#he is so handsome ... this handsome handsome man

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 did we marry him? | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; yes, you did. what happens when amphoreus men meet your younger self :)?

love mail — lalaaaa quick prompt!! slow buildup till i can write back to normal again ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ

anaxagoras can't help but find your younger self the cutest little thing. you watch as he squishes and pulls at mini-you's face, hearing him chuckle at how they whine and squirm. "so you've always hated it, noted."

even if mini-you tries to hide it, they're relishing in the attention. it wasn't often that they were treated in a way that was so.. full of care, even if it was teasing. all of a sudden, they turned their attention to you. "hey, did we ever end up marrying him?"

"...who?" the question made you confused, there weren't many candidates for a crush during your youth.

"the kind boy we met in the town!" oh, wait.

your actual husbands interest is piqued. "can you describe him to us, dove?"

his smile turns just a little bit wider at the sound of you groaning behind him. "he has green hair! the most prettiest eyes and— hey, you and him are kind of alike, mister!"

"oh, really?" the most tender kiss is pressed on your mini-me's forehead. "then i'm honored to tell you that you sure did."

mydei's been having the best day of his life. currently, he's been carrying mini-you on his shoulders and ran around a field. all while while you watched nearby, smiling at the sight. when your fiancé returns, the reason for all of your embarrassing childhood memories runs up to you excitedly. "i've been wanting to ask, did we end up marrying him?"

the man you were quite literally about to be wed to, raises a brow at the question. "who could it be, sweetpea?"

"the boy i saw walk out of the river! he was kind of scary looking.. but he was super cool! there were these cool red lines all over him, kind of like this guy!"

the irony of pointing right at mydei is a little funny. and your husband can't help himself from the biggest smile you've ever seen from him. "oh, really? just like me? tell me what else you think abo— ouch!"

the elbow to his stomach was not unwarranted, but you smile at your younger self and pat their head. "yeah, we unfortunately will. but if i were you, run the other way when he starts approach—"

mydei's strong arms were then wrapped around you, lifting you into the air, then followed by a peal of laughter. "hey, don't start trying to get away from me now! you're all mine, even from day one!"

phainon is just in awe. mini-you seemed so shy, hiding behind you as they hold your hand, peeking at him with a nervous look. "i can barely believe it! you, were a shy kid?" he laughs, crouching down to their level as you sigh. "more or less. crowds were overwhelming, and aeon's forbid you throw a kid in a classroom of despair and agony." "you describe kindergarden like it's purgatory..."

though while your boyfriend is sent on a mission (buy icecream), your attention is brought to mini-you. "phainon's gone now. just can't believe it's him, hm?"

the reason for their shyness wasn't entirely because there was a 'stranger' infront of them, rather it was because the boy from the other class was now taller and much—much more handsome. "wow.. and you and him get together? that's so cool! but.. did we ever end up marrying him? like i hoped?"

and when phainon comes back with the biggest smile on his face, totally failing to hide probably one of the biggest cups of icecream behind him, you only laugh at the question. "soon. he just has to ask, and i'd say yes in a heartbeat."

that thought is further solidified, as phainon tries his best to seem friendly to your little self. just as he was when you two were kids, winning your heart all over again.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[thehmn]

The more I think about Elliott/Willy the more it grows on me.

First off, I always assumed Elliott to be one of the taller characters but looking at size charts he’s actually on the shorter side for a male character while Willy is one of the tallest. It felt weird to draw Elliott as shorter but truth is truth.

Anyway, they’re already friends. They’re neighbors, they hang out with Leah and they know each other’s likes and dislikes. I can see them drinking together by the sea and Elliott being inspired by Willy’s stories.

As a ship I don’t see them as staying together forever. It would probably be a on and off again situationship because Willy goes out to sea for months at a time and Elliott eventually starts going on book tours so it’s up to luck wether they’re in town at the same time.

Elliott is one of the more queer coded characters because even though all the romanceable characters will date both male and female players Elliott is one of the few who actually talks about his sexuality. If dating a man he’ll say he knows he likes men but he wasn’t sure if the player felt the same, implying he’s been living the queer experience of falling in love with straight guys and learned from experience not to always be open about his feelings for his own safety. And Willy? Well you know what they say about sailors. So I’m sure he’d enjoy having a handsome guy with long siren hair in his bed and Elliott would totally romanticize the idea of his gruff sea dog who’s gentle with him.

The only thing that worried me was whether Willy would be too grubby for Elliott but thinking it over I don’t think so. Elliott is mainly obsessed with his hair and he for sure keeps himself clean but his cottage is dusty and dirty and Elliott finds sea creatures in his clothes so he can’t be that obsessed with cleanliness. He mostly just seems to be embarrassed by it when other people come to visit. So yeah, I think he’d be just fine with Willy being a little sea salty.

When they eventually see each other for the last time you know Elliott will be writing stories inspired by their relationship for ages to come.

[luvkimi]

satoru gojo—the strongest sorcerer—is an absolute softie when it comes to his wife.

the man could kill everyone in japan if he wanted to, yet when you're around, he's as dangerous as a kitten.

and that confused everyone around him.

how was it that even a murmur of your name would make the famous gojo gush and drop everything to talk about you? he could be in the midst of fighting a curse, but if his phone buzzes and your name is on the screen? that curse might as well accept its fate or be prepared for him to be on call with you for the remainder of the fight.

"toru, are you busy?" "not at all, baby—" his words would be cut off as the curse he was fighting attempted to land a hit on him, and the call would only fill with the sound of crashes before you realized what was happening. "are you seriously in the middle of a mission!?" your question remained unanswered for a second before you heard satoru laugh, "i mean, i was, but did you need something? money? sweets? a photo of your handsome husband?" "SATORU!"

it's clear to everyone that gojo is in love with you. he wouldn't just take a bullet for you, but rather a whole nuclear bomb if needed. he's willing to risk everything for you—even his job.

if he's in a meeting and you call him, he's picking up the phone no matter how many dirty looks he gets. what are they going to do about it? he's the strongest, but with the way he acts around you, you'd think otherwise.

his students have noted that every time you come into his classroom, he'd grin like a high schooler in love. he practically has heart eyes that you can see through his blindfold.

"gojo-sensei?" yuji's voice rang out in the classroom, "yes, yuji?" gojo's tone was filled with boredom as the man was leaning back in his chair—feet on top of his desk while he lifted a finger to pull back his blindfold. yuji was seen with megumi and nobara, and all three of them were pointing at the door. where you, his lovely wife, stood with a bento box. "you forgot your lunch—" "MY WIFE!" the sound of gojo's chair hitting the floor echoed as you took a step back from the doorframe, yet your attempt to move out of the way was pointless as gojo barreled toward you with open arms. his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, and you let out a quiet sigh as you held the bento box up. "is my beautiful wife here to visit her husband?" "i'm here to give you your lunch, toru." "MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE LOVES ME ENOUGH TO COME VISIT ME!" while gojo continued to ramble with you still in his arms, the three students watched the scene with narrowed eyes. "do you think she ever gets tired of him?" nobara asked bluntly, and yuji only shrugged. they continued to watch as gojo only hugged you tighter, and a soft smile appeared on your face as he continued to talk. "i don't think so..." yuji mumbled before turning his attention back to his phone, and the others did the same thing. except for gojo. because his attention was on you and you only.

comments & reblogs are always appreciated !!

