#dmitri antonov x Y/N

[lemonflavouredchaos]

Beg

It started with you calling him at work. Being a security guard is hardly the same as Kamchatka, and you know he gets bored...

So you call him and tell him about your day, your panties, and how you brought yourself off in the bathroom thinking about him and you're sure your boss knows. The goal was to drive him mad, but Dmitri only laughs, deep and throaty, and whispers that he loves you before hanging up.

You thought the plan was a bust until he got home. Quite how you went from on your feet welcoming him home to on your back on the couch you can't say. Your skirt is up at your waist, your legs raised over his hips, his hand firmly but gently on your throat as he fucks you mercilessly.

The whole couch moves when he thrusts hard, and somehow that feels obscene. When Dmitri pulls the front of your shirt open, popping two buttons, and drags the cups of your bra down you realise your tease may have been more effective than you thought,

"Feels so good," you gasp and he chuckles, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a few moments,

"Trying to drive me mad," he pants in your ear as he pulls back, hands on your hips dragging you with him until he's kneeling on the floor and you're bouncing in his lap. All you can do is whine; his cock is stretching you to the limit,

"Please," you whimper and he shakes his head,

"I should keep you in my office," he pants, "tie you to the desk and remind you who's body this is." You gape: dirty talk is common, but this is filthy. "Mm? Make you take me over and over, fuck you so good you scream. Who'll know? Just us in that big building... I could do anything to you."

You wrap your arms around his neck and gasp, trying to keep your cool, but Dmitri presses the thought,

"Or maybe I'll come to yours, hm? Fuck you nice and slow in the supply closet? Slow and hard so that every man there knows you're taken care of." His fingers have pushed between your bodies, he brings you off quickly, grinning when you gasp and moan loudly. In the haze of pleasure, you realize he's not under you anymore... then his hand slipps into your hair and the head of his cock presses against your lips.

"Are you going to behave from now on?" Dmitri asks as if expecting an answer - as if he's not fucking your throat just like a pussy. You managed to shake your head and he laughs, "No? Hm, pity..." he's losing his grip, you can see it in the half-lidded, soft look in his eyes, "I...uh...I-" he groans, cheeks flushing when you swallow every drop.

"You're going to be the end of me," he says after a few moments, but it's a tease; he kisses the top of your head and leads you to bed.

[strangerthingslover69]

Your uncles new friend ~ part 1

Dimitri Antonov + Female reader

Your Uncle Jim Hopper has recently arrived back in Hawkins to everyone’s surprise, you can tell he’s been through a lot, they all have. You are even more surprised to see him bring a new house guest into your life, this is going to cause trouble for you since he is possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen

(No warnings)

Eventual ~smut~

*knock knock* ‘coming!’ You called walking down the stairs in your pyjamas to get your pizza, another lonely Friday night. You, a pizza, beer and a movie. You lived alone and have done for a while, your parents died a few years back and left you their house. Your uncle used to stay with you from time to time before he adopted the lovely El, she would come for a sleepover once a week. Man you missed having them here but since your uncle died and El moved to California with the Byers you’d gotten use to your own company in your house.

You fumble around unlocking the door ready to hand the pizza guy his money to your surprise when you look up it’s the last person you’d ever expected to see. ‘Hey kid, miss me?’ Your Uncle said to you as pulling you in for the biggest hug, you couldn’t believe it. You didn’t. You pulled away at first until you got a proper luck at him, ‘Uncle Hop?’ You questioned with tears in your eyes. He nodded and then you brought him back in for the biggest hug. Your mind was racing and jumbled with confused thoughts you didn’t realise your uncle had brought someone with him. Someone you definitely didn’t recognise.

‘Mind if we come in?’ Your uncle said breaking apart from your hug. You nodded and let the men in. The one you didn’t recognise giving you a small smile as walking past. You returned the smile. You noticed how blue and pretty his eyes were, as blue as the sea you thought to yourself closing the door. Your uncle went into your living room, looking around taking it all in again. ‘You’ve been decorating, I like it’ he said with a smile as he sat on your sofa. ‘Thanks, I needed something to keep my mind busy’ you replied as you sat down. You looked up to the mystery man, ‘I’m Y/N, I don’t believe we’ve met?’ ‘This is Enzo’ Hopper told you, Enzo sat down and shook your hand and smiled. His hands were rough, definitely a working man’s hand and they were big, nearly covered yours. ‘Okay kid, you best sit tight cause oh man I have got a lot to tell you.’

Then your Uncle explained all of what had happened in these last few months, the capture, the torment, the physical and mental pain, the monsters being back. You knew all what had happened with the upside down as you were at the star court mall when all the chaos sprung, the time before you were at Hawkins lab seeing this god awful dogs, the first time was when Will went missing and you went looking for him. You shudder at the past thoughts. ‘So after all this time you’ve been alive in Kamchatka? Enzo helped you for money, but this Yuri betrayed you both then Enzo was labelled a traitor and sent into the prison too? Joyce and Murray help you both escape after somehow fighting Yuri, landing a plane and tracking to Kamchatka? But even after you escape you go back because the mind flayer is alive and you destroy it alongside the other monsters? Oh and you both take on a demagoran? And you uncle behead one? Then Sams’ friends help you come back safely?’ You say with utter shock! Hopper and Enzo look at each other and nod. ‘Pretty much so kid yeah. Joyce is brining the kids back to Hawkins, we all need each other more than anything right now. I’ll be moving in with her and the kids. Not too far from here actually. That’s why we are here. Of course to see you but I have a kinda big favour to ask?’ Your uncle knows no matter what it is you won’t say no. ‘Go on?’ You answer him curiously. ‘You see, Enzo here is considered a traitor now and if he goes back to his homeland he will be captured and most likely killed. Sams’ team is working on moving him here and getting all the right documents necessary. In this new house me, Joyce and the kids are getting, well there’s no room for poor old Enzo. But I know, well I presume you still do, live here in this big house all by yourself?’ The cogs turn in your brain, you realise what your uncle is asking of you. How can you say no? You are so grateful he’s alive and safe. You do feel a little hesitant though, having some stranger living in your house, it doesn’t help that he is a very handsome stranger who your barely been able to look out without you knees feeling weak. But he did help your uncle all that time and he nearly got killed too. They both looked pretty rough covered in bruises and scars. ‘Okay’ you say after a minute or two, ‘Enzo can stay, of course.’ Relief hits Hopper and it seems Enzo too. ‘Thank you Y/N, I appreciate it’ Enzo says to you, ‘you can call me Dmitri by the way.’ ‘Well Dmitri, welcome to your new home’ you say with a warm smile.

~ this is just the introduction to this story, there will be eventual smut, swearing, drinking, sexual tension and more ~

[tatortotqueen]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐥, 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐯, 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯, 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧:

ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ, ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ

ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴏ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟɪʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ. ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴀᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ'ꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ. ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ. ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴜꜱʜʏ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ. ʜᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ. ᴀᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴꜱᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ꜱᴀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴍᴀᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ. ɢᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅ ʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴇɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇ. ʏᴇᴀʜ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ.

𝟎𝟎𝟏/𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐥:

ʜᴇɴʀʏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ, ᴜɴʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʜᴇɴʀʏ ʟᴀɪᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏʏ. ʜᴇɴʀʏ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴍᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇꜱꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ. ʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴠɪᴇᴡꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴇʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇɪɴɢ. ʜᴇɴʀʏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀᴇꜰᴜʟ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴏꜰꜰ. ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ. ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴɴᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇɴʀʏ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴜꜱʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜰᴀʀ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ꜱɴᴀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜꜱʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴀʀ, ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴇᴠᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ɪɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ.

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧:

ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ, ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ

ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ. ʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟ. ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ᴜʀɢᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀꜱʜᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴅ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ʟʟ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ʙᴇ ʜɪꜱ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ. ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʀᴀꜱʜ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ. ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ʟʟ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪꜱ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀʟʏ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏʀ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ. ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏꜱ.

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬:

ᴡɪʟʟ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ, ɪᴍᴘᴜʟꜱɪᴠᴇ

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ᴡɪʟʟ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪᴍᴘᴜʟꜱɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪᴛ'ʟʟ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ. ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛɪᴄᴋ ʜɪᴍ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ɪꜱ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡɪʟʟ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘʀᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴏᴜᴛʙᴜʀꜱᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ.

𝐃𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐯/𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨:

ᴅᴍɪᴛʀɪ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ꜱᴀᴅɪꜱᴛɪᴄ, ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ

ᴇɴᴢᴏ ɪꜱ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴜʀɢᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ. ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜʀꜱᴜᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇꜱɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴜʀɢᴇꜱ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ ᴀꜱ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʀɪɢʜᴛ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴀᴅɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ. ʜᴇ ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇʟʏ ᴛʜʀɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ. ʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴏɴ ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀʏ. ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴏʀ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴛɪʟᴇ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘ ꜱᴛᴏᴄᴋʜᴏʟᴍ ꜱʏɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʀᴇꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ'ʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ʟɪɴᴇ.

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯:

ʙɪʟʟʏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ, ᴅᴇʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙɪʟʟʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀʏꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʟɪʀᴛᴀᴛɪᴏᴜꜱ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍꜱ, ʜᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɴᴏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ. ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ɢᴜʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ. ʙɪʟʟʏ ᴄᴀɴ ɢᴇᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ, ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴍᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪꜱ, ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴅᴇʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴏ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋ 9/10 ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ, ꜱᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ɴᴇᴇᴅ.

