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#but the implications made me chuckle
Hey, BSD anime, exactly how fucking old do you think Fyodor is???
This is such a random and entirely pointless observation but as I was settling down to draft something involving Fyodor, it immediately came up and has been buzzing around my brain since. (To preface, despite having been really into BSD for the past 5 years, I only recently caught up to the manga and have yet to read all the light novels so grain of salt and all that, sorry!)
(This is just a really long-winded joke post, BSD S4 and manga spoilers)
So, as we all know, a bunch of Dostoevsky's info is still unknown (like, y'know, what exactly Crime and Punishment does) including his height, weight and age. The first two are pretty unimportant and, frankly, so is the last one for the most part as he looks about the same age as Dazai or any of the other mid-to-late 20s characters (although sometimes it's hard to tell). All in all, safe bet that he's... just that. There's nothing implying anything weird about his age and the common consensus is that he's in his 20s, as expected.
And then the anime just??
So, in the last episode covering the Untold Origins of the Detective Agency there's a scene at the end with Fukuzawa and Ranpo discussing V, which also happens in the light novel. Cool! What distinctly does not happen is Fyodor showing up on a random rooftop, looking EXACTLY as he does in the present and dropping a bomb about V (granted, we don't see his entire face but like,,, c'mon, same outfit and everything).
Disregarding that last part for now,,, WHAT??
Y'all,,,, the arc takes place 12 fucking years ago.
Either he wasn't actually there and it's just for exposition, which doesn't really make sense because Fukuzawa notices him (even if he disappears immediately after).
Or, there are two ways to go about his age which I find equally hilarious.
If we keep with the assumption that Fyodor is in his mid 20s, let's even say late 20s to make this slightly less ridiculous, that'd still make him, what, like 17 if he's currently 29? And I think most of us HC him to be closer to Gogol (26) or even Dazai and Chuuya's (22) age which in the flashback would make him, respectively, 14 or 10. Fucking.
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TEN
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I,,, don't even think I need to elaborate on that,,
OR, alternatively, if we use a more sensible* estimation for his age in the flashback (*more like if I wanna amuse myself some more because to be fair, 15 year old Dazai doesn't look too different from current Dazai), let's say 20 or 22 like Dazai now, that'd make him 32-34 currently. And in THAT case, it puts this panel:
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into perspective a lot more because yeah, if I were a weird super-genius that's presumably been working on a singular goal for over 12 years, I too would be pissed at having to try so hard and fake-drown and all this other shit just to best some rat bastard 10 fucking years younger than me.
Or the BSD anime is implying that Fyodor's immortal.
Anyway, idk why I wrote this lmao but there you go
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ghosts-cyphera · 6 months
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reader getting jealous when she’s seen pornstar!Ghost’s previous work with other girls even if she knows it’s irrational to be jealous since it’s his job 🤭
you chewed on your bottom lip as you flicked through photo after photo. each of them was with a different girl looking up at him or kissing him on the cheek. in some of them, his arm was draped over their shoulder, or they were perched on his lap with twinkling bright eyes.
most of the girls you knew. you'd worked scenes together or met them at work events. they were all lovely, and beautiful, and clearly his type too, judging by the grin on his features.
"christ."
it was silly. of course it was.
it was his job, just as it was yours: you knew that getting dicked down day after day did not mean anything.
it had not meant anything. 
not until you’d allowed yourself to get used to the way he looked at you, his eyes full of adoration. the way he touched you, like the mere permission to run his fingers along your skin was something special. you had gotten used to the way he made you feel special. 
and suddenly, it had all begun to mean something.
the realization had of course followed soon after. you were not any different from the rest, were you?
the fans all shipped you, yet there was not a single picture of you on his social media. the studio praised you for the money that the two of you were bringing in, yet they kept scheduling him with other girls.
girls who looked at him with the exact same twinkle in their eyes that you knew had to possess your gaze whenever you looked at him.
stupid. your fingers swiped through the photos faster in a surge of something bitter: something childish in the way that your lip moved into a pout. it was all stupid, all freaking—
"thank fuck you're here." the low rumble of a familiar voice startled you, and from the surprise, your fingers slipped: the betrayal followed by your phone falling. 
flat across your face.
with a groan, you listened to it clatter against the floor of the common space of the studio, yet as soon as you pushed off the couch to reach for it you realized it to be too late. 
ghost's fingers had wrapped around it, the man now grinning from ear to ear as he dangled it between two of his fingers. "if I didn’t know you any better—“
“ghost.”
“—I’d think you were doin' somethin' sneaky." 
you shot him a warning glare as your fingers rubbed your aching nose. "give it here."
he had never been nosy: never dabbled into your privacy, and you could tell that this time too it was not his intention in the slightest. yet you could not blame him for recognizing himself on the dim screen of your phone, now could you?
fuck.
"darlin'," he paused, fingers still wrapped around your phone. his gaze flicked to yours as he raised a brow. "really?"
"just give it back."
with a grin—nearly boyish in the way his eyes twinkled—he tossed the phone back at you. "you shooting today, stalker?"
"just finished." 
ghost raised an amused brow. “did you, though?”
you couldn’t help but laugh at the implication: at the knowing smirk on his features as he uncorked a bottle of water and brought it to his lips. he looked casual like this: leaning against an armchair opposite from you, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt.
“can’t really say that we just wrapped up either, now can I?”
“fuckin’ rawdogging my girl, eh?”
“your girl, am I?” you fell back on the couch, gaze headed towards the ceiling of the penthouse as you bit down your silly little grin. "funny considering that that's what he called me. inspired by our vids, I assume."
“who’d you shoot with?”
“graves,” you mused. 
“ah so, no.” you could hear the grin on his features. “you did not actually finish.”
god. 
your laugh was bright as you rolled your eyes. “if I did not know you any better I’d think that all this—,” you chuckled, “was jealousy. you’re not—jealous, are you?”
"nothin' to be jealous about, is there?"
"it's just work."
"opposed to what we have, eh?" his grin was playful, yet as your gaze met his, there was something else too. something deeper in the way that his eyes studied you. 
what, you did not know. before you'd managed to place a finger on it, he'd pushed off the armchair. 
now walking to you.
"so what if I were a little jealous?" his voice was a warm chuckle, and he crouched on the floor next to you. "would you feed my ego? would you go 'n tell me?"
"tell you—?"
"look me in the eyes," he tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice low, "and tell me, darlin', that graves fucked you like I fuck you."
"no one fucks me like—," your words died down with a laugh: your lips parted before you'd managed to bite down the words. "I'm not gonna go and feed your ego, ghost."
"already did," he grinned. no, he downright glowed, as he took a seat on the floor next to you. "y'know, I do sorta wish it was you today."
the corners of your lips tugged into a warm smile, and you propped your head against your hand. "who is it?"
"shel."
"shel's lovely."
"yeah," he nodded. "yeah, but she's not you, is she?"
you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt your cheeks turning warmer by the second. "it's not—," you then managed out a soft laugh. "it's just work."
"doesn't feel like fuckin' work with us, though, does it?"
"no," you hummed. "it doesn't."
where your sudden courage to address any of this was coming from, you did not know. yet as you saw the switch in his eyes: the touch of something warm, of something relieved...
"darlin', I wanted you to know I—"
a call for his name, echoing from the hallways of the penthouse cut his words short, and he pushed off the floor with a chuckle.
"fuckin' A."
"duty calls." you smiled. "I'll see you—"
"tomorrow," he grinned. "oh and—," ghost wet his lips with a chuckle, slightly breathless, "it was kate who stopped me from posting our photos, y'know? on social media. somethin' about the marketing team thinkin' it's better to—they want us to be exclusive. as in," he rushed to speak with a shake of his head, "for the website. so that to see what everyone is fussing about—"
oh.
"right," you managed as you fought back the bright smile that threatened to take over your features. "right, alright. so if it wasn't for kate—"
"sweetheart, I'd have you as my goddamn profile picture just to see more of you."
huh.
a call for his name—this time audibly frustrated—echoed across the space once more, and you grinned. 
"go before they fire you for keeping them waiting."
"your loss, eh?"
"only financially," you smirked—your laugh warm as you watched him bump into the doorframe on his way out. and as you unlocked your phone, the grin that ghost had in the photo on your screen—smiling next to a girl—seemed to suddenly dim in comparison with the way he had just looked at you.
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a/n: giggling, blushing, kicking my feet. I’m so goddamn soft for these two, lmao help. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / I'm so freaking here for all your thoughts about him!! 💌
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hazelfoureyes · 1 month
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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part two)
This is part two! Here is part one. I lied, there is a bit of smut! Oopsie daisy. Inspired by @moonmark98 ‘s story idea of reader trying to forget Alastor and failing. I hadn’t planned a second part initially so I hope you like it 🥺
⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣
You return to earth and spend a year trying to crawl out from under the memory of Alastor. When an employee tells you a terrible past trauma, you end up right back where you started.
<Tags/Warnings/Promises: Alastor x reader, light smut, not as explicit as part one, masturbation, implied childhood trauma, justified homicide regarding said implication, stabbing, death, a realistic description of my former job, gerbil slander, your bitch aunt Sara, hiking as a hobby, guns, shooting, choking, florida weather, mentions of the 2021 Loo Loo Land fire>
minors DNI
“Ooh my, this is highly unusual. Charlie is right, you really shouldn’t be here.” Stolas fretted over you. “Uuunfortunately I don’t have my book at this particular moment however I can just snag it from Blitzy and be back soon.”
“What’s a blitzy?” Angel looked around the room to no one in particular.
“What isn’t he?” Stolas cooed. 
“Wait a minute!” Husk snapped his fingers, “Is that the imp who burned down loo loo land?”
“The very one!”
“He also takes hits out on people on earth, doesn’t he?” Husk gave Stolas a sideways look. Alastor hummed in acknowledgment.
“Ah haha yes” Nervously chuckling, Stolas scratched at the feathers behind his neck, “Anywho! I’ll return shortly and get you back where you belong, little one.” He flashed his kind smile to you before bowing to Charlie and portaling out of the room. 
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Charlie sat beside you on the edge of the bed. You’d been escorted immediately to an empty room upon arrival, sat down while the core staff of the hotel flitted about wildly upon hearing Angel’s recounting of events.
“You smell dirty”, the tiny maid cackled and ran to you before being lifted by her apron by Husk. 
“That is a”, you rubbed your wrists nervously, “complicated question…”
“There’s nowhere safer in all of hell than this room. With Vaggie and me and Alastor”, Charlie brought her hands to her mouth, “or— not Alas- I mean” She looked at Vaggie, “What do I mean??”
“Nothing and no one will lay a finger on you here.” Vaggie was staring at Alastor when she said it.
“I don’t think its fingers anyone’s worried about”, Angel shifted his gaze from Alastor to you and back.  
Alastor turned his head  slowly to meet Angel’s eyes, “Did you say something, Angel Dust?”
He shook his head and quickly left, Niffty and Husk in tow.
“I think you should leave, too.” Vaggie crossed her arms.
Alastor replied by taking a step closer to you, gesturing with his microphone, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. She is safe and sound, barely a bruise on her.” He looked over you, the side of your face still slightly pink from the way you hit the ground hardly an hour ago. He could hear your body sliding across the wooden cabin floor still, what a strangely exciting noise. What else could he drag you across? What surfaces could he slide your over? What noises would they make? What noises would you make?
“You took her fucking soul, Alastor. In a coerced deal!”
“If I remember correctly, that is exactly what I had been asked to do.” He grinned, taking his monocle off and cleaning it on his sleeve. Vaggie looked to Charlie, who shrunk from her horrified face. “Plus, she’s still alive. Who knows if the deal even counts. I’ve never made one with a living person.” With an exaggerated shrug, Alastor took a seat on the sofa opposite the bed, legs crossed. “Either way, she isn’t anywhere near Val anymore.” His eyes met yours, for the first time since… 
You looked away. He wanted to grab your chin and force you to see him. He wanted to read what was written on your face. Shame? No…yes, but something more. Embarrassment. Confusion. Ah— You clenched your jaw, finally returning his stare. Anger. “Did I not do exactly what I had promised I would? What I had warned you I would?” Your lips curled over your teeth. “While yes, I hadn’t explicitly stated the number of times-“
“Stop talking! No, no. Enough of that.” Charlie waved her arms as if she could dissipate the very topic away, “Alastor could you please give me a moment alone with her?” She looked at him with big, worried eyes, “Please?”
Through gritted teeth Alastor acquiesced, “It is your hotel, Princess. I’ll be just outside the door.” The last sentence was for you, you could feel it like you could feel his shadow still ghosting over your legs.
As soon as the door shut, she closed the distance between you, looking to Vaggie who offered her a supportive nod.
“Seriously, are you hurt? Did he— Did he hurt  you?”
Oh, you wish he had. That’d be easier to say. Easier to process. You wish he’d knocked you around like Val had done earlier. That left you indignant, enraged. But this — whatever this was — you couldn’t find purchase on a reaction. You didn’t even want to think the things bubbling under your consciousness. 
“Just my pride. Uhh,” you shifted, your thighs and cunt sore to the touch, “He really did warn me. Got my okay, kind of. And he didn’t hurt me, except dragging me around and flipping me but-”, You noticed Charlie’s alarmed expression, “I’m physically fine.”
She nodded, her expression still oozing concern, “Well that’s good, then.”
“What… You both seem humanish, but what exactly are-“ You tipped your head in the direction of the door. 
“Well I think Angel is some kind of spider…Husk, not entirely sure honestly”, Charlie looked up as if searching for a memory, “Alastor is a deer. It’s all tied to how people lived and died, I think.”
A deer? You shook your head, “Nothing about that man resembles a prey animal.”
“His death sure did.” Vaggie commented.
“So if I have some weird death I’ll end up here? If I drown… I’ll come back as a fish?” You were mostly thinking out loud, and hadn’t expected Charlie to nod in agreement.
“But don’t think about that! You might still go to heaven. Like Al said, he isn’t even sure the deal is binding.” She beamed and clapped her hands together.
It felt binding. 
When that green light had erupted from beneath you, you thought you could feel him. Not the tentacles, or the memory of his hand. It felt like he was in the light itself, casting shadows on the ceiling in the shape of you. It felt alive, every ray of light a breathe washing over you. 
You looked down at the robe, white and silky. Where were your clothes? Where was your fucking aunt? What about your phone? You had a car, too. Wait, no… did you drive to her house? Or did she…You hadn’t slept since being dragged to hell. Staring at the hem of the sleeve, you tried to focus your mind but suddenly you were wading in cognitive mud.
Shadows gathered near the foot of the bed before you saw Alastor rise out of the cluster. Charlie said something, Vaggie said something but sharper. It sounded far away already. Your body was beginning to feel heavy, an ache settling across your back and thighs.
“Perhaps you should lie down, my dear.” His voice cut through the murky waters of your thoughts. The bed sunk beside you as he pressed a hand down, the other lifting your chin to force eye contact. Vaggie made a loud noise, Charlie a smaller one, a longer one. Was it words? Were they speaking? Your lids were heavy over your eyes, Alastor’s face beginning to blur. His smile looked strained, eyebrows knitted together in an emotion almost recognized. Concern? His grin threw it off. You raised your eyebrows to try and open your eyes wider but the effect was minimal.
You heard yourself groan as an arm hooked under your knees, another catching your shoulders as you fell to the side. It felt like you were floating. Your legs came down slowly, you could feel the robe adjusting around your waist. Your head went back before comfortably straightening. A warmth spread down your neck, leaving goosebumps to runaway down your shoulder. It was dark now, and in the haze you heard from somewhere so close it felt like maybe you had thought it yourself,  “In perpetuity, mon cher.” 
You didn’t recognize the room at first, but when you finally managed to lift yourself out of bed you sighed. Home. You only knew it had been real because of the robe and busted lip. Well, mostly sure. 
 No one noticed you were gone, which wasn’t shocking. Working backwards, you could piece together you had gone to visit your aunt on Saturday morning. You awoke early Monday in your own bed some 60 miles from your aunt's home. Your car had been found abandoned off an old dirt road way outside of town. 
You tried to get back to life, get to work. But you were clearly only half there.
Your aunt was found dead the following weekend, half submerged in a swamp just outside of Tampa. Her funeral was funny. Not “haha” funny, “Say hi to Val for me” kinda funny. When they lowered her into the ground you wondered what she looked like. What's the animal manifestation of a selfish, raging bitch? What’s the most untrustworthy home appliance? 
Probably a gerbil, or a toaster. 
You found yourself doing that a lot, What will they look like in the afterlife?
It took a good six months for you to stop sleeping in the robe. You couldn’t trash it, it was evidence you had been spirited away. It smelled like smoke and baby oil. Like Angel. It was soft on your skin, like—
Oh. It took less time for the dreams to calm down. Maybe a month of waking up in a cold sweat.  
At first they were stressful. Val backhanding you. The feeling of leather chafing against your wrists. The cabin. The real one, not the set.
But then one night they weren’t stressful. You could remember the dream like it had really happened. A large hand cupping your cheek, another roaming past your hips before hooking under your knee. The warmth of a breath on your neck, on your navel. More hands. Everywhere. Your back, your ankle, your neck. 
You woke up and the first feeling you felt was disappointment. It hit you like a truck. 
The dreams slowly ramped up until some nights you awoke mid-orgasm. Never in your life had you experienced wet dreams; you didn’t even know women got them.
And it wasn’t always him—- well, not at first. You’d be kissing someone, a stranger or your ex or whoever. You’d have your hands in their hair, enjoying the feeling of their tongue sliding over yours. You’d be positively humming into their mouth. They’d pull you forward, lie you down, tugging your pants down your legs.
When they’d kiss up your arm and nestle into your neck they’d whisper hottily into your ear, “My doe.”
Sometimes you woke up, but many times you didn’t. Many times you grabbed his face and kissed him, letting him take control and direct you. You’d shrink beneath him, allowing him to use your body as he pleased. You’d surrender, you’d melt. He’d fuck you into the ground of god-knows-where, nails cutting into the flesh of your ass as he pulled you up to meet each punishing thrust. There were trees and starlight and you felt the humidity on your skin. 
You’d always squirm away, try to escape the pleasure and he would find joy in pulling you back onto his cock. It felt like a game where you both already knew the outcome. “Going to cum, sweetheart?”, would be the last thing you heard before the real life spasms of your release stirred you awake. 
The first man you took home after returning to earth was sweet. Gentle. Too gentle. You’d try to direct him, to let him know you wouldn’t break but he’d shy away from asserting dominance.
Other partners were more in charge, but it didn’t sit right. If you were going to allow someone control over you, you felt like they had to deserve it. You needed to respect them in some capacity. 
You tried choking during sex, while it did heighten the pleasure their hand felt so small it broke your concentration. Bondage was fun, you got a rush from shibari, but all it did was inform your dreams. 
You tried femdom, and while it was impowering it didn’t scratch that itch. You tried being a sub, but like before you found the people over you as unworthy of you. You didn’t think so highly of yourself, it’s just that autonomy was precious and these people were, well, just people. Mortals.  
Your friends enjoyed your hoe era, self titled, but it was short lived. It had been eight months since you returned when you bought your first real sex toy, and took up hiking. It felt nice to be outdoors, and the days you spent in the forests seemed to make for nights of  less intense dreams. 
Your toy was, ashamedly, selected for its three points of contact. A pink little vibrator, big enough to need some work into you but not painful. The first time you used it you clung to your pillow, heart ballooning against your spiked blood pressure, and screamed a chorus of his name. The two points inside you vibrating in tandem with the small suction cup shape extending from the base doming your clit brought back delicious memories. 
Every time, you felt embarrassed after. You could imagine him hearing you all the way in hell and chuckling at how pathetic you were. Satisfied at how empty you felt after.
It wasn’t just about the sex, you were never a very sexually needy person. You were chasing that feeling of surrender, of being both safe and out of control at the same time. The little bit of danger with the pleasure. But not, “local woman found dead in the woods” kind of danger. “Corrupt your soul and ruin your afterlife” kind of danger.
After a year of being earthside, life had finally calmed. Were you still fucked in your dreams? Yes, but a manageable once or so a month. Your toy was nice, but not necessary. A man, or anyone, hadn’t touched you in months. And that was alright. You felt almost normal, except the mornings you woke up hoping to see a pair of red eyes somewhere in the room. 
You chalked it up to escapism. 
Work had promoted you, twice, which helped distract you from boredom. While performing one of your monthly employee meetings, you met with a young man you’d recently hired. He was still in college, but he had a good head on his shoulders and made quick decisions. You were confident he’d be your equal within the year.
(Implied childhood trauma below the line; not graphic but it’s implied to have happened)
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
“Tired?” He asked you while you logged back into your computer. 
You nodded, yawning into the back of your hand, “Spent most of Sunday at Shallow Ridge. Scoping out a good camping spot for when it warms up.”
“No shit, my dad hunts out there. Every Sunday, too.”
“I didn’t take you for the hunting type”, You blinked away the exhaustion and opened his employee file.
“Nah I’m not.” He shook his head, “He used to take me all the time when I was little.”
You nodded, not looking at him and only half listening, “Aww, sounds fun.”
He scoffed. You found the audio file of his graded phone calls, double clicking it. The file seemed corrupted. 
“Not fun?” You absentmindedly asked.
You opened the program to manually find the call file. The silence began to creep over you until you felt your chest heavy under the weight of it.
You finally looked at him. The look in his eyes was distant, the color from his face was gone. 
“Hey”, your tone changed, your subconscious recognizing something before you did.
He snapped back up, looking at you now. His smile didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t say anything, just pushed your chair from your desk and looked directly at him.
“What?” He averted his gaze.
“You know you can tell me anything, right? You’re not just a resource here. Hell, I see you more than my own flesh and blood.”
He nodded, and when he finally brought his eyes back to yours his composure cracked and tears fell down his cheeks in streams. “It’s fine” he forced a laugh, “It was like a million years ago.”
You took off the rest of the day, and after providing hugs and your own tears and information on company sponsored counseling and resources, you went home.