[munsonify]

hey!! i was rewatching season 3 and steve is just so cute, im sorry but if he tried to flirt with me at scoops ahoy, i would say yes!! i was thinking about a fic where they knew of each other in high school but were never friends then she runs into him working at scoops ahoy and he starts flirting BUT SHE ACTUALLY IS LIKE FLIRTING BACK AND HES SO FLUSTERED. and like they go out and it’s lowkey cute and afterwards is just some good classic steve smut

MUCH LOVE 💕

hey!! i adore this idea!! i’ve always loved season 3 steve and idc what anyone else says. sending love and apologies for taking so long, i hope you enjoyed this!!! (this fic ended up way longer than i expected im so sorry i dragged some of this shit on).

shoots and scoops

pairing. steve harrington x fem!reader

summary. after steve boldly starts flirting with you - his old classmate - at scoops ahoy, you take the opportunity and run with it.

warning/s. 18+ smut mdni, harmless flirty banter, possible ooc steve, steve calling r honey, steve calling r an idiot (affectionate), kissing/making out, hickeys, body worship kind of? (f!&m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), handjob, piv sex (protected), hand holding during sex, alludes to aftercare

word count. 6560

———

“well ahoy beautiful!”

your first instinct was to laugh - a deep, chest heavy chuckle that startled you when you felt it coming. you choked it down quickly, a slight wheeze slipping out in replace. it sounded slightly of a scoff.

the man standing in front of you was the last person you’d think would be flirting with you. steve harrington, whose hair was finally being constrained in a lousy sailor hat, stood with a flirtatious smile that has never been thrown your way. you know he hated how flat it looked, even if you barely spoke to him during high school. the man who always had every strand of hair placed perfectly would be caught dead before messing with his routine.

that was until now, which you assumed was not his choice.

it was a split second decision for you to respond the way you did. what the hell, right?

“ahoy handsome. nice hat,” you teased with a giggle. your eyes were bright behind your lashes as you look up at the man. he knew then he was a goner. a lump formed in his throat and his cheeks tinted pink quickly as he reaches up and takes it off.

you hear steve mumble something about a ‘stupid uniform’ as he drops the hat to the ground. in a weak attempt to try and redeem himself, he starts to ramble, moving away from your last comment. you’d never seen him get this way.

admittedly, you loved it.

“what can i get you, sweetheart? u.s.s. butterscotch? a banana split? plain chocolate? my number?”

you giggled at his last offer. for a second you thought, and for a second or two longer you faking-ly thought some more. you needed to make sure you didn’t come off as desperate. or at least too desperately.

you were honestly loving this attention.

“depends. how much does the latter cost?” offering him a sweet grin.

“just a date with me.”

your grin grew, and you knew you couldn’t resist.

“give me a scoop of u.s.s. butterscotch too and we’ll call it a deal.”

———

the moment you left with his number in one hand and a bowl of ice cream in the other, steve whipped around to find robin. he found her with her whiteboard propped up, marker with the cap still on. he was quick to snatch it from her hand, putting down two tallies under ‘you rule’.

“two? steve it was one girl,” robin protested, trying to wipe away the second tally. steve was quicker, moving the board to sit next to his discarded hat.

“she flirted back and i bagged a date with her. that deserves two.” he spun around to face the front of the store again, smoothing his hair back with a smug smirk. “i’m so back.”

———

a soft knock at your front door made your heart skip a beat. it’d been two days since you’d ran into steve at scoops, the flimsy napkin he wrote his number on the back of still on your nightstand, folded neatly. his voice sounded more smooth and confident over the phone. you could tell he talked himself up before answering to cool his nerves.

you checked yourself out in the mirror in passing, before moving to the door, opening it after a long, deep breath.

there steve was, hair done in his usual way. he wore a nice, short sleeved shirt that showed off his freckles biceps nicely, and a pair of his nicest blue jeans. you nearly poked fun at him for finally covering up his thighs, but you stopped yourself at the sight of the flowers in his hands. you settled on something a little less narrow. you definitely didn’t want him to think you were staring at him or anything.

“hey there sailor,” you greeted with a small smile, your eyes bright as you stare up at him. you tried looking in his eyes to avoid his toned arms, though his eyes were just as disarming. they’re a warm honey that make you fold.

“hey you,” his smile was just as pretty as his eyes. steve held the flowers in front of him, and you noticed how tight his grip was on the stems. was he as nervous as you were right now?

your heart skipped another beat at the way your fingers brushed against his when he passes you the flowers. in a desperate attempt to contain yourself, you welcomed him in and thanked him, rushing around to find a vase to set the beautiful flowers inside of. you weren’t worried about cutting the stems down or filling it with water just yet, only worried about your heart not falling out of your chest and straight into steve’s hands.

whether good or bad, you knew this was gonna be a long night.

———

it was a sweet night. steve treated you to dinner and a drive-in movie in which you spoke through most of. much to your surprise, you found it very easy to talk to the man. he was easy going in a way he never was in high school. his usual nonchalant attitude wasn’t as prominent anymore. you liked it.

“ya know,” steve whispered, leaning over towards you. his lips were right next to your face, only a few inches away from gracing your skin as he spoke. you were glad it was so dark, hopefully your blush wasn’t too prominent. “i betcha i could do that.”

by that, you were assuming steve meant karate. up on the screen was ralph macchio, side by side with mr miyagi in the second rendition of the karate kid. a small giggle rippled through your chest, eyes rolling playful as you turn a little to look at him. your faces were inches away, noses nearly brushing against each other. you could feel his warm breath against your skin. it smelt faintly of spearmint - he must’ve slipped himself a mint after dinner.

“you’re an idiot,” you teased, staring right into his eyes. “there’s no way in hell you could do that. you’re no macchio!”

“i am too! you haven’t seen my kickass fighting skills yet, you wouldn’t know,” steve exclaimed, still in a quiet tone. he’s speaking like he’s gotten into loads of fights before. “but i can promise you i could clear him, easy.”

steve was so certain in himself. you always knew him to be a little cocky, so this wasn’t much of a surprise to you. what was a surprise was how much you liked it. god were you screwed.

———

the drive back home was nice. you spoke to each other about how you enjoyed the movie, steve still convinced he could do karate. he even tried showing off, whacking his hand off the steering wheel like an idiot. that and the little wince he let out sent you into a fit of giggles you struggled to control. it wasn’t until the man shook his head, whispering a small ‘alright, alright’ that you managed to suppress them.

what really pushed you into silence was that same hand moving to rest against your thigh as steve drove. the sudden display of affection made you freeze. you weren’t repulsed or ungrateful for the sudden touch, only caught off guard. your teeth began to toy with your bottom lip in a weak attempt to contain yourself. you were so glad you were pulling into your driveway.

one of steve’s large hands pressed against the small of your back, gently guiding you to the front door of your house. he heard the way your breath caught in your throat and stayed there. the boy hadn’t even let go of you yet and you were already mourning the loss of his touch. in just a few minutes you knew he’d let go and be gone.

“i loved talking to you tonight,” steve spoke, his voice soft. he seemed fond, content.

“me too,” you told him, a small smile playing on your lips. it was almost shy. you watched as steves eyes flickered down to them, shiny with lipgloss you recently reapplied. the hand on your back moved to gently cup the side of your face. his thumb swiped slowly against your cheek, eyes gazing into yours.

“can i kiss you?” all you could do was nod. steve’s free hand found its way to your hip, gently pulling you towards him. his body slotted against yours perfectly, broad chest and strong arms practically enclosing you in. man did he smell good.

steve’s lips finally found his way towards yours, soft and inviting. they slotted between yours in a kiss that made your head swirl. if he didn’t have such a good grip on you you were sure you’d fall over from dizziness.

the kiss only lasted for a few too short seconds, your hands finding their way to his chest sometime during then. it took you a few moments to compose yourself enough to let your eyes flutter open. when you did, you caught glimpse of steve’s pretty eyes gazing at you, cheeks rosy pink and warm.

he let a soft sigh slip from his mouth. in a way, it felt painful for him to pull away from you. steve let his fingertips graze against your cheekbone, before dropping his hand to his side. the grip on your hip, however, stayed. his lips parted gently, mind swirling with thoughts he tried to get ahold of. he wanted to say something, but you really had a grip on his lungs. he wanted to stay, follow you to your bedroom. he wanted to feel your soft skin against his. he wanted to know what you tasted like. god, he had to stop. he didn’t want to mess things up by being to ahead of himself.