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫:

ʟᴜᴄᴀꜱ' ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴏᴠᴇʀᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ, ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ

ʟᴜᴄᴀꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ʀᴜᴍᴏʀꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘʟᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴅᴇɴʏ ɪᴛ ʙʏ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ. ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇʟʏ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴇɴᴅɢᴀᴍᴇ. ʟᴜᴄᴀꜱ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫:

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ'ꜱ' ᴍᴀɪɴ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ɪᴛ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ. ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴛᴀɢᴇ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʀᴇʟʏ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴠᴀʟɪᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ; ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ. ʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɪɴꜱᴀɴᴇʟʏ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ. ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ. ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ. ʜᴇ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴛᴇʟʟꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ. ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ʙᴇꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ. ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇʟʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏᴏ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴅᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

[arachine]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: me when i’m reposting this for the 5th time 

+ part one can be found here !

+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice that is only used for headcanons because they’re usually very short reads!

peter “the 001 for you” ballard 

↻ length: crazy men have big dicks. this is a known—a fact. it cannot and will not be debated. why do some of you keep going back to your crazy exes? surely not because of their personalities…but i digress. peter doesn’t even know he’s got a dick of gold swinging in his pants. like he’s aware of its presence, but he never really sat down and thought ‘damn, i’ve gotta really big dick’—probably because he’s too distracted most of the time planning the demise of a bunch of little kids more than half of his age. 

coming in at 6 inches flaccid, and roughly 7.4 inches erect, this definitely makes peter the second biggest on the list. 

↻ width: he doesn’t really strike me as someone who’s gotta thick cock. i’d like to think it’s on the skinnier side, mostly because he’s very tall and lanky.

↻ color: peter is so pale, it’s literally just a pink stick. 

extra:

↻ groomed: hmmm… a part of me wants to say yes. i think he’d groom it down probably for comfort. i can imagine that it’d get very itchy in those white orderly jumpsuits, and so, i feel like he’d groom it down in that sense. he just strikes me as someone who’s very calculated and precise with everything that they do, so having an itch down there would be annoying and he hates to be annoyed. 

↻ curved: unfortunately, no :(

↻ veins: yes, plenty. they start to branch down from his pelvic region, all the way to his dick. they wrap around so prettily and when he gets hard, it looks kinda mean and angry!

↻ how he uses it: peter likes to fuck you from the back, with the upper half of your body smooshed down into a hard surface, and your head forced down flat with the palm of his hand. it’s the only position he enjoys that doesn’t involve intimacy. but most of all, he likes it down your throat. because in this position, you’re on your knees, with your head tilted up at him, and tears streaming down your eyes like ribbons.

it gets him so unbelievably hard because he’s the one with all of the control. you sit there and take him—all of him—down your throat because you like it. and he knows you like it too. he knows that you get a rush when he pushes it so far down that you can’t breathe, and he knows you like it when he forces all of his load down your mouth. so, that’s why this is his favorite position. because from up here? he’s a god, and you’re just some bitch that prays to his dick like it’s sunday service.

dmitri “got you walking side to side” antonov or, better known as, enzo

↻ length: if i speak…

ok, listen. i’ve heard some things about those russian men, i’ve seen some things…and i’d like to bet that enzo is one of them. there’s just something in the atmosphere down there, something in the air…something that i think we (the people) should investigate because why and what is causing this big dick phenomenon? anyway, enzo is 6.7 inches flaccid and 8 inches hard. i don’t make the rules, i listen to the voices. and right now they’re telling me to relay the message and i am. 

↻ width: baybeee, let me tell you something. his is thick. like, really thick. you just better hope he has the patience to stretch you open first, because if not…well, good luck soldier. 

↻ color: i could say pink—but i won’t. i am standing on this hill when i say his cock is tanned and his tip is brown or brown adjacent. it’s somewhere in the brown family okay, just…just trust me on this one. i know russia is cold as fuck but he ain’t that damn pale, so i am not budging with my answer. 

extra:

↻ groomed: no. just full, unadulterated man bush over here. how we like it. the girls that get it, get. and the girls that don’t, don’t. 

↻ curved: uhm, duh. he is a founding father of the captain hook club!

↻ veins: vein wonderland, just so many of ‘em.

↻ how he uses it: i don’t think it matters what position, you’re getting fucked and you’re getting fucked good. just know you’ll be directionally challenged by the end of it. suddenly, determining left from right, and up from down becomes a challenge tad too difficult. 

argyle “let me smoke you out” [redacted] …because he wasn’t given a last name. them damn duffer brothers fucking up my list!

↻ length: i’d like to say his dick is as long as his gorgeous hair (which i’m very jealous of), but it isn’t. i’d like to sit here and tell you that the man who carried season four with jokes has a 12 incher, but i can’t (for i fear the masses will crucify me at the stake). but in all seriousness, argyle has the perfect cock. it’s not intimidatingly large like peter or enzo’s, but it’s not too small either. 

argyle rests at a smooth 4.8 inches flaccid and a good 6 inches erect. and whatever he lacks in length—which isn’t much because 6 is perfect for some girlies—he makes up for in girth. 

↻ width: i love me some stout men, and when i look at argyle, i just see a man with a fat cock and balls. big fat balls. big nuts. like i want the weight of his dick to be so powerful that it gives me a black eye…but, maybe that’s just me. 

↻ color: he has such a pretty complexion, so i just know that it flows from a nice tanned color, into a pretty brown or mauve-y color at the tip.

extra:

↻ groomed: no, he doesn’t have time for that. he only has enough time in the world to roll his blunts and get high. everything else be damned. the male-bush agenda is going strong and we can’t stop now!

↻ curved: to the left, and he really knows how to use it. i know i said before that he didn’t have much time for anything other than rolling blunts, but i lied. he’s definitely got the time to learn how to make a woman cum. 

↻ veins: just one that stretches from the side of his cock to the underside of his shaft…

↻ how he uses it: oh, god. i just know he likes a good ol’ mating press. he likes squishing you down into the bed, or the back of his van and getting all deep in your cunt. he says it’s because he’s ‘so high’ and that ‘he’s tired’ every time he flops down on your like that, but you know it’s because he loves seeing you folded like a pretzel beneath him. nothing beats the expression you wear when he hits that spot you like. the one that gets your toes curling, and your legs shaking, and leaves your head all dizzy. he could fuck you like that forever and it still would always feel like the first time. 

jonathan “i have a degree in stalking” byers

↻ length: i don’t care for jonathan but i feel like he’s got something a little lethal down there…like not crazy big but he’s definitely working with something, so maybe that’s why nance ignored all the stalking. what if…what if i said he’s got like something close to a 7 incher? like 6.5-6.7? i don’t know… i don’t know but them creepy guys be having good dick. exhibit a: joe goldberg. it must be some sort of requirement…

↻ width: hmm, he leans more on the skinnier side so i don’t think he’d be thick.

↻ color: scarily pink, like raw meat but progressively reddens when aroused.

extra:

↻ groomed: jonathan doesn’t take that much pride in his appearance, and until nance, he probably didn’t do too much grooming. but now he keeps it fairly shaved down.

↻ curved: almost as straight as will, but in other words, yes. it’s got some curve too it but not enough to be a part of the captain hook committee, unfortunately. 

↻ veins: two prominent ones that form a ‘y’ shape down his shaft

↻ how he uses it: the real question is how long can he use it? because i don’t think that boy’s got any self restraint. he probably finishes really quickly, but i kinda see him having a lot of stamina—but not in the way you think. i feel like he’d prefer having you ride him, because in this position, he gets to play with your tits and admire your body like the pathetic man he is, but as soon as he cums, his dick is ready to go again before he is. it’s just him lying there, totally overstimulated, and you riding him, milking him for all he’s worth. so, yeah, i’d say he’s not so much as using his own dick, but you using him. 

© all content belongs to arachine 2022. no reposts, modifications, plagiarizing, or remaking of any form without proper credit. 

[ameliajonezzz]

Can someone please write a dimitri Enzo Antonio x hoppers sister. Like they are checking eachother out in the scene where jopper reunite and flirt and stuff PLEASE

[splendidcas]

Safe House

Summary: it's been a long time since Dmitri has been with a woman. too long. (also oh noooo there's only one bed for them what ever are they going to do??)

Pairing: Dmitri (Enzo) Antonov x Afab!Reader (with nicknames "princess" and "angel")

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: smutty smut smut. reader embarrasses herself bc of course she does, oral (m and f receiving), p in v penetration, creampie, cursing, fluff

MINORS DNI

A/N: is this plot absolutely ridiculous? ...yes and what about it? also for the sake of plot Enzo's son does not exist in this fic thank u very much. russian translations at bottom of fic!

feedback gives me life!

You couldn't wait to take a shower.

After almost a full day of traveling in the snow and trying to keep warm on the way to one of Yuri's "many safe houses," you were exhausted, sore, and above all, freezing. A hot shower had been the only thing on your mind since the moment you all escaped the Russian prison.

Well, maybe not the only thing.

Okay, so you'd also been thinking about Dmitri since the second you laid eyes on him. He was unbearably good looking, kind, and he had an air of mystery about him that you just couldn't shake.

When you, Joyce and Murray finally reunited with Hopper, you'd initially been too consumed with Joyce and Hopper's tearful greeting to notice the quiet man behind Hop. But when you did notice him, his blue eyes met yours and he gave you a small smile and a nod, and your stomach fluttered. You knew then--you were screwed.

And apparently, Murray knew it too, which is why you now found yourself sharing a room and a bed with Dmitri in Yuri's safe house.

Shaking the snow off your boots as you walked into the log cabin, the first thing you noticed was the instant relief from the slight increase in temperature. The second thing you noticed was how small the cabin was for the lot of you. The kitchen and living room blended into one, and while there were three small separate bedrooms with very tiny adjoining bathrooms, there were only two beds and two small couches. And 6 of you.