Well, first you went to the camping store. And then home. Your dreams that week were calm, as if they knew you couldn’t enjoy a romp in a field.
When Saturday night bled into Sunday morning, you drove your car to Shallow Ridge. You placed the keys on the front seat and left your phone under the seat itself.
You waited for four hours, but eventually a truck pulled up and the man you saw in various Facebook photos and tagged family Christmas cards made his way into the dense forest. You circled back on the trail, head dizzy. 
You knew you couldn’t overpower him, but you weren’t trying to win. You just wanted to make him hurt. You’d met men like him before. You’d suffered men like him. Survived men like him. When you two crossed paths on the barely marked trail and you were a beat behind him, you stopped, took out the hunting knife you were told could cut bone, and brought it down into the crook of his neck with both hands.
He whipped around, shock and panic on his face as his hands came back from his shoulder bloody. When he scrambled for his gun you sliced at his chest, then again at his throat but it wasn’t deep enough to stop him. 
As he advanced on you, fumbling with his shotgun, you tumbled backwards. He fell with you, pinning you down beneath the full weight of his body on your stomach. Twisting beneath him you almost got onto your side when you sunk the knife into his inner thigh, remembering the artery there from your mother’s surgery. He got the gun loaded, aimed it at your chest, “Crazy bitch!”
“Fuck you.” 
He fired.
Your breath left steam as it flitted weakly from your body, frost still on the ground. Your mouth was open as blood held your face to the forest floor. As your vision darkened, you watched the man slump over and onto the ground beside you. His eyes were open and unmoving. 
A burst of green erupted from beneath you, and you smiled as you sank down into the light.
“Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?”
(Part three)
༻Masterlist༺
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writing-fanics · 1 month
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every little detail
Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader [Adam’s Sister]
[warning: implications of smut and activities: established relationship* eats gross real fast
a/n: Lucifer and y/n’s relationship is secret. the only ones who know are the ones at the hotel and of course Lucifer. y/n visits when she can but it’s spread out so heaven doesn’t notice
Adam grabs Lucifer by the foot, and he turns into a snake to free himself. Adam throws him away and Lucifer, turns into a bird.
“You're judging me? You're the most hated being in all of creation!” shouts adam, as he glares at Lucifer. Adam tries to shoot his angelic light at him, but Lucifer dodges.
Lucifer looks at Adam, “Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer…” He said, dragging his fingers in the shape of a V across his mouth. “or the second! Bowchicka pow pow!” He says, Lucifer flies away doing a little dance. Adam briefly catches him to hold in a chokehold.
Lucifer’s eyes, briefly meet his lovers [Y/n]. He smirks at her, and she looks at him wondering what he’s planning. He smirked, at Adam.
“Oh, and how can I not forget about your beautiful sister.” He said, opening his mouth making an O shape, and pressing his tongue against his cheek. Balling his hand up into a fist and making an explicit gesture.
“LUCIFER?!” She exclaimed, embarrassed her cheeks bright red. She looked down embarrassed, as he was basically telling her brother the explicit things they did.
“Aw, how cute she’s embarrassed.” He cooed, teasingly smiling as he kept getting a rise out of Adam. “I had her moaning so much last night,” He smirked, making a O with his thumb and finger, and using his left finger to make once again. Another explicit gesture.
Her cheeks when bright red, “Oh you, traitorous little bitch!” shouted Adam, his attention now on his sister. He was fuming, “So, this is where you’ve been sneaking off too?” He shouted, glaring at his sister.
Lucifer smirked, as he dodge Adam’s attempts to chokehold him. “Oh, she did a lot more than that last night.” said Lucifer, he smirked over at her she smiled sheepishly. He made a fist, with his hand and moved it up and down. Adam’s eye twitched, as he tried to grab Lucifer by the collar.
“WHYRE YOU TELLING OUR BUSINESS?!” She exclaimed.
But he dodged and made a V with his fingers, and dragged it across his mouth. “Best facial I’ve ever had,” He said, chuckling and Adam face went red. Lucifer. “I'll fuckin' end you!” shouted Adam. Lucifer turns into a horse and kicks Adam away.
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kitchen-spoon · 1 month
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Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.
One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.
Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.
“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.
“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.
“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.
Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.
“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”
By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.
“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”
“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.
“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“
“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.
The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.
“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”
Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.
“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“
Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.
Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”
“Anytime sweetheart.”
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lisired · 15 days
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can you keep it down?
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pairing: neighbor!mark x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, dilf!mark, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, thigh slapping, forced submission, implications of brat taming (in progress), praise, degradation but it’s more like banter, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy)
summary: The apartment next door to yours has been vacant for months. No one had gone in or out, not until your new next door neighbor moved in two weeks ago. Mark, a slightly older guy who prides himself on his patience and willpower with a penchant for control. But when you make it clear you’re resolved to wither away the things he values most, Mark decides he’s down for the challenge, determined to put a leash on your unrestrained behavior - and most importantly, finally shut you the hell up.
word count: 10.4k
a/n: 4/4 of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!
The first time you met Mark, it was right outside your door. 
It was late at night - debatably early in the morning - and you had been in the middle of bringing yourself to the third consecutive orgasm in a row when loud knocking interrupted you. Part of you was tempted to ignore whoever was determined to beat down your door, but it was ceaseless and frankly, you were growing annoyed. 
Swiftly you slipped on the closest pair of shorts and marched to the front door in large strides, swinging it open once you finally arrived. Then, your eyes met Mark’s. 
He was a mere stranger to you then. But what you saw made you want to know him. What you saw made you nearly forget that you were on the brink of orgasm only moments ago. A pair of beautiful brown eyes stared back at you. 
“Hey,” he greeted, voice gruff. “Sorry to bother you, but can you keep it down? I live right next door and with all the noise I can’t sleep.”
For a moment you only blinked, processing his words slowly. You weren’t aware that you were being that loud. But then again, you were in no state to properly register your actions - you were delirious with pleasure and had blocked everything else past your senses. 
When you finally processed his statement, your cheeks burned, slightly embarrassed. “Fuck. I’m so, so sorry, I had no idea. I’ll try to be quieter from now on.”
He gave you a courteous nod and replied, “No worries. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
And that was it. When you shimmied back out of your shorts, you didn’t even feel energetic anymore, only overcome by exhaustion and the burdensome fact that you had work in the morning. You groaned and flopped against your bedsheets, letting sleep swallow you whole. 
But the image of your new neighbor was reoccurring. There was something familiar about him, like you had seen him once before. And there were things you noticed right off the bat about him. For one, he was an older guy. Not old, but evidently beyond your years. And if the shorts he wore was any indicator, he was likely a father. 
That made the chain of thoughts about him increase, and you didn’t even know his first name. There was instant intrigue and desire to get to know your new, next-door neighbor. 
Though visions died quick, and dreams were killed even quicker. When you saw Mark swallowing some girl’s face only moments before she left his apartment on your way to work some days later, you rationalized yourself and decided to take it steady. It was certain that you were sure of what you wanted, but you respected his relationship. You were a great deal of things - delusional and a homewrecker weren’t on the list. 
The second time, it was when you least expected it - at a local cafe. 
Mark sat across from you, coffee cup in hand. Awareness of someone’s sudden presence made you shudder, and it slightly soothed you when you realized it was your hot neighbor. Your heart was still beating fast. 
You played it cool. “Are you stalking me, neighbor?” 
Amused, your neighbor let out a chuckle that was like music to your ears. “My name is Mark,” he introduced himself, smiling blithely. “And don’t flatter yourself, neighbor. I saw you here coincidentally and sat here because I had one good question for you.” 
With an eyebrow arched, you casted Mark an identical smile. It amused you that he spoke to you as if you had been long friends, though you didn’t mind. You had been intrigued by Mark the moment you first laid eyes on him, and had been incapable of taking them off him since. 
“Mark,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue. You played along and bobbed your head after a few moments, deciding you liked his name and gave him yours. “What do you have to ask me, Mark?” 
Mark leaned over the table, voice an octave above a whisper as he asked, “Who’s fucking you so good that you can’t be quiet?”
He leaned back out and eyed you smugly when you blinked in surprise. His bluntness had caught you off-guard and he was proud of it, but you refused to not quickly recover.
Feigning indifference, you replied, “No one. Most of the time it’s just me and my toys. I have a hectic work schedule so it’s rare for me to find time to mess with people.” 
Much to your misfortune, it was true. Working a busy office job meant that you had little time for even short-lived flings or one-night stands, much less the commitment of a serious relationship. It was difficult to recall the last time that you had gotten laid. With work taking such a humongous toll on you, your only way of relieving all of your pent-up frustrations was with sex toys. 
That response was a clear shock to Mark, and in return you took pride in it. He was expecting you to be taken, but now that you had essentially implied that you weren’t dating anyone, he felt free to make a move on you. It was an indirect way of asking you if you were single. He also didn’t expect the same girl that flushed red when he confronted you about your noisiness to meet his boldness, but it was a welcome surprise. Mark could tell only fun things would come out of knowing you and becoming your neighbor. 
Mark took a long sip from his cup, then asked, “What do you do for a living?”
“I work a variable job as an executive assistant that spends an ungodly amount of time behind a computer screen doing everyone else’s job for them,” you smiled tiredly. 
He threw you a playful grimace and glanced at his watch for a split-second, but you had his undivided attention again in no time. “Damn, no wonder. You must like things rough.”
That took you by surprise, but you didn’t dare show it. “You have no idea,” you grumbled, playing it safe. “What about you?”
Mark grinned with pride. “I’m an editor for a publishing company.”
“Must be fun.”
“I can’t complain. It’s a stress sometimes, but it pays the bills.”
You chuckled. “Amen to that.” 
It felt forbidden to be interested in your potentially taken neighbor that you only met a couple of days ago, yet here you were talking to him about your sex and work life. To make matters worse - and if that comment about you liking things rough was any indicator - you might have somehow also piqued his interests. 
Maybe you were just reading too much into his words. After all, you were his noisy neighbor that kept him up at night. He was probably just curious as to why you seemingly made enemies with silence. 
Mark glanced at his watch again then rose from his seat, and you figured he had places to be. “I’d better get going. I have to pick up my son.”
“Your son?” you questioned, furrowing your brows. The confusion was fake, of course. You had a hunch that he was a father, but you had never seen or heard the child to confirm your suspicions. 
“Yes, my son,” Mark gave you a hard stare that you couldn’t make out. “It’s Friday and he stays with me this weekend so please, if not for my sake then for his, keep it down.” 
You gave Mark a nod. He bid you farewell and made a break for the door, the chime of the bells letting you know that he was gone. He had wanted to stay for a bit, play for a little longer, but decided it was a good thing he didn’t get much of a chance to make a move. For now, Mark was intent on observing you. He wanted to figure you out a bit more before he went to first base. 
But damn was he interested. There was something about you a couple of moments ago that he was attracted to, how you seemed equally bold as he was. A stark contrast from the first time he met you, but he figured that he had simply caught you at a bad time. 
That was the thing, though - Mark didn’t know you. He needed more time before he could be sure you were worth it.
For at least the weekend, you obliged Mark’s wishes. As aforementioned, you were a great deal of things, but you weren’t petty for the wrong reasons. Or outright odd. It wasn’t like you were loud for the sake of it, you truly just never realized what you were capable of. 
Over the course of those days, you continued to think about Mark. He had cut deep in your imagination and now there was a permanent scar that refused to heal. It was silly, being so hung over a guy you hardly knew and couldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it. 
Mark was giving you a headache. You weren’t one to be indecisive over what you wanted, but that wasn’t the case here. From the moment he showed up at your doorstep, you knew that you had to have him. The problem was that you wanted to outline boundaries. There were places you were able to step and then there were places you weren’t. The last thing you wanted was to scare him away because of your urges. 
The third time you saw Mark was the following weekend, bumping into him in the halls. You were going to apologize, but then his face fell into your vision. And thus, you noticed something completely new about it. 
“You have a stubble,” you commented, nearly gawking. 
Mark bobbed his head, grinning. He found it interesting how you gazed up at him as if you’d never seen a man with a stubble before. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you don’t shave. Shocking, I know.” 
“I kind of like it.”
He snickered. “Only kinda?”
More than kind of - and while you weren’t afraid to admit it, you ignored his question. The stubble was the completion to Mark’s physical attractiveness that you hadn’t even known you would be into. He was already hot as hell, though now he was somehow even hotter. 
He shot you a smug smile, unable to miss the way that you leered at him. You found him attractive. It was no secret and Mark wasn’t sure if you intended for it to be or not, though the way that you were unabashedly fucking him with your eyes gave him a huge hint. After last weekend’s encounter, you didn’t strike him as the type to shy away very easily. Confident. 
So was he. 
“You’re just standing here watching me like you want to eat me. Do you like it that much?” 
There were a couple of routes you could take with that question. Either you could be honest and tell him how you felt, or you could beat around the bush. You chose the former. 
“Sight for sore eyes,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes. He held eye contact with you as well as the expectation that you would break, but you proved him wrong. You kept looking him in his eyes as you said, “I love it. I think it suits the fuck out of you.”
Mark raised a brow, intrigued by your response. “Mm,” he hummed. He moved a step closer to you and asked, “What else do you like?” 
Your breath began to speed up and so did your pulse when you picked up on how close your bodies were. You were hyper aware of the proximity and it was slowly killing you, setting off visceral reactions in your body. Another inch and his lips would be brushing yours. It felt like a test on your behalf - to see how you would react and if you would chicken out - and you utterly refused to back down from the challenge. 
Deflecting, you tore your eyes from his lips and asked back, “Initiating a conversation with me in the middle of the hallway?” 
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you wanna come in, then?”
“I don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much,” you faked a pout, the most subtle sullen undertone hiding in your sentence. 
Mark resisted a grin. It was probable you were indirectly determining whether or not he was single. But the tiniest hint of sadness in your voice suggested that you might have genuinely been under the impression he was in a relationship. 
“What girlfriend?” He threw you an utterly confused look. “I haven’t been in a relationship since the birth of Christ.” 
You stared at him with genuine surprise. “I saw you sucking some girl’s face like last week.” 
“And have you seen her around here again since?” Mark scoffed, amused. 
What he was implying began to sink in gradually and you realized that you had made an awfully large assumption the other day. Though in your defense, people making out with their hookups like that was completely unheard of to you. It looked too passionate, especially for the morning after. When you had nothing to quip, Mark made a face at you that made you want to sink into the ground, and added, “She’s not my girlfriend - she was a fling. We had sex the previous night but I’m sure you weren’t able to tell because unlike someone, I know how to be quiet.”
Was. That meant not any more. 
Affronted, and refusing to take that, you took a step back and shot, “Maybe your dick game is just weak if she’s that quiet.”
“You wanna find out?” Mark cocked his head to the side with an exasperating smile, taking a step forward for every step you took backwards until your back hit a wall. It was obvious that you were trying to get a rise out of him and he wouldn’t take the bait. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
Mark’s hands were on either side of you and his gaze rooted you in place. Neither of you seemed to give a damn that you were in public and in the view of a security camera. You kept staring at one another, pupils dilated with obvious want. Now that you were aware that Mark was single you deemed it perfectly safe to cave in to your desires, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to - yet. It was funny how whenever you finally got what you wanted, it was never enough. 
You smiled softly, matching the little smirk on his face - you didn’t want him to think that he had an advantage over you, and whether he did or didn’t wasn’t relevant. “Are you saying that you want me?” 
“I do want you,” Mark confessed without a care. He had no true intention of sleeping with you just yet, wanting to get to know you some more, but it wouldn’t hurt to admit that he was attracted to you nonetheless. “Do you want me?”
Seductively, you leered at him, then purred, “So bad.”
“Then, stop deflecting.”
With one little breath, you said, “Fine,” then closed the tiny gap between the both of you and your lips. When he kissed you back, your hands sought for his neck and his hooked around your waist. 
As you kissed Mark it only became more fierce, tongues and teeth clashing in attempts to maintain dominance over the other. Yet neither of you would cave. Both of you were fighting fire with fire and it was like nothing that either of you had ever experienced before. Mark displayed a clear need for power and control, and while you weren’t against letting him have it, you were never one to give it away that easily. 
You tugged on Mark’s hair, wanting to feel him as close as possible. His calloused hands began to wander all over you, kneading your skin and making you moan softly into his mouth. You could feel him grinning against your lips. His touch was like fire and your body was already burning with lust, desire, and everything in between. It had been so long since someone last touched you like this, kissed you like this. Mark was filling in all the little gaps and empty spaces. 
A rough pull at his locks made Mark groan into your mouth and he pinned your hands above your head, up against the wall. He got rougher, as if he was trying to fit you into the wall - or maybe force you through it. But the fervor was welcome, and although he had pinned your hands above your head, you still kissed him with as much eagerness as you were humanly capable. 
You pulled away when you had your fill, knowing that if you kept him close to you any longer you would make a move for his clothes, and your exhibitionism kink only extended so far. The both of you stared at one another with sheer lust, but there was an almost telepathic understanding between you. We have to wait. 
Out of breath, you casted Mark a flirtatious wink and smile before parting and said, “See you later, Mark.”
Then, you sashayed back to your apartment. When you felt his eyes boring holes into your back, you simpered to yourself. You had planted the seed; now all you had to do was let it grow. 
Days of messing around with Mark turned into weeks, but both of you were yet to succumb to your temptations. It was like you were waiting for the other to give in first and neither of you wanted to grant the other that satisfaction. 
But of course, after planting the seed you had to water it and give it sunshine. In other words, you continued to flirt with Mark, maintaining his interest. And in return, he maintained yours. From anyone else’s point of view it might have seemed silly to be resisting each other when it was clear as day that the lust was mutual, but you and Mark were too alike. Too much pride, and too much adoration for all things thrill and tension.
Even when he wasn’t in your company, Mark was on your mind. It had only gotten worse the moment you kissed him. In the beginning you only thought about him occasionally - mostly whenever you saw or heard him - but now he was creeping into your head during your downtime and that was a problem. Your thoughts consisted nearly completely of him. Mark, Mark, Mark. He was all you could think about. 
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One weekend, you surprisingly encountered Mark at a playground. He appeared shocked to see you, but only let it show for a brief moment.
“I’m beginning to think that you’re the one stalking me. What in God’s name are you of all people doing at a playground?”
“Please. You’re not that special. I don’t have the time or energy to stalk anyone, baby,” you drawled with a hint of amusement. You pointed at a little girl. “You see that little girl in the purple shirt on the slide? That’s my niece. I’m babysitting her for my brother and sister-in-law. Today’s their anniversary and they wanted peace.”
Mark bobbed his head, understanding. “Of course. You can’t have any of that around a child. How old is she?”
“Just turned six about a week ago.” 
“Around my son’s age,” he remarked, then pointed towards the set of swings. A couple of children played over there, but only one young boy was in the group. And he looked almost just like someone you knew. “He’s right there on the swings. Six, but he’s nearing seven.”
He was absolutely adorable. You were already thinking about play dates between him and your niece. She was lovely and enjoyed meeting new people, bless her pure heart. 
You smiled softly with awe. “Stole your whole face. There’s no way in hell you could deny that boy.”
Mark snickered, shoulders shaking. “Damn right. My little mini-me,” he sighed happily. He took his eyes off his son for a split-second to glance over at you. You looked beautiful, as always. And you were watching your niece with so much intent and care that he doubted you had even snook a glance of your own his way. “Fond of kids?” 
“I babysitted throughout college,” you replied pensively. Reminiscent. “Believe it or not. I thought it was my calling because I was so responsible and the parents always praised me, plus it was a huge step towards individuality. Grew up with a lot of siblings and relatives, too, so I’ve always been around children.” 
Mark grinned, satisfied. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was only curious because he was interested in you, and before he jumped too far ahead he needed to know what you thought about children. It was a relief that you had so much tenderness for and resonated so well with them. That gave him all the more reasons to want you by his side. “What about you?” he asked, adding when your face scrunched about with confusion, “Do you want kids of your own?” 
There was no reluctance in your answer, like you had already thought long and hard about the question before. “Someday. When I’m married and sure I’ve chosen the right person to settle down and have kids with. And when I have a less demanding job so that I’m able to take care of my family and spend time with them,” you said, smiling wistfully. “My parents were busy people. They weren’t around a whole lot so me and my siblings practically raised each other.” 
Mark gave you a look. One you could make out as pity. You thought his response would be predictable, but it caught you by surprise. “You don’t want to be pitied, do you?” 
You blinked, genuinely unsure of how to respond for a moment. Then you broke into a broad grin and said, “Nope.” 
“I feel for you anyways,” Mark gave a playful nudge to your side with his elbow. “And I think you have beautiful visions for the future. I can tell you’re gonna be a great mother.” 
You thanked him in a way that was positively bashful. For a while, you and Mark chatted about whatever the hell you wanted - topics in relation to the children, personal life, and everything in between. After the day you and Mark kissed, a more mutual effort to get to know each other blossomed. Mark told you everything there was to know about his job. Most of the time he worked from home without much need for overseer authorization, and set his own hours. As someone who loved being in control, it suited him. 
It was alarming that you had gotten so personal so fast. You had only known each other for a month, more or less, and only really began talking a couple of weeks ago. Yet you felt comfortable enough to share a certain level of information that you normally would conceal. 
You were becoming close in every sense of the word. The tension between you and Mark never fizzled out, it only seemed to grow more, and more, and more, until it would eventually explode in your faces. By then, you would have no choice but to confront it directly. You couldn’t wait. 
Mark wrapped his arm around your waist, and peered down briefly to look at it. Contact drove you crazy. You loved having Mark’s hands on you, even in non-sexual ways. 
He pulled you into him and asked, “How long are you keeping her?”
“Just until five. I’m taking her to her grandma’s after this,” you replied, shifting your gaze back to the playground. But a smug smile tugged your lips. “Why?”
There was a shine in Mark’s pretty brown eyes. It was almost five. Voice tickling your neck, he leaned in to say bluntly, “Because I wanna take you for a ride. Are you down?” 
You casted him an observant glance over your shoulder. What Mark wanted was clear, or so you thought, but you were in the mood for playing hard to get. As per usual. “Dunno. What kind of ride?” 