“would you wanna stay?” steve’s eyes went wide. everything from the tone of your voice to the way you stared up at him through your eyelashes screamed you wanted him too. needed him to. you about look as desperately as he felt. and, just like you before, all he could do was nod.

gripping the collar of his shirt, you gently pulled steve back down for another kiss. it was more heated this time, deep and needy, slow. a low hum reverberated in his chest, rattling against yours, eventually reaching your perfect lips. you blindly began to search behind you, a hand desperately trying to find the handle to your door.

steve helped, breaking the kiss for only a few moments, opening the door and pushing the two of you through it. the only thing he did was make sure it shut behind you two before his lips were back on yours, he let you slowly guide him in a stumble towards your room, arms holding each other steady as you make your way down the lengthy hallway.

on any other occasion, you’d be a little embarrassed by how cluttered your room was right now. your dirty laundry basket was overflowing, failed outfits from before the date in a small pile somewhere on the floor. the only thing you seemed to care about was getting steve out of these tight jeans of his.

once you secured your bedroom door shut, the man was careful with guiding you towards your slightly untidied bed. he let you lay down first, watching as you rest up on your elbows towards the top of your bed. steve was quick to climb up right after you, and even quicker with his hands, pawing at your waist as he leans down to connect your lips again.

a hand found its way to his hair, threading your fingers through it to tug his face closer to yours. it was a deep kiss, one that made you dizzy again. you were grateful for the soft landing behind your head in the case you do need to fall back.

steve’s lips parted after a while of your slow make out, tongue brushing against your lips in a plead. you let your lips part immediately, letting your tongue meet his, warm and desperate for more. finally, the man adjusted himself above you, gently moving to rest between your now parted thighs. when your lower halves connected you realized just how much trouble you’d be in.

his thick, heavy bulge pressed right against your covered heat when he settled in, letting his weight rest against you gently. even then, with the barriers between you two, you could tell steve was big. with the pressure still settled between your thighs, he adjusted himself slightly to rest against one of his forearms, pressing it right next to your side. his other hand started slowly exploring your body.

steve didn’t let his touch breach your clothes yet, despite the both of you desperately wanting him to. he was being respectfully, hand caressing up your waist, smoothing against your body until it settled beneath one of your tits, cupping slightly, yet not touching the supple skin. the boy could feel the way your bottom lip pouted out slightly into the kiss.

with that, steve pulled slowly away from the kiss, a small string of spit connected your lips briefly before it snaps. his eyes slowly opened, meeting yours in a droopy, heavy stare. somehow, he looked even more desperate than before. his hand drops down from its place beneath your chest, fingers beginning to toy with the hem of your shirt. he looked into your eyes in a desperate plead.

“can i?” steve whispered, not willing to move any further without your permission. you were quick to nod, almost too quick. if you weren’t so pent up you were sure you’d kick yourself for it.

you helped the man slide your shirt off your body, watching him discard of it on your floor amongst the other clothing of yours. steve still didnt seem to notice the mess, though, evidently preoccupied with something else. his eyes scanned your torso as respectfully as he could manage. he seemed to be memorizing your smooth skin - he admired the way your waist and hips curved (even through your shorts), the way your stomach pudges at, the way your tits sat perfectly inside of your bra.

that’s exactly where one of steves hands went next, behind your back to feel for the clasp of your bra. you gave him an encouraging nod, eyes trailing against his face, catching the freckles against his cheekbone. he was quick with pinching the clasp undone, something you were sure he’d practiced tons of times. while he was quick to unclasp your bra, he was slow to pull your straps down. steve let his fingers dance against the smooth skin of your arms, goosebumps waking at each dusted touch.

his eyes dropped down to your chest again the moment you bra was off. you saw the way his lips parted slightly, catching a glimpse of the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he lets in a quick, small breath. just before he could bring himself to start kissing on you, he felt your hand rest right against his chest again, gentle and needy. you gently tugged at the fabric of his tight shirt that was frankly hiding nothing, eyes pleading up at him for just a little look at him.

steve was quick to oblige, tugging off his shirt to expose his tanned upper body. dark, wiry hair spanned across his chest, eventually thinning down into a line that disappears into his too tight jeans. like a moth drawn to a light, your careful fingers found their way to his broad chest, nails scraping through the hair and against his skin delicately. you could feel the way steve’s stomach lurched and his abs tense slightly when your touch starts grazing down towards his stomach and happy trail. you were memorizing him the same way he was memorizing you, yet somehow, it felt different to him. the way you admired him with your gentle touch and your soft gaze tugged at his heart.

he was in desperate need of a distraction before he combusts. steve, as gentle as ever, slowly lowered himself against you again, large hands guiding you back down on the bed with him. unlike last time you leaned down, you let your back hit your soft mattress, head resting on one of your pillows with a pretty floral design on it. you let your hand rest on his lower tummy as steve’s face leans towards yours again, lips capturing yours in another breathtaking kiss.

you planted your other hand right on his shoulder, smoothing it against his skin in attempts to ground yourself in the moment, temporarily satiating your need for more. one of steve’s hands found its way to your waist, fingers tracing your skin, tickling you slightly. the other found its rightful place back beneath where your breast sits, cupping slightly. the smirk he gave into the kiss when he felt your breathing hitch against his thumb was diabolical.

steve broke the kiss just after that, lips trailing to your jawline in a slow, determined manner. he didn’t try and rush anything. he wanted to take his time with you, explore your body, truly feel you. steve let his lips kiss all the way to the pulse point on your neck before he truly latched his lips to you. you let your head rest back a little more, giving him all the room in the world to kiss where he pleases. it took you a second to realize his true intentions here, though the moment you felt his teeth begin to graze your skin, it clicked. you almost wished he would stop making you so dizzy.

once the man sucked a delicate, soon to be purple hickey to your neck, he let his lips trace your body even further down your neck. steve’s mouth trailed to the center of your chest before his head started to tilt up slightly to look at you, a quick check in to make sure you were still okay. he could feel how quick your heartbeat had picked up. the moment your eyes locked with his he knew to keep going. his slow kisses found their way to one of your breasts, the hand underneath reaching a little farther up to squeeze gently, lips grazing your soft, plush skin.

steve wrapped his lips wrap around your hardened nipple for only a few short moments, warm tongue grazing it, earning a pretty whine from your mouth. he received the same reaction when he gave your other breast the same attention.

the hands you had on steve’s body slipped away from him reluctantly as he travels down lower, intimate kisses pressed against your stomach and your sides. you weren’t quite sure where to put your hands yet, letting them hover above the two of you slightly until you were sure. just like your hands, steve eventually found his way to the hem of your jeans, his kisses pausing for a moment as he hovers over your clothed cunt. that’s when it hits you just how worked up he had you. all of those warm kiss and gentle touches have you aching for release, and more importantly, him.

steve’s pause had you worried, your eyebrow quirking up as you searched his face for some sort of hesitation or worry, any inkling of a ‘no, i don’t want to’. you saw none of the on his face.