"Uh, Yuri, not that I'm not grateful for a place to stay but...where are all of us going to sleep?" Joyce questioned gently as she took a look around.

Yuri laughed loudly. "Ah, you don't want to cuddle up with your fellow Americans?"

"I know I don't want to cuddle up with my 'fellow Americans'," Murray said. "I'm taking a couch."

You watched Joyce and Hopper whisper for a moment before Hop spoke up. "We'll share a bed."

"I will take the second bed, since I am such a generous host and brought all of you here. It is the least I deserve," Yuri exclaimed with a knowing grin. He loved to see how far he could push everyone's buttons.

"Yeah, uh, no," you protested. "That would leave me and Dmitri with one couch. There's no way we would both fit." Your cheeks heated up at the thought of you and your new handsome Russian friend squeezing together on one small couch.

You didn't see it, but Murray caught the blush on your cheeks. His eyes narrowed, flitting between you and Dmitri before a smirk graced his face. It was time once again for him to play matchmaker. "Then it's settled! Y/N and Enzo will share a bed. Yuri, you're on a couch."

You had opened your mouth to protest, but it was too late. Everyone retreated to their respective bedrooms, leaving you and Dmitri in a whole lot of awkward silence. Your fingers began to fidget, searching for something to say as you avoided his eyes. It's not that you didn't want to share a bed with him, oh no, it was actually the opposite. You really wanted to share a bed with him. But god, were you nervous.

Dmitri suddenly cleared his throat, getting you to look up. He looked almost...nervous? "Ah, I apologize. If you're uncomfortable sharing a bed I am more than happy to sleep on the floor. I've...gotten used to it anyways."

Your heart broke at that. You couldn't imagine the conditions he'd had to endure before your rescue mission. There's no way you'd let him sleep on the floor. "Dmitri--"

"You can call me Enzo," he interrupted quietly, giving you a small smile.

"Enzo," you repeated, returning his smile. "I'm not letting you sleep on the floor. It's really okay, I promise. I'm comfortable sharing a bed as long as you're comfortable."

The adorable little smile stayed on his face as he nodded. "I'm comfortable."

Ignoring the way your heart raced at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with him, you nodded, biting your lip. "Alright then. It's settled."

Which brought you to now. Finally, shower time. Enzo had just finished showering before you, and you inwardly shamed yourself at the disappointment you felt at not getting to see him in a towel.

Peeling your damp, frigid clothes off, you sighed in relief as the steamy, hot air from the shower hit your skin. This is what you'd been looking forward to all day. This, and getting into some comfortable pajamas afterward. You showered relatively quickly as you worried you'd run out of hot water, and you felt loads better. Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in an old, thready towel and looked for your change of clothes.

And that's when you realized--you forgot to grab your change of clothes.

"Damn it," you muttered to yourself. You had no choice; you'd have to go out in a towel in front of Enzo.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door and peeked out. "Um, Enzo?"

Enzo was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at an old book when he turned to you, and he swallowed hard at the sight of you in nothing but a thin piece of fabric. "Is everything alright?"

Feeling a bit more confident from his reaction, you took a step past the threshold of the bathroom. "I think I left--ah!" As soon as you took a step forward, a loose thread in your towel caught on the door hinge and caused you to trip...and completely lose your grip on your towel. "Shit!" Before you had time to react, your towel was on the ground and you were completely naked, still dripping wet, in front of Enzo. As soon as it hit the floor you scooped it right back up and tried to cover yourself. This is so not how you wanted tonight to go. "I am so sorry."

Your eyes were glued to the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes, until you heard him chuckle. "It's alright, ангел. It has been...a long time since I have seen a beautiful woman's body. I would never complain of such a thing."

You swallowed thickly at the insinuation behind his words, your heart rate increasing by the second. You bit your lip, smirking. "So, you think I'm beautiful, huh?"

Enzo's grin grew, and your stomach fluttered. "I do have eyes, no?"

You laughed, and Enzo loved the sound. The two of you remained in silence for a few moments as you stared at one another with a fire in your eyes, and this time the silence wasn't awkward. This time, the air was different, thick with tension. He rubbed his palms on his thighs, and the dark, heated look in his eyes had you feeling bolder. "So how long has it been since you've...seen a woman's body?"

Enzo stood up then, eyes trained on yours as he slowly began making his way towards you. Your stomach was somersaulting the closer he got. "Much, much too long."

He was right in front of you now, so tall, and with the tightness of his sleep shirt you could see he was all soft muscle. You craned your neck up to look at him, a low heat spreading between your legs at the look on his face. He looked...predatory.

"That--that's a shame," you said quietly, voice failing you at his closeness. "Maybe I could help you out with that."

"Yes," he mumbled, voice somehow several octaves lower than it had been mere moments ago. He lifted two fingers and ran them softly, slowly down your bare arm, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. "Yes, I think you can."

Enzo's eyes searched yours, waiting silently for your consent, and you nodded.

His large hands replaced your small ones that had been barely holding onto your towel. He let the flimsy cloth fall to the ground, and you were bare before him. "Боже мой, ты прекрасна," he mumbled, his eyes glued to your form. His hands went to your breasts first, palms squeezing as his thumbs swiped over your nipples. Your eyes fell shut at the sensation, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Truth be told it had been a long time for you, too, and you were practically vibrating with desire.

He leaned into you then, nose gently nudging yours. "Can I kiss you, ангел?"

"Please," you said, voice pleading.

His plush lips met yours instantly in a heated kiss that sent tingles all the way down to your toes. Your fingers buried themselves in his messy, damp hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him. Both of you groaned into the kiss as your bare pussy rubbed perfectly against the tent in his pants, the friction exactly what you craved. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so needy; your body was on fire from his touch, like you couldn't get enough despite the fact that you'd barely just gotten started. You wanted him in as many ways as you could have him, and from the way he was gripping you, like he was afraid that you'd disappear if he were to let go, he must have felt the same.

"I need to taste you," he mumbled against your lips. He knelt down before you then, his hands sliding down your body as he went. His knees hit the ground, and he looked like a man about to go to worship. Your chest was damn near heaving with anticipation as his mouth hovered over your now-soaked pussy, but you didn't dare move. This was a man who needed to take his time, who needed to drink you like you were his life source. You were completely, willingly at his mercy.

He leaned into you and began pressing tender kisses all along your inner thighs and right next to where you needed him most. "Beautiful," he muttered, almost to himself. And then he dove in, his hot tongue licking a long stripe through your dripping folds. Your knees almost buckled at the sensation, and he gripped your ass and shoved you even closer to him.

"Enzo," you panted, fingers gripping his hair tightly.

His tongue was relentless, licking and lapping at your pussy like a man starved. At the frenzied rate he was going it wouldn't be long before you came, and all you knew was that you didn't want him to stop. Your hips bucked forward in a desperate attempt to somehow bring him closer, and that's when he shoved his long tongue inside you, curling upward.

"God, Enzo, yeah, just like that," you praised, the coil inside your belly suddenly winding tighter and tighter.

Enzo let out a long, approving groan as you began riding his face in a desperate chase towards your high, and as soon as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, you were brought over the edge into one of the best orgasms you'd ever had.

You chanted his name as you came down, hips quivering from your orgasm as his tongue worked you through it until you squirmed against him from oversensitivity. Your hands went to either side of his face and pulled him up to you before kissing him hard, your tongue sliding against his.

"You taste divine, ангел," he mumbled against your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing needy kisses to every inch of his skin there. "Need you to fuck me, Enzo."

He smirked, his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass and pull you against his thick cock straining against his pants. "Oh? You need me to fuck you, princess?"

You moaned, burying your face in his neck. "Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

You squealed in surprise as he bent down and gripped the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms. His mouth was on yours again in an instant, walking you over to the bed and gently laying you down before joining you. He undressed before you quickly, not missing the way you eyed him hungrily and pressed your thighs together at the sight. He looked like a god.

You sat up on your knees and straddled him immediately, surprising him when you gripped his throbbing cock, now heavy in your hand. He let out a choked groan, eyes shutting tight and head falling back as you began stroking him. His red tip was leaking freely now, and you couldn't resist leaning down and licking him greedily.

"блять," he groaned as he watched you suck and lick at him, his hands gently moving your hair out of your face.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked hard several times before taking him all the way, his cock hitting the back of your throat. Ignoring your gag reflex you continued the motion, mouth bobbing up and down on him and reveling in the delicious sounds he was making.

"блять, ангел," he grunted, his hands cupping your cheeks to gently pull you off of him. "If you keep doing that I will finish before we've started."

You grinned wickedly, pulling him in for a kiss before hovering your hips over him, your heart beating wildly in your chest with anticipation as you lined your entrance up with his cock. He watched you in wonder, his hands sliding all over your body, desperate to touch as much of you as he could. And then you sank down onto him, both of your mouths falling open at the blissful feeling of him stretching you perfectly. You moaned loudly as he bottomed out, and his hand was quick to cover your mouth.

He quirked a brow at you. "Don't want your 'fellow Americans' to hear what we're getting up to, do we?" You shook your head, eyes wide and innocent. "Will you be able to keep quiet, ангел?" You shook your head again, and he grinned. "I will just have to make you stay quiet, then."

He moved the hand covering your mouth and instead put two fingers inside your mouth, and you groaned around them as he bucked his hips up into you, his cock hitting you deep. "That's it, ангел," he cooed, continuing to fuck up into you as you sucked on his fingers. He set up an easy rhythm and you began meeting his thrusts, driving his cock deeper and deeper into you until you thought you were going to see stars. "Look at you," he grunted as he began picking up his pace, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. "You take my cock so well. Like it was made for you."