“The kind where we get in my car and go whatever the road and a full tank of gas leads us,” Mark shrugged. “It’s a yes-no question, doll. Are you down, or not?” 
Doll. That was new. You had reached the pet name stage, calling each other ‘baby’ a couple of times, but ‘doll’ was new. It also had you wishing that you were both alone so that you could do something about how badly you craved Mark in that moment. 
“I’m down. Meet me outside the complex at six?” You questioned, peering up at him yet again. You smiled when you met his eyes, unable to resist the urge. Mark made you feel good inside, all warm and gross. It was a delight to know you were still capable of feeling such a way. After all, it had been so long since the last time. 
Mark nodded and smiled back. “I will. Child-less, so that we can have peace of our own.” 
You giggled into his chest. You could smell his scent, and it was heavenly. 
At six o’clock, Mark was waiting for you downstairs like he said that he would be. And he was child-less. You both were. 
Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door of his car for you and shut it once you were completely inside. Of course, it took more than simple courtesy to impress you, but something about it was making you giggle. Something you couldn’t pinpoint.
Mark gave you a look once he settled in the driver’s seat. “What’s funny?” 
“Chivalry,” you sighed, smiling. “Apparently, it’s not dead.”
Mark was amused, but held back a snort. You were occasionally ridiculous, but just the right amount. He could tolerate it. 
As he gripped the steering wheel, the car jerked to live underneath his fingertips, and soon you were both rolling. You said nothing for a little while, Mark focusing on the road and you peering out the window. The silence wasn’t awkward, but he cut on the radio and began to hum the song that was currently playing. 
You glanced at him witheringly, but he was unbothered. Then, you teased with a grin, “Oh, yeah. Show out, Beyoncé.” 
“Stop being a hater,” Mark groaned, then went back to singing. 
After some moments of teasing, you were finally content and gave it a rest, relaxing into the leather seat. You were happy. If anyone had told you a month ago that you’d be in your new neighbor’s car listening to him sing songs from the radio, you would have called them insane. But you weren’t stupid and you knew better than to vulnerate yourself to a stranger. You told a couple friends about him and realized why Mark had seemed familiar - because he was. One of them knew Mark and was able to vouch for him, assuring you he was a good guy. That was why you felt so goddamn free. 
It was peaceful, being alone with Mark. Whenever you weren’t both determined to get into each other’s pants, that was. But there was none of that right now - only the scenery whirling by at the pace of the lightning, the radio prevailing over the silence, and Mark by your side. And you by his. It felt too damn nice. 
“You never answered my question that day.”
“Hm?” you gazed at him, confused. By his sentence and sudden will to ignite conversation, although you didn’t mind. “What question?”
Mark’s hand left the steering wheel and dropped to your thigh, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t move it, but you couldn’t ignore his fingers on your skin. “I asked you, what else do you like?” 
“About you, or in general?”
He shrugged. “Whatever gets you talking.”
You gazed through the windshield, pretending to be pondering deeply. “Well, in general, I like a bunch of things. I’ve got a penchant for poetry and music. This tends to shock people, but parties aren’t my scene. I’m a more reserved person. I love the color blue.” 
“Why blue?”
“Because it looks amazing on me,” you winked. 
“Mm,” Mark glanced at you fleetingly through the rear-view mirror. That was when his fingers started moving, kneading your thigh. “What else?” 
“Hm, well,” you began, pretending to be unbothered by his touch. In reality, you were melting with every move. “About you, there’s a lot for me to like, too. You’re confident, smart, funny, sexy,” then you licked your lips and added, “And an excellent kisser.” 
Mark grinned, hand still massaging your bare skin. “What a sweet-talker you are. Keep going,” he whispered, then gave your thigh a little squeeze. 
But you were honest. There were too many things you admired about Mark that led you to becoming drawn to him in such a little period of time. Just as easily as he had been able to make you tell him things, you had persuaded him into opening up. There was still so much to learn about each other on deeper levels, but time was your best friend. For now, you decided that you would tell him what you already knew. 
“I like the way you put so much care and effort into what you love. I’ve heard you talk about your son, your friends, your job. You never neglect anything,” you confessed, smiling fondly as you recalled the conversations you’d had. “I like how we’re similar, too. I think that’s part of the reason why we feel comfortable moving so fast. We’re cut from the same cloth. We both know what we want and when and how we want it, and we’re not afraid to go get it. It’s like playing a damn game of tug of war whenever I’m with you.”
“Or a very calculated game of chess,” Mark added, shaking his head with amusement. 
You giggled. “But there’s something about you that’s so… alluring. I’m attracted to it. You’re a hardworking borderline control freak that’s unafraid of sincerity. I love it.”
“Romantic. I’m swooning,” he deadpanned, throwing you a playful glare. 
“And you’re the right amount of sarcastic.” 
“And that’s what gets you going?”
“Baby, please. If I could kiss you right fucking now, I would,” you admitted. 
Mark said nothing, but his fingers kept fondling with your flesh, and your breath kept getting out of control. He gave your thigh another reassuring squeeze, letting you know he heard you. 
Forest views took over. You pressed your fingertips to the window glass and watched as the rapid blur of scenes that once consisted of neon city lights turned green. Moss-coated branches replaced them, last rays of sunlight filtering through them as you neared the woods and the gravel roads turned to dirt. 
“Woods, very spooky. Are you gonna kill me and hide my body out here?” you asked him humorously, watching as he drove you through the wild.
Mark didn’t take his eyes off the road as he replied, “And dump it in the lake.” 
“Lake?”
He smiled. “You’ll see.” 
You did see a lake. Mark parked his car near some trees and once he helped you outside, led you down a trail until you reached a bridge. It was long and stretched above a medium body of water. Blossoming flowers lived in the grass and the scent was earthy. You stretched ever so slightly over the railing and saw yours and Mark’s reflection staring back at you. 
There were little fountains in the lake. Creatures made the water ripple and you watched with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist as the smell and sound of nature filled your senses. Ducks pecked around the land edges of the lake in hunt of food. 
“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled in awe. The clouds and setting sun peered down on the water and you wished that you had your camera on your person. It was a sight too gorgeous to let become nothing more than a memory fading at the back of your head. 
Mark bobbed his head in agreement. The corners of his lips tugged upwards as he said, “It is. I come here from time to time whenever I need to clear my head. It’s a nice place that I’ve always wanted to share with someone.” 
“You trust me enough to share it with me?” you teased, palms on his chest as you gazed up at his face. “I mean, like what if I get arrested for tax fraud and every time you come here all you can think about is your old neighbor that got sent to prison for evading her taxes.” 
“Then, you better do your taxes, or else I’ll be right after you when you get out. For attempted murder.” 
You made a face of faux fear. “Shiver me timbers!” 
Somehow, Mark pulled you closer and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Any closer and you were sure he would be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. It was safe to say that you had a little crush on your neighbor. You wanted him to an extent that words couldn’t capture. 
There was something different with Mark. Linger was the perfect word to describe how his every action affected you. When he kissed you, you could still feel his lips on you moments afterwards. His every touch lingered on you, even the barest ones. You could taste him on you, his scent lingered on your body - it was too much. But Mark was too persistent. Even if you wanted to, and you didn’t, you couldn’t get away. 
Mark looked at you as if he wanted to kiss you, but to your misfortune, he didn’t. Instead his lips parted to say, “Watch the sunset with me.” 
Obediently, you turned to face the railing, which pleased him. He moved behind you and tightened his grip on your waist. 
The sunset was beautiful, even more so with Mark’s company. The two of you made conversation, all the while watching how the sky that was once a pleasant array of colors dulled a deep indigo. The sun descended below the horizon and its reflection in the water was replaced by the moon.
And you - the moonlight illuminated every inch of your face. Mark had always thought that you were gorgeous, but the moonlight made your beauty criminal. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. 
“I can’t control myself anymore,” Mark growled. At first, you were confused, but when he whirled you around and pressed his lips against yours, you quickly understood. 
Mark backed you against the railing, cornering you. Kissing him was too much fun. It was the same battle, the same fervent effort to compel one of you to submit to the other’s touch, yet both of you always held out, keeping your white flags lowered. Mark had never met anyone that challenged him this much, and you had never met anyone so desperate to prove a point. 
When one of you pulled away, you not only were breathing heavily, but dangerously turned on. Your despires were no longer pure wants - they were needs. 
“Mark,” you exhaled through shallow breaths, “Please.” 
Mark cocked a brow, incredulous, yet amused. “You’re begging?” 
You nodded, casting him a needy glance that nearly made him want to give you everything you wanted then and there. It wounded your pride to beg him to do anything, but you weren’t necessarily above it anymore. Lust made you do anything - and it was flowing rapidly through your bloodstream. “Please, I want it.”
That much was entertaining to him, although Mark still didn’t want to give himself to you yet. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to have sex with you, but he wanted to bide his time. He wanted things a specific way and hooking up with you in his car simply wasn’t ideal. 
Mark shook his head. “I’m not fucking you in my car.” 
You pursed your lips and fought back the best way you knew how, huffing, “Why not? Don’t wanna fuck up your expensive seats? Car sex virgin?” 
“My first time was in the back of a car,” Mark told you matter-of-factly, being sure to smile in the most menacing way possible. It was only deserved for the way you left him that day that you kissed him. You wanted to kiss that stupid grin off his face, but you thought he didn’t deserve it. “And everything I wanna do to you can’t happen in a car. You’ve been patient all this time, baby, you can wait a little more.” 
“Ever the elaborate controlling perfectionist are you,” you drawled, faux aggravation to your tone.
Mark entwined his fingers with yours. “But you love that about me.”
“I never said that.”
“Oh? Must I remind you of your little love confession in my car earlier?” he teased. 
You rolled your eyes. “No, thank you. But I will be expecting a four-page love letter detailing everything you like about me in the mail signed ‘Markie Pooh’ soon. I like to be courted.” 
Mark gave your forehead a chaste peck, grinning as he joked, “I’ll enclose it with a kiss.” 
You giggled. 
Soon, Mark drove you back home and you were kissing him goodbye. It was a dramatic farewell, considering you lived right next door to him, but tonight had been magical and you were wondering where the time had gone. All you wanted to do was freeze time and kiss Mark on that bridge forever. 
But you were also sick to your stomach that he still wasn’t in your guts. And tonight, you had a plan that would undoubtedly make him snap and give you what you wanted. 
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Last night, you gave yourself the release that your body was begging for, since Mark refused to fulfill your desires himself. And you made sure to be loud so that your intentions were obvious - ever since the last time he asked you to keep it down, you began doing an impressive job at suppressing your noises, muffling them into your pillow or biting your lip. But not last night. You called it being petty for the right reasons. That was what you were, and rather proudly. 
For a little extra flare, you moaned Mark’s name. As much as it was you being petty for the sake of setting him off, it was also a self-indulging experience. Fantasizing about your neighbor was what brought you to the edge quicker than anything, and you came harder than ever with the thought of him on your mind. 
Mark didn’t text you the following day. Usually, you would find time through your hectic work hours to chat, and you would spend the better half of your lunch break typing away at your phone, but it was radio silence. 
It was weird. Maybe you and Mark were alike in more ways than you thought, and he was also extremely petty. But for the wrong reasons, in your opinion. 
When you came home from work, Mark was standing outside his door, waiting. He leaned against it and stared you down. 
“Had fun last night?” 
Pretending to be oblivious as to what he was referencing, you played dumb and answered, “You mean, at the bridge? Of course. When are we going again?” 
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mark chastised, glaring. “I heard you last night. You seemed like you were having a good time, you know, moaning my name and all like a slut.” 
Never had it ever crossed your mind that you would enjoy Mark calling you a slut, yet here you were, becoming more and more aroused the longer you pushed his buttons. With his commitment to patience, you typically never got much fun out of it, but right now he was approaching his limit and you were anticipating every second of it. 
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, searching for your keys and acting as if you were paying him no mind. 
Mark wasn’t having any of it. For weeks you had all been all over each other, the mutual lust long-established, though now you were suddenly disregarding him and it was with one clear intention in mind. He wasn’t going to give in to your tricks, but he would play along with your little game. And he was going to win. 
The little remaining bits of restraint he had suddenly exhausted and Mark gripped your wrists, ignoring the sound of surprise you uttered as he dragged you into his apartment. The door slammed shut in your trail and he pushed you up against it, pinning your arms above your head as he began to kiss you with urgency. 
Kissing Mark was exhilarating. Whenever his lips were flush against yours, it was as if time stopped. Everything seemed to slow down but the dangerously rapid thud of your heart against your chest and the spreading wildfire in your body. You made an attempt to free your wrists from his seemingly tightening touch, writhing against him with desire to touch him, yet whatever strength you had Mark had more and you were unable to overpower his might. 
“Mark,” you exhaled, pulling away to catch your breath. “I want to touch you.” 
He hummed, an idea slithering into his brain. “If you want to so bad, then beg.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly incredulous, yet the feeling dissipated when you remembered who exactly you were talking to. Scowling, you said, “I begged you once and now you’re getting too used to it.” 
“If you want to get your way when it comes to me, then you better start getting used to it. Now, do you wanna get your pretty little hands on me, or not?” 
You sighed. “I do.”
Mark gave you an expecting look. “Then, beg.” 
“You want me to get on my knees, too?” you deadpanned, shooting him a sharp glare that he seemed utterly unbothered by - and it exasperated you. 
The grin on his lips then was infuriating. “Don’t worry, you’ll do that later.” 
Ignoring the very obvious implication of those words, you made a face, but the look in Mark’s eyes when you met his gaze was so goddamn commanding. The dominance to his aura that you had been so intent on destroying was finally getting to you. 
“Please,” you whimpered, trying to ignore how pathetic you sounded. “Let me touch you, Mark, please.” 
Satisfied, Mark let go of your wrists and his lips immediately fell back on yours, the need to kiss you resurfacing. It was like resuming, pressing play and pause. There was something about hearing and seeing you beg - especially against your will - that he found so arousing. You were so resistant to his dominance and it was all too entertaining to see you finally succumb. 
Your hands raced to his shirt and with his own assistance, you hiked it above his head, hands flying to his chest afterwards. For a moment, your eyes opened to ogle at him, wallowing in the sight of his bare skin. Mark began to tug at your blouse and you both began to undress one another, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you both headed to his bedroom. 
By the time you got to his bed, you were stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. Lying flat on your back, you watched as Mark took his sweet time to crawl over you. His hand moved at an agonizingly slow pace from your thighs, to your stomach, to your clothed breasts. You felt as if your breath was stuck in your throat as you anticipated what he would do next, and he finally leaned in your ear, whispering, “You do look good in blue.” 
He kissed you there for a little longer, heated and passionate, then pulled you up and said, “Get on your knees.” 
Submissively, you sank to the floor without a fight, which both pleased and surprised Mark. Though the little sly grin playing on your lips was a good enough indicator that you were planning something. And you were. Any other time you would have refused to listen to him without first making an attack on his pride, but you were skilled with your tongue and had a line of people you’d been with to show for it. 
You were resolved to make him unravel - and you would. 
The bulge of his dick was prominent through his underwear, of which you tugged down in desperate haste. You had wanted a taste of him for only God knows how long. 
His dick sprung against his stomach and by then your mouth was watering. You took him into your palm, smiling up at Mark as you began to leisurely pump him. Your efforts to tease him only became worse, intentionally letting your lips graze the head of his dick every now and then, giving him false hope that you’d finally get to the best part. 
“Don’t tease me, doll. You won’t like what’ll happen if you keep up,” Mark warned. 
“Punish me, Mark,” you said, smiling broadening. 
He wasn’t given the chance to respond before you took his cock into your mouth, a little grunt leaving his mouth instead. You were taking him into your mouth bit by bit, efforts to tease him still lingering. Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and held it behind your neck. 
Mark, a man of patience, was beginning to lose the thing he clung to most. He used your hair to force you down on him some more. “Stop fooling around and take it, baby. Put your mouth to good use for once.” 
In pursuit of spiting him, you fooled around for a moment longer, though finally gave up contentedly after you figured that you’d frustrated him enough. Soon you were steadily bobbing your head up and down his length, cheeks hollowed, his fingers gripping your hair to control your movements to an extent. 
The wet sound of your mouth sucking his dick and his little noises of pleasure echoed throughout the bedroom. You smiled to yourself slyly at a thought you were having. Mark was a groaner. 
He sounded heavenly. You were quick to discover his weaknesses, catching on to how he became noisier. Mark wasn’t the loudest guy that you’d been with, fairly moderate, but he was still unable to hide the signs that said loud and clear you were making him feel good. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and saw how pleasure was written all over his face, lips parted and his eyes closing from time to time. 
That drove Mark borderline insane, you peering up at him like that - and you had already known that it would. At the end of the day, Mark was simply a man, after all. And you had men all figured out. 
“Good girl. Just like that,” he praised, pushing your head down a little more. 
Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and you stroked him all the while sucking him off, tasting pre-cum on your tongue. You could feel him twitching in your mouth and it was a pleasure. There was no denying he was close. 
When Mark noticed you slowing down in efforts to tease him, he was displeased and decided that he had enough of your schemes. The loosened, relaxed grip on your hair suddenly tightened and he began to thrust into your mouth, taking control. You were good with your mouth and able to take it deep, but the sudden movement caught you off-guard and you began to gag. 
“Just when I praise you, you decide you wanna be a little fucking brat,” Mark spat, pulling your hair again. “You just can’t listen, can you?”
You glared up at him, tears pricking your eyes, and the sight made him let out a laugh. He knew as well as the next person that you liked acting tough, but with tears in the corners of your eyes and a cock in your mouth, you looked nothing short of pathetic.
He shot you a withering look, adding, “You always act like you have the whole world in the palm of your hands. You try to get under my skin because you want to see me succumb to the same tricks you play on everyone else, but you know I won’t give an inch and you don’t know how to handle it. Wish you could see how pathetic you look when you shut the hell up and take my cock.” 
Right now you wished that he would shut the hell up, but oddly enough, his words were turning you on. You silently prayed that he wouldn’t catch on to how wet you were getting with every passing moment. 
Mark was close. His sentences became raspy, deep groans and his pace was relentless, merciless. Like he was trying to bruise the very back of your throat. It took everything in you not to choke out, but you refused to give him the satisfaction in seeing you in such a vulnerable state. He was already enjoying this too much. 
Mark groaned, “Fuck. You gonna swallow it, babe?”
As a way of saying ‘yes’, you hummed around his shaft and the vibration was making him lose his mind. You swiftly moved one of your palms to wipe at a streak of tears on your cheeks before he noticed. 
You doubted that he did. Mark was in another world, eyes closed as he was overcome by pleasure. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was everything and he was out of control, movements unrestrained. He came in your mouth with a grunt, giving your hair one last violent tug as his climax struck his body. You milked him dry, taking every bit of his cum in your mouth that you could possibly manage. 
There was a noise when you rolled him out of your mouth, looking him in his eyes immediately afterwards. Mark was breathless, and so were you, but he could only smile. 
You gave him a look, voice slightly hoarse from the throat-fucking as you asked, “What?” 
“Nothing,” he replied, smile unfaltering, but it was obviously something. “I’m simply enjoying the way you look with spit and my cum on your lips and chin.” 
You rolled your eyes and wiped yourself clean with the back of your hand. “And I was enjoying the way you looked like you were on the verge of losing your shit.” 
“Funny how you’re only quiet when you have a dick in your mouth.”
Wittily, you retorted, “Maybe I would shut up if you fucked me.” 
Instead of giving you an immediate response, Mark pulled you back onto the mattress, hovering above you as you lay flat on your back. “Mm-hm. That’s why you were moaning my name so loud last night, right? Because you wanted my dick?”
One of his palms slipped underneath the band of your underwear and you let out a little cry of surprise when you felt his fingers brushing against your arousal. You were holding in your breath. It had been so long since anyone had you like this and you were touch-starved, feeling completely deprived of sex and nearly the memory of what it was like. 
His free hand gave a loud, resounding smack to your thigh, and you yelped. “That was a question, doll.” 
“Yes,” you choked out. “Please. I want it so bad, Mark.”
“So wet, all for me,” he sighed with bliss. His fingers were now plunging inside your pussy, sliding in and out with ease. You hadn’t been this wet in ages. “How long has it been since you were last with someone?”
“I don’t know, like three months,” you guessed, not really wanting to think about it when his touch was all you could focus on. “A really long fucking time, basically.” 
Mark made a face, surprised. “No wonder you’re so damn needy.”
His teasing did nothing to help and you were quickly growing impatient. There was no need to explain why it had been so long, you were certain he already knew. With your work schedule there was rarely time to meet new people and you had no one to come home to. But Mark made it too goddamn easy, and considering how hard you worked, you could use a good fuck. 
“It’ll be a year by the time you fuck me,” you grumbled, impatient. What more did he want you to do? You sucked him off, begged, and yet he was still torturing you by resisting. It was like he was deliberately trying to get you to lose your goddamn mind, and knowing Mark, you wouldn’t put it past him. It was working. 
Mark said nothing, looking at you blithely. And hungrily. There was still a layer of clothes obstructing the view of your bare skin, and greedily his hands flew to the band of your underwear. You bit back a whimper at the feeling of being suddenly empty, but Mark tore your panties past your ankles, and your bra immediately followed as he tugged on the straps. 
The sight of your naked body had Mark’s dick throbbing and he swore then that you were Aphrodite. You were driving him past the brink of insanity. He had envisaged your body in his dreams and fantasies, though nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful you looked sprawled out on his sheets and he could only think one thing. Goddamn. 
That was it for him. He was still resolved to tease you to sheer hell, but he could keep playing your games while inside of you.
You made a tiny gasp when you felt the head of Mark’s cock prod your folds. The sight of your pussy was his kryptonite - you were dripping with arousal. You wanted him so badly and he wanted you just as much. He pushed the tip in with a raspy groan and made a couple slow, shallow thrusts. 
Then a couple turned into too many for you to count and you were becoming impatient. More than you already were. “Mark, hurry the hell up,” you grumbled. 
