight white shirt will make little difference.

You find him in the copy room. You're collecting your printed work and he is standing with a mug of coffee, leaning over one of the copiers. You watch his back. His shoulders are high and his finger firmly jabs the digital screen on the copier repeatably. 

"Do you need help?" You're not sure why you ask it. You had intended to stay silent and collect your work but he's muttering to himself and you take pity on the poor guy.

Alex turns quickly to look at you. He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. "Uh, no. I think I got it."

You giggle at his flustered behavior. "Okay."

It seems to soften things and put a smile on your face as you walk to the printer to collect your items. You look over and his finger continues to hit the screen. His face is contoured with frustration. "You sure you don't need any help?"

"No, I just..." he sighs and steps back. "I just can't get the thing to copy."

You place your stack of papers down and look over. The screen is on the copy page and you press okay. The machine buzzes and begins to scan his paper. You look back and he's looking at you all sheepishly. "You've worked here how long and you don't know how to work the copier?" 

A smile seems to come to his face as you laugh at him. "I usually have Jess do it." Right, his assisstant. "She's out sick today."

"Do you need any more help?" You offer.

He shakes his head slowly. "No, no. I'm good. Thanks. Thank you."

"No problem," you tell him, picking up your stack of papers.

You head for the door when he says, "You look nice today." You turn around and his back is to you again. His shoulders are down. The tense that was once there has dissolved away. He's cocky again.

"Thank you."

He turns around slowly to full face you. He leans his back against the copier. "What about me?"

You ask dryly, "What about you?"

"Aw, come on," Alex says. "I can't be so bad. I wore my nice shirt today for you." He's got a white button-down on. It looks exactly like the one he wore on Friday and you can't tell if he's mocking you or being truthful.

You bite your lip. "You look handsome."

"Well," he looks down at his shoes, "I like that skirt of yours that you're wearing." Alex feigns this shyness like he can't look you in the eyes. Then, he'll stare you down and tell you he wants to fuck you. It's very contrasting.

"Uh-huh," you sound. "You're very assertive."

He lets out a chuckle. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

You narrow your eyes. "You are the one hitting on me in the copier room."

Alex hums. "Yeah." He grabs his copies and walks over to you. "That's interesting." He grazes by you, passing you, and opening the door.

"What are you getting at?" You ask.

He turns back. The door is only open a crack but his head peeks through just right in the open slot. His smirk grows and that glint in his eyes only grows brighter. "I like your skirt." He ducks out.

You're forced to stand still, taking a moment to digest what has occurred (and drench the thirst he's left). You shake him off your mind and head back to your cubicle. 

*

An hour later, a knock sounds on your cubicle's wall. You turn and there's Alex.

He invites himself in, not that there is much room to be "invited in." He leans against the edge of your desk. "I'd really like to touch base with you," he says.

"I'd really like that, too," you say, tempted to tell him to move his ass, and continue, "But I'm just swamped with this right now."

He glances at the Amazon website open on your computer and you nearly bury your face in your hands—rookie mistake. 

He looks amused by the display. You feel like a child making up excuses to not do their homework, but you can't avoid him forever, that much you know. 

"Ten minutes, I swear," he says.

You cock your head back. "Oh, I think you finish a lot quicker than that."

Relief washes over that he laughs at that. You're desperate for things to not grow more awkward. "I remember things differently. But seriously."

You sigh, "Alright, lead the way."

His office smells like him. Cologne, coffee, and cigarettes. There are unfinished mugs of coffee scattered around the room. He has no pictures on his desk, the height of mystery, but has several posters on the wall of projects he has worked on. He sits down in his desk chair and gestures for you to stand beside him so he can show you something on his computer.

You follow his hands, his pointed finger, as he explains his idea to you. Your head is filled with much different thoughts that don't concern the project or work. He's asked you a question, he's looking up at you waiting for an answer, he's calling your name, and all you can think about are his lips.

You lean down and kiss him, trying to fuse some idea in him through the transmission of lips. He wraps his arms around your waist and to fix the height difference with him sitting down and you bent over he pulls you into his lap. You swing your legs over to straddle him and he whispers into you, "We really shouldn't be doing this at work."

"I know," you whisper back. "But I've only ever had a cubicle before and I'm taking advantage of a closed door."

He's kissing down your neck and any concern about what you're doing or about to do at work seems to fade into the background. "Well, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? I don't think we'd get away with that."

"You want to finger me under my skirt?" You offer.

He kisses up to your ear, his teeth fiddling with your earlobe. "What about what I want?"

"Oh," you sigh, "I think this is what you want."

And then, Alex's fingers slip under your skirt, under your silk panties, finding your slit with ease. He breathes a silent groan against your neck as he slips a finger inside your pussy. He comments on the wetness. "Anticipating this, huh?" Sliding in and out, in and out with ease. He slowly draws his hand back up, rubbing soft circles around your clit. You tremble, swirling her hips against him in a matching rhythm.

If it hadn't before, all thought goes out the window. 

Alex pushes your skirt up around your waist. He lifts you both up, propping you on his desk. You gasp when he guides you to spread your legs further apart, pushing in two fingers and then three. You're arching back and shaking with pleasure, so he goes in deeper and harder. He curls his fingers inside, which causes you to grab a tight hold of his neck, moaning in his ear.

You can feel his boner rub up against you and you're certain you've knocked over his cup full of pens. He slides his hand up your dripping core, slowly moving his fingers up and down your clit. You jerk forward, and he holds you steady, quickening the pace. He hits the spot just right and he keeps hitting it and hitting it. "Don't stop," you beg and he doesn't.

Your whole body jerks forward as the orgasm rips through you. You hold yourself up against his shoulders as you try to catch her breath. "Fuck," you exhale. You relinquish your hold on him and let go. "I've never done anything like that before."

"What? Orgasm?"

You laugh and push him back. You notice the protruding boner in his pants. "No, have sex in a place that could get me fired."

"Oh," he laughs.

Your eyes widen at his reaction. "You've had sex at the office before. Ew. I think I should report this to HR."

"Hush now. Let's just say a lot happened before you worked here."

"Yuck," you let out again.

Alex sits back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "I've never gotten a blowjob here before."

You snort. "Subtle."

Alex moves his hands down and undoes his belt. He pulls his zipper down and looks up at you like a cocky little bastard. 

You nod. "Real subtle. Shall I grab Ben to take care of that for you?"

"Come on. A bit quid pro quo." He exposes his dick, laying hard on top of his zipper.

"That is definitely sexual harassment," you say as you get on your knees.

You take him in your mouth and it feels just as good as it did on Friday, except it's different. It's softer and he isn't forcing your head down on him, instead rubbing the back of it, fidgeting with the tips of your hair. He moans and you're more determined than ever to taste him again.

"You feel so fucking good," he tells you. 

You dive into him, taking him to the back of your throat. Your nose brushes his pubic hair, something that tends to be unappealing, except he smells nice. Something you find even weirder. You suck on him like he's a bottomless mimosa brunch. You lick him like a melting popsicle on the hottest day of the year. You want to consume all of him, but you'll take just this part.

He's close, grunting and pulsing in your mouth. There's agony and pleasure written across his face. His cum washes down your throat. This time you taste it on your tongue. It lingers as you swallow it down. He is slumped against his chair. His head is thrown back and he looks blissed out. You stand and tuck him back in his pants for him. He kisses your elbow as a thank you. "That'll get me through my meeting with Jeff." 

"You better not be doing that with Jeff."

*

a/n: i don't mean for all my fics to have semi-public sex or whatever, they just do.