You whined around his fingers, matching his quick and deep thrusts as the familiar heat began to build inside you once more. He bit his lip as he watched you ride him, your tits bouncing with every thrust, drool building around his fingers. Your eyes practically rolled back into your head when he started driving faster and faster into you. You couldn't keep up with his pace anymore, completely at his mercy as he fucked you with abandon.

Enzo groaned low, his hips starting to stutter as he neared his release. "You want me to come inside you, ангел? Want me to fill you up so good you feel me for days?"

You nodded desperately, tears stinging your eyes as you got closer and closer to your release. The blissed out look on his face was almost your undoing, but you held on for him.

"Come, princess, I want to feel it," he groaned, his thumb pressing into your clit.

You cried out against his fingers, the dam inside you finally breaking as you shook around him. Drool fell from your chin as tears slid down your cheeks from the intensity of it, and that was Enzo's undoing. He grunted something in Russian that you didn't understand before spilling inside you, his chest heaving.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth as you both caught your breath, and you collapsed onto his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

"You are incredible," he spoke softly, his fingers gently moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the action making your heart flutter.

You looked up at him and shared a sweet smile, kissing him gently. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"I've wanted to do that since I first saw you."

Enzo laughed loudly, and the delightful sound had you chuckling with him. His smile, his laugh, everything about him was so wonderfully infectious. "All you had to do was ask, ангел," he teased.

You grinned, laying your head back down on his bare chest. A few moments of comfortable silence went by, and you couldn't hold back any more. You cleared your throat. "So, when we go to America...are you staying here?" Your fingers traced nonsensical patterns onto his chest as you awaited his answer, the rhythmic movements of his breathing calming you.

He sighed. "I...do not know. I believe there is nothing here for me anymore."

You looked up at him, and you saw the worry, the trauma, the sadness in his eyes. "Come with us then." He turned his head to look down at you, his eyes questioning, so you continued. "I mean...maybe there is something in America for you?" You looked hopeful, eyes pleading with him to understand what you were really saying so you didn't have to say it out loud.

His face softened, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb rubbed against your skin affectionately.

"Yes, ангел, I think there is something in America for me."

Enzo was beginning to realize then that it didn't matter where he would go as long as you were there; you were his safe house.

***

ангел - angel

Боже мой, ты прекрасна - my god, you are beautiful

блять - fuck

блять, ангел - fuck, angel

[barbienese]

who hurt you?

fem!reader x dmitri ‘enzo’ antonov

when reader gets hurt, enzo is worried.

“please Y/N, who hurt you?”

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of death, angst and fluff

request from @athenastearss !! i hope you enjoyed it love <3

—

You were one of the few female guards that worked at the prison. One of the last ones still standing, anyway.

Not many were cut out for your position as head guard. Your position had seen many before you and from what you heard, none of them left peacefully.

The misogyny in the prison was insane. Many disagreed with your place as head guard, their excuse being “a prison was no place for a woman.”

You’d heard that from almost everybody you’d come across in your time.

Except Enzo. He was different.

From the day he started, he respected you. Over time, the two of you had built an unbreakable bond. He was very protective of you too, sometimes over the top and extreme.

But you loved that about him, it made you feel safe.

Today was like any other day, you were doing your usual patrol. As you got to the last wing of cells, you noticed something was off. You looked into a cell.

It was empty.

An immense feeling of dread washed over you when you were slammed to the ground.

You looked up and saw a 4 pairs of eyes staring back at you. From the messy hair and overall dirty disheveled appearance, you knew they were all prisoners.

Looking closer, you recognized one of them. He was the biggest of the bunch. His name?

Vladimir Milag.

By far one of the most violent prisoners were locked up, he was feared by both guards and other prisoners. Out of all, he was the most menacing and evil.

He was the only prisoner you were intimidated by.

A groan erupted from your throat as they each took turns stomping, punching and kicking you as you were laid on the cold concrete. Pain wrecked through your entire body.

You tried to scream, but nothing came out. They all stopped to laugh at your desperation.

“No one is coming to save you, princess.” Vladimir snickered, “No one.”

He and his friends cackled as they continued their merciless assault on you.

Soon, the pain turned to numbness. Your eyes fluttered shut as you passed out.

The last thing you heard, was a faint “Y/N!”

—

It was a faint beeping noise that woke you up.

You sat up, surveying your surroundings.

The walls were painted a pale blue, which popped in contrast to the white machines that lined them

“Fuck.” You winced, holding your head.

You could barely move. Scratches, bruises and cuts covered by bandages lined your entire body.

A familiar voice rang out. “Y/N! You’re finally awake.”

There, leaning against the doorway, was a very concerned Enzo.

You frowned as you surveyed his appearance. Dark bags lined his eyes which lacked the glint they once held, and his beard was unkept and messy.

The air was thick. None of you knew what to say, all you did was look at each other with the same sad stare.

“Who did this to you?” He asked, breaking the silence.

You thickly swallowed, “Just some prisoners, it’s fine—”

“—No it isn’t.”

“Enzo, please. It’s part of the job, forget about it—”

“—How do you expect me to forget that? You’ve been out for 2 weeks Y/N. The doctors thought you weren’t ever gonna wake up..” Enzo shouted, making you flinch. “So no, Y/N. I’m not gonna fucking forget about it.”

His voice broke, pure distress etched into his features. You frowned as he sat on the edge of your bed.

He sighed, “Please Y/N, who hurt you?”

“If I tell you,” You paused, “Will you let it go?”

“Yes.” He answered that all too quickly.

“Enzo.” You sighed.

“Y/N.” He smirked back.

You threw your hands up in defeat, “It was Vladimir and his goonies. But I don’t know how they got out.”

“Don’t worry about that my love,” He leaned forward, caressing your cheek. “But now, you’ve gotta get some rest.”

He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

You blushed immediately, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Goodnight Y/N.“

“Goodnight Enzo.”

[stargirlstudio]

Can you write more Enzo smut? Maybe him coming home and some Fluf about every day life and trying for a child?

Can We?

☆ Dmitri Antonov x Reader

☆ Warning: smut (praise kink, breeding, mirror sex, use of the word slut)

18+ ONLY. DNI if under 18.

Dmitri absolutely adored everything about home life. Most days, it was him who was at home. Cooking has been his most recent hobby and he has perfected it. There was something about picking up a cookbook and replicating the dishes that filled that zest for travel. It’s not like he can exactly travel freely, always keeping his guard up.

He taught boxing lessons at a gym nearby, something about an Russian ex-guard teaching fighting skills was a big rave amongst locals. Most of the community thought it was cute that the boxing teacher and the professor were together.

“Haha! You’re so big and tough and your wife is so cute!” One of his employees told him. “You’re street smart and she’s book smart!”

Regardless, he was just happy to do his job and to contribute to a community. A lot has changed for him. Which is why seeing more and more people, families specifically, seeing them having fun had touched something within him.

Maybe he wanted a family too?

It first started with a woman coming to the gym. She looked a lot like you from behind, with a child that took her features. Dmitri often thought about what you and his child would look like. He thought that they would probably have your skin tone, his nose, a mix between his eyes and your eyes. He thought about it too much, it was starting to distract him from his routine.

While running he saw a family enjoying a picnic at a park. He thought about what activities they would enjoy. Maybe he can teach his kids a couple of defense moves, some languages. Your native language and Russian was a big must in the household. A big, strong, multicultural family. He would probably try to get little trinkets to decorate around the household to try to teach them about their culture. Double the holidays!

With all these thoughts in his head, as much as he yearned for a family, he was scared about what you would think. Maybe you didn’t want children now or you wanted to work a little more. You both had occasionally talked about children. You adored children and you didn’t mind having kids someday, but your opinion could change.

When you came home one day, you smelled the roasted potatoes and beef. Dmitri’s food was absolutely heavenly. “How’s my little chef?” You teased, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll set the table, yeah?” He nodded. Once dinner was plated you both sat down and dug in.

“(Y/N), I was just wondering, how would you feel if we had another plate at the table?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if we started a family?”

That made you stop. You dreamed about having a nice family. It wasn’t a huge priority before, especially with your career. But you were in it long enough to know that it would be an amazing time to have a family. And to hear Dmitri wanting the same thing as you made you feel happy inside. “That would be nice, I would love to start a family,” You paused. "Would you want to start…soon,” You asked.

After dinner Dmitri carried you to your shared room. Laying you on the bed, you were quick to discard your clothes. “Spread those legs for me, I want to taste you first,” He said. “Fuck I’ve been waiting for this, god I miss you every hour. Love it when you finally come home to me,”

Dmitri kissed up your inner thigh, his nose poking you. He fingered you as he sucked on your clit, giving special attention to you as you gripped his hair. He grabbed onto the flesh of your thighs as you bucked your hips into his mouth. His right hand held your hips down, making sure you felt every movement of his tongue on your pussy. He felt you tightened around his fingers, your breaths getting shallower, his right hand no longer holding you down as you rode his face. His hand jerking his cock, listening to your pretty moans.

“Fuck Dmitri!” You moaned. “Right there baby,” he kept lapping at you, wanting to hear every sound coming from your mouth. He loved the fact that he could make you cum numerous times from this alone. “I want you inside me,”

“Want what? I’m already inside you, no?” He asked. “Does my little slut want more than my fingers?”