“out of all the places you decided to stop,” you mumbled at breathlessly. “this is where you landed?”

steve let out one of his chuckles that make your tummy burn hotly, watching as he peaks up at you through his eyelashes. you began to lean up on your elbows again to get a better look at the boy. “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you idiot.”

you tried to contain your giggles, a few slipping out past your lips that were quirked up into a small smile. you gave him yet another nod, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you watched steve roll his eyes affectionately at you. his hands found their way to the buttons of your shorts, tugging your zipper down quickly afterwards. you lifted your hips up gently to help him shimmy them off of you, watching him tug them down and toss them with everything else of yours.

before you could let your hips settle back down, one of steve’s hands found its way to your lower back, holding you up for just a few short moments. he was quick to grab a pillow from beside your head, and even quicker to wedge it beneath your hips. you’re unbelievable was all you could think as you settled back down onto the bed.

heat spread up your neck and to your face the moment it hit you just how intimate he was being with you, broad shoulder placed between your spread thighs, face hovering over your lace panties. they were soaked through, you could feel it. even worse, you knew steve could see it, smell it even. and, as if steve could hear your thoughts, he brought a firm, soothing hand up to your hip. his thumb began to smooth against your bare skin, helping you settle down properly again.

every little touch he gave you was electric. a small zip flashed through the delicate skin of your thigh the moment steve’s other hand found its way there. though cold, though new, that touch soothed you too. he left small kisses on the skin of your stomach as he began to whisper to you.

“lay back, honey. let me take care of you.” fuck. you nodded to him in a haze, laying back into the bed comfortably. steve continued to leave small kisses against your exposed lower body, touch relaxing you even further into the bed until he finally made the move. his lips kissed right covered clit, making you jump ever so slightly. your slick made your panties transparent, leaving nothing to his imagination. soft kisses trailed down slow until his lips found your pulsing opening.

steve left a firm kiss right against it, letting it linger, before his tongue lolled out of his mouth. flat and eager, he let it slide from your leaking hole back onto your clit again, applying the tiniest bit of pressure against it before pulling away. an exasperated gasp left your mouth, a hand of yours moving to your forehead to rub slightly in irritation.

you always knew steve was a tease. he upheld that reputation a while with the ladies. you just didn’t think he was this much of a tease. he was working you up beyond belief. this was the complete opposite of how he’s been with you thus far - straightforward, easy going.

steve let his warm tongue connect with your clit once more, swirling around it slowly, before pulling away. this time, even with your desperate whine, he didn’t leave you hanging. his fingers hooked the sides of your panties, tugging at them enough to get your attention. you lifted your hips up long enough to let him tug them past your hips and down your thighs, before finally letting yourself rest down.

“so pretty honey,” steve whispered to you, hands finding their places back on your hip and thigh. you weren’t quite sure whether he was talking about you or your pussy - either way, it made your body heat up dramatically. without much of a thought, one of your hands found its way down to his, the one tracing your waist. he caught on to what you wanted quickly, grasping your hand in a gentle hold.

steve went through the same motions as before. after slowly spreading your folds apart with his unoccupied hand, his lips found your exposed clit in a warm kiss. he could feel the way it twitched against his flesh, and god did he love it. his lips trailed down to your opening again, watching as your arousal slowly drips out of you, leaking down to the puckered hole beneath it. a soft kiss placed against your opening was followed once again by his warm tongue, slowly sliding up through your folds again.

a breathy moan slipped out of both of your mouths at the feeling, only yours was followed by yet another as steve began to slowly lick at your clit. his tongue swirled and licked at the sensitive nerves with skill. you couldn’t help but bring your other hand down to his soft hair, threading through his locks gently to ground yourself, giving his hand a squeeze.

you could feel steve tense up, and you worried that maybe you’d done something you shouldn’t have. was he really that stuck up about his hair? you realized quickly how wrong you were when you saw the way his eyes fluttered shut for a few moments in pure bliss, lips wrapping right around your clit and sucking gently, almost as a thank you. you let out a choked moan the moment his lips latched and sucked, thighs tensing up slightly.

you were about to crumble hard, undoing all of the glorious work steve put in to work you up. he even doubled down, the hand not holding yours finding its way to your cunt, his middle finger collected up some of your arousal that was leaking from you. and, just as his tongue swirled around your clit once more, steve eased his thick finger inside of you slowly. a small gasp broke out from your mouth, feeling him pump his finger in and out of your tight hole. it wasn’t until several deep strokes that he pushed in a second finger, stretching you open, tugging a few desperate moans from your chest.

by accident, you’d tugged on the roots of steve’s hair. he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, a guttural moan hitting against your clit, sending shockwaves up your body.

“i’m so glad i don’t have that stupid hat on anymore,” steve mumbled against you, lips a little too preoccupied with sucking deliciously on your clit.

“i kinda liked it,” you let out breathlessly, trying so hard not to fall apart too quickly. instead of verbally responding, steve simply curled his fingertips into a spongy spot in your body you didn’t even know someone could reach. your eyes rolled back into your head at the feeling, letting out a broken moan. it was all so much - you could feel the pressure building up in your stomach, and quickly.

steve’s fingers kept brushing against the perfect spot, his lips and his tongue somehow knowing exactly what you needed from him. your chest started to heave slightly as you rapidly approached your orgasm, grip on his hair tightening slightly, urging him to keep going. your moans sung out for him to hear, uncontrollable and needy. you tried to warn the boy, though your words came out in a slight mess right as everything hit you.

pleasure filled every inch of you as steve works you through your high. the wet squelching coming from your sopping cunt only encouraged him more. your whole body tensed up for what felt like forever, hand gripping his as you grind slightly onto him, desperate for the last bit of friction before he pulls away, whispering thank you’s to him. he gave your clit a final farewell - a soft kiss - as he slowly sliding his fingers from your cunt. you looked down in bliss just in time to see steve, king steve, wrap his pink lips around his fingers and moan at the taste of you.

hesitantly, you let go of his hand, gripping ahold of his shoulder instead as you gently tugged the man up the bed towards you. the poor guy was still stuck inside his jeans. somehow, he hadn’t torn the threads in the front, his hard, thick cock pressing against the coarse fabric in an attempts to release itself. once steve was properly hovered over you again, your hands went straight to his belt buckle, only you right before undoing it, looking right up at his dark, lust filled eyes. his eyes darted across your face worriedly, before letting it drop, shaking his in disbelief.

“funny,” he whispered, gently pressing himself against your hands further. you gave him a teasing smile right as you began fumbling with his belt. you wish you had the patience to admire just how nice the leather on it was.

steve let you fumble around with his zipper, only assisting you in kicking off his jeans, keeping it far away from the two of you. he was still situated between your thighs, this time his hips slotted perfectly between them, knocking them wide open. your hands found their way back to his soft tummy as he leans in closer, face inches away from yours, noses knocking against each others. your eyes were still focused downwards, though, letting your hands drift towards his steadily leaking tip. you traced it oh so gently through the fabric of his boxers, close enough to his face to hear him inhale sharply.

your fingers began to trace the length of his cock, feeling the curve he has to him. the loss of his fingers inside of you made you feel empty, and all you could think about was how perfect he’d feel inside of you. your hand gripped his length through the fabric and squeezed gently, watching as another splotch of pre cum appears in its wake. you were much less of a tease than steve, you realized, giving into him quickly as you slowly tug off his boxers, helping him discard them.

finally, you got a full, unfiltered and unblocked view of steve’s cock. truthfully, you’d never seen one quite as nice to look at. his tip was a bright red, still leaking pre cum, veins lining his length perfectly. he was heavy in your hands when you grasped him again, lips lifting into a pleased smile at the sound of his soft gasp. you gave him another gently squeeze, slowly twisting your hand up his length, and down just as slow, smearing what you’d collected at his tip down with it. your hand somehow seemed so small compared to his cock, and you loved it.