“Mm, no. I think I’ll keep going like this,” Mark teased. After the way you treated him only moments ago, he wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “I told you, you weren’t going to like what happened if you kept teasing me. Now look.” 
Just like he said you wouldn’t, you weren’t liking this. He was agonizingly slow, not deep enough, and it was all deliberate. Karma was a fucking bitch. 
“Fuck you,” you spat, insincere. 
Mark was totally unbothered, seemingly paying you no mind as he replied, “That’s no way to talk to the man who you’re so wet for. Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll reconsider.” 
Holding back a groan in fear of his changing his mind about reconsidering, you tidied up the sentence you were preparing to say to him and fixed your tone. “Mark, can you please move faster?” 
“Don’t you sound so sweet when you ask like a good girl,” Mark sang. Before you could muster a response, he finally thrusted completely into you and you moaned. The way your pussy gripped him was his vice, and you stretched to accommodate his size. 
In no time he also discarded his formerly slow pace and adopted a new, speedier one. The way he was pounding you was so deep and perfect and you grabbed his shoulders, desperately needing something to cling to.
This type of experience used to only exist in your head. More often than not, you winded up touching yourself to the thought of the man before you as a way to cope with your stress and lechery. You would close your eyes and picture his dark hair matted by sweat, his face scrunched up with pleasure. You would imagine the noises that he’d make when he finally felt the grip of your pussy around his dick, the way your body responded to his every touch. It got you off too quick, tempting you to march over to his apartment and demand he finished the job. 
But you never did. You wanted to see him lose his patience - and you did. 
“Pussy’s so damn tight,” Mark groaned, which made you grin smugly. You knew that already. 
Mark leaned low and began to press soft kisses into your skin, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipples. He found you utterly beautiful, no flaw in his eyes. The breathy sounds you were making in response felt like hearing an angel. 
Although you were enjoying yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing and said, “Don’t be gentle with me, baby.”
Mark smiled softly. “I don’t plan to be, doll.” 
When Mark was finished with your breasts, his mouth replaced them, beginning to latch roughly onto your neck. Which made you sigh out in bliss. The feeling of his teeth digging sharply into your flesh made you certain that he was going to leave Mark’s, and you were too fond of it. You wanted Mark to make you his. 
Everything was too much in the best way possible. You were intoxicated by the feeling of Mark’s bare cock between your walls, striking the sweetest parts of you. Your mouth parted in too-loud moans of his name. 
He gripped your throat, looking you dead in the eyes as he commanded, “Be fucking quiet.”
That made you clench around his length. At first, your eyes widened, but you recovered swiftly and your lips curled into a broad smile as you met Mark’s gaze. The look on your face right then made his cock twitch. 
“You like that, huh?” he asked, tightening the grip around your neck. You couldn’t get a single coherent word out, choking, but the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head was more than the perfect answer. 
Mark let go of your throat after a moment and began to watch the way your cunt swallowed him whole. It was satisfying to have you at his disposal like this. He was hell bent on taming you, no matter how many fucks it took; the more the merrier. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt - warm, wet walls clamping tightly around his size - and he knew deep down that there was no way in hell this would be the last time. 
There was no going back. He was set on you; you on him. You were different from anyone he had ever been with before, you were a challenge. Brats were something he never thought he would be fond of, wallowing in the fact that most women bent to his will. But you caught onto his behavior fast and opposed it, resolved to break down his walls, and he was game. Mark never went down without a fight, though neither did you, and he liked it too damn much. 
Taming you was fun. It was something he never knew that he needed until you suddenly came into his life, providing him a little thrill and excitement on a silver platter. You were so much like him that it was all too easy to read you, to find out what made you tick. And making you feel defeated was what he got out of trying to put a leash on your wildness. 
Not too long after, you were moaning in a chant, “Mark,” his words forewarning you to be quiet going in one ear and out of the other. You couldn’t help it. It felt perfect. He was so deep and so thick, making you feel full. 
“Brat,” Mark hissed, shaking his head. But with how utterly disobedient you were he didn’t bother to scold you again, taking matters into his own hands by picking your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “That’ll shut you up.” 
There was an instant sound of protest and likely you cursing at him, considering how you narrowed your eyes at him, but there was no way for him to tell. Mark smiled tauntingly. “Can’t hear you, babe,” he said.
You raised your middle finger in a silent retaliation, but Mark retaliated back even quicker and lifted your hands above your head, pinning them down to the mattress. You felt so fucking powerless, yet Mark had so much power over you and your body. It wasn’t fair. 
It wasn’t long before you could finally sense your orgasm building up, a dam on the very verge of breaking loose. Everything felt otherworldly and you swore that you were no longer breathing. Like you were gone, but your body was still physically alive and well. Pleasure ripped through every last vein in your bare body and consumed it in its entirety, swallowing you in its mass. 
Mark’s pace was merciless, and when he moved one of his hands to wrap around your throat, so was the tight squeeze on both sides. It was damn near bruising and your eyes were fluttering, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were internally begging that he wouldn’t. 
Your panties fell from your mouth and you took the opportunity to ask with a struggle, “Can I please cum, Mark?” 
“Let go for me, babe,” Mark grunted, resisting the urge to comment on how pathetic you sounded asking for permission in your hoarse little voice. It came to him as a pleasant surprise, and a satisfying sound that left his dick throbbing. 
There was no need to tell you twice. You came with one last cry of his name, back arching as you began to come undone. It was explosive, your entire body reacting to the intensity of it. Your toes clenched and your pussy gripped relentlessly around his shaft. You swore that you were beginning to see stars. 
Mark pulled out and came on your stomach with a deep sexy groan, the sight and sound of you at your very climax triggering his own orgasm consecutively. His hands loosened their grip and set you free, and soon you were both lying flat on his bed, panting heavily. 
“So,” he began through shallow breaths, and you braced yourself for whatever he could have possibly said next. “How’s that for a weak dick game?” 
You glanced at him confused, then suddenly broke into a fit of laughter after you recalled what he was referencing. You had insulted his game. “I take it back,” you replied. “It’s alright.”
Mark raised a brow. “Just alright? Like I didn’t have to put your panties in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop screaming my name?” 
“I was not screaming.”
“You were screaming. And…,”
Before he could add anything else - and you knew he would, refusing to let you live anything that happened today down - you smashed your lips against his and carded your fingers through his hair, effectively shutting him up. Mark kissed back with joy, smiling against your lips. All of the other kisses that you two shared had consisted of rough, unrestrained attempts at dominating one another, but this was slow and sweet. It was gentle, and dare you say loving. 
“One more round?” you asked when you pulled away. 
Mark snickered. “Don’t tempt me, baby. If we start with one it might become two.”
You licked your lips and grinned. That was useful information. “Nope, I’m tempting you. Now give in.”
Mark gave your lips another kiss, but immediately became distracted once he caught another glimpse of the swell of your breasts. “Damn, baby,” he sighed contentedly, running his hands over the shape. “I just fucking might.” 
Temptations. Oh, how dangerous they were. But caving into them might have been the best decision you’d ever made - and Mark was living proof. 
He was your temptation.
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gojonanami · 1 month
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❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞
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❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞
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✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader
✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?
✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including part 3), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down
✧ wc: 1,206
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“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,” 
You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,” 
“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?” 
“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?” 
He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,” 
“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,” 
“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“ 
“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?” 
“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,” 
And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?” 
“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you. 
He’d be back soon enough — right? 
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Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight. 
It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar. 
I’ll clear my schedule. You smile. 
Another message, as soon as I get back. 
You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia. 
You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him. 
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You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side. 
“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“ 
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?” 
Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms. 
“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second. 
You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?” 
“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?” 
“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,” 
He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks. 
You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?” 
He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head. 
“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar. 
His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body. 
“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,” 
His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.” 
The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day. 
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✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3
✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad
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mellowsaturns · 2 months
Text
one for you and me
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BUCKY BARNES X READER
summary: bucky takes care of you since you’re always taking care of others
wc: 430
warnings: fluff, sweet sweet bucky barnes, friends to implied lovers
a/n: hopping on the orange discourse
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You knew he was the one when he handed you the sweet citrus fruit one afternoon.
Since the weather was getting colder, you decided to stock up on vitamins, and what better way to do it than buy boxes and boxes of oranges.
Whenever one of the team came by the kitchen, you would peel an orange for them. Or sometimes, you would just peel it and have it ready for them after their training sessions or morning jogs so they remember to get their daily dose of vitamin C.
You were reading your book by the windowsill in the living room one day when you smelled the faint bright scent.
Then, someone placed a freshly peeled orange in front of your sight. “Here you go.”
You looked up, eyes meeting Bucky’s.
You paused for a moment before reaching out and taking it from his hand. “Thank you,” you said, appreciative but kind of confused.
“How come you’re giving me this?” you asked, curious.
“You’re always looking after other people,” he answered immediately. “When was the last time you ate one yourself?”
You chuckled. “I don’t mind,” you replied, “I just came back from a long mission. I’m free for the time being anyways.”
“Still,” he added, “You’re always doing things for others. Let me do this for you,” he said, eyes gentle and sweet.
Your heart swelled at his words.
It dawned on you. Something as simple as peeling a small fruit. It gets into your nails and the juice drips down your hands sometimes. It’s an act of labour—an act of love. And Bucky wanted to do it for you. He notices. He cares.
How sweet, you think. It made the butterflies in your stomach flutter tenfold. You had to look down to hide your grin and that action within itself made Bucky blush.
“Think you can handle peeling oranges for me for the rest of your life?” you teased.
He pondered for a bit, then a small smile crept up his face. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he replied.
Although the words weren’t said, the implication was there. He’s going to be by your side. He wanted to be by your side. He’s willing to get his hands dirty and sticky.
You grabbed the delicately peeled orange and split it in half. “Here, let’s share.”
The two of you sit by the windowsill, your book half forgotten in your lap, tearing segments of the fruit and giving it to each other—something promising between the two of you in the air.
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fangswbenefits · 10 months
Text
For Science
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: There has been a rumour circulating in regards to Miguel’s venom. It has to be too far-fetched, right?
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
𓂅 𓄹 Warnings: 18+. Fangs. Biting. Venom!play (is that a thing?).
You eyed Jessica Drew with utmost interest as she worked her way around Miguel’s surveillance station, easily dragging files in and out of the multiple screens.
“Why do you get access to his stuff and I don’t?” you asked as sudden jealousy crept in.
“We go way back,” she started, pulling some information to her watch. “You’ll get there in time…”
Your ego soared.
“… if you don’t keep annoying him.”
It immediately plummeted.
“He’s easy to piss off,” you beamed. “And I’m easily entertained. What can I say? Match made in heaven.”
She chuckled at your antics. “Just don’t get yourself expelled.”
You nodded and waved your hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So have you heard that rumour about him?”
Jessica finished setting up her watch and mission logs and threw you a suspicious look.
“Well… the one that says his venom does more than causing paralysis,” you wiggled your eyebrows, letting the not so subtle implication dangle.
“You know what? One day Miguel is going to kick you out and I won’t do anything about it.”
“What? I didn’t come up with this!”
It was absolutely true. You hard heard it from some spiders one night while strolling throught the lobby. Rumours came and went. No one thought much of them and these were just harmless fun.
“Well, I’m not commenting on this.”
“Fine! But it’s fascinating.”
Jessica sighed, rotated on her feet and went down the stairs. “You can go ask Miguel, then.”
“Ask Miguel what?”
You froze in place as spider-man 2099 entered the dark room, eying both of you.
“Oh, I’m out,” Jessica snorted, heading towards the exit. “You two have fun.”
Miguel kept his gaze on your and you waved a hand at him.
He frowned.
“Lyla, reroute all the main sectors to earth-1610,” he said, pressing on his dimensional travel watch. “Any possibility of a canon event being disrupted must be reported to Jessica.”
The AI appeared next to him and adjusted her heart-shaped glassed up the bridge of her nose. “Is she tagging along, too?” she pointed at you.
He shook his head. “Not a chance. She’s more useful here.”
“Hey!” you were about to protest, but decided against it.
You knew there was a compliment in there somewhere. Your past missions had not gone without some minor bumps, which was why it had been decided the previous day that you’d tag along Miguel for a couple of weeks to hone your off-field abilities.
“Anything major must be reported to me.”
Jessica nodded but Lyla was not so easily dismissed. “I didn’t hear you say iiit.”
Miguel rolled his eyes. “Thank you for your services as always, Lyla.”
She took a dramatic bow and vanished.
He took large steps towards the platform, greeting you with a curt nod.
How would you describe your relationship with Miguel O’Hara? Tense? On the verse of collapse each time you teased him? Friendly? But only when you didn’t have to spend more than one hour together.
“Morning to you, too, boss,” you saluted.
He let out an exasperated sigh as he checked the screens in front of him.
Maybe you should go easy on him. You were already on thin ice, but just adored pushing him. There was something about teasing him that just did wonders to you.
“Did you sleep well? Did you get some food?”
“Don’t start getting on my nerves.”
You raised both hands, feigning a look of innocence. “I did nothing. You’re paranoid.”
His head turned to you.
“You do have an issue obeying the chain of command. Your last mission was a disaster, because you got into an argument with Peter instead of focusing on the anomaly — don’t interrupt me!” he said pinching the bridge of his nose as you were about to defend yourself. “You have much to offer, but you’re also all over the place and lack discipline. I don’t think you—”
You gave him a jaw-popping yawn which effectively cut him off.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You do know that I was pressured by others to let go of you.”
A long pause stretched out.
“Then why didn’t you?”
In your mind, you had hoped your growing friendship with him had played a part, but…
“You have potential,” he said with a sigh. “One day you might even be better than me.”
Well, that was a high praise and your spine snapped straight instantly. “Really?”
“Maybe… probably not,” he concluded. “But if you keep your focus and work hard, you will be a very skilled spider.”
You rolled your eyes. “Woah, thanks a bunch!”
In truth, you knew Miguel was trying his best to smooth over your bruised ego, but your pride got the best of you.
“Any questions you have, just let me know,” he said reassuringly while glancing at the screens in front of him.
“I can ask anything?”
“Yes.”
“Sooo… have you heard that rumour about your venom?”
It was too early in the day to be so serious, so you genuinely saw no harm in lightening the mood.
He threw you a side glance. “Be specific.”
“Well… that it can cause extreme pleasure,” you blurted out. “Oh, besides the paralysis thingy,” you quickly added.
Miguel turned to fully face you. “I don’t even want to know where that came from.”
Deep down, you felt a pang of disappointment. It would be such an interesting finding.
“Ah, so it’s not true.”
“Probably not.”
That piqued your interest. “Probably? So there’s a chance? It’s just so fascinating, because you’re already so different from the rest of us,” you started rambling not able to hold back your enthusiasm. “Now this is just an added layer!”
You were a scientist at heart and Miguel was pretty much an outlier when it came to being a spider-man. For months you had been trying to let him agree to you running some tests, but to no avail.
In all honesty, Miguel knew his way around science and the inner workings of biology better than you could ever, so he had no reason to indulge your curiosity.
“How do you do it? Is it the same venom or a different one?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Science, remember?”
It was a half truth, though. Yes, this would be mind-blowing science-wise, but this was also about Miguel O’Hara. The very man who had been guiding you through spider society for months. The same men who whose genius and dedication had built the foundations of the spider society.
He now had both hands on his hips and you figured you were already pushing it too far, but enjoyed doing it too much to stop now.
“Can you just tell me how it works? Please?” You clasped your hands together into a beg, hoping it would be enough to bait him for information.
But Miguel remained unfazed.
“No.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” you offered expectantly.
He didn’t budge.
“Please, pretty please?” you tried once again.
Nothing.
“I’ll bring you empanadas every single day from now on,” you enthused. “On demand! Whenever you have those cravings. Two in the morning? Check! Canon event disrupted and universes imploding? Check!”
Miguel quirked an eyebrow. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
“Just show me how it works,” you sounded desperate by now. Arguing with Miguel ranked high up with the likes of trying to move a boulder with a wooden fork. “How did you get it to work?”
His eyes to widened slightly. “Show you?” he started out. “Are you asking me to pleasure you?”
Now that was probably on your top three of ‘Things you never expect Miguel O’Hara to say’.
“Oh — I mean… well… what?” you stammered, caught by surprise. “I didn’t — you know… huh…”
He only glared at your babbling self.
“Are you… offering?”
Miguel extended his arm to you. “Give me your hand.”
You panicked. “What? Now?”
“For science, right?”
Point taken.
You hesitated momentarily. “You’re not going to paralyse me, right?”
“Do you want me to?”
You offered your hand for him to grip, flipping it palm up. “No.”
“Then I won’t.”
Miguel’s voice was so flat he could just be reading items off a grocery list.
His gloved fingers traced the heel of your palm and his eyes darted down. You held your breath at the sight of him lowering his head. “This might sting.”
And just like that, you watched in complete awe as Miguel O’hara bared his fangs, slowly raking them across your skin before digging into the flesh.
“Ouch!”
Your stomach turned and your heart fluttered as his warm lips grazed the spot he had just bitten. Two circular and symmetrical openings pooled with a tiny amount if blood.
“So? Do you feel a wave of intense carnal bliss?” Miguel asked, straightening up and brushing the droplets away with his thumb.
You merely stood there, waiting for something — anything — to kick in. But as tense seconds ticked by, it was evident nothing was happening.
“No…”
He shrugged, letting go of your hand to tap his watch. “Ah, well. My pleasuring abilities must be below par this morning.”
You scowled at him and considered smashing his arm with a fist. “You could have just said it was all a lie!” you grunted in sheer annoyance, feeling like an idiot. “Now I’m bleeding to death.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“You’re annoying,” you huffed as you checked the bite marks.
“It’s not a lie. I can indeed inject an innocuous version of my venom that can be quite pleasurable,” he said.
“Then do it!” you said, your temper flaring.
Miguel wasn’t one to take orders. He was much more into being the one to call the shots, but your curiosity was eating you alive now that he had revealed that this rumour had some truth to it.
He was now looming over you, his impressive height adding to the tension. “It depends on where I inject the venom. Certain places are more effective,” his voice was uncharacteristicly low as his eyes landed on your neck. “This is just scientific curiosity, right?”
Your mouth had gone too dry to reply, so you just shrugged. Miguel had you taking a few steps back until your lower back hit the railing that lined the platform, causing your hands to clasp around it reflexively.
“Tilt your head.”
You did as you were told and felt his fingers tracing along your jaw, angling you just the way he wanted.
“Hold on tight,” he said, breath now fanning the prickling skin of your neck. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
Feeling your face heat up from the sudden close proximity, you closed your eyes as if embracing for impact. He pressed his lips to your pulse point before digging his fangs slowly into you.
Your mouth dropped open, aghast, and you finally felt it. His venom poured from the fangs and into your bloodstream, spreading through your veins like wildfire. At first, it was just merely a pleasant sensation, like the one you’d get as you finally drank water after a hot day in the sun.
But it soon turned into something else, and unlike water, the new overwhelming feeling was leaving you thirstier with each thump of your racing heart.
Miguel had his hand on the back of your neck, keeping you in place. He moaned first — no, he grunted —, and you felt a jolt of almost painful pleasure shot down your spine and spread between your thighs.
Your grip on the metal surface wavered momentarily and you feared you might fall, but were firmly grounded by his other hand on your waist. It didn’t take long until your clit started throbbing in unison with your heartbeat.
“Miguel… this… this…”
Suddenly, your suit felt too tight and in the way, especially once he pressed lightly into you.
The venom was no longer being injected, but the remnants of it were enough to wreak havoc throughout your body.
“It’s just for science…” he growled, pulling his fangs away from you. “Does it feel good?”
You didn’t dare open your eyes and could only gasp when you felt him push his erection into you.
“Yeah… science… or whatever…” you gasped, feeling yourself being pushed over the edge with each second that passed.
Just when you thought your orgasm would hit you slowly, Miguel tilted your head to the side, exposing the intact skin.
You gripped his wrist as if holding on for dear life, fearing you’d explode. “Again?”
“Your body is neutralising my venom too fast,” he rumbled, lips hovering a sensitive spot. “I need to inject more.”
“Miguel…” you nearly cried out at the thought of your heart no being able to handle the intense pleasure.
“Look at me.”
Your breathing evened briefly as you did as commanded, his red eyes fixed on yours, pupils fully blown.
“Think you can do this?”
You blinked.
“I know you can take more.”
Your clit was now throbbing at an alarming rate at the promise of more of him.
Miguel flashed you his blood-tipped fangs before sinking them into you once again.
The liquid traveled through your body so fast, you felt like someone had punched the air out of your lungs. You vaguely wondered if you would die from this, and concluded that there were worse ways to go.
Being on the receiving end of Miguel’ dry humps would be enough to make anyone tip over the edge, let alone with the added layer of venom engulfing you into an explosive orgasm.
Your vision blurred in an instant as spams and contractions swept through your body. The friction of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit had you arch your back into him, feeling the bittersweet realisation that you were clamping around nothing. You weren’t sure if this was his venom’s doing, but you felt an overwhelming part of you wishing he had been inside you.
It hurt.
It hurt so good and lasted for so long, you like crying from the overwhelming tide of pleasure.
Miguel gave you time to ride out your orgasm, pressing a bloodied kiss to your lips, swallowing your cries.
Metallic taste filled your mouth and you broke away from him, gasping for air.
Your eyes landed on his crotch.
He was hard. Painfully hard. A faint stain of precum seeping through the material of his suit.
“You okay?”
You bent over, hands on your knees and laboured breaths.
“Are you?” you managed in between gasps.
Miguel crouched to eye-level with you. “I think you owe me one.”
“Yeah…” you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks for the… scientific… huh… demonstration.”
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Masterlist
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perlelune · 4 months
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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | ii.
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Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.
Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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Astonishment widens your gaze when you find your mother sitting on your bed when you go back upstairs. Her hands are twitching in her lap and she makes a beeline to you when she sees you.
“So, how did it go?” she asks, urgency laced in her tone. 
Your brows knit. “It went fine. Why do you even care, mother?”
“Coriolanus will be a good friend to have in the future,” she says, her hands seizing yours for emphasis. 