“Yes! Yes, I want your cock please Dmitri,” You pleaded. “I want you to cum inside me. Wanna have your kids!” He crawled onto the bed positioning behind you. “What are y-“

“Look in the mirror,” He commanded. You met his gaze in the mirror. “Want my pretty wife to see how good she looks,” He said, playing with your tits, lining his cock, pressing ever so slowly. "If you want to stop just say so, okay?" You nodded. "I need a verbal answer," You gave him a small yes before you gasped at the feeling of him stretching you. "Can't wait to see how your body changes, my beautiful beautiful wife," He reached down to hold you against his body. His hands finding comfort in holding your waist. He kissed your neck before saying “Going to cum in you until I’m sure you’re pregnant. I’ll take care of you I promise,”

You bounced on his cock, clenching at his words. He was so gentle with your body, worshipped you as if you were a goddess. Careful to kiss you where he could, listening to the way you moaned for him.

“Can we cum together?”

“Whatever my wife wants,” He said eyeing the white ring around his dick. “Whatever you fucking want. I want to see it all,” Filling you until he was sure it took.

A/N: Part 2 could honestly be all smut, if you want a part 2 that is

Tag: @druigswh0ree

[mirclealignr]

you’re safe | d.a

dmitri antonov x reader

requested by @delilahsroses for mystery drabble event with the prompt ‘you can cry, there’s no shame in it’ -> hope you enjoy :)

warnings; nightmares, demogorgons, injury, blood.

word count; 1000+

you hadn’t expected to leave russia with anyone other than who you’d come with and hopper, but hopper’s not so discrete russian associate had somehow bargained his way onto your little plane. he was entirely unexpected.

returning to hawkins to find it in ruins was a great shock to yourself and your company, to see thousands of cars fleeing over the town line with families in disarray, screaming and worrying about the traffic as if something might catch up to them. it seemed the russian prison wasn’t the only place plagued with beings not of this dimension.

after returning hopper to eleven, you drove down to your street, wondering if your house had remained in tact. it had not. your entire road had been demolished, houses barely teetering on the edge of a precipice, glowing red from whatever lay within the gaping chasm below. the house itself wasn’t much, but there was so much you held dear within that house—irreplaceable, priceless items. you tried not to harbour such sentimental attachments to material things, inanimate objects, but you were only human.

for the mean time, hopper had offered both you and dmitri (as he became known) a place to stay after he fixed the cabin roof more securely. you hadn’t the heart to accept the room eleven offered you, and instead slept in the living room with dmitri.

over the very few and hectic days you had known him, he had been charming, witty and rough. but you hadn’t paid him much attention until the journey home, when you felt as if you could allow yourself to think of anything other than survival. he had a pleasing countenance and a charming face despite his weathered skin.

he was a strangely peaceful sleeper, despite the hard floor he rested upon and the cold, poorly insulated cabin he slept in. he didn’t twitch or fidget, he didn’t rustle around, playing with his blanket or pillow—he was perfectly still.

you had not had peaceful slumbers in a long time, ever since hawkins become known as cursed. you often stayed awake until your body shut itself down from exhaustion and hoped your sleep would be so deep and impenetrable that the nightmares could not get in.

“y/n,” you heard a voice call, but it was distorted, like a broken record trying to play.

meanwhile in front of you was a demogorgon, ready for the kill, ready for the feed. he taunted you, stepping forwards slowly, knowing you couldn’t run away as the barbed wire wrapped around your body and pierced your skin, letting the blood that dripped from your wounds further intoxicate the beast before you.

“y/n,” you heard again. were they coming to save you? “y/n!” it was louder this time, more distinct, and you even felt yourself inclined to respond.

“y/n!”

you seized the hand on your face, gripping it tightly as you stared at what surrounded you, trying to recognise it in the cover of night. you followed the hand, up the arm and to its owner to find dmitri staring down at you in the darkness, his expression barely distinguishable in the low light.

“you were having a nightmare,” he informed you, “you’re in hopper’s cabin,” he added, noticing your anxious expression as you analysed the four walls that surrounded you.

your grip loosened on the man, sitting up and curling into yourself, and he rose from his knees to sit beside you on the couch. he didn’t say anything at first, simply laid a hand upon your shoulder to remind you he was there.

you felt tears brim against your waterline, a sign of weakness you had not let yourself display much anymore, for if you started you would never stop. always in such danger, you wondered when it would end and when crying wouldn’t feel so forbidden. a single tear disobeyed your orders, and slipped from your eye and down your cheek where you quickly brushed it away.

“you can cry,” dmitri whispered beside you, “there’s no shame in it.”

turning to the man beside you, who smiled at you like he knew all too well the burden you carried, unleashed an emotion in you that you had buried for so long it almost felt foreign. tears silently and quickly streamed down your face, each drop heavier than the last, eliciting from you a small whimper.

but dmitri said nothing. he didn’t smile or try to make you feel better, just watched you gently, like gazing at a piece of art with such a soft stare that it felt as it was really being admired.

“i get them too,” he confessed, “the nightmares.”

you shifted closer, peering up at him through your eyelashes, silently urging him to continue.

“they aren’t so bad after a while,” he assured you, “and it doesn’t get better if you avoid sleep,” he shot you a knowing glare, but it softened as he remembered his many sleepless nights, “but it will get better.”

“what if you’re not here to wake me up?”

“sometimes you have to save yourself,” he whispered, thinking back to the long nights he spent alone, both tortured and saved by his own mind.

you looked down at his hands, thinking over what he said, and reached out to hold one. they were rough, calloused, but they felt safe and secure.

“i can stay up with you,” he offered, stroking his thumb over your hand back and forth.

“i don’t want to trouble you,” you shook your head and declined his kind offer.

“it’s not trouble,” he countered, sinking further into the couch to let you know he was there to stay until you didn’t need him any longer.

“well, at least share the blanket, it’s cold tonight,” you stated, lifting the blanket up and nodding for him to come closer and share the warmth.

he smiled softly and obliged your request, shifting along the couch until your thighs touched and took the blanket from your hands to place over his lap. you stifled a laugh as he extended one arm along the back of the sofa with a playful smirk, mocking the stupid american movies. but as you rested your head on his shoulder and felt his breath against the tip of your nose, it didn’t feel like such a mockery, it felt real and genuine.

“you’re safe,” he whispered, knowing he could never truly mean it and that you would never truly believe it, but he said it nonetheless before he kissed your temple and lingered there for a moment.

and despite the chaos that lay outside your door, in that moment, you felt utterly protected from its wickedness.

- - -

library account; @mirclesjournal

[lemonflavouredchaos]

Brute Force

Aka Dmitri and Reader get rough. NSFW MINORS DNI.

It's not often that he feels like being rough with you, but when he does Dmitri can exert unbelievable strength. You take short, shallow breaths through your mouth as the broad span of his hand presses down on your lower back.

The play fight had started gently, but when you sank your teeth into his shoulder Dmitri had made the kind of sound that brought colour to your cheeks.

And in a blink you were on your stomach, arse being dragged back into the air as he stripped your leggings and brought his hand down on the bare flesh with stunning efficiency. The sharp crack made you gasp, then moan as heat spread,

"God save me," Dmitri mumbled, "you bring out the animal in me."

He presses two fingers into you pinning you in place with the weight of his body, murmuring filth in your ear,

"Sweet little thing, hm? So tight and wet for me," he pants against you, the press of his cock on your flesh as he leans over you and let's his weight press your stomach to the mattress is almost too much, "do the men you work with know how you beg for me? Hm? How easily these legs open for me?" He pulls his fingers away and fumbles until his cock pushes into you, stretching the needy flesh without mercy, and you whimper and buck under him. "Good girl." He grunts a number of sweet nothings as he takes you, hard and fast enough to shake the bed and make it obscenely obvious to anyone in within earshot just what the two of you are doing.

"Dmitri," you whimper his name and reach back to hold his neck, coaxing a kiss in the hope that it will soften him, but when his hand closes gently on your throat and he pulls you up to meet him, his free hand roams to your breasts and gropes the flesh with bruising force, drawing a yelp,

"Forgive me," he murmurs, burying his face in your neck as the pace slows. After reaching a sudden fever pitch, he falls back into himself, "God you're so sweet for me," he whispers and kisses and takes you slow, hips rolling steadily until you squirm and gasp, then his fingers find their ways between your legs.

Tomorrow he will look at you with big doe eyes, shocked and appalled at the lovebites and hand prints he has left on you, though you'll reassure him that you loved every second.

Tonight he takes a fistful of your hair and tugs you back to the edge of the bed, kicking your legs open so he can slip between them, places a hand on your hip and whispers something too filthy to repeat before sinking back into your aching cunt, dragging you back onto him again and again.

[strangerthingslover69]

Your Russian professor ~ part 2

18+ no minors!

Warnings ~ sexual tension, swearing and self love ~

Wednesday. You are sat in the library with you textbook out and your paper ready to start your assignment. You sit looking at the words in the book, they all blend into one and you start getting confused which makes you frustrated. You sigh and roll your eyes. You decide to have a look round the library to see if there are any other Russian books that may help. You look all over and nothing. You sit back at your table feeling annoying. So far all you’ve got is, я родился в Лос-Анджелесе и я живу с родителями. я люблю россию и нахожу ее красивой (I was born in LA and I live with my parents. I love Russia and find it beautiful) You put down your pen and stare at your work. You can barely write it let alone read it. You don’t know what you are going to do. That’s when you remember professor Antonov gave you his email. You go to one of the libraries computers and start your email,

‘Professor it’s Y/N, I am trying to write my assignment but I am struggling. I’ve got three sentences and that’s it! I don’t want to let you down. Can you please help? Would be grateful, thank you! Y/N x

And send. All you had to do was wait for a reply. You sit there for a minute or two before ‘ping’ one new email - your read it.