“need you inside of me, stevie,” you choked out, finally peeling your eyes away from his dick, looking straight into his eyes when he looked right back up at you. you batted your eyelashes at him, eyes begging for him as you continue to slowly stroke him. steve stares at you with an almost blank expression, almost like he wasn’t quite listening, little whines rippling through his throat as his eyebrows knit together.

you stop stroking him at his base, squeezing his thickness once again, touch not leaving him. “said i need you inside f’me, stevie, please?”

you watched as he finally processed what you said, eyes going wide, head nodding rapidly as he scrambles back to his jeans to fish out his wallet, tugging out a condom he so conveniently had stashed away in there. this is the first time tonight you’d seen steve so at loss for words, and you weren’t sure why.

he did, though. this was the first time since he’s been in the dating pool that he’s felt a real, honest connection with someone. sure, you guys had only been on this one date. he knew that. there was just something about you and you’re kindness, your humor, your passion for everything that had him swooning. intimacy was a lot different when you were with someone you could admire like that. not to mention how hot you are.

steve fumbled through slipping the condom on properly, and it didn’t help you were beneath him smiling patiently up at him like you were. the moment he successfully managed it on, he found his way back down to your level, faces finally close again. steve has an arm rested right beside your head, his hand gently brushing all your hair away from your face. he wanted to see you properly, look you in your eyes.

you gave him a reassuring nod, telling him that yes, you were ready - that you wanted him. with a hand cradling the top of your head and the other gripping the base of his throbbing cock, steve lined himself up with your entrance. he was gentle with the way he pressed himself into you, your arousal still plentiful, helping him ease his way inside of you better.

“fuck,” you let out, eyebrows and nose scrunched up at the way steve was stretching you out. he let you adjust to him inch by inch, knowing how difficult it is to fit him at first. you brought a hand up to his face, cupping his jaw to get him to look at you as he slid in the rest of the way, bottoming you out, eyes locking at the perfect time.

“there ya go honey,” steve whispered, lips pressing against your forehead as he encouraged you, his cockiness finally slipping through again. “i know, tight fit.”

you could tell why he put so much effort into working you up the way he did - getting you in the mood, kissing you all over, filling you up with his fingers. it made this ten times easier on the both of you. he liked doing all of it regardless, making you feel good that is. he liked being of service.

when steve pulled his lips away from your forehead, you were quick to bring his attention to your own lips, pulling the man down gently to connect them with yours. it was a deep, desperate, wet kiss, something you craved so badly right now. that’s when he started to rock his hips into yours, slowly rolling himself down against you. he let himself test the waters, see how easy it would be for you to adjust fully.

luckily for the both of you, after a few slow, deep strokes, you adjusted just fine. the arm not rested by your head found its way to your waist, fingers trailing your soft skin as he begins to find a rhythm to fall into. he picked up the pace a little, hips moving just a bit faster as you make out. you let your hand move to the back of steve’s head, fingers threading once again in his beautiful hair. it wasn’t until you rested your other hand against his chest, smoothing against it that you found out what really gets to him.

the feeling of your nails scrapping against his scalp, your hand firm against his chest, and your dripping cunt squeezing around him was fatal. his hips stutter and snap harder than he intended, a desperate moan falling from his lips and directly into yours. your body jolted slightly at the snap of his hips, a moan falling out of your mouth along with his.

“sorry, sorry you just- fuck you can’t just do that,” steve rambled out, breaking the kiss and slowing down his thrusts. you gave him the cheekiest smile, raising your eyebrows at him.

“why not, handsome?” you questioned, circling your hips at the perfect angle, his tip snagging at just the right spot inside of you, whimpering beneath him. “s-seems like you liked it.”

steve adjusted himself at the sounds of your whimpers, nudging himself around until he finds that spot again, slowly thrusting himself into you. your grip on his hair tightened again, bottom lip quivering slightly as you take in the pleasure.

“i do, i do,” he reassured, finally finding his rhythm again, moans slipping from your lips. “just not when i’m t-trying not to go too fast, or f-finish too fast- fuck, honey, feel so good f’me.”

your back arched just a little at the sound of him praising you, clenching down around him again, just like you did before that caused the praise he gave. steve’s eyes lit up at the realization. he had some dirt on you now, too, and man did it feel good to be even.

“wouldn’t m-mind if you went faster,” you spoke, eyes begging up at him, legs spreading wider. you were already sensitive from your last orgasm, but now that he knows you like being praised? and he’s looking at you like that? you were struggling to contain yourself. “wouldn’t mind if you went h-harder either.”

“yeah?” he questioned.

“yeah.”

steve gave you a long, gentle kiss on the lips, petting your hair down affectionately, before he sat up a little in his place. he uses his large hands to readjust your legs, helping you wrap them firmly around his waist, giving him more leverage to fuck into you properly.

with every thrust from then on, steve fucks you just a little faster, just a little harder, until he finds that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. you reach a hand out to desperately claw at him, finally find one of his hands to grab onto, holding hands with him just like before. this time, however, you tangled your fingers with his holding onto him tight. he’s gentle when he pins your hand down against the mattress, the complete opposite of how he was fucking into you right now.

you started to writhe underneath him, moans becoming more frequent, eye contact becoming harder to keep. you were close.

“look at me,” steve spoke out, chest heaving a little from exertion, choked noises of pleasure bleeding through. “honey, look at me. wanna see those pretty eyes when we cum.”

you let your eyes flutter open, forcing eye contact with him as you rapidly approach your orgasm, his praise feeding into your pleasure. he gives your hand a squeeze, a squeeze you’re quick to reciprocate. he looks just as close as you are - fucked out and needy. you kept your other hand planted in his hair, anchoring yourself down, keeping him close.

“gonna cum, stevie, gonna- ohgod,” you could barely get your words out by the time your second orgasm washes over you. your cunt convulses around steve’s large cock uncontrollably, gushing around him. you fought tooth and nail to not let your eyes close, and you were so glad that you didn’t. steve was quick to cum right after you, face scrunched up all cute, moans and whines almost on par with yours, white ropes of warm cum filling the condom. he had a hold on your hips and waist that would leave bruises as he took you two through your orgasm.

you two stayed there for a few minutes. no thrusts, no tiny hip movements, just taking in the feeling of your orgasms, heavy breathing filling the room. you two still maintained eye contact, even after it was all done. you were the first to break the silence.

“can you wear your scoops uniform next time?”

“oh shut up.”

the both of you burst into a fit of laughs, steve finally, slowly pulling out of your wrecked cunt. you were glad you had a trash can in the corner of your room - the only thing steve had to do was stumble over and discard his condom, grabbing ahold of his boxers and his shirt, offering up the shirt for you to wear. you happily obliged, tugging it on, before motioning to your panties after he slipped into his boxers. steve wanted to make a comment about how you ruined the pair, but spared you just tonight.

he was hoping there would be many other nights where he’d be granted to opportunity to do that.

[tojisteddy]

Reader! who ends up pregnant after a one night stand with Graves.

You don’t even really have proof that the baby is his but you know it is because he’s the only man you’ve been with after he fucked you silly right against the hood of his pickup truck.

Don’t ask how he pulled that shit with you.

You just know he dropped you off with a wave and you never intended to be— here.

In a military base office you truly didn’t know, four months pregnant, eyes erratic and knee bouncing like a kangaroo on crack from nerves and irritation.