“A good friend?”
Your mother rolls her eyes. She then tugs you by the hand and takes you to your bed so you can both sit on it. The mattress dips with both your weights.
“Don’t you know, sweetie? How well his tribute did in the last Hunger Games? That Lucy Gray girl-”
“You know I don’t like to watch it,” you underscore, your frown accentuating. You don’t know why anyone would willingly tune in to this butchery and call it entertainment. 
Her hold on your hand grows tighter. “You need to grow up. You’re not a child anymore.”
You tamp down your hurt at her criticism.
She licks her lips and continues, “And it’s not just that. He’s on the fast track to becoming top student at the University, he’s Volumnia Gaul’s apprentice and he’s even got sway with-”
“What does any of it have to do with me, mother?” you interrupt, your well of patience running dry as she keeps singing the young man’s praises. It’s not like you’re not aware of Coriolanus’ accomplishments. He’s ambitious and clever. It was always obvious he’d get far in life. But clearly your mother’s trying to make a point and you’d like for her to stop beating around the bush and just spill it.
“He likes you.”
“I like him too,” you reply with a shrug.
She tilts her head, her interest seeming piqued. “Do you really?”
“Yes, I’m glad we can be friends again.”
“Friends is a good start. Your father and I started as friends…”
You draw your hands back, standing up in shock at her implication. Outrage blooms inside you. This is just like Demetria Plinth. While you’re aware your mother doesn’t approve of your current match, you never thought she’d be so devious.
“I’m engaged, mother.”
She sighs as she stands up too. Disappointment paints her features.
“I know, I know. And William’s a sweet boy but-”
“But what?”
She tilts your chin up. “What kind of future do you think you’ll have with him, hm?”
“One full of happiness and love,” you defend hotly.
She bursts out a chuckle. “Love and happiness do not provide food or shelter. But a match to a promising young man from a great house would-”
You cut her off again, peeved at her repeated ignorance of your wishes, “Like I said, we’re friends, mother, nothing else. I’m getting married in three weeks, whether you and Dad like it or not.”
Her lips clamp shut as she steps back from you. 
“And you have made that exceedingly clear, how little you cared for our opinion…”
“It’s not that, I just wished-”
She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s no matter. Just promise me one thing?”²
“What thing?” you ask, suspicion clear in your voice.
“Keep him close,” she says, her eyes softening. “Can you at least do that for us, sweetheart?”
“I’ll try.”
“I’m being serious,” she emphasizes. “After your brother…” Her voice breaks at the mention of her son. Tears start to press behind your eyes at the sight of her grief-stricken expression. “We can’t afford any misstep. Do you understand?”
You don’t have it in you to fight her anymore, not when she’s like this. So you wrap your arms around her, giving her a tight hug. “I understand,” you reply, rubbing her back as she weeps in silence.
Naturally, your own tears follow suit. Whenever your mother cries, it's never too long before you start crying as well.
You may not go as far in your relationship with Coriolanus as your mother wants you to, but you can at least keep him in your life. And based on your encounter this afternoon, it will not be hard. You want him in your life. You missed him. 
You just hope your mother learns to accept that you and Coriolanus will never be more than friends.
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God, you despise these events. You peer at your lavish surroundings once again. They certainly didn’t spare any expense, and this includes your father. Every inch of the palatial room screams wealth, from the champagne tower, to the elaborate sculptures and gold accents from floor to ceiling. 
Internally, you wince. This is the kind of futile displays of privilege the Capitol likes to indulge in. A waste of resources when people in the Districts are starving.
You bet if Sejanus were here, he’d feel the same.
Sipping lightly from your glass of posca, you nod along at the man who speaks to you. It’s been almost an hour and he hasn’t realized you haven’t uttered a single word. You wonder if he even cares. Gauis Creed, Festus Creed’s father, is the kind of man who basks in the sound of his own voice more than anyone else’s.
Eventually, you excuse yourself, pretending you’re tired and need to sit.
William follows you as you go find your father’s table. 
You unleash a sigh as you plop down on one of the velvet chairs around the table. An Avox approaches you, plate of appetizers in hand, and offers you one. You refuse with a smile, your heart twisting as you meet their gaze.
William’s hand folds over yours.
“You’re okay, baby?” he asks, concern swimming in his green eyes.
“I’m fine. These things are just so exhausting.”
His thumb sweeps over your knuckles as he smiles at you. “We just need to stay long enough to be polite.”
“I know.”
William suddenly straightens his spine, his attention traveling above your head. You pivot in your seat to see what caught his eye.
Your breath hitches at the sight of Coriolanus. He smoothly walks into the room, locking arms with his cousin Tigris. His stylish crimson fit, a two piece suit with a white rose pinned to his breast pocket, highlights his good looks. His blonde locks are slicked back in that formal way you’ve seen him sport since he came back. He wears it well. It makes him look older, wiser.
He radiates confidence and you don’t miss the looks that trail him as he enters. The young heir of House Snow is making quite an impression.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” William inquires, smoothing the wrinkles in his suit and rearranging his lapels. 
“Yeah, that’s him,” you reply, placing a hand on his arm in reassurance. 
But your fiancé’s eyes don’t stray from Coryo. A frown mars his brow. 
“Who’s the woman with him?”
“That’s Tigris, his cousin.”
Striking blue eyes slam into yours, making your heart skip a beat. You watch as the blonde whispers something to Clemensia Dovecote before weaving his way through the crowd.
“He’s making his way to us,” William says.
Frozen in your seat, you nod dumbly.
He glides in your direction, each of his steps graceful and determined. Not once does Coriolanus’ cobalt gaze strays from yours.
“You came,” you say when he’s in front of you.
He plucks your hand from your lap and drops an ephemeral, soft kiss on it. When he lets go of your hand, the feel of his lips linger, making your flesh tingle. You confine a gasp, your face warming. The move surprises you coming from Coriolanus. He knows etiquette better than anyone else. Doing this in front of your fiancé could be perceived as provocation. 
You’re sure he didn’t mean it that way, being naturally suave and charming, but you wish he’d tone it down tonight to not give William the wrong impression.
“I made a promise to a pretty girl, so I had to,” he rasps, honey dripping in his deep timbre.
Part of you melts. Ten years ago, you’d have done anything for Coryo to notice you, let alone whisper words such as these to you.
You collect yourself, giving a nod as you rise from your seat. 
You beam at his cousin. As always, she looks stunning. Tonight she wears a tight, scarlet dress that compliments her slender frame.
“Tigris, it’s been a while,” you chime.
“Too long,” she replies before hugging you.
You return the gesture. Tigris was always sweet to you. While you never went to school together as she’s three years older than you and Janus, there were many times she’d admonish children who pestered you. You remember wanting to be like her when you were younger, a poised, beautiful Capitol lady that’d make your parents proud.
It was before you realized how vapid most citizens of the Capitol are, that none of them care about anything that matters. Still, Tigris remains one of the kindest people you’ve ever encountered.
“You’ve grown into a gorgeous young woman,” she praises.
Despite you, a sliver of pride flutters inside you at her compliment. 
The reunion is interrupted when your parents arrive.
As you expect, they barely acknowledge William, but they grin from ear to ear when addressing Coriolanus.
“You clean up nicely, young man,” Strabo lauds.
Your mother doles out similar praise, asking him where he got his shirt from.
“Shall we sit?” your dad adds.
“Oh, may we?”
“Don’t be silly. We made sure there’d be room for both of you.”
So that’s who the extra chairs were for. You wondered before. You suppose it makes sense now.
Everyone sits and food is brought to the table. 
The tantalizing spread of meat and vegetables doesn’t entice you despite its artistic arrangement. Still, you dutifully gulp bite after bite, aware people in the districts are starving while you get to enjoy a fancy meal. You shouldn’t waste any of it.
The whole time, you try your best to ignore the way Coriolanus’ arm keeps grazing yours as he talks.
You stay quiet as the Snow cousins and your parents drone on about clothes and other frivolous matters. 
When the conversation begins to veer to more serious topics however, your ears perk.
“...And we’ve been trying to raise the viewership for the next Hunger Games through-”
“Well, maybe if it wasn’t about sponsoring the murder of children, it’d be easier,” William notes, cutting your father off mid-sentence.
Quiet falls over the table. Strabo’s jaw ticks while he glares angrily at your fiancé. Your mother shakes her head and tosses you a look of disapproval.
She doesn’t have to utter a single word for you to hear her thoughts loud and clear. They’re plainly written all over her face.
As for you, pride and love glow inside you as you twine your fingers with William’s. 
Once again, he makes you feel like you’re not the mad one in this mad world.
“What do you think?”
 Coriolanus’s abrupt question has you choking on your spoonful.
You cough and dab your mouth with a napkin, embarrassment swirling in your gut.
Beneath his intense stare, you quickly try to gather your words.
“Me? I…There has to be another way to discourage rebellions, a more humane way. Wouldn’t you agree?”
A tender smile unfurls on his lips. “You’re sweet.”
The symphonic orchestra on stage starts playing music. Some of the guests start joining the dancefloor, waltzing along to the melancholy tune.
Coriolanus suddenly gets to his feet and steals your hand. 
“Do you mind?” he tells William while tugging you out of your chair. 
“I…” your fiancé begins. But Coriolanus drags you to the dancefloor, not waiting for his response.
Too dumbstruck to utter a word yourself, you let him. 
He slips his arm around your waist and sways to the music. You follow his lead, trying to discard how unnerving the proximity is. The faint scent of roses coats your senses, rendering you a bit dizzy. It reminds you of your garden. 
“He speaks like a rebel,” he says.
You stiffen. “He speaks the truth, and he isn’t afraid to do it. It’s what I love about him.”
Coriolanus scrutinizes you, his blank expression impossible to read. You gasp when he spins you. He then pulls your back flush against his broad chest. Your heart hammers wildly  and you find yourself praying he doesn’t hear it. 
His soft whisper fans over your ear. “He’ll get you in trouble.”
“Maybe I like trouble,” you reply.
His deep chuckle ripples along your neck. “Hm, do you, princess?”
Your throat goes dry. You pivot in your heels so you aren’t so close, remembering that William is a few feet away watching.
Your cheeks burn. 
“Coryo,” you mumble, lifting your head to meet his gaze.
“Yes?”
“You’ve changed, you know.”
“Hm, maybe it’s my hair. I’m trying to grow it out again.”
You shake your head.
“It’s not that. You’re just…a bit different.”
You don’t remember him ever being so bold and…so many other things you can’t place. You simply know that the longer you are in his presence, the longer it feels as if you’ll tumble into an abyss, one you won’t so easily climb your way out of.
He slants his head.
“Good different or bad different?”
You shrug and smile.
“I guess we’ll have to see.”
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The gala leaves you rattled, hesitant to speak to Coriolanus for a few days. You know he’s not to blame for your parents’ behavior, but he didn’t exactly help matters with everything he did that night. Your mother for instance couldn’t stop raving about it on the way back home. You were grateful William wasn’t there to hear it. He’s worked hard to obtain your parents’ approval, even pretending to be someone he wasn’t at first just to impress them. But nothing he’s done ever worked. By mere virtue of his birth, the match is ill-fated in your parents’ eyes. 
Maybe distance with the blond is what is best. Once you and William are married, they’ll have no choice but to accept it after all. It’ll be done and there’ll be nothing else for them to say.
“Your mother said I could find you here.”
Startled, you nearly drop your embroidery hoop. 
Your head snaps up. 
You’re welcomed by the sight of Coriolanus’ towering frame darkening the entrance of the sunroom, sporting a white shirt and a long black coat. 
“Are you upset?” he asks, heading towards you. 
His bluntness, coupled with his unexpected presence, snatches the words from your tongue for a few minutes.
You blink and frown, focusing on driving the needle through the cotton fabric.
“Upset, why would I be upset?” you evasively reply.
“The gala…” His voice is closer now, the smell of roses floating around you.
You dip your head and examine your needlework. You frown. It’s a bit crooked. The stitches aren’t as tight as they should be, making the petals you were sewing appear misshapen.
“You’ve also been avoiding me,” he adds. Your breath catches as you realize he’s sitting next to you now. “You leave right after every class.”
It’s true that even at the University you’ve made yourself more scarce. You didn’t expect him to notice. But you surmise nothing ever escapes Coriolanus Snow’s sharp senses. As long as you’ve known him, he’s been this way. He’d let the tiniest, most insignificant problem corral his entire attention until he solved it. 
“I haven’t,” you mutter, shrugging. “I’m not upset, Coryo.”
“So why won’t you look at me?” You squeeze your mouth shut, sewing as if your life depended on it.
“Look at me, princess,” he repeats, his hand finding your chin to force your gazes to meet. Your nerves thrum as he gauges you.
“I’m looking at you,” you whisper.
The blond’s forehead creases. His deep timbre softens while he explains, “I just want to be here for you, take care of you. That’s all. It’s just that…” He releases your face, his shoulders sagging. “Nevermind.”
“Tell me,” you insist, now eager to know what words were about to cross his lips.
It’s his turn to dodge your eyes now. “I probably shouldn’t.”
Your frustration hits its crest.
“Now I want to know even more.”
Coriolanus studies you for a while before a long, weary sigh drops from his chest. 
“It’s what Sejanus wanted,” he confesses, his soft inflection wavering.
You exhale sharply. “What?”
His throat bobs, emotions storming his blue eyes as they turn glassy with unshed tears.
“It’s almost like he knew, like he could feel it coming, you know?” Coriolanus pauses as if to gather himself. “He said ‘take care of her for me, please.’ He even had tears in his eyes.”
The hoop slips from your grasp as you gape at him in shock. Your voice comes out a watery quaver, tears welling in your eyes too.
“Did he really say that?”
“He did,” he confirms with a nod. A lone tear travels down his cheek. “I keep wishing I could have saved him, you know?”
He sounds disgusted with himself and your heart wrenches. It’s not like Coriolanus had anything to do with your brother’s death and could have prevented it. It saddens you that he feels the need to carry a burden that isn’t his own. All he did was be a friend to Sejanus. The picture of the two of them Janus carried proves it.
Without thought, your hand reaches his.
“This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”
His fingers curl around yours.
“I just want to honor your brother’s last wishes. He was my best friend.” His thumb caresses the back of your hand. “And I know I can never replace him but…let me be here for you, okay?”
You chuckle through the blurry veil of your tears. You can’t believe Coryo carried this weight with him all along. You wish he’d told you earlier. 
He simply wanted to be here for you. You’re both grieving your brother’s death, after all. Guilt trickles within you for even doubting him.
“Of course,” you reply, giving a tearful smile.
His hands rise to cup your face. He gingerly wipes your tears as you sniffle.
His face comes alight with a broad, tight-lipped smile.
“I’m very glad to hear that, princess.”
2K notes · View notes
roanniom · 1 year
Note
mechanic eddie is so hot that id break my car on purpose to see him
The Tune-Up
Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex / PIV sex / semi-public sex, dry humping, really shitty and poorly research car mechanic details
So maybe you intentionally bought a clunker when your last car finally bit the dust. Maybe you found a perpetual lemon of a car that you positively knew would conk out on you every other week meaning you just happen to need to take it to the shop all the time. The shop with the hot mechanic who always has his greased up coveralls pulled down and tied around his waist, revealing the tattoos and muscle and sinew that you could look at for hours on end.
So what?
It's the fourth time this month that you have had to roll your hunk of junk into his garage, and you check your make up in the rear view mirror before hopping out, arranging your hand casually on your hip as you see him walking up, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Eddieeeee. It's making that clanking sound again," you call out in a sing-song voice. Eddie gives you a lopsided grin and sweeps his messy curls up into a ponytail, giving you the perfect view of his stretching pecs beneath his thin tank top.
"You know you don't have to keep abusing that poor car just to see me. You can just ask me out, sweetheart."
Your heartbeat leaps into your throat and your jaw trembles.
"I...that's...I..."
"I'm just messin' with you!" Eddie chuckles at your sudden speechlessness and grabs a wrench, kicking the creeper in front of him and flopping down on it to roll under your car on his back.
The moment he disappears you bite your lip to contain a groan. The man is just so fucking fine. You tilt your head to take in the flexing of his thighs - his lower half the only thing visible right now - under the material of his coveralls. Your appreciation is cut short, however, when he rolls out only a moment after.
“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky grin, rolling back out from under your car but remaining on his back on the roller.
You look away abruptly at being caught.
“You know my car really does just suck and break and stuff,” you argue lamely in answer to his earlier question. Eddie barks out a laugh and rests his arms behind his head so he can relax there while staying reclined and looking up at you. It gives him a perfect vantage point up your skirt, but he keeps his eyes trained on your face.
“How do you know I don’t keep rigging it to break myself so you have to keep coming back here?” Eddie says in a lilting tease. Your gaze snaps back to him and he raises his eyebrows in a challenge. You feel your entire body come alive at the implication of his statement but try to calm your heart beat by remembering that he's always this flirty.
"Oh yeah? Angling for more chocolate chip cookies there, Munson?" you ask, referring to the fact that you'd brought him cookies as an additional tip during the last few tune ups. Eddie licks his lips and looks you up and down slowly in a way that has your stomach flipping. It's almost like he's considering something. His smile is large when it seems like he's made his decision.
"Angling for a kiss is more like it."
Blood rushes to your ears. If he said anything else, you wouldn't be able to hear it because suddenly you're feeling like you're going to pass out and your vision narrows to the point that he's the only thing you can see.
It's late in the day on a Friday and Eddie's the only one in the shop for closing. You know that. It's why you come on those days in particular, to ensure you get him all on your own. The garage door is open to an empty street that's far enough off the beaten path that you don't think any passersby will be ambling around anytime soon.
So you drop your bag, inhale sharply to hold your breath, and step forward so that you stand with your feet planted on either side of his stretched out legs. Eddie's smile widens with surprise that you've actually taken the bait, but his eyes widen even more when you drop down to straddle his lap.
He'd expected you, at most, to kneel down beside him and playfully peck his cheek. Worst case scenario you'd tell him off for his cheekiness.
But here you are, skirt fanned out around to obscure the fact that you are now pelvis to pelvis. You drop your hands to his chest, fisting fingers in his dirty tank top over the knot of his coverall arms tied at his waist.
"Do you want payment before services or after?" you ask, voice surprisingly steady in spite of the rush of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Eddie looks dumbfounded for only a split second before the cocky attitude is back. His hands find your thighs and grip you, holding you down against the most intimate part of him.
"How 'bout a down payment to start with?" he asks, sliding his hands up your hips and to your waist, most likely leaving the material smudged with grease. You don't care at all, of course. He could cover your whole body in grease if it meant you got to feel his hands on you everywhere.
So you lean down and bring your lips to his. Your initial intent is a quick peck. But after your mouths meet, Eddie's lips part to let out a sinful moan and suddenly one of his hands is cupping the back of your neck to keep you down on top of him. The peck becomes a kiss, and even that morphs into something a lot more dirty and a lot less dignified.
Not that there's anything dignified about straddling your mechanic in the first place.
"Wow. I never want another fucking chocolate chip cookie ever again," Eddie grunts against your neck once he's pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. You giggle but it turns into a moan as he proceeds to immediately suck a hickie into the skin of your throat.
"I'm glad this form of payment works - ah! Works for you!" you say breathlessly as he moves his lips up to drag and suck at the spot behind your ear. His hands grip your waist so tightly that you feel yourself sinking against him as snug as you can get, the pulse between your legs becoming more and more insistent.
"I'm sorry, but your cash is no longer any good here, baby," Eddie rumbles into your skin and all the laughter stops because in that moment you feel the heat emanating from yourself and from him and that is the exact second that you feel his hardness nudging against you.
You pull back to make eye contact, find him glassy eyed and kiss bitten and rumpled staring back up at you.
"Well I guess we can get that figured out when you finish the job," you whisper, experimentally swirling your hips. Eddie's feet plant more firmly on the floor to keep the motion from pushing the roller, and his now bent thighs create a slope that causes you to slide further down and into his crotch. You both groan collectively at the increased contact.
"I already finished actually. So we can discuss payment now," Eddie says, leaning up and capturing your lips again. You pull back a second later, however, when his words finally register.
"What do you mean you already finished?"
"I just had to tighten a bolt," Eddie says with a grin, lifting up the wrench he had abandoned at his side the moment you'd dropped down on him. Your eyes narrow and your heart skips a beat at the implication.
"How did you know that's all that needed to be done?"
Eddie's grin becomes sheepish, as you anticipated. He drops the wrench back on the ground and rubs the back of his neck.
"I might have....uh....left it a little loose after your last visit. Just to make sure you'd....you know. Brighten this shop up again soon."
You try your best to hide the massive smile threatening to burst out on your face. But you make sure to ask the first question on your mind.
"My car couldn't have, like, fallen apart on the highway or anything with that bolt loose could - ,"
"Oh fuck no!" Eddie cuts you off, gripping at your waist suddenly with how fervent he is in his need to assure you. "I would never have let you drive it if it was dangerous." He averts his eyes before looking back at you with humor sparkling in them. "Now did I want it to make a harmless loud noise so suspicious you had to come back in? Yes."
"Shame on you," you cry out without any malice behind the words at all. In fact, you're laughing and leaning down to kiss him again. Your eagerness causes you to rock up against him and before long, the two of you are back at it hot and heavy.
"Hey," Eddie says, attempting to pull back after a while. You, however, are the one to blaze a trail of kisses down his neck this time. He sucks in a breath and continues. "Hey. I get off in about a half an hour."
"Don't want to wait that long for you to get off. Want it to happen right now," you whisper in his ear before sucking his ear lobe into your mouth. Eddie's eyes roll so far back into his head at the action and the innuendo and you feel his hard cock positively jump against you.
"Can't do this while I'm working, baby," Eddie groans, though his hands actively contradict his words by gripping your hips and encouraging them to continue moving against him.
"Isn't my car the last one for the day?" you ask innocently. As if you aren't grinding your clothed pussy all over his erection out in the open in his place of business with the garage door open and the sun still out. "And you did such a good job fixing it."