Hello Y/N,

I’m sorry you are having some trouble with your assignment. I am still in the class if you would like some help? I will be here for a couple of hours. See you soon

Professor Antonov

You smile happily and exit the email, you gather your belongings and make your way to the class. On your way you stopped by the vending machines as your stomach growled you picked up some m&m’s and a Kit Kat for your Professor to, as a thank you, plus it was around dinner time and you wasn’t sure if he had ate, you hadn’t yet. *knock knock* ‘come on’ he calls to you. You open the door and enter the class. ‘закрой дверь пожалуйста’ (close the door please) he says. You look confused. He repeated it and points to the door. ‘Closed?’ You ask. He nods. ‘You do not know much Russian do you?’ He asks as you approach his desk. ‘нет’ (no) you say with an awkward smile. Just as you’re about talking about your assignment you notice he looks a little bit different. Still in a shirt but he’s got the first three buttons undone showing off some chest hair. His hair a little ruffled and looking a bit tired. He still looked very good though.

‘You okay professor? No offence but you look tired’ you say hoping not to offend him. He chuckles at your comment and rubs his eyes. ‘No no offence taken, just tired. Been a long day. But do not worry I am here to help. Bring your chair over and we’ll have a look at what you’ve got so far’ he offers. ‘And remember what I told you to call me?’ ‘Sorry, Dmitri’ you reply shyly. He loves the way you say this name so innocently. You go to your desk collecting your chair, you miss him checking out your ass as you bend down slightly to pick you chair up. You skirt riding up a little exposing you cute panties. He moans quietly to himself and readjusts his trousers. You plop the chair down sitting next to him, but as you go to sit down you stumble on your bag you’d put down first and miss you chair completely only to end up sitting right upon your professors lap. He catches you with his hands going around your waist you arms falling around his neck. Your faces very close, so close you swear you can hear his heart beating loud. Or that might just be yours. ‘Shit, sorry.’ You say sliding off his lap onto your chair. Dmitri was hoping you didn’t feel his now fully erect dick on your ass but you did and it made you feel tingly. ‘Y/N, what have I said about saying sorry? Accidents happen мой дорогой (my dear) However if you do have to keep saying sorry to me, what was it in Russian?’ He asks you leaning in. You bite your lip as you think, ‘Извините?’ (Sorry) ‘да! (Yes) Very good! Now may I see your assignment?’ He holds his hand out waiting. You lean down to get it out of you bag. Again your skirt raising up to reveal your cute panties, he can see they don’t have much fabric making him groan. ‘Here it is Dmitri! Oh I got you a Kit Kat too, I wasn’t sure I’m what you liked so I guessed’ You say handing both things over. ‘Thank you, that’s very kind’ he says taking it from your hand, your fingers slightly touching sending shivers all over. He reads the three sentences and turns to you. ‘It is not a lot but what it is is a good start. Have you tried to write it down in English first then translate each word separately?’ He asks, you look at him in surprise. ‘Your a genius! Why didn’t I think of that!’ You exclaim shaking your head. He laughs, it’s nice to hear his laugh is very deep and sexy like his voice. ‘Okay Y/N why don’t you start now by writing the English and whilst you do that I’m gonna mark these okay?’ You nod at his response.

As you start writing your English version you can’t help looking over a few times. You can see the concentration in his face as he reads. His eyes narrowing, reading the words under his breath. He brings his hand to his chin as he inspects one more closely. His tongue poking out as he writes something on the paper. He glances at you, shit he’s caught you staring. ‘You okay Y/N?’ He asks looking back at his papers. ‘Yes daddy-Dmitri!’ You feel mortified. You just called your hot professor daddy. You can feel him staring intently on you. You dare not look into his eyes, you can feel yourself blushing, you leg starts bobbing up and down. ‘Daddy? *clears throat* well erm, that’s a new one. Been called many things but not errm that.’ He says looking at you. Your body is on fire, please please stop looking at me. ‘I-I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what came o-over me’ you stutter to him. You bring your fingers to your mouth and bit your skin, a nervous habit. You pick up your pen and carry on writing, well you try. You can still feel Dmitri staring at you. You can feel him moving closer. You feel his breath on your neck. ‘ты хочешь, чтобы я был твоим папой? (Do you want me to be your daddy?) He whispers in your ear, his hand coming up on your thigh. You have no clue what he has said but it sounded sexy as hell. You gulp and move your head slowly so you are facing one another. Looking deep into this dreamy eyes. ‘Do you want to know what I said милая девушка?’ (Sweet girl) Unable to speak you shake your head. He leans more into you, he so close you can smell the coffee and cigarettes on his breath. It’s intoxicating. ‘I said, do you want me to be your daddy?’ He whispers seductively licking his lips. Just as your about to answer. *knock knock* ‘Блядь’ (fuck) he mutters under his breath. He reluctantly moves away. ‘Come in!’ He shouts to whoever has interrupted you. ‘Ahh professor Antonov, sorry I didn’t realise you had company, you helping with Miss Y/L/N studies I see? Always going the extra mile for your students. I’ll make it quick, Y/N do you mind? Whilst I talk to your professor?’ Your head of year asks. That was a close one. ‘O-of course not, I should be heading back to library to type this assignment up. Thank you Professor you’ve been most helpful’ you say packing your things up. ‘No trouble Y/N, my door is always open’ he says completely normal, not like he wasn’t just turning you on ten seconds ago.

You quickly leave the class hot and horny. You decide you best go to the library to take you mind off things. You sit down and start to translate your English notes. A hour later and it’s all done. Dmitri's advice works a treat. You quickly log on the computer before leaving. *one new email*

Y/N,

I hope your assignment is going well. I hope my one on one times helped. Here is my number, in case you need to contact me for any extra tutoring. Thanks

Professor Antonov x

At the bottom on the email is his number. You write it down on your post it note and put it in your pocket. Before closing the email you notice after he signed his name there was a ‘x’. You couldn’t help but smile. You make your way back to your room and call the number Dmitri gave to you. Your stomach fills with butterflies as it rings. ‘Hello?’ His voice says through the phone. ‘Hey Proff- Dmitri it’s me. I just wanted to call to let you know I’ve completed my assignment and to thank you for your advice. It helped a lot.’ You say. ‘You are welcome мой дорогой (my dear) I-I enjoyed our one on one time. It was nice to see a student so excited.’ ‘About learning Russian’ he adds after a quick pause. You can’t help but giggle, ‘I enjoyed it too sir. Maybe you can keep tutoring me, one on one? It sure would help me a lot.’ You say cheekily down the phone. You can’t see him but Dmitri is having a very hard time talking to you as he rubs himself over his trousers, you calling him sir really had an effect. ‘Of course. I always have time to help you. We can go over your assignment after class tomorrow, no?’ He asks. You can’t help but smile and feel a tingly sensation down below. ‘Sounds great sir, see you in class’ ‘Till then Y/N, till then’ you both hang up the phone.

You lock your door and completely strip bare, you’ve been turned on for hours now and you need to relive yourself. You picture Dmitri down where your hand starts to go, you picture him eating your wet pussy, kissing it, licking it, devouring it. You cum way quicker than you ever have before moaning his name. You definitely had a thing for your professor and he most definitely had a thing for you. As soon as you both hung up Dmitri unzipped his trousers pulling them and his boxers down to relieve himself too. He pictured bending you over on his desk and fucking you raw and hard. Pulling his dick in and out of you, seeing you wet pussy milking him dry. Spanking your ass as you moaned for him ‘daddy!’ Dmitri quickly came all over his hand and floor moaning your name. He was in trouble. He knew it was wrong but he’s already made his mind up. He must have you. He needed you

[broken-ghost]

Longing

Pairing: Dmitri Antonov x Female Reader

Fandom: Stranger Things

Rating: Mature

Summary: Dmitri watches you watching him.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no smut. One sided Hopper x Reader

A/N: This is the first time I've written anything in about five years so I don’t know if there’s even an interest lol

дорогой = sweetheart

Dmitri watched you watching him. It had become part of his daily routine. Get up, make coffee, eat breakfast, make small talk with the Americans, and watch you.

You stood in the doorway of the kitchen clutching a blue coffee mug in your hands. Dmitri didn’t need to look in the room to know who was in there. Who your gaze was focused on.

If he could see your eyes he would see the longing in them, deep and powerful, a thirst that had yet to be quenched.

It was a longing he was achingly familiar with, it was in his gaze every time he looked at you.

The moment he first saw you, standing beside Murray as part of the group that went through hell in his mother country to free the gutsy American, Dmitri knew he was in trouble. Falling in love with you over the next couple weeks was inevitable.

With a sigh he turned back to the hall only to see Murray standing behind him with a knowing smirk on his face. “Still haven’t told her huh?”

“No. I’m not him,” Dmitri muttered, walking past his host.

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

Dmitri watched the scene unfold in a small dive bar near a cheap motel outside Chicago.

Murray and Dr Owens had already returned to their rooms for the night, exhausted from the long drive from Nevada heading back to Hawkins. At least it had been a successful trip, finding Owens alive and more than willing to help.

Hopper and Joyce disappeared not long after Murray and Owens and Dmitri knew where they were going and what they were doing. He assumed you did as well judging by the round of shots you knocked back watching them leave.

Deciding he couldn’t leave you there alone he nursed a few beers while waiting to escort you safely back to your room.

But now he was watching you practically throw yourself at one of the rednecks playing pool. When the man leaned down to whisper in your ear and his hand landed on your ass, Dmitri had enough.

“Y/N,” he said, walking up and taking your arm. “It’s time to go back.”

The redneck turned to look at Dmitri. “Oh the fucking commie says it’s time to go home dollface,” he sneered.

You turned to face Dmitri. “I was talking to my new friend um…..”

“Georgie,” the man said.

“Yeah, my new friend Georgie.”