You just wanted to say your peace and then go home. Maybe have a cry because you weren’t alone and pregnant, maybe have that ice cream you’d been thinking about since this morning. You weren’t expecting shit from the man, not a dollar, not a diaper. You weren’t used to being brushed aside your whole life, this was just another situation you’d need to stand tall on your own. A life altering situation but you could do it. You’ve done it before. You’d do it again. You just needed acknowledgement.

And he turned that corner toward where you sat in the waiting room, your guts almost spilled on the floor, right along it’s the baby. He was just as handsome as you remembered, tall, muscular, blue eyes, pretty lashes, he’s twinkling with irritation, talking to three men who followed right as his heals, maybe he could even tell you what to do— focus reader.

You stood, swallowing down every bit of fear, a little pride—

“Graves?” You called out, thankful it didn’t sound like a croak. It was more of a statement than a question. Not asking for attention, demanding it.

His eyes flickered over to you, a little shock fills his eyes, he gives some hand signal to his men, waving them away, “Give us a second boys.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he comes closer to you, more than amused that you, a one night stand, has somehow gotten a hold of him like this. His fault for knowing the people of that small town you were from. But it’s not like you were forgettable, you were headstrong, much smarter than the ditzy girls than hung around that bar, even more memorable when you let him stick his dick in your gushy walls. Still, you’re as gorgeous as ever in his eyes, even with that uncertain look on your face and the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants you wore. He’d prefer you in something tighter, a sun dress that hugged your pretty tits— “Well it isn’t the pretty doll from that bar, where did we last meet? In the bar? Nooo, the Honda—“

“—I’m pregnant.” You interjected, tired of the games, you pulled out the sonogram in your baggy pocket. “You’re the father.”

Phillip Graves doesn’t flinch. Not to anything.

Not when he got the news his mom was in the hospital. Not when he found out his men had died delivering that weapon of mass destruction, and not when he heard from your sweet lips that you would be having his first child.

He’s unwavering like a mountain, just walked towards you, taking the photos in hand, smirk growing wider as he eyes the little thing. A cute bean.

He chuckles. Fucking chuckles.

You almost leap out of your body, and skin him alive but he pulls you close by the waist with one hand. The other hand lifts your chin to look at him, slowly trailing down from your collar bones, past your plump breasts, to lay a hand on your slowly growing baby. He hums in delight.

“Graves—“

“—Got lucky with you huh? Blessed t’ have you havin my baby. Makin me a real man, huh dolly?”

And you’re even more confused. Eyebrows furrowing, taken aback, “Blessed to have-?”

Phillip folds the sonogram and sticks it in his wallet, “I’m just as shocked as you, I always wrap it up tight. Always. But shit like this happens when you least expect it, don’t they? ‘Nd ‘m sure you came ‘nd worried that pretty little head ‘f yers of the worst. But I’m no bastard darlin, was raised right. Little thangs our kid, so of course I’ll be there for ‘em.”

“Gonna be… partners from now on [+], best if get along, right? For the baby ‘nd such.” He sticks out his hand, all polite.

You hesitate at first, but take it. It’s an agreement, just so you both can be in the babies life and be proper parents.

Sort’ve.

The southern man’s already envisioning you walking down the aisle in a pretty white dress, right after your baby girl or baby boy walks with the ring or the flower basket. You’d unknowingly agreeded to not just being cordial parents to your unborn child but being his woman, lover, friend— all wrapped into one and tied with a bow.

There’s no way a man like that would let a woman like you slip from his fingers again. He was stupid before, he’s sober now. He definitely wrap around you to get what he wants.

Always read the fine print when you’re dealing with a fox sweetheart.

a/n: genuinely don’t think Phillip got you pregnant on purpose (not this time) but he’s thankful for someone as pretty and knowledgeable as you.

[tommydarlings]

Face slapping | l.n

—★ dom!lando x sub!reader

—★ smut, face slapping (obviously), chocking, sucking on fingers, lots of spit

—★ 1.5k

—★ Even though you knew that lando wouldn’t judge you for anything, you were still nervous to tell him about your favorite kink which was getting slapped across the face — but it turned out that your dear boyfriend just knew you too well. (based off of this request !)

check this out: MASTERLIST | KO-FI | PATREON | CARRD

Lando and you always had a great sex life. It was fun, quite adventurous and you always enjoyed it, no matter if you did it in bed, on the kitchen counter, or hastily on the soft carpet in the living room, you literally did it almost everywhere.

And you felt no shame for it, neither of you did.

But what you did feel a bit of shame for, was the fact that there was a specific thing you were curious to try with him in bed — or on the kitchen counter or wherever…

Slapping.

Just getting — preferably not so gently — smacked across the face by him while he’s pounding into you.

It sounded like a wet dream to you, one that you’ve been having for a while now but never dared to mention in Lando‘s presence.

Even though that was stupid because your boyfriend was always willing to try everything with you in bed, no matter what, you only needed to suggest it nicely to him and he would immediately be down for it.

Honestly, he would be down for everything that involved you in combination with sex.

Now you were here, eating a nice dinner together with your man in your expansive and modern kitchen, your eyes not leaving his veiny hands.

“I mean I’m aware that you love my hands but why have you been staring at them like that for the past ten minutes, baby?“ he raised one of his brows.

You gulped briefly before you finally looked away, “Oh, n-no reason a-at all,“ you replied quickly.

Your boyfriend grinned as he put his fork down, “no? No reason at all you say?“

You shook your head, “Nope,“ you looked at him again, “no specific reason, you know I love your hands,“ you shrugged like it was no big deal but Lando knew that there was more to it, that this was a big deal.

The McLaren driver leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving your face, the pad of his fingers tapping against the surface of the desk.

You bit your lip as soon as he got up, your eyes staying on your plate.

Lando smirked down at your sitting figure, “You can tell me everything, you know?“ he mumbled deeply.

“I know,“ you replied quietly.

He tilted his head to the side as he stood next to you, “I’m not sure if you know, my love,“ he suddenly raised his hand and slowly trailed the back of his fingers up your arm until he reached your neck,

“You have a question? Just ask me, baby… I’m not gonna bite or smack you for it,“ but at the mention of the word smacking, you tensed up, sitting up a bit straighter as you clenched your thighs under the table.

And Lando was unfortunately smart enough to pick that up.

He smirked a bit, “I’m not gonna bite you…“ he tested if it was the first or the second thing he mentioned, “or smack you across your pretty little face,“ and there it was again.

Your boyfriend grinned almost proudly, the back of his finger now running along your soft cheek, “smacking huh? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?“ he asked in a serious tone.

You gulped, still a bit tense, “I don’t know what you’re talking-”

“You're clenching your thighs under the table, baby…“ he looked down at your thighs before his gaze stopped on your clothed pussy.

After a teasing amount of silence, Lando gripped your chin and turned your head so you were forced to look up at him, his grip rather tight, “do you want me to smack your pretty face?“

You briefly looked down and gulped heavily before you put your eyes back on his handsome face and nodded slowly.

He shook his head, “I need words, open that pretty mouth, baby c’mon,“ he tapped your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb,

“Yes,“ you whispered.

“Yes what?“

You glared at him for a second, “Yes, I want you to smack me across the face,“ and Lando grinned, happily nodding along to your sinful words.

And then he already grabbed your upper arm, pulled you out of your chair and dragged you over to the big couch.

———

You thought your dirty fantasies were sinful, but your boyfriend pounding into you was even more sinful, no doubt in that.

Both of you were a moaning mess. He was groaning and breathing heavily as he moved his hips in steady and quick motions, one of his hands bending your leg to keep them open for him while the other one was rather tightly around your throat, choking you.

After some time, you rolled your eyes into the back of your head with a loud groan, “oh f-fuck, baby,“ you arched your back, “please!“

He looked down at you, his cock filling your wet pussy so perfectly, “what, huh? What do you want, baby?“ he murmured, his thumb pressing down onto your pulse point.