"Holy fuck..." Eddie breathes. He had been the confident one. He had been the forward one. He's not sure when the dynamic shifted but dear fucking god he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He does still try his best to at least attempt to be a gentleman, though.
"But I'll get you all dirty. Don't wanna ruin your pretty clothes." Eddie says this while biting his lip and sliding his hands down to squeeze at your ass. It makes you gasp and push down against him even harder, exactly as he'd hoped.
"I don't believe you," you breathe. Eddie captures your mouth in another kiss before shaking his head, distracted.
"What don't you believe?"
"I don't believe that you don't want to ruin my clothes. I think you want to get me all dirty," you challenge. Eddie lifts his hand to your face and holds your chin suddenly between his thumb and index finger, staring deeply into your eyes.
"You're a tease and I love it, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle that makes you preen. "But I need to know...what do you actually want right now?"
"You," you say, not even skipping a beat. Eddie's eyes become serious.
"How...how much of me are we talkin'?"
"All of it," you say, your grin spreading.
"Mother of fucking Christ," Eddie grits out before holding onto you tight and pushing off with his feet, rolling the two of you further behind his work bench, effectively shielding you from the outside world. You squeal at the sudden motion and cling to him, so he uses that to his advantage, attaching his lips to your pulse point. One particularly generous suck to your juggular has you keening and bucking down against him, much to his insane pleasure.
"Oh god. Eddie," you gasp. Eddie closes his eyes and furrows his brow.
"Yeah. Say my name again. Please." He attempts to soften the command with the nicety but you would have screamed his name for much less. You sit up more fully in his lap and help him untie the knotted arms of his coveralls, unzipping the last part of them and exposing the tented front of his boxers. He'd felt huge but he looks even bigger.
"Eddie," you whisper, making eye contact before rubbing your hand over his clothed length. His brow furrows even deeper and you could laugh but you don't. Just like you don't continue to tease him because you're teased out yourself. You need him inside you, like, yesterday. So you pull his boxers down and ogle the length and width of him. Everything you could want him to be.
"Can you...you wanna even the playing field here, sweetheart?" Eddie asks with a silly grin that knocks the wind out of you. You nod without even stopping to get too self conscious, swiftly unbuttoning your blouse and letting the two sides hang open, revealing your bra-clad breasts. Eddie groans like he'd been punched.
"You're a fucking goddess, are you fucking kidding me?" he says, as if you've personally offended him. You chuckle at that.
"I think the exhaust fumes in here have messed with your brain, Munson."
Eddie simply snaps the front clasp of your bra, releasing your breasts to that they fall out with a bounce. Eddie moans like a wounded animal.
"Exhaust fumes my ass. You are unbelievable." His hands immediately close around you, squeezing and weighing. "These tits are magnificent."
You scoff at his word choice.
"You're ridiculous," you try to dismiss him, but his fingers playing with your nipple makes it hard to concentrate on any emotion other than lust. You begin gyrating your hips in search of friction, the hood of your mound pressing up against his erection and creating much needed pressure, even through your clothes.
"No, you're ridiculous trying to pretend like you can wait for this dick," Eddie mocks you, noticing exactly what you're doing. You look at him, biting on the inside of your cheek.
"As if you aren't the one making me wait," you toss back. Eddie's eyebrows raise in a challenge.
"You're the one on top, princess."
You huff and immediately lift yourself up, dropping back down over him so that your skirt obscures his view. But Eddie doesn't need to see in order to feel the tightness of you lowering yourself down onto him.
"Holy fucking - ,"
"Shit!" you interrupt him with your own cry. While you're certainly turned on, it was absolutely absurd for you to try and fit him in without any preparation. Eddie is bigger than anyone you've been with before and he's instantly deeper than you knew was possible, thanks to gravity.
"Fuck, that too much, baby?" Eddie asks, immediately alert and clutching your hips, attempting to keep you balanced above him before your pelvises can meet fully. Fuuuck, he's not even all the way in!
"J-just.....oh god. You're just really big," you whimper. Eddie makes to pull you off him but you dig your fingernails into his arms. "No don't want to get off just - ah. I need a minute. Need to...oh."
You're entire body begins trembling when Eddie's finger begins rubbing circles into your clit. You shudder and then feel yourself sink down a little further on his cock. The attention to your sensitive clit has your thighs widening, your muscles relaxing and your pussy becoming wetter by the second.
"Relax. Mmmm there it is, good girl."
His words practically do more than the finger on your clit and you arch into him, rocking against him shallowly.
After another few minutes of these ministrations, you finally feel yourself growing impatient and increasingly turned on. Experimentally you lift up with your thigh, rising till only his tip is inside you, before sinking back down slowly. Your breath is punched out of you with a hiss, but another moment passes and soon you're able to do it again, faster this time. Eventually you work yourself up to a rhythm, bouncing yourself up and down his cock while his face screws up and his fingers dig into your thighs.
"Wanted this for a long time, princess," Eddie grunts out. "Every time you came in I imagined bending you over that hunk of junk you call a car and fucking you till you couldn't walk."
You gasp at his dirty admission and, feeling emboldened by his honesty, decide to be honest yourself.
"I always wanted you to take me in the backseat and fuck me," you whine. Eddie bucks up into you, the drastic motion causing you to both shift back and forth due to the rocking of the roller you're still precariously perched on.
"We're doing this again, you know," Eddie says matter-of-factly. You must look confused by his words because he continues on fervently. "I may have pictured you with this car, but I'm fucking you in a bed next time," he insists. "Okay maybe a kitchen counter if we can't make it to the bedroom, but either way you deserve a room with a closed door."
You laugh at his words, clenching internally and causing him to moan in the process. You're quickly brought back from humor to urgency when you feel his finger on your clit again.
"Yeah. Yeah we're doing this again," you practically hiccup.
Eddie pulls you down on top of him so that he can lick and nip at your neck, his hand still sandwiched between the two of you.
"Listen to the greedy girl. Already thinking of the next time I'll be inside her."
"You're the one who brought up the subject of a next time!" you accuse, but you lose your bite the second he bites into the side of your throat. He soothes the spot with a lave of his tongue.
"Cum on me, baby, and we can get to that next time sooner."
When you cum, only moments later, your cry echoes throughout the garage. The reverberating sound comes back to your ears and shocks you enough that you almost fall out of your ascending headspace, but Eddie's grunts in your ear and fingers digging into your skin block it all out and keep you grounded to him. This allows you to enjoy your orgasm and even benefit from aftershocks as he takes over and plows up into you, chasing his own release. His haphazard thrusts cause the two of you to roll back and forth on the roller. You cling to him to stay stable with all the movement, and your sudden tensing has you clenching around him so tight he has no time to warn you of his impending orgasm. He just calls out your name and drives his cock deep inside you, spilling out into with sputtering hips.
It takes a while for the proverbial dust to settle. Eddie's hand on your back is soothing, but you quickly realize that your thighs are over extended and your body aches from the strenuousness of your sexual activity.
"Easy there, princess," Eddie coos. He helps you up, his cock sliding out of you with the movement. Like a gentleman he slides your panties back over your dripping slit, patting the wet spot fondly, before dropping the hem of your skirt and shifting to guide you up.
You wobble on embarrassingly unstable legs.
"Jesus christ, what did you do to me?" you huff. Eddie encircles you in his arms and lets out a bark of a laugh.
"What did I do?! How is it that you never fully realized that you were on top?" he asks, echoing his previous sentiments. You help him pull his coveralls up to tie at his waist again and he graciously helps button you back into your blouse.
"Well next time I want you to do all the work," you respond cheekily. Eddie's eyes spring back to yours and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if his earlier words were simply born of the heat of the moment. But Eddie's looking at you like you hung the fucking mood and suddenly he's kissing you. Bold and ardently and with a lot of tongue that says everything he wishes to say to you simply with the press of wet muscle to wet muscle.
When he pulls away his lips are shiny and bruised and you're out of breath. He gives you a lopsided smile and scrunches his nose.
"Next time do I still have to fix your car, or -?"
You slap him on the chest and pull him back in for another kiss.
~*~
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Hoping tumblr doesn't cut off the actual end of the story!
6K notes · View notes
elenawritesxx · 2 months
Text
JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY
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PAIRING - bucky barnes x reader
SUMMARY - bucky cant help but get jealous at stark’s party as he watches you interact with the others, because all he wants to do is kiss you then and there
WC - 1,1k
EXTRA - one use of y/n, bucky being jealous and overprotective, stark being a smartass,
NOTES - hi angels, if i made a patreon where i would update regularly with longer fics and answer your asks quicker, would anyone support me there too?
PS. - english isn’t my first language so if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes please don’t hesitate to point them out:))
the rhythmic pulse of music filled the opulent halls of stark tower, the vibrant lights casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the dance floor. tony stark's parties were legendary, a whirlwind of glamour, extravagance, and hedonism. yet amidst the glittering throng of guests, bucky barnes found himself feeling distinctly out of place.
clad in a sleek suit that hugged his muscular frame, bucky stood at the edge of the room, his steel-blue eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of wariness and apprehension. his grip tightened around the crystal tumbler in his hand as he watched the scene unfold before him.
amidst the sea of revelers, his gaze inevitably found its way to you, the object of his affection and the reason for his unease. you moved with effortless grace, your laughter ringing out like a melody amidst the voices.
bucky's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched you interact with the other guests, a swarm of admirers vying for your attention. he knew he had no right to feel this way—no claim over you—but the sight of other men hovering around you like vultures sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through his veins.
"hey there, buckaroo," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and bucky turned to see tony stark himself sauntering up to him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"enjoying the party?" tony asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sipping on his own glass of champagne.
bucky forced a tight smile, the tension in his jaw betraying his true feelings. "yeah, it's a real blast," he replied tersely, his gaze flickering back to where you were standing across the room.
tony followed his line of sight and chuckled knowingly. "ah, i see. keeping an eye on y/n, are we?" he teased, nudging bucky playfully.
bucky bristled at the implication, his jaw clenching in frustration. "she's just a friend," he muttered through gritted teeth, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.
tony raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mock disbelief. "right, just a friend," he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "tell me, barnes, do you always look at your friends like you want to devour them whole?"
bucky's cheeks flushed crimson at the implication, a surge of guilt mingling with the simmering jealousy in his chest. he opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, a commotion erupted across the room.
a group of boisterous guests had gathered around you, their laughter ringing out like a chorus of bells. bucky's heart plummeted as he watched a particularly persistent admirer step too close for comfort, his hand lingering on your lower back.
without a second thought, bucky was striding across the room, his jaw set in a steely resolve. he reached you in a matter of seconds, his presence looming over the other man like a thundercloud.
"is there a problem here?" bucky's voice was low and dangerous, a warning laced with thinly veiled menace. winter soldier coming through for a second.
the other man recoiled at the sudden intrusion, his eyes widening in surprise. "n-no, no problem at all," he stammered, taking a hasty step back.
bucky's gaze never wavered from yours as he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "come on," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos of the party. "let's get out of here."
you nodded wordlessly, your heart pounding in your chest as bucky led you away from the crowd, his protective presence a shield against the world outside.
as you slipped away into the quiet solitude of the night, the tangled web of jealousy and desire that had ensnared you both seemed to unravel, leaving only the fragile threads of something deeper—a connection that transcended words and boundaries, binding you together in ways neither of you could fully comprehend.
the cool night air greeted bucky and you as the two of you stepped out onto the balcony, the cacophony of the party fading into the distance behind you. bucky's grip on your hand remained firm but gentle, a silent reassurance in the darkness.
"i'm sorry," you murmured, breaking the tense silence that hung between them. "i didn't mean to cause a scene back there."
bucky shook his head, his expression softening as he turned to face you. "you didn't do anything wrong, angel," he replied earnestly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "i just couldn't stand seeing you surrounded by those assholes."
a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, gratitude warming your heart at his words. "thank you, bucky," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "for always looking out for me.
bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in your eyes, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. "always," he vowed, his voice filled with quiet determination.
for a long moment, the two of you stood together in comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind against the city skyline and faded music coming from the party. the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air.
then, without warning, something came over him, and bucky's hand cupped your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes, the world around you fading into obscurity.
he waited patiently for you to move away form him, to give him a sign that this wasn’t what you wanted, but you stayed still, waiting for him to finish what he started.
and then, with a soft exhale, bucky closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled. it was a moment of pure vulnerability, a silent confession of the feelings that had long simmered beneath the surface.
as you finally pulled away, not because you wanted to, but because you had to take a breath, the world seemed to shift on its axis, the weight of uncertainty replaced by a newfound sense of clarity. in each other's arms, the two of you found solace amidst the chaos, a beacon of light guiding them through the darkness.
"i don't ever want to lose you, precious," bucky whispered, his voice barely audible above the whisper of the wind.
you smiled softly, your heart overflowing with emotion as you pressed closer to him, seeking refuge in his embrace. "you won't," you promised, the words a vow etched in the depths of your soul. "i'm right here, bucky. Always. and i dont plan on going anywhere anytime soon."
and as you stood together beneath the starlit sky, your intertwined hands a symbol of the unbreakable bond that bound you two together, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that defied all odds.
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Text
Daylight
James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: When your boyfriend finds out he didn't make you come, his anger quickly turns into lust.
Genre: SMUT (NSFM)
Warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving/giving), teasing, cursing, mature themes, fingering, talk of sex and orgasms (obviously)!
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"So, how's your boyfriend?" Dorcas Meadows asks you one evening at dinner. She leans in closer and she sings-songs the questions as if your boyfriend is some kind of burning hot scandal. You glance up from your plate, your eyebrows creasing, as you cover your mouth to swallow and then answer your friend, 
"He's fine. Why do you ask?" you can't help the warmth that rises in your cheeks at the mention of James. Sure, you've only been dating for three months but it's been an absolutely amazing three months. 
"No, no, I meant in the bedroom," Dorcas deadpans which causes you to almost choke on nothing as your other friends chuckle. 
"How'd you know about that?" You ask, sending a glance at Lily Evans who looks sheepish as she shrugs her shoulders from beside Dorcas. She was the only one who was supposed to know you had slept with James a week earlier. You made her promise not to tell anyone because well, the experience had been slightly disappointing. 
"Heard he didn't make you finish," Dorcas continues carelessly and your eyes round when you see James and his friends come up from behind her. Dorcas didn't see them and she finishes her sentence with a wide smirk, "Who would have guessed James Potter is shit at making girls come?"
Your heart pounds in your ears as James stands behind Dorcas, his mouth open and his cheeks suddenly burning crimson. His friends stand on either side of him, their faces drained of color, and you feel like you could just crawl into a hole and die. Your fake moans come back to haunt you; 
"James, J-James," you groaned, wrapping your legs around him as you bruised your face in his neck. James's curls stuck to his forehead as he moaned into your skin and sucked on your collarbone. Thinking you had finished, he pulled out and kissed your lips before he smiled an exhausted smile.��
"What?" Your boyfriend mutters, his voice shaky. His friends are silent, not daring to make a sound as yours look horrified for you. Dorcas's shoulders are tense and she looks at you, muttering a "sorry," behind her breath as she shoves her mashed potatoes in her mouth.
You've never seen James leave the Great Hall so quickly and you sprint after him. You manage to catch his arm and pull him into an empty classroom. You press your hands to his chest, letting him lean against a wall, but he just pulls your hands away.
"James Potter is shit at making girls come?" He repeats Dorcas's words, his tone piqued, and you can't tell if he's more upset or disheartened by the implications of the words. "When we," he pauses and turns his head away from you, "you didn't orgasm?" 
Frantically, you claw at his collar, shaking your head as guilt overwhelms you. "No–I- I didn't, but James," 
"You faked your orgasm?!" James interrupts, hurt now evident in his eyes as his voice grows more squeaky.
"James, I- I didn't mind," you start to explain, "Really! You were just so close and I could tell you wouldn't last much longer and- I needed more time. I didn't want to make you wait for me," you bite your lip, looking up at him. 
James's chest is rising and falling rapidly. His dark, hazel eyes flicker from yours to your lips and then to all your features in the middle. Gently, he lowers your hands from his collar. "Y/n, why didn't you tell me?" his voice comes out strained and broken.
Your heart shatters. "And why have you been going around telling all your friends I'm shit at making you come when you never even gave me the chance! I thought you had!"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," your expression hardens and you scrunch your nose, "No one was supposed to know. I only told Lily because she's my best friend. I tell her absolutely everything! I guess she must have mentioned it to the others. I'm really sorry, James. Are you terribly angry with me?"
James frowns. He obviously wants to feel angry with you. He wants to be seething mad that you faked your pleasure and then went around telling your friends, but all he can think of is that night. How you looked; that beautifully flushed expression, mussed hair against his pillow, the way your lips had opened and closed to let slip your moans. 
James clenches his fists. Had that all been a lie?
He looks at you now and his eyebrows scrunch. He walks closer to the wall, backing you into it as you stare at him. You can't help the way your heart is beating as his closeness. "Okay, tell me, what did I do that made you feel good then?" James asks seriously and you're surprised by the question.
You'd expected more yelling, or blaming—
—definitely less seducing. 
"I-," you pause when James's eyes narrow and his hand moves to hold under your chin, wrapped easily around your neck. You inhale, eyes widening as he applies some pressure. He looks angry but there is also a deep, lustful, fire burning behind his eyes. His breath fans over your mouth as he whispers, 
"What. made. you. feel. good?"
"I- I liked when you kissed me, kissed behind my ears, kissed my collarbone," you mutter, breathing becoming even harsher as you remember that night. How you'd been sprawled out on his bed, legs intertwined, and he'd kissed all your worries away. James wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, under your ear, and you let out a shaky breath. 
"I- also- I liked when you used your fingers," you say as if prompted by the feeling of James's foot sliding over yours and pushing your legs apart. His hand dips down to your panties and he feels how wet they've become. He doesn't comment on it, just slips his hand under them and teases your clit.
"You should have told me," he reprimands in a whisper, his fingers sliding up and down your slit. 
You clutch onto his arms and shake your head, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you mutter like a prayer. 
"You should have told me because I wouldn't have stopped until my girl had come for real," James says with a nip at your skin. You let out a whine as his finger easily slides into you and he kisses you to muffle the sound.
"Fuck, my gorgeous girl. How could you?" he says as he pulls away and looks at you with slightly glossy eyes. "How could you not tell me?"
"I didn't want to embarrass you," you whimper as he runs his thumb on your clit. 
"Embarrass me?" James's eyes darken and he uses the hand holding your chin to push your head against the wall a little harshly, he scoffs, "You did just that and so much worse, my lovely," he pauses, "It doesn't matter anymore because I'll show you that James Potter can make his girl come." 
"I'm sorry," you say again. You chew your lip to suppress the needy sounds you're making. James shakes his head with a smirk and kisses the side of your mouth. He then moves his lips onto yours, teasing you with his tongue. 
"You will be," he smirks and slides his hands down your sides until he's on his knees in front of you. You look at him, his hair is messy and his expression is flustered. James grins wolfishly. He squeezes your hips and pulls up your skirt to bunch around your waist as he kisses above your panties.
"Did I not spend enough time on foreplay with my girl? Is that what it was, lovely? Was the feel of my cock just not enough for you," he soothes your embarrassed whines with another sweet kiss on your exposed stomach, "don't be shy, it's okay. You should have told me," he insists again, his words still a little harsh.
"I'm sorry, Jamie," is all you can manage to mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel James's hands grip onto your thighs. You're already soaked. How embarrassing. James smirks and pulls down your panties. He slides his index over your entrance and hums when he feels your wetness. With a wider smirk, he spreads your pussy lips and exposes your needy clit. 
"You're so needy, love," James teases, "I just can't resist kissing you all over." 
As he says this, he attaches his lips to your clit and you let out a broken moan. Your hands find his hair and you chew on your lip so your noises aren't muffled. James hadn't done anything like this the last time. It had been messy and needy the first time. He'd used his fingers to open you up but you'd both been so eager, you'd missed foreplay. 
It seems likely the lack of foreplay was the issue because you feel like you're in heaven now. 
"J-James," you moan, almost incoherent as he licks and sucks at your core like a starved man. You didn't think he'd be so good at this. Your thighs clench around his head and when he pushes them apart, you moan uncontrollably. 
"Don't," James reprimands as he opens your legs and looks up at you. You can barely focus. James smirks and licks his lips. Standing up, he takes your chin in hand. "Do'ya wanna come on my tongue or my cock, darlin'. Please, tell me now because this time you are coming. I'll make damn sure of it."
You can barely form coherent thoughts let alone words as James tightens his grip on your chin. "Tongue or cock, Y/n," he says so seriously your stomach clenches with need. 
"I- I don't know," you whimper. 
James drops your chin and makes the decision for you. With a smirk, he lowers his head and places his lips around your clit again, sucking until you're once more a moaning mess. With one last whimper, your thighs tremble and you come apart. 
James moans into your pussy, pulls away, and uses the palm of his hand to rub your clit as he finishes you off. You're completely spent when James stands and kisses you. You can taste your own release on his tongue and feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh. 
"Jamie," you whine, eyes lidded. You want to please him too. 
James just deepens your kiss and whispers into your mouth, "What do you want?"
You reach out and run your hand over the bulge in his trousers. James hisses and grips your wrist, shaking his head with a stern look. "Honey, this is about you. 'M okay," he promises, but his eyes squeeze shut as his cock hardens even more. He mutters a curse under his breath. 
"I wanna," you mutter. It's your turn to drop to your knees. 
James's protests are futile because you have his cock in your mouth very quickly. While you don't necessarily enjoy giving head, this time it feels entirely deserved and you suck him eagerly. James's hands find your hair as he curses, "Fuck me," and his hips involuntarily buck into your mouth.  
"Shit, baby, I'm gonna come," he mumbles, biting his lip. 
You take him deeper, encouraging him with a small smile as your hands find his thighs. You feel him want to pull away, not wanting to come inside your mouth, but you hold him still. With a grunt, James comes and you look up at him as you swallow obediently.
Without another word, James pulls you up and smoothes down your skirt as he spins you around and kisses you passionately. You help him tuck himself back into his trousers as he kisses you and you smile against his lips. "Thank you," you say. 