Dmitri took in your glassy eyes and the way you swayed on your feet. “Come on Y/N, you are drunk. Let’s just go back to the motel.”

“Where are theys?” you slurred.

“Where are who дорогой?” Dmitri asked gently, guiding you away from the pool table and your new friend Georgie.

“Joyce and Hop,” you said, ending his name on a pop sound.

Dmitri sighed. “I don’t know Y/N.”

You nodded, taking a step forward and promptly falling on your ass. When you didn’t get up Dmitri squatted down on your level and saw the tears on your cheeks. He silently scooped you up and carried you out of the bar.

By the time he made it back to the set of rooms your group had reserved you had fallen asleep. Unable to find your room key, he carried you into his room and placed you on the second bed.

He spent the rest of the night awake in the other bed, wondering if you even noticed him at all.

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

“Hop, please turn the radio down,” you growled, head against the cool glass of the van’s window.

“What’s that Y/N? I can’t hear you over the radio,” Hopper teased, pointing at his ear.

You flipped him off and he reached over to turn the tape he was playing down.

Your head was pounding from your hangover and your stomach was rolling.

You already felt awkward after waking up in Dmitri’s hotel room. He had been asleep in the other bed until you staggered into his bathroom to throw up the alcohol from the night before. Sometime between first kneeling down in front of the toilet and finally emptying your stomach you realized he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, holding your hair back.

Humiliated, you took the glass of water he handed you and mumbled a thank you before escaping back to your motel room to cry in the shower.

Glancing across the backseat at him now, you watched him close his eyes and settle back into the seat.

You owed him a thank you for taking care of you last night. You vaguely remembered a foul smelling trucker and falling down in the bar. If Dmitri hadn’t been there to stop you the mistake you woke up to this morning would have been tremendous.

And why? All because you were in love with someone who you knew all along was in love with someone else.

Resting your head against the seat, you settled in to try and sleep away the rest of your hangover.

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

Over the next couple weeks things didn’t get any better. Not knowing how to defeat Vecna and save Hawkins, Hopper had put you and Dmitri on research duty while everyone else was out doing something.

You knew it was because Dmitri was in hiding as a Russian fugitive that he was put on desk duty, but you were angry Hop thought you couldn’t be out there fighting when literal kids were.

You were getting restless being stuck in Murray’s bunker-style apartment that had become a base camp of sorts. But at least Dmitri was a great research companion and the two of you worked well together dividing and conquering the research and assisting Owens.

Usually at the end of the day Dmitri would make a dinner you would share before heading to your separate rooms where you read more books and you were sure he was doing the same.

The quicker you found the needed information the faster you could defeat this evil for good.

It was the third Saturday in a row spent in the bunker and you were rubbing your eyes as you tried to read the tiny print on the newspaper copies Robin had dropped off.

When the door slammed open you jumped before stepping out in the hallway just in time to see Hopper pushing Joyce against the wall, his lips on hers.

Choking back a sound, you spun around and headed for your room.

“Y/N?” Dmitri called when you passed him in the hall.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, head down.

“Hey, wait,” he said, touching your arm. “What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him, eyes wet with tears. “What’s wrong with me Dmitri?”

“What?”

“Why doesn’t…” you stopped, realizing what you were about to admit.

Dmitri brought his hand up to cup your cheek. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

He stepped closer, his thumb brushing your lips. “He’s a fool for not seeing it, дорогой If you looked at me like you looked at him…”

You looked up in his eyes as his words trailed off and you saw his desire. Overwhelmed with the need to be touched, you raised up and pressed your lips to his.

Dmitri ran his hands through your hair as he took control of the kiss, backing you into the wall.

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

Dmitri knew what he was getting into when he took you to bed that first night.

He understood why you kissed him and he knew who you were thinking of when you closed your eyes as he made love to you. He knew why you had never called his name when you came undone.

Each time you left his bed he told himself it would be the last time, but every time you came to him he held you again.

He was waiting for something to change.

And then it did.

Just home from checking out a possible gate to the Upside Down, Dmitri watched you head to the shower, walking by Hopper without glancing his way.

Later that night when you knocked on his door he let you in.

Pinning you down to the bed, he was chasing his own release when he felt and heard you find yours. “Fuck, Dmitri…”

The sound of his name falling from your lips caused him to pause, looking down to see you looking up at him, eyes open.

Holding you a little later, he was surprised you didn’t get up and leave like your normally do. He didn’t know what to say so he stayed quiet, stroking your hair.

“Do you regret getting involved with me?” you asked him.

“No,” he answered, accent thick. “I could never regret anything about you.”

“It took me a long time to see what was in front of me,” you said.

“And what is it that you see?”

“A man who makes me smile. A man who is smart and challenges me. A man who holds my hair when I throw up. A man who makes me feel safe and happy,” you whispered.

His arm tightened around you. “Do you mean it?”

“I love you Dmitri. I know this didn’t start off ideally, but I love you and you make me happy.”

“Look at me.” His voice was rough.

You looked up and Dmitri saw what he was looking for in your eyes. Leaning down, he brushed a gentle kiss across your lips. “I love you too.”

[iluvroc]

Stranger things Imagine

Dmitri “Enzo” Antonov x reader

What if you were stuck in a Russian prison instead of hopper?

This is my first fanfic so hopefully it’s ok! 😅

The cold crept up my body, fresh snow piling at my feet. My eyelids fluttering to take in my surrounding. Suddenly, the jolt feeling of hitting the ground went through my body. Wincing, I look up to see who caused my fall. Two men stood in front of me staring me down. “ This is your home now American” one of them said, laughing as they slammed the barred door shut, they’re footsteps slowly fading away into the distance. My vision soon went dark as the cold cement ground lured me to sleep.

I soon woke up to the sound of a banging on the barred door. I look up, the fear showing in my eyes as I struggled to stand up due to my cuffed hands to face the disturbance. “Hope you had a good sleep American” a man said with a strong Russian accent. I walk closer to the door, my cuffed hands wrapping around the bars as I begin to plead at the man “ there must’ve been a mistake I- I shouldn’t be here!” I exclaimed at the man, looking at him in disbelief. “ I assure you American, that it is not a mistake.” Says the man as he leans against the barred door, reaching down into his pockets to grab something. “I don’t understand, where am I?.” I look around slowly.“you, American”, he cuts off to stick a cigarette between his lips, “are in the motherland” he looked back as he spoke, smiling a strangely friendly smile. I walk away from the barred door to sit on my horrible excuse for a bed. I try to lay down but the cuffs prevent me. I groaned loudly sitting back up again, staring out of the cell to the man “are these cuffs really necessary, I assure you I won’t run off.” I huffed out, “obviously i have no way to run”. A laugh comes out of the man “ you are very humorous American” he exclaims, as he puffs smoke from the cigarette. “my name isn’t ‘American’ it’s y/n” I rolled my eyes, as he glanced back at me. “ what a beautiful name” he charms as my cheeks became a rosy color, even more so from the cold air. “Well, what’s yours?” I squint at him. “Antonov” he says. “ well, Antonov, is there anyway you’ll let me out of here?” I questioned, hoping to be able to persuade him.“ he curled his lip upward looking at me from the corner of his eye. “ are you trying to proposition me American.” He says in a amused, but charming way. My face almost turning red. “N-no! I mean, no!, I just need to get out of here!” I stammer, stuttering over my words. Antonov still had that amused look on his face making my face flustered. “ I think I’m starting to like you, so I’ll cut you a deal.” He says in a suggesting tone.

Part 2 -> https://iluvroc.tumblr.com/post/685866512134881280/stranger-things-imagine

Stranger Things Masterlist ->

https://iluvroc.tumblr.com/post/686237253388926976/stranger-things-masterlist

[darkened-writer]

Celebrate

Request: hey!! how are you? i was wondering if you could write an enzo (stranger things) x reader when hopper get back to america (where y/n lives) and they met while celebrating they’re back thanks 🫶🏻

Pairings: Joyce Byers x Jim Hopper , Dmirtri Antonov (Enzo) x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 830

A/N: Request from @manddor !! Hope you enjoy !!

          Hopper was alive.

          That shock came over all of Hawkins as the town awaited the arrival of their beloved sheriff, Himself, Joyce, Murray, and a friend they made within Russia were all set to arrive later that day. Decorations adorned the streets from the airport all the way to the park, where town members set up a party to celebrate his safety.

          Once Hopper had gotten to an actual phone, the first person he called was me. Spouting about Jane, about his home, if the group was okay. And, I assured him all of us were quite alright and in Hawkins. My curiosity was piqued when I heard a male voice outside of his talking to Joyce. Russian which I had understood due to prior issues with Russian agents at the Mall Incident. 

          “A friend I made in Jail.” He had said, but it still hadn’t convinced me that he may be a dangerous person. But, I decided to keep my mind open as I sat at a park bench, watching countless people working on a “WELCOME HOME SHERIFF!” banner. 

          “Penny for your thoughts?” 

          Jonathan Byers sat next to me, gaze towards the banner as I spoke.

          “Missed Hopper is all… it is going to be weird, having him suddenly here again.”

          Jonathan chuckled, “I get that… I’m just glad my mom found him. They aren’t too good at hiding their whole dynamic to everyone..”

          “Dynamic?”

          “Brooding Knight and Warrior Princess who are madly in love with each other..-”

          “OH-! Yeah, I could see that…”

          Joyce and Hopper were soulmates, more intimate than any two lovers, they were far beyond that point even now. Some may say they are “goals” or what they want in a relationship. And, I’d have to admit, they compliment each others personalities very well.

          “They are bringing a friend from the Russian prison, Hop said his name is Dmitri but prefers to be called “Enzo”.”