You gulped as you took a deep breath,

“You know… w-what I want,“ you glared at him for a second, your tits bouncing at his quick movements.

But then it already happened.

As soon as you finished your sentence, he smacked you across the face, once on the right cheek and then on the left cheek, leaving both of them a bit red.

You gasped loudly before you grinned, genuinely loving it, “don‘t ever look at me like that again, yeah? You have absolutely no right to have an attitude right now,“ he told you before he slapped your face a third time, making your head shoot to the side once again.

And you loved it — how could you not?

“Ah fuck,“ you groaned in a higher tone before he quickly bend down and kissed you deeply, still ramming his big cock into your clenching hole.

Lando chuckled as soon as he pulled away,

“You like that, huh?“ he quickly kissed both of your reddened cheeks before he slapped the left one and then the right one, always giving both of them their deserved attention.

You groaned and nodded with a wide smile, your one hand holding your leg to give him better access, the other one holding onto his arm, occasionally squeezing the skin.

Lando wore a smug look on his handsome face as he watched you nod your head, “Yeah? Oh you’re a little whore aren’t you?“

The young driver adjusted his position a bit, his thumb caressing your red cheek, “another one?” he asked quietly.

You pouted playfully before you nodded.

Quickly, your boyfriend put his other hand around your throat again, choked you and then slapped your already red cheeks again, watching with a focused expression how your face turned from one side to the other.

“You love that so much, it’s… crazy,“ he chuckled deeply, quickly smacking you again before he softly caressed your red cheeks.

After some time, you nodded,

“I-I know,“ you gulped and gasped, his hand around your throat making all of this even more of a challenge but you couldn’t complain.

Lando glanced down at his cock disappearing in your pussy, his right hand squeezing your throat, his left one still slapping your red and wet cheeks.

You watched as his lips parted in a quiet moan, his brows furrowed in pleasure and concentration, “you feel so fucking good, baby,” he breathed heavily, his pointer and middle finger tapping onto your bottom lip, silently asking you to open your mouth.

And you immediately did — and he wasted no time and shoved the two long digits into your mouth, running them along your tongue before shoving them down your throat that he was still squeezing then and there.

“That’s a good girl,“ he said in a raspy tone as he continued pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer to the sweet release with each passing second.

You threw your head back after he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a small string of saliva making its appearance between your tongue and the pads of his fingers, making you grin a bit.

“Look at that, baby,“ he quickly smeared it all over your lips before he slapped you again, making your head shoot to the side.

The McLaren driver smirked, “So messy, yet so pretty,“ your boyfriend leaned down and crashed his lips against yours, kissing you messily and deeply.

“Cum for me, c’mon… I can feel that you‘re close,“ he whispered against your wet lips, continually gently slapping your left cheek.

With loud gasps for air and trembling legs, you let go, cumming hard around his cock.

Lando nodded, “Just like that,“ he groaned quietly, his hand briefly squeezing your throat before he grabbed your leg, kissing the inner side of your calf, his eyes never leaving your beautiful but messed up face.

“You enjoyed that?“ he asked you as he noticed that you started to calm down again — and you quickly nodded.

“Good, I did too,“ Lando mumbled before he leaned forward and gently kissed your cheeks.

[madwcman]

paring: knight! jason todd x princess! reader

wc: 1.7k | tw: smut | MNDI 18+ | a/n at end!

you can feel his eyes glaring at the back of your head. you don’t even have to look at jason, you know he’s watching you. feeling his hard glare, your body stiffens at the thought of it, feeling hot. as if his stare can burn you.

you’re twirled around what feels like the one hundred time tonight. you should feel excited, this ball was thrown for your betrothal to a handsome prince, but all you felt was grief and guilt. the prince was handsome, but you felt nothing for the man. he wasn’t the one you truly yearned for. he wasn’t jason. jason who was your knight, the one who teased and annoyed you. the one who didn’t treat you like glass.

after being twirled over and over, your back is met with the prince’s chest, your perfect practiced smile is instantly dropped when you meet jason’s green eyes. your lips curl into a frown when you see his heated glare.

the music stops and a squeeze at your waist shakes you out of your trance. turning around, you meet the prince’s eyes, his smile is perfect, too perfect. “you’re a great dancer.” his voice is smooth, polite and posh. it’s not rough or deep. it doesn’t twist your stomach upside down. he doesn’t make you feel dizzy.

you smile, its a small smile that doesn’t quite reach. “i’m going to skip the next dance.” you pull away from his arms. “i need air.” you quickly mutter, pulling yourself out of the ballroom, into the hall. you’re breath heavy as you shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself.

hearing the patter of combat boots cause’s your stomach to drop, you can tell it’s him. you open your eyes and glance up at the man in front of you. dark hair, light eyes and a grim expression on his face. jason. “you don’t need to be out here, jason.”

“i’m required to follow wherever you go.” his voice his harsh, his eyes still narrow as he tilts his head to look at you.

“it’s just the hall.”

“required to follow.” jason moves in closer. his hand gripping your waist as his nose traces against your neck. “jason we can’t.”

“who says we can’t?”

“everyone? royal law?” you whip out excuses, knowing this is wrong. you should be with your fiancé. not with your knight, who you’ve been yearning to be with for years. “so? i don’t care.”

“jason, i’m engaged.” you scold in a harsh whisper, looking to see if anyone else joined you two in the hall.

“come on,” jason’s lips ghost over your neck, placing a small kiss just below your ear. he pulls from your neck and leans in. his eyes trail down to your lips. “please.”

you step back before anything can happen. “i’m sorry, jason.” you step away, walking back into the ballroom. joining the rest of the guest.

ᥫ᭡

the pounding on your door makes you jump, you whip your head fast, and quickly jump up from your bed. your nightgown falling down around your thighs. quickly, you swing the door open and your eyes come to face with jason’s chest. you slowly tilt your head up and meet his eyes. he wasn’t wearing his usual uniform, he wasn’t wearing his bullet proof vest. only a white shirt and dark slacks. it was too casual. he wasn’t wearing his usual grim frown either.

“jason?” he pushes the door open, you step aside quickly. not wanting to fall over. “you left.” he slams the door shut, locking it.

“what?”

“you left. you left me alone for that idiot.”

“jason-“ he cuts you off. his face curling into a deep and frustrated frown “do you love him? did you magically fall for him?”

before you can answer his question, jason cuts you off again. “i’ve wanted you since the moment i laid my eyes on you. i’ve loved you for years. if that idiot of a prince thinks he can swoop in and take you away from me just because he’s an heir to a throne–“ jason breathes out an irritated laugh, shaking his head. “then he is surely mistaken. you belong to me. you’ve always have.”

jason steps closer, and cups your chin in his hand, his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. pushing against jason you grip onto his shirt, pulling it off, letting it fall to your floor as jason pulls away. he unzips his slacks and lets them fall off. he makes his way to your bed and sits at the head of it, as if he owns the room. his eyes staring at you with desire.

jason leans against your headboard as you sit on the edge of the bed, looking unsure of what to do. was he really expecting you to be on top? you look at jason as you fidget with your hands, feeling flustered and awkward for the first time.

he tilts his head as his green eyes lock into yours. his lips twitch up as if he’s amused. as if he knew what you were thinking. “what, you thought i’d let you just lie down and take it? no, princess. you’ll work for it. no special royal treatment from me. you’ll ride my cock, like the little whore that you are.”

your eyes bulged, shocked. no one has ever used such vulgar language in front of you, let alone speak to you in that way. but this was jason, he could care less. jason has never cared about your royal status. it was odd, weird and sensational. your thighs clench at his words.