"Don't thank me for making you come, darlin'," James argues, his cheeks still a little flushed from coming and the lingering embarrassment. You move to hold his cheeks in your hand and you kiss his nose. 
"Thank you for making sure I'm taken care of," you whisper anyway and lean your forehead on his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," you say. 
James wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer, "Damn right you should be," James's eyes soften and he kisses your cheek, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't tell me. Just know, from now on, when we play—I'll make sure you come. Hard."
You giggle at this and James just nuzzles his face in your neck, enjoying the beautiful sound of your laughter.  
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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year
Note
I read your yandere dilf post just before going to sleep and had a very interesting dream as a result: yandere Wild West Outlaw!
He takes you hostage to keep the rangers from going after him after a robbery. You’re tied up in front of him on his horse and after riding away from town for a long time he doesn’t set you down somewhere like you expected but takes you with him into his hideout.
Bonus: he‘s (basically) masked > bandana covering half his face and the rim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes
Yandere Wild West Outlaw! Headcanons
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Warnings: Implications of Smut, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Masked Outlaw ;), Petnames, Killing, Mentions of Robbery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism/Surveillance, Description of Injury & Blood, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.
A/N: Anon, I am in love with this concept !
♡ Yandere Outlaw whose body encompasses yours, his chest to your back and his arms caging you as he grips the horse’s reigns, his breathing steady as if he hadn’t just committed a multitude of crimes. Then again, considering how proficient he was at wiping the inn clean of all its savings and tying you up on his horse before the rangers could even arrive, you suspected this was not the first time he’d done this. Nor would it be the last.
♡ Yandere Outlaw says very little after he abducted you, his last words being sharp commands, laden with a calmness you would never have expected from a man holding an entire building hostage.
♡ And, in your terror, you said nothing to him, your back to his front as he rode to nowhere discernible, the civilised, populated terrain of your home town having melted away hours ago.
♡ No, the Outlaw gave nothing away. Even after days of being forced to travel with him to what you could only pray would be a town – somewhere for him to dispose of you before taking to the canyons again – he said nothing.
♡ He’d offer you food, and, after the first 24 hours of starving yourself out of sheer distrust – or principle, as you wanted to see it – you succumbed to your famine.
♡ Yandere Outlaw would feed it to you before disappearing behind whatever cover lay nearby – oftentimes his horse – and eat.
♡ Whatever lay beneath his bandana was a mystery to you. And it only took you trying to see what he looked like once to see that your endeavour was a hopeless one.
♡ You’d strained and leaned past the point of no return, falling onto your side.
♡ And Outlaw came back into view, adjusting his bandana back over his nose, the shadow cast over his eyes by his hat much like that descending over the valley you now inhabited.
♡ Your heart stammered as he grew closer, the spurs of his boots the land equivalent to the fin of a shark as Outlaw came to a stop before you.
♡ He got to one knee, so quietly that you could see why nobody ever saw him coming, and, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a gloved hand, chuckled.
♡ Low and rumbling, like an earthquake. Or one of God’s many natural disasters. A gruff, brief thing as ephemeral as life itself. 
♡ “Don’t get yourself all scuffed up now, Darlin’,” he says. His hand trails from just behind your ear, tracing your jaw, the tendons in your neck, stopping just short of where your shirt hangs above your collar bones.
♡ You think that you hear him hiss. So sibilant and soft you’re unsure whether you perhaps imagined it and rather heard the conversation of pit vipers laying just below the hard sand beneath your ear.
♡ Outlaw’s head tilts, his face no clearer to you now as it was days ago, especially now with the setting sun casting a misplaced halo about his hat-clad head, his front shadowed. Two sides, one a light facade, the other his true nature.
♡ “You’re no good to me broken.”
♡ Yandere Outlaw whose only elaboration of that cryptic sentiment comes in the form of another day’s travel, during which you remained firmly bound – and gagged at one juncture when you made the mistake of crying for help when you spotted a lone merchant out on the open road.
♡ Yandere Outlaw neutralised that channel of freedom for you very quickly with a crack of a bullet, leaving you glassy-eyed and breathless as he ransacked the merchant’s travel cabin, taking all manner of valuables.
♡ “Why, thank you, Darlin’,” he says, his gloved hand coming to rest on your knee, clapping down on you and making you jump – shriek. And he squeezes with all the familiarity of someone who’s done this before.
♡ “Wouldn’t’a found this here haul if you hadn’t tried to scream your pretty little head off.”
♡ Yandere outlaw knows that’s isn’t quite true; he’s an excellent tracker, and an even better marksman. He’d have found this travelling man on his own eventually; the outcome would have been identical. But you didn’t need to know that.
♡ The gag was practically useless after that, for your desire to keep others from the same fate as the travelling salesman had you quiet as a mouse.
♡ Yandere Outlaw can sense how rigid you are – less so than you were when he’d first taken you, but you still felt…different. You were loose in the way that submission often made people slaves to fatigue, to their fate. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d succumbed to yours so soon, especially when, as you finally drifted off to sleep after a day and a half without it, you leaned into his chest, head to his shoulder.
♡ Unwillingly, of course. Your exhaustion weighed you down, lead. You had no control over your unconscious body, regardless of how repulsive you found the pillow you were leaning on.
♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t help but let his gaze drift from the open canyon ahead, gradually giving way to caves and rocky rivers, to your face. You were tranquil in sleep, brew no longer knotted in worry, or fear. Just…sleep.
♡ Yandere Outlaw could feel his hands twitching, the urge to touch you creeping up behind him the longer he stared at your vulnerable form.
♡ Yandere outlaw who, for a second, and a second only, let his hand slip from the reigns and slither, slowly, to your knee, up the expanse of your clothed thigh.
♡ Yandere Outlaw’s heart who, for the first time in a long time, beats at a humming bird’s pace when you shift in your slumber, making him withdraw.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who, watching, waiting for you to settle back into sleep, kept his hands from you the rest of the night. Though temptation beckons him to do otherwise.
♡ Yandere Outlaw shifted behind you, waking you. Only when you were torn from a dream of being anywhere but here did you realise the horse had come to a stop, an unfamiliar breeze settling over you.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who, unsaddling you from the horse, carries you like a bride in his arms, kicking open the door to an abode you didn’t even know was there.
♡ Yandere Outlaw sets you down beside a pole, tying you to it. Tightly.
♡ “Welcome home, Dollface,” he says, hands settling on his belt as he watches your eyes jump from one corner to another, taking in these new surroundings, these new circumstances.
♡ Of course, you don’t accept the conditions Outlaw has roped you into. Not without a fight.
♡ Yandere Outlaw, as a result, had to keep his eye on you when you initially began your residence with him. 
♡ For the first couple of weeks, he’d take you to the waterfall to bathe every other day; would watch you as you did so. At first, bashful and uncomfortable, you’d asked him to turn around as you stood exposed. To which the Outlaw just laughed. “Ain’t much worth lookin’ at,” he’d reassured you.
♡ Yandere outlaw who tells you exactly how the day’s going to go.
♡ “You’re gonna cook whatever I bring back. Y’understand ?”
♡ Yandere Outlaw who initially only lets you chop up vegetables and bread, withholding the excuse to use a sharp knife from you by intentionally not collecting any meat.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who, before taking even a bite of the meal you prepare, makes you taste it first. “I know you little crafty types; poison enough in your veins to kill a horse.”
♡ Translation: “You’re having this first to make sure it’s not going to kill me.”
♡  Yandere Outlaw who, after that initial hurdle, though he won’t admit it, feels his tongue practically bursting with flavour when he tastes your soup for the first time. Though, he keeps it under wraps, his form hidden behind a wall, his bandana pulled down.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who, with little alternative to offer you, makes you sleep in his bed.
♡ “Either that, or you’re sleepin’ outside.”
♡ He still wears the bandana btw, and wears a sleep mask over his eyes.
♡ He doesn’t touch you. Not in intentional ways, it would seem.
♡ Not at first.
♡ A light brush of the hand here and there. 
♡ Sure, the urge to bask in the aura of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen is pretty overwhelming for the Outlaw. Especially since he doesn’t understand why he feels this way, never having felt it for anyone else before.
♡ Sure, he’s taken others, some much more enthusiastic than others (you don’t get to his level of notoriety without attracting a few hundred fans).
♡ So, when you’re asleep, an arm and a leg bound to the bedpost, he watches you.
♡ He tells himself it’s for his own safety, to make sure you’re not going to reach for a weapon and gut him like a pig.
♡ But when he sees your gentle face, he knows you’re incapable of that
♡ He likes to think that you’re incapable of anything without him around. Makes him feel bigger, stronger.
♡ So why exactly was he still looking upon you into the late hours of the night ?
♡ Over time, his resolve begins to crack.
♡ Especially with every aspect of your partnership accounted for.
♡ The baths, the bed sharing, the homemade cooking – it’s just all so…
♡ Domestic.
♡ But, that doesn’t make Outlaw trust you any more than the day he first took you. Not yet, at least.
♡ Despite his confidence in his own ability to keep you here, he knows the indomitable human spirit is strong enough to break through every precaution. And, just in case you do manage to escape, he’s making sure you can’t pick him out of a lineup if you make it to law enforcement – if the vultures don’t pick you off first.
♡ Yandere Outlaw makes you cook every night, under the guise of you “Needin’ your strength to straighten this place out.”
♡ Yandere Outlaw who appoints you as his head housekeeper, making it your sole responsibility to be the “homemaker” of the two of you.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who feels strange when he sees you with one of his shirts tied about your waist – a makeshift apron – who doesn’t even recognise this feeling as domesticity. Warmth. That feeling of security having been deprived of him all his life.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his shirts.
♡ And something in his brain chemistry changes.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who, during your river baths, knocks your clothes into the stream when you’re not looking, offering you his shirt when you’re ready to come out.
♡ “Y’really should be careful,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as the neckline of his shirt dips below your collarbones, drowning you. He looks away, not trusting that the feeling coiling in his lower half won’t spring out at any moment. “Men might take advantage of a pretty lil’ thing like you. Especially when you’re so…” A shiver shoots up his spine. “Vulnerable.”
♡ Your clothes seem to disappear not long after that, leaving you only with whatever consisted of the Outlaw’s wardrobe.
♡ You notice that he seems to disappear at odd hours of the day, leaving you to your chores while he does something.
♡ Little do you know that the something he is doing is a secret he’ll take to his grave.
♡ The sight of you in his shirts, of you in the river, is too much for him.
♡ He takes to hiding out in a densely vegetated patch of land behind the cabin to…relieve himself of his thoughts of you. Thoughts he’s used to sustaining for perhaps a second or two when it came to his prior conquests. Thoughts that, now, a month into your capture, extend long into his nights and speckle his logic when he’s on a mission.
♡ It’s dangerous, he knows; to have his mind elsewhere while he risks his life for the loot he so desires. But he can’t deny that they make him feel human. Normal.
♡ Despite how un-normal this entire situation is.
♡ It takes every ounce of his restraint not to just tie you down and take you while you sleep beside him, make you scream and cry for him as he empties his frustration and, dare he say, lust, into you.
♡ But, he doesn’t want to scare you off.
♡ Doesn’t want to see your eyes light up in fear whenever he enters the room.
♡ He wants something else.
♡ Something that he doesn’t have a word for.
♡ It’s only when he happens across a conversation with you, asking you if you had “A lover boy back home,” that he found the word he was looking for.
♡ You wince at the question, the memory of your life away from this situation salt in an unhealed wound.
♡ “No,” you tell him, your honesty a virtue. “Haven’t been in a relationship yet.”
♡ Relationship.
♡ It felt right to the Outlaw when he heard it; especially coming from you.
♡ It sticks with him the rest of the day, and while you’re cooking dinner, washing the Outlaw’s clothes, dusting the sparse furniture, he’s got one thing on his mind.
♡ How to get you into a relationship with him.
♡ He’s completely unequipped to deal with someone on such an intimate level, so he uses all his knowledge he’s gathered while seducing and bedding others to piece together a game plan.
♡ First, he needs to know what you like. He remembers from that one time a woman hit him with her shoe when he forgot her name ten minutes after meeting her.
♡ So, he starts hanging around you (much) more often, making you sit down and tell him about yourself.
♡ As he makes you spend time in his company, he comes to learn of the fanciful little things you enjoy.
♡ At first, the details are dry and few and far between, with you giving very little about yourself away.
♡ But, as his persistence drags into days, you eventually just start telling him whatever he asks, so long as it’s not too personal.
♡ Or painful.
♡ Whenever the outlaw can see you're starting to become upset, being reminded of your circumstances, he eases up on the personal questions and just asks superficial ones.
♡ “How’re ya feeling today ?” “D’ya eat well this mornin’ ?” “D’ya need me to dust a shelf down or something’ ?”
♡ His miniscule acts of selflessness are extensions of his effort to make you at least not hate him. Though you didn’t know this. His thought process was still an enigma to you.
♡ He also stalks you in his own home.
♡ Listens to you sing while you complete your tasks, your voice the softest thing he’s heard since…well, ever.
♡ Yandere Outlaw who, when he embarks on a hunt, never tells you where or when, and never even the how.
♡ The only clue you’ll ever be given as to his nigh-weekly excursions are trinkets he brings with him. Ones which you thought he’d pawn elsewhere in the county at a later date, or bury in the canyon somewhere.
♡ Until he offers them to you.
♡ At first, you’re not sure what to make of these…gifts ?
The first time he gave you one, he said nothing, only watching you.
♡ You swore you could see his shoulders heaving beneath his jacket, something almost feral in his demeanour. Pressurising.
♡ And, with the possibility of what could happen to you should you decline these acts of…generosity…You just take them, uttering a quiet “Thank you,” before putting them in a kitchen cabinet, unsure of the intent behind them.
♡ The first few times this happened, you were befuddled.
♡ Yet, with how gently the Outlaw placed them in your hands, with how intense his gaze was, even though you couldn’t see it beneath the permanent shadow across his brow, you could feel it.
♡ It was only one evening when the Outlaw returned with yet more loot that the meaning behind the trinkets became apparent.
♡ His hand disappears into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he withdraws a small box; rounded and bejewelled like an idol. He comes to stand before you, and, shoulders pinned abc and rigid, you swallow. Thickly.
♡ He looks down at the box, and,his finger dragging along the edge, slowly, he relinquishes it to you.
♡ And, by pure force of habit, you accept.
♡ You turn the box gingerly between your fingers, the dim candlelight from within the cabin just barely warding off the black of the night, setting the precious stones welded within the metal alight.
♡ “Well,” the Outlaw says, making you jump. You look up at him, eyes wide.
♡ “Open it.”
♡ He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
♡ Swallowing again, your gaze skitters back to the box.
♡ And, with bated breath, you lift the lid.
♡ A delicate, silver melody slithers from the portal you’ve opened, a serpentine tune wrapping around your mind, vivid, beloved memories riding on its feathered wings.
♡ Your favourite song.
♡ For a moment, one sweet, fragile moment, you’re not here.
♡ You’re back at home, in a warm bed that is yours and yours alone, surrounded by the people who matter most to you, any celebration mankind can conjure not even a whisper of the joy you feel in this scene.
♡ And then, as the wind blows autumn leaves from the human mind, the memory is gone, taken away by reality realising it has neglected you.
♡ You’re looking into nothing now, the apparition of your past slipping from you, your eyes wavered and muffled with…
♡ Tears.
♡ In your periphery, just outside the realm of reality you’re returning to, the Outlaw’s drilling gaze drops from you to the floor ina  rare show of anticipation. A hand comes to the back of his neck, where he squeezes the skin. A stress ball.
♡ “Do you…” he begins, “Do ya like it ?”
♡ Your stare inches from the void up to the outlaw’s hidden face.
♡ Perhaps if he had a discernible human feature, you could sense anticipation there. But as it stood, this was no man, but a phantom.
♡ One which must have heard and remembered that tune you often sang while completing chores.
♡ You couldn’t take it.
♡ To have him acknowledge the memory – to make it more real – nailed your coffin shut.
♡ And you broke down.
♡ When you crumpled into a pile, the Outlaw took a step back, one hand reaching for his holster; a knee-jerk reaction.
♡ And what little solace he could offer came in a most inconspicuous display.
♡ The Outlaw got to one knee, now at your level.
♡ And, with a careful hand, he placed a gloved finger upon your shoulder. Then another. Then another.
♡ Spidery and unfamiliar, foreign, the Outlaw’s actions were jerky, janky, an unoiled machine. But he was trying.
♡ When his hand lay against the curve of your shoulder, you did not move. Did not shunt him off or scream at him to let go.
♡ You remained where you were, weeping into your shirt apron.
♡ And the Outlaw, with a fiery grip encircling his heart, feeling brewing in his centre, stronger than all those implicatures and desires. This was solid, unlike the quicksand foundations upon which the Outlaw’s every emotion was built upon.
♡ Was this…
♡ Empathy ?
♡ His grip on your shoulder tightened, the revelation swarming through him like locusts.
♡ He swallowed. Tried thinking through the orchestra in his mind.
♡ “S’okay,” he said. To you, and to himself. His fingers moved gently, your skin and muscle warm through the leather of his gloves. “You’re okay.”
♡ Things changed after that.
♡ He no longer forced you to sleep in the same bed as him, instead bringing back with him a fine silk cover from one of his trips, gifting it to you.
♡ Yet, you still chose to sleep in the same bed as him.
♡ “It’ll be getting cold soon,” you said. “WIth winter coming, and all.”
♡ And, while this new feeling, raw and fresh, was…nice compared to the emptiness that often lingered in his chest, the Outlaw couldn’t help but feel weakened by this influx of emotion.
♡ When he tried to have his alone time with his thoughts of you, he felt…wrong.
♡ Ashamed.
♡ You were used to him disappearing for days at a time. Hell, you'd come to expect it at this point in your captivity.
♡ But something about tonight felt...off.
♡ Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but with the amount of time you'd spent together these last few months, you no longer hated being in his company.
♡ In fact, on the days he would be gone from the early hours of the morn to the late hours of the evening, you could even say you...missed it.
♡ And, unfortunately, despite your every instinct swaying you otherwise, you find that to be the case now.
♡ But, more than that, you're concerned. Something you'd never thought you'd feel for a murderer, a thief. Your kidnapper.
♡ And your pacing, your lip-chewing, your nail-biting are all proven justified when the Outlaw slams against the front door, stumbling through.
♡ At first, you just watch, ready to yell, to ask where he's been the last few days, until you see it.
♡ A bloodied handprint on the door.
♡ He staggers in, swaying on uneven footing, his breathing stifled,as if through a thin straw. He wheezes, collapsing into the doorframe beside him.
♡ And you rush to him. As if he wasn't the one who put you here to begin with. As if whatever's bringing him to his knees now wasn't justified, provoked.
♡ But you don't think of any of that, your mind filled only with the fact that nobody knows you're out here. Without guidance, you'd be dead before you reached the edge of the canyon encompassing your hiding place.
♡ You needed him alive.
♡ After wrestling him onto his bed, almost buckling beneath his weight, you found the source of his downfall.
♡ A wound; bullet-bitten and bleeding, a rouge flower burgeoning with the promise of extinction.
♡ You tried getting him to talk, to tell you what to do. But his voice was barely a whisper, instead using what little seeping strength that remained to point to a cabinet.
♡ Inside, you found what you knew would be needed to heal him. Whether it – you – could save him, though, was another story.
♡ You tried taking his bandana off to see if he was hurt elsewhere, but to no avail. Despite the life draining from his body, he somehow found it in himself to stop you, to place a gloved, trembling hand atop yours, an imploring aura to the gesture.
♡ Don't.
♡ And, for the first time, beneath the dim light of the cabin, you could see something human on him.
♡ It existed only in the form of a shimmer beneath the shadow of his hat, his face still very much obscured, yet the emotions on it were not.
♡ You recognised this emotion, for you'd worn it yourself, both inwardly and out, for the last three months.
♡ Fear.
♡ In its purest and most carnal form.
♡ And a voice, strained with either agony or disuse.
♡ “Help me.”
♡ Throughout the night, you tended to Outlaw's wound. A maw-like, gaping thing it was, spouting blood as one would bucket water out of a sinking boat.
♡ Luckily, you didn't have to worry about shrapnel; the bullet went clean through outlaw's side, leeaving only the aftermath and not the instigator. You managed to stop the bleeding, use the stitching on Outlaw's shirt (which was basically yours now) to sew the wound closed.
♡ For the first time, Outlaw was uncharacteristically human.
♡ Sure, you'd seen the scars on his back when he bathed, the many brushes with death he'd encountered, some advancing into a dance, much like this night's escapade had been.
♡ But you knew, somewhere, somehow, that without another pair of hands here, Outlaw likely wouldn't have pulled through.
♡ Not this time.
♡ And now, here you sat, at Outlaw's beck and call, his bedside your new home.
♡ You watched over him, the cabin silent, the night just as quiet. Even the crickets seemed to chirp quieter, either out of fear or respect for the almost dearly departed.
♡ And, looking up from the massacre on the bed, your gaze swept the room. And you realise something.
♡ The front door, which neither you, nor Outlaw locked, is unguarded.
♡ Yandere outlaw is riddled with sleep, his agony having stripped him of his energy and his strength.
♡ So...why hadn't you tried to escape yet ?
♡ Looking over at Outlaw, sound asleep, you realised just how easy it would be to walk out that door.
♡ Sure, you might get lost. Might die of hypothermia during the freezing hours of a dessert night, but with enough layers, food and water, you saw no reason as to why you couldn't just leave right now.
♡ After all, it wasn't like you'd be killing Outlaw if you left. Sure he might die of infection, or blood loss if his stitches come undone. But you'd at least tried to help him. So your conscience wasn't going to be the issue.
♡ So what was stopping you ?
♡ Looking back at the Outlaw, you felt strange.
♡ The urge to protect him, to care for him, outweighed even your greatest notion of escape, which explained why the thought to do so hadn't hit you until just now.
♡ You bit your lip, looking between Outlaw and the door.