          “Enzo, huh? Here’s to hoping he’s as good as Hopper says.”

          “Exactly how I feel.” 

          The boy gives me a tight lipped smile before getting up to talk to everyone, leaving me to my thoughts once again.

          “They’re here! Everyone gather up!”

          A grey colored convertible slowly pulled up to the park, the headlights passing over everyone in the crowd as the car pulled into a parking spot and stopped, the lights turning off. There was a pregnant pause before the car doors opened, everyone in the crowd cheering as Hopper, Joyce, Murray, and Enzo all exited the vehicle, El immediately running for Hopper to envelop him in a hug, Will and Johathan going to hug their mother with tears brimming in their eyes. 

          They looked like a little family, and that brought a smile to my face as I walked over to Murray, patting him on the back.

          “They have to alcohol at the Red table..”

          “Thank GOD.”

          The man walked away like a man on a mission, leaving me to walk over to Joyce to hug her.

          “I’m glad you’re safe..”

          “Safe and sound, back with those I love the most.”

          Joyce’s smile was bright, her eyes on Hopper as she said the last part. I nudged her a bit with my shoulder, herself scoffing with a playful smile.

          “You ladies talking about me?”

          “You wish!”

          I laughed, Hopper pulling me into a hug as I did.

          “You take care of the kiddos?”

          “I told you, everyone is fin-”

          Blue eyes, a curious gaze, it carried confidence yet yielded a feeling of charm. It was alluring as he held his hand out for me to shake, my eyes still swimming in his as our hands connected.

          “Dmitri Antonov.”

          “Y/N L/N.”

          Our hands stayed connected, a singe of chills going down my spine and shooting up my legs and arms. A fire burning in my chest, that gradually increased in size as I felt his thumb rub against the skin of my hand just below my own thumb.

          My eyes trailed down to peer at the veins in his hand, then back up at his eyes, my breath getting heavy, and seemingly his own also.

          “Can you two stop eye-fucking each other and just come eat?!” Murray yelled from a bench, red solo cup in hand.

          I broke the handshake first, using my other hand to rub my palm, eyes raking up and down Enzo’s figure.

          “Seems you two will get along just fine…”

          “Krasivoye imya yi krasivoye litso.. nadeyus, sblizimsya.” (“Beautiful name and Beautiful face… hopefully we’ll get closer.”)

          “Ya nay dumala, chto Americans budut takimi krasivymi.” (“I didn't think Americans would be so beautiful.”)

          I turned to gaze at him, faking confusion on my face as he continued to speak.

          I get up from the table we are sat at and smile, “Ya toze, entso, ya toze.” (“Me too, Enzo, Me too.”)

          I walk away with a satisfied grin on my face at his gob smacked expression, faintly hearing “Holy Hell”, as I walked away.

[lemonflavouredchaos]

Can you write more about Dmitri’s breeding kink? 👀

Of course 🫠 I might write a fic soon but here are my HC's:

Loves to cradle the little pouch at the base of Readers belly when hugging (or taking) them from behind because he can imagine how sweet they'll look pregnant.

Dirty talks about how much he wants to breed them

Not your average breeding kink - he's Serious. Will absolutely follow through and will be Delighted if Reader falls pregnant.

Will go feral if Reader plays into it - "do you want me to make you into a Daddy, Dmitri?"

Summer dress season is... ✨️ tiring

Is high-key ashamed of it, but absolutely is I to the idea of having Reader as a little captive that he can breed.

Will get drunk and horny and talk shit about what/how he's going to breed Reader- "Going to tie you down and keep you in my bed until you're full - you'll look so sweet begging for me"

Give him permission to be domineering and he will confiscate underwear - Reader will find themselves cockwarming him and taking more than one load while he does paperwork

Highkey into primal play? Is delighted to realize he's not a Monster and that there is a Thing where chasing down and rutting your partner like a wild animal while they fight for control.

[lemonflavouredchaos]

smut request? More Dmitri. Always. ❤️ I love everything you've written so far.

Ask and ye shall receive: here's some Christmas Dmitri smut (AKA i am a slut for touch-starved, feral Dmitri) for you 🎄 also thank you 🥺❤️

It was cheesy, stupid, and downright nonsensical, you had to admit; Christmas was hardly high on your list of priorities right now. It certainly wasn't on Dmitri's; adjusting to a whole new world and way of living, he was constantly exhausted... but you wanted him to have the best experience of every season.

That's why you had snuck presents into the house, filled his stocking with chocolate and sweet treats, it was why you had planned a small Christmas dinner... and it was why you had bought this ridiculous outfit. It was meant to be a Mrs. Claus outfit, you had intended to cook in it to make him laugh but it was... revealing.

Very revealing.

In fact, it was almost vulgar, and for a second you wondered if you had ordered the wrong size. It was only when you checked the label that you realized you had, in fact, ordered the wrong costume altogether. You drew in a steadying breath and laughed; you had time to return them. It wasn't the end of the world.

The sound of the door to your small apartment closing made you jump,

"Shit," you whispered and looked around for something to throw on,

"Y/N?" Dmitri called, "are you home?"

"Uh, yes, I am... I'm just..." you tried to find an excuse, but he had already opened the door to the bedroom.

Dmitri tilted his head, eyes flicking over you for a few seconds before he stepped into the room,

"I know," you said, laughing, "I know, I ordered it for..." you trailed off as he circled behind you; in the mirror you saw the expression on his face and felt an electric hum spread through your body. His broad hand trailed the back of your thigh before he dipped his head to kiss your shoulder, "I..." His arms slipped around your waist and pulled you close, his hands tugged the tiny skirt up to expose the red thong that had come with the set,

"You were...?" Dmitri teased,

"I was going to cook Christmas dinner dressed up as Mrs. Claus," you admitted sheepishly, "but..."

"I don't think cooking in this will be safe," he murmured, nuzzling his nose into your neck,

"No," you said, "I'm going to send it back and, ah-" his hand slipped beneath the flimsy thong,

"I don't think you'll be able to," Dmitri whispered, and you could see his smile in the mirror as his other hand moved up to tug the neckline of the dress down, popping a few stitches as he did. Perhaps if you hadn't made that small, whimpering sound he wouldn't have reacted so strongly, but you did, and he tugged the thong sharply, tearing the thin material in one movement. The dress, if it could be called that, came apart just as easily under his hands. When you were bare in the mirror, Dmitri stopped and let his eyes travel over you before he muttered something unintelligible in your ear and tugged you back toward the bed,

"Dmitri," you squealed and squirmed, but you made no real attempt to get away, and he grinned,

"Y/N," He replied as he discarded his shirt,

"You didn't even ask my permission," you teased and he leaned down to press his lips to your ear,

"Forgive me," he murmured, "do I have your permission to fuck you until you scream?"

Damn. You laughed and nodded, making him chuckle and smile as he undid his belt. His fingers slipped between your legs, making you realize how quickly your body had responded to him with a furious blush. Clumsy, fumbling, panting as if he had run a race, Dmitri pressed his cock between your legs and grunted as your body welcomed him.

He went slowly, at first, forehead pressed against yours as he whispered softly about how sweet you looked, how good you felt, how much he had needed this, then his tongue slid across yours and his teeth nipped your lips and his hips started to snap harder, faster, and your whimpers became moans,

"You feel like silk," he grunted, "God it's like you knew I was thinking about you all day." When his eyes were half-closed with pleasure, and his voice dropped to become hoarse his accent was thick and warm,

"Were you?" You ask, voice breathy, punctuated by small gasps as his cock hit a sensitive place inside you. The bed started to creak,

"Mm, you were moaning in your sleep," he whispered, "what did you dream about?" You looked away, blushing, and he laughed,

"I see," he said with a low groan, "like this?" You shake your head. "No? How?"

"In, ah, in the shower," you whimper,

"From behind?" He asked, and his voice was rougher,

"Mm," you nod, legs starting to shake. Dmitri pulled away, making you whine in protest until he turned you roughly and dragged your hips up from the bed so he could line his cock up to your entrance again. He grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under your hips and then, with a chuckle, brought his hand down on your rear,

"Fuck," he said and the growled something that you couldn't understand, only when he sank into you did you realize it was Russian. One broad hand tangled in your hair and he set a brutal pace that made the headboard slam into the wall and your voice rise. The pillow under your hips slipped until the fabric rubbed against your clit and your body started to tingle,

"Don't stop," you gasped,

"Hadn't, ah, planned on it," Dmitri replied as his hand slipped to the middle of yur back and pressed you to the bed firmly, "God you look like an angel." His free hand gripped your hip and pulled you back to meet him with a sharp tug, sending a blinding wave of pleasure through your body. "You should stay like this," he teased, "just like this, all the time."

"Dmitri," you whimpered, trying to find a witty come back in the fog of pleasure,

"Y/N," he said with a hoarse chuckle,

"Please, I need..." your fists balled in the sheets,

"I have what you need," he said and leaned down to sink his teeth gently into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, hips rolling and grinding against you until the pleasure reached a peak; his hand clamped on your mouth, muffling the gasping moans, "shh, darling," he murmured, "don't want to wake the neighbours."

"Fuck you," you managed to gasp when he pulled his hand away, but Dmitri only nodded, cheek slipping against yours,

"If you insist," he groaned, coming apart at the seams as you reached to grip his hand and pulled it up to pull his fingers into your mouth. He whimpered and shivered against your body as he spilled the pressed his lips to your temple.

After a few moments of silence, you managed to gather your thoughts,

"So... you like Christmas then?" You ask,

"Very much," Dmitri said with a breathless laugh and rolled onto his back. You stared at the torn thong on the bedroom floor. The outfit definitely wasn't going back.