♡ Both options were tantilisingly easy to pursue, and yet only one would be available to you, the other perishing if you ignored it.
♡ Maybe hours passed. Maybe it was mere minutes.
♡ But watching the Outlaw sleep, at his most vulnerable, with his pleading “Help me,” rattling around in your mind, the choice already seemed to be made for you. You just didn't want to tell yourself exactly why. 
♡ So...you stayed.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Yandere Masterpost Masterpost
4K notes · View notes
gyrlliar · 2 months
Text
Doggy
(sub top author (aka me) x pwr bottom male/ftm reader)
(tags: bl*wjob (o), oral fixation, me being a degenerate, mentions or implications of r*ding (i) me)
Argyle whimpered loudly, throwing his head back as you sucked on his fat, musky cock eagerly, teasing the throbbing tip of his cock with your silk like tongue made his hands grip the bed and onto your hair.
"F-Fuck...! Please, keep going...haah...please!" Argyle moaned out loudly, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, he panted heavily as his glasses became crooked on his face.
His clammy hands then shoved your head down his throbbing, leaking cock. The taste of his precum with the mix of his cries made you feel in control, you chuckled, the vibrations from the chuckle made his cock twitch violently.
Some tears pricked at the sides of his brown eyes as even the most simple touch from you made him overstimulated with pleasure. He was a degenerate, a fucking dog for you.
You pulled your mouth away from his cock with a string of saliva connecting you two together, his sweating face contorted into confusion as to why you stopped, his dry mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he stuttered out. "W-why did you stop...?" He sputtered out whilst tears dripped down his flushed face.
You placed your warm hand on his cock gently, squeezing the base, making him shudder and choke out a whimper.
"Beg for it, Argy- no, doggy." You said into his ear, his face flushed up even more if it was possible. Argyle gulped, he was so desperate for you and your touch that he was willing to just throw away his goddamn dignity just to get his dick sucked.
Slowly, Argyle dipped down his head, by the way the tip of his ears reddened, he was heavily embarrassed but not embarrassed enough to start begging for you to just touch his horny dick.
"Please.....touch me, m-master! I need your mouth to just slobber all over my pathetic dick, please, please, please...I wanna cum so fucking bad...." Argyle begged, his drool and tears mixing together pathetically, he didn't dare to touch his own cock because his hand wouldn't even compare to your touches.
You laughed, he blushed in shyness at the sound of your sweet laugh. You let out a sigh, "I didn't even ask for you to call me master, yet you did. How adorable." You said with a purr in your voice that made Argyle's cock somehow become bigger, you chuckled once more.
"Alright, come here. I'll make you cum since you're such a good doggy for me." Argyle's imaginary dog ears perked up in happiness as you dipped down and started sucking on his dripping dick.
"O-oh! Please, master...yes! Haah..." He babbled out, his mind going blank in pleasure once more.
After just 2 minutes of sucking his overstimulated cock, his dick was violently twitching in your mouth and his hard thrusts became sloppier.
Argyle's precum was dripping down your chin, and the glasses he once wore were now discarded on the ground without a care.
Even though his vision was blurry with tears, it was very clear to see that he was about to cum in your mouth.
"O-oh..! I'm gonna cum, master! T-thank you!" He rambled frantically as his thick cum inconsistantly spurted into your mouth, starting out small and then filling up your mouth in an instant.
You pulled away from his cock with a echoing 'pop', he looked down at you with an embarrassed look in his eyes that replaced the mindless look. "I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to cum in your mouth! Um, you should probably spit it out!" Argyle rambled frantically.
You stared at him blankly whilst audibly gulping down his thick, heavy seed making him gasp and his cheeks flush a bright red. "Y-you didn't have to do that..." Argyle mumbled shyly, his stutter prominent as he looked away from you.
Suddenly, you pushed him down on the bed forcefully. He yelped in surprise as you suddenly started grinding on top of his cock, his flaccid dick immediately hardened once you touched it again. "W-What are you doing, (Name)?" He stuttered out nervously.
You laughed, "I haven't given you the full experience yet." You purred out. His heartbeat quickened as his cock throbbed. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?" Argyle nodded eagerly, his imaginary dog ears perking up. You chuckled warmly whilst petting his head.
"Good doggy."
-
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(cringe but whateve r)
667 notes · View notes
stillmonsterz · 8 days
Text
you know i'm down
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: jay x reader
genre: smut
summary: it's march 2020 and you're stuck in the house with your stepfather during lockdown. can the two of you keep it together?
warnings: stepcest, unprotected sex, swearing, dubcon, panty-sniffing, virus mention, COVID implication (?),
word count: 3.8k
--
“Yeah. Yeah, I know, things are getting crazy, but try to keep your head up, yeah? You’ll be safe,” Jay said into his phone, his forehead creasing as he spoke. His newly wedded wife had taken a trip to visit her mother shortly after their marriage, but now the government was advising that she stay where she was. The news was scaring her, and it scared Jay, too, but he couldn’t let her know that. He was her steadfast protector, her bastion, and so he reassured her that everything would be okay.
“And you’ll take care of her too, yes?” she asked firmly, referring to her daughter.
“Of course, honey. I’ll take care of her like she’s mine,” Jay said, rubbing his forehead. “I promise.”
“You’re so good with her,” his wife said. “You know, she really likes you, right?”
“I really like her, too,” Jay said softly, and it was the truth. His wife and her daughter had moved in with him three short months ago, and neither of them had caused trouble. On the contrary: Jay wished that he could see more of her daughter so they could be closer. He wanted to be a good stepfather, but she was always holed up inside of her room.
They exchanged goodbyes, I love yous, and promises to stay safe, and then Jay was alone on the couch with his own thoughts. If he sat there for too long, stewing in fear, he would lose his mind. Jay turned the television on and checked the news. They were strongly advising people to stay put for at least two weeks, and Jay made a mental note to coordinate with his employees about this in a few hours. No point riling people up and forcing them to worry about work so early in the day.
Jay was sitting on the couch with lips set in a line when you had tentatively crept down the stairs, worry etched on your features. He turned the television off and assessed you carefully. You were so similar to your mother in stature and facial features, but Jay doubted that his wife would ever don the dolphin shorts and hoodie combination you were so fond of wearing. Of course, you made it look cute. You shuffled over to him, wringing your hands. 
“Mom really can’t come back?” you asked, hovering near the other end of the couch.
Jay nodded, setting his phone on the side table. “Yeah, they really want to curb the spread of the virus,” he said, smoothing his hands down his legs. “She’ll be okay, though. There’s a lot of food at her mom’s house, and she won’t be alone. It’ll only be two weeks.”
Your lower lip trembled, and you looked away from Jay as you tried to calm yourself down. You rubbed your hands along your arms, and Jay could see that you had goosebumps. “You don’t think she got it, do you?” you asked in a wavering voice. 
“Oh, sweetheart,” Jay said quietly. “Look at me.” When you refused, obstinately staring at the ground, his voice became firm. “Look at me.”
You lifted your head, and he spread his arms and gestured for you to come to him. He wrapped you in his embrace, rubbing your back. You leaned on him, kneeling in between his legs as you hugged him tightly. “There’s no way that she caught it,” Jay said soothingly. “She’s been with her family the entire time. She hardly went off their property.”
“I’m just so worried. I’ve never lived through anything like this before,” you said falteringly, pulling away so you could look at his face. Jay knew you were looking at him to check for chinks in his armor, a sign of doubt. He pulled his features into a convincing mask of resoluteness and confidence. 
“It’ll all be okay,” he said, running his thumb along your cheek. “Look on the bright side, you won’t have to commute to school for two weeks.”
You chuckled, looking down as you smiled. “You’re right, Jay.” Jay liked that you didn’t try to call him Dad or Daddy. When he had first met you after a few months of dating your mom, he had been pleased to find that you weren’t the archetypal bratty stepdaughter. Instead, you were sweet and intelligent, and you hardly asked him for a thing. Jay stroked your hair comfortingly and kissed your forehead. 
“You wanna watch a movie together? Would you like that?” You nodded your assent, and Jay reached around for the remote and went on Netflix. He put something lighthearted on for you, and shortly after the movie started you rested your head on his chest. Belatedly, Jay realized that it might be somewhat inappropriate to hold you like this, with you curled up in his arms, kneeling between his legs. But you were so worried, and you needed a guiding figure there, so what else could he do?
Jay continued to rub your back as you watched the movie together. At some point, though, Jay’s attention permanently moved from the film onto you, and he studied your features closely. His wife was a very pretty woman, and started to realize that her daughter was a very pretty girl. 
Maybe this lockdown wouldn't be so bad, if he could get closer to you.
The next day, Jay took stock of everything in the kitchen. Thankfully, they tended to bulk-buy, so he didn’t think that they would have to go shopping for two weeks. Yesterday, you hadn’t eaten dinner, blaming your nerves for curbing your appetite. He decided to surprise you with a pancake breakfast. He smiled as he imagined you eating pancakes. You’d look so adorable with full cheeks…
As he started to gather the ingredients, he heard footsteps padding on the tiled floor. 
“What are you doing?” you asked quietly. Jay turned to face you, and his breath caught. You were rubbing your eyes, looking around the kitchen, and you were so cute. Jay swallowed thickly and returned his attention to the array of supplies in front of him. 
“Just making breakfast,” he mumbled. “Pancakes.” 
“Can I help?” He heard you come closer, and he could smell your body wash. It was fruity and playful; something from Victoria’s Secret or Lush, a store like that. It went so well with your natural fragrance, Jay had to resist the urge to sniff the air.
“Nah, it’s fine,” Jay replied, kneeling down to find where the pans were stashed. It was his house, but his wife had reorganized the kitchen to her liking, so he had trouble finding things. 
“I want to help,” you said, and Jay looked up at you. A mistake. How could he refuse those earnest eyes of yours?
“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he came off as nonchalant. He gave you some instructions, well-aware that his voice was somewhat strained. Jay watched you bustle around the kitchen, shamelessly checking you out. Guilt nipped at him, but he reasoned that it was just looking. There was nothing wrong with looking. And when you wore little shorts like that, you were asking to be looked at, really. 
Jay snapped himself out of it and returned his attention to cooking. He flipped the pancakes without using a spatula, and you clapped. “I wish I could do that,” you said. 
“Here, I’ll show you.” Jay wrapped your hand around the end of the pan and covered it with his own. “You have to utilize a certain flick of the wrist, but put pressure on your index finger, your middle finger, and your thumb…” When you successfully flipped a pancake with his help, you giggled, and he felt warm. Like a proud father, he thought. Just like a proud father.
As you two ate breakfast together, he could see your happiness returning. You must have been so worried about your mother, and he was glad to see you shoveling pancakes in your mouth and laughing about some video your friend had sent you. 
“You’ve got syrup all over your mouth,” Jay said, smiling. Before you could wipe it yourself, Jay wet his thumb and wiped it off, relishing in the opportunity to touch your lips. “I bet you were such a messy kid,” he murmured.
“I was,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. “My mom was always running after me with Wet Wipes.” 
Jay chuckled at the thought, retracting his thumb. “I’m sure she didn’t mind. You were probably a cute kid, too.”
You groaned. “I was so cute. I have no clue what happened.”
You got pretty, Jay thought. 
“You think I’m pretty?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips, and Jay realized that he had carelessly complimented you. 
Jay cleared his throat. “Of course you are,” he said, desperately trying to center himself. “You look just like your mother.”
You nodded, still looking pleased with the compliment, and Jay could feel his heart racing out of his shirt. You were going to be the death of him.
The next day, after dinner, (another collaboration between the two of you), you had announced that you would do the laundry. Jay shook his head and handed his plate to you. “You do the dishes,” he said, smiling slyly. “I’ll take care of the laundry.”
You begrudgingly took the plate and stacked it on top of yours. “I hate doing the dishes.”
Jay laughed and ruffled your hair as he walked past you. “Doing things you hate builds character,” he called behind his shoulder. 
As soon as he got upstairs, he made a mad dash to your bedroom to retrieve your laundry basket. He didn’t have a lot of time. Jay opened your door and bent down to examine the white hamper. Pawing through your clothes, he shakingly retrieved a pair of your panties. It was painfully conservative. Weren’t girls your age supposed to be wanton little sluts? He held it up, examining it closely. Common sense told him to put it back, morality told him to put it in the hamper, and his own conscience was screaming at him to just drop the fucking panties. But something stronger compelled him to hold the panties to his nose and sniff them deeply. Your scent was intoxicating, and he sighed. Jay took a few more deep sniffs before he dropped the panties back into the hamper and walked down to the laundry room. 
It was lockdown, he concluded as he set the basket down. Lockdown was driving him crazy, turning him into a libidinous beast. Never mind that it had only been three days - three days was enough. Three days of being forced to watch as your stepdaughter pranced around in shorts that just barely hid her tight little ass, of having to smell her, of knowing that there was pussy that he couldn’t get to…that would drive a monk to drink. As long as he didn’t act on it, Jay reasoned, he’d be fine. 
-
Over the next week, you and Jay had fallen into a routine. You ate breakfast together, then you dispersed to your separate rooms- you had to do online school, and Jay had to navigate running a business over Zoom. You would eat lunch together, discussing the virus, your problems, or just comfortably sitting in silence. 
Then you squirrel away back to your room. When that happened, Jay would generally do two things in an interchangeable order. He would either retire to his office and read a business management book or go over his emails, or he would rub his dick raw in his ensuite bathroom to the thought of stepdaughter pussy. Pornography wasn’t necessary; he could just close his eyes and imagine you in those stupid shorts, imagine you taking them off and crawling towards him, imagine his hands groping your forbidden body.
 After that, he would cook dinner for the two of you, and you would watch a movie together. You liked to rest your head on his shoulder, saying that that’s how you and your mother would watch movies. So Jay would wrap his arm around you, his other hand clenching the armrest of the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white as he tried to fight off his basest urges. After that, you would go to your room, and Jay would go to his room and edge himself for half an hour. 
Then, he would text your mother and tell her that he loved her.
A week after the lockdown had been announced, Jay checked his appearance in the mirror in the living room and frowned. He had a meeting in an hour, but he noticed that he was developing a unibrow. Normally, his wife would help him pluck the hairs.
You walked downstairs and noticed Jay scowling at himself. “What’s wrong?” you asked, standing next to him. By now, just your scent went straight to his cock, making it stir, and Jay sighed.
“Your mom’s not around, so now I’m turning into a caveman,” he said, pointing at his eyebrows. 
Your face brightened. “I can pluck them for you!”
Jay’s face fell, but he quickly put on a mask of indifference. “Oh, you don’t have to, I can figure it out,” he said, waving his hand.
You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Please, Jay? It’ll be so fun. It’ll be therapeutic. Please?”
You were the devil, he decided, the devil cloaked in the vestments of a college student. “Fine,” he relented, and you cheered.
Jay wearily stood next to the mirror as you sprinted up the stairs to get your tweezers. You bounced back down shortly, opening and closing the tweezers with the steeliness of a surgeon. 
“Sit down,” you ordered, pointing at the couch in the living room. Jay obeyed, sitting down on the far end of the couch. You straddled his waist.
“What are you doing?” Jay asked, his voice somewhat panicked.
“I have to get close to you,” you replied. Jay realized that his reaction was unwarranted and he was doing a shit job of acting like he didn’t want to fuck you, so he nodded. 
As you plucked his eyebrow hairs, Jay rested his hand on her waist to stabilize you. He stared at you as you worked; you were so lovely when you focused. Jay decided not to fight it, just for now. He languidly rubbed a circle around your waist as you plucked his eyebrows, and his other hand rested on your knee. If Jay tried, he could almost forget who you were. He could just pretend like there was no relation, that you were a stranger, that it wasn’t wrong to feel like this.
“Done!” You put the tweezers on the side table and examined his brows by tilting his head this way and that. Jay continued looking at you. He leaned back so that he was resting fully on the armrest, and your chest pressed against his due to the slight shift in position.
Jay’s voice was low and rough. “How does it look?” His hand still caressed your waist over your hoodie, and he noted that you made no move to get up.
“Very nice,” you replied, both hands still on his face. “You look very handsome now.”
Jay smiled slightly, looking you up and down. “Yeah?”
You looked in his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”
Jay wasn’t sure who had leaned in first, but he did know that he was the one who deepened the kiss. You tasted incredible, and you weren’t a bad kisser, either. Your lips were soft and you took your time; your hands still cupped his cheeks. Jay’s hand slipped from your waist and worked its way up your hoodie, resting on your stomach. His other hand crawled up your leg, and he was endlessly grateful that you wore those dolphin shorts all the time. 
You were the one who probed your tongue at the entrance of his mouth, and you were the one who ran it along his teeth. He stroked his tongue along yours, tilting his head even further. Your hands slipped from his cheeks to rest on his shoulders.
Strangely enough, as he made out with his stepdaughter, Jay felt no qualms. All he could focus on was how good it felt, on how warm your little mouth was, on the way your body tensed as he ran his hands over you. Jay brought his hand higher, from your stomach to your ribs, until it was resting just below your breasts. He waited for you to pull away, to tell him to stop, but when you didn’t, he continued. Jay’s hand cupped your breast, and he briefly broke the kiss.
“You didn’t wear a bra?” he asked in an accusatory tone, kneading your breast. 
You shook your head.
“You wicked little minx.”
You shrugged, placing your hands behind his neck. “I normally don’t wear bras around the house. I mean, it’s just you and me in here.”
“No,” Jay whispered. “It’s not ‘just’ me.” Jay leaned in to kiss you with renewed fervor. His other hand slipped up into your shorts, fondling your upper thigh. Gently, Jay began to push you down onto the couch, until he was resting his full body weight on top of you. His hand groped at your chest, and he used both of his hands to pull your hoodie off. Finally, finally, he would get to see your body without a massive piece of fabric hiding it.
Jay moaned as soon as he saw your naked torso. He momentarily stopped kissing you to suck your tits. Both of his hands ran up and down your thighs, and he relished in your little gasps and whimpers. Jay took his mouth off of your breast and looked up at you. “You like that?”
You nodded, your face contorted in pleasure. “I like it, Jay.”
You had all but given him the green light to do whatever he wanted to your body, and almost without his knowing he began grinding his hips against yours. After leaving sloppy kisses all over your breasts, Jay kissed you again, sucking your tongue over and over again. 
He continued to rut against your clothed pussy, the friction assuaging the painful stiffness he felt in his cock. Jay knew he was pathetic. He knew how degenerate, how desperate, how sick he was. Only a freak would dry hump their stepdaughter on the couch. He didn’t even last an entire week. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to fully care, let alone to stop. Jay ground his crotch into yours, pressing you deeper into the couch, and he groaned in your mouth. 
His hands were all over you now, stroking your back, your chest, your stomach, your thighs, and he was dimly aware of your own hands snaking up his shirt. 
Jay broke the kiss again, sweat dripping down his nose. “You can’t tell anyone,” Jay said frantically as he began to unbuckle his belt. “Got that? Not your friends, not your classmates, not your mom. Do you understand me?”
You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Do you understand me, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” you said hoarsely, your lips already swollen. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Jay tossed his belt to the side and tugged his jeans down. “Our little secret, right?”
You shimmied out of your shorts. “Our little secret.”
Jay slid your panties down your legs and parted your legs, pushing one up the couch and leaving the other to hang off of the side. He glanced at you as he worked his cock a few times. “Are you a virgin?”
You shook your head. 
“Good.”
“Why?”
“I’d never fuck a virgin the way I’m about to fuck you,” Jay said. Your eyes widened in apprehension, and Jay smiled.
He pushed himself inside of you roughly. As soon as he felt your pussy tighten around his cock, its warmth enveloping him, he swore. “Oh, fuck.” Jay kept your legs pushed open as he inches himself into you. At first, he shallowly thrusts into you with about half of his length. You’re already shuddering like a whore, whining and shaking, but you aren’t wet enough for his liking. Jay reached his hand down and stroked at the area above your vagina lips, eventually finding your clitoris. He rubbed it, just enough to get you nice and sopping wet. It didn’t take long, either; you must have been as pent-up as he had been, judging by the way you were gasping. Even just a few inches had you stuttering out some words that would make your mother blush.
He pulled out of you slightly, swirling his hips, before slamming his cock into you again. You moaned, a sound so gorgeous that he had to continue. Jay pounded your pussy mercilessly, his hands keeping your legs split open. His balls slapped against your thighs almost painfully as he kept up his pace. 
“Should have done this at the start,” Jay huffed. “Should have been inside you the second lockdown started.”
You opened your eyes. “Why didn’t you?”
Good question. Why hadn’t he just fucked you like this when you had come running to him for comfort? Why had he bothered waiting? For propriety? For politeness? None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered now was the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock. 
Jay smiled slightly as he imagined how your mother would react to this: her daughter splayed out on the couch, her tits bouncing up and down, her hand covering her mouth so her moans won’t echo all over the house, and her stepfather in between her legs, fucking her ruthlessly. The scary thing was, Jay didn’t think he could stop even if your mother had walked in. Your pussy felt too good, too tight, too warm, too inviting. 
You were so wet that Jay could hear it, his cock making obscene noises as it ravaged your hole. Jay pulled out of you, breathing heavily. He dragged you from the couch and laid you flat on the rug. 
“On all fours,” he said raggedly. “Now.”
You were weak, but you obeyed his instructions, displaying your red, aggravated pussy for him. Jay mounted you and fucked you like a dog, chasing his orgasm. His hands groped around your chest and he grabbed your tits while he pounded you. He leaned his head back and let out a primal moan.
Soon, your arms gave out and you collapsed onto the floor. Jay didn’t pull out of you, couldn’t pull out of you. He braced his arms on either side of you and slammed into you, pressing his entire body weight onto you. 
He felt his orgasm approaching, and he sped up, grunting and groaning. Jay felt like he would die if he didn’t cum, and he fucked into you mindlessly. When his orgasm hit, he let out a strangled scream. He could feel the pleasure from his cock all the way to his fingertips; his hairline tingled as he emptied himself out in your pussy. 
Jay didn’t know what he would do next. He didn’t know how you would act around each other. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had to do this again and again with you.
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