“well, what are you waiting for?” jason speaks, his tone mocking with a hint of smugness to it. “come here.” he curls his pointer finger in a ‘come here’ motion, expecting you to follow his order.

you suck in a breath and crawl over his long limbs. and sit on his large thigh, staring at the bulge poking through his boxers. “i’ve never–“

“i know. i’ll be gentle.” he reassures quickly, his fingers pushing back strands of hair that covers your pretty face. tucking in the loose strands behind your ear. he quickly traces his hands down to the end of your night gown, bunching it up around your hips. “tell me, tell me you want me.” jason whispers, his voice low and sensual, his lips ghosting on top of yours. “tell me that you don’t love him.” his hand cups around your jaw holding you in place. “even if it’s not true.”

you exhale a shaky breath, and close your eyes. “i want you, jason.” you murmur opening your eyes as you pull back to look at him. “i’m telling you the truth.”

“prove it.” he leans into you, nipping at your lower lip. “ride my cock, like the obedient girl you are.” his hands trail over your thighs. his fingers hook against the waist band of your underwear. lifting his head to look at you, silently telling you to to lift your hips up. and you do. he pulls down your underwear and lets them hang around your ankles. “stay like that for a bit.” he mumbles, tugging his boxer off.

he grips onto your hips and guides you down onto his dick. “take it easy.”

you wince in pain as you sink down on jason. “i know, you’re okay.” he whispers, rocking you gently. you felt full, and achy. you take in long deep breaths as you look into jason’s eyes, your hands gripping onto his shoulders. a few seconds later, he groans lowly, tapping your hip. signaling you to move your hips.

you start off slow and unsure of what your doing, feeling embarrassed. you look up to jason. his large hands guid your hips, moving them faster. “you got this, baby.” he lets go of your hips, letting you move yourself. “you can do it.”

you move your hips faster, hearing jason’s grunts raises your confidence. you move as fast as you can.

his hand trails down your backside, his large palm rubbing against your ass, lifting his hand high, he swats your ass. his eyes narrow and his nice sweet tone turns rough and serious. “faster.”

“i’m trying, jason.” you complain, out of breath from the movement of your hips.

“you’re not trying hard enough,” he grits out, smacking your ass harder. “faster.”

you huff out a breath and move your hips faster, trying to meet his expectations. but your movements become rugged and sloppy.

“jesus, just let me do it.” jason rolls his eyes, his hands grab ahold of your hips in a harsh grip, moving you how he wants you. “always need me to come help you, huh?”

“can never do anything for yourself, it’s fucking pathetic. always need your knight in shining armor to save you?”

“i’m sorry, i can do it.” you babble, letting jason do whatever he wanted. letting him move your hips at what’s pace he desires, high off the feeling. “you clearly can’t.”

“just a pretty princess, it’s okay, sweetheart. i’ll take care of you.” he grunts, his hand gripping tightly on your hip as the other applies pressure to your clit, rubbing in circular motions.

“are you going to to come? you’re squeezing me so tight. you can let go.” he whispers, thrusting his hips upward harshly, hitting deeply. you wraps your arms around jason’s neck tightly. digging your face into his neck.

the sensation of jason’s thrusts, words and hands all over you throws you over the edge. pulling your orgasm out of you. your nails dig harder into jason’s shoulders and you can feel your eyes start to water. you never want this to end, you don’t want to let jason go.

“good girl.” jason murmurs, pulling your face from his neck, he wipes away the tears and kisses your face. “so good for me.”

ᥫ᭡

lying in bed on your stomach, the sheets of your bed are pooled around your hip’s. exposing your back to jason. his hand traces lazily on your back. silently tracing different patterns. “don’t mary him,” jason whispers into the quiet room. “please, i’ll do anything.”

you twist your head, and toss your messy hair out of your face, looking at him. you can see the sincerity and the vulnerability in his eyes. you melt into a puddle instantly. you turn away. “jason, i have responsibilities.” you whisper back. he huffs out, an empty laugh follows as he shakes his head. “i know.”

a moment of silence. you or jason don’t usher a word. chewing on your lower lip, you wait. you decided you’re not speaking first.

“it was selfish of me to ask.” jason sighs, breaking the silence. leaning down he kisses your shoulder gently. staring at you for a moment, he sighs again and stands from the bed. jason quickly dresses himself and silently leaves you alone in your dark, cold room. you let him, your heart cracks as you hear the door shut behind him.

a/n: my first time writing for jason todd! i loooove him. anyways! i’m so sorry this is a bit rushed.

[dearmisshoney]

landlord special

synopsis. when your landlord's cruel, impossibly handsome son shows up to collect the rent — rent you don’t have — you decided that flaunting your body will get you out of trouble. but tom riddle wants more than just flashes of skin: an alternative payment, in a far more degrading currency. he may not be the true landlord, but he can give you the special white sticky paint you so desire.

pairing. landlord’s son! tom riddle x reader

content/mdni. DUB-CON. fem!reader, landlord’s son!tom, cruel!tom, stoic!tom, dom!tom, manipulative! tom, arrogant!tom, fingering, slight choking, doggy-style (over the counter), slight clit stimulation, clit/cunt slapping, spanking, orgasm denial, implied hand/vein kink, sir kink, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, name-calling (doll, good girl, whore and tenant whore), raw sex, i am down bad

word count. 4.1k

a/n. FIRST TIME WRITING FOR TOM! this one is for my lovely @viperify! i am not that proud of this fic, but oh well! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated! spot the surprise in the right picture

“pans, i am telling you! he will kick me out this time.”

your voice, desperate and anxious, boomed into the phone, reaching pansy’s ears without any interruptions. you called her as soon as you’ve received the news that tonight someone other than your kind old landlord will come to collect the rent — his arrogant, stuck-up son.

tom riddle was coming tonight.

you've met tom before, under similar circumstances: he stopped by your apartment a few months ago to get the payment in his father’s stead. that time, the old man told you his sweet boy tommy will drop by and only bother you for a few minutes for the rent, but should you have any issues with the apartment, you could talk to him too.

sweet boy tommy was not as sweet as his father suggested. when he first arrived at your front door, he barely spared you a glance before forcing his way in. he almost pushed you away with his solid build, but thankfully you evaded his shoulder in time by practically gluing yourself to the closest wall.

tom didn’t apologize, didn’t greet you; heck, if his father hadn’t phoned in before to announce his arrival, you wouldn’t have known the name of the handsome yet infuriating stranger.

what made it worse was that you had to pay more than usual to compensate for the previous month — at that time, you did not have the full sum of money, but your landlord was considerate and allowed you to pay the rest together with the next month’s payment.

tom seemed to not have been informed about that and his reaction was… something.

“last time he was such an ass.”

you remember it all clearly: that bastard crossed his arms, gave you the coldest meanest stare like you were some kind of criminal who’d deliberately planned to screw his father over, then called you out on your behavior. and he did it in the most spiteful way possible, glaring down at you with his dark brown eyes like you were a peasant with no value.

“'keep this up and you’ll find yourself out on the streets.' that’s what he said.” you continued, pacing around the living room while filling pansy in.

your footsteps quickened against the floorboard as you remember that night. you were growing more and more restless because you were sure that demon tom will keep his word and throw you out.

'you may fool my father, but not me.' tom added last time, lips curled into a devious grin, as if he knew something you didn’t, before shutting his notebook close and turning away towards the front door.

you remembered how goosebumps spread all over your skin at that venomous remark of his.

you remembered how your heart dropped into your stomach at that sly smirk of his.

you remembered how arousal drooled into your panties at that final arrogant gaze of his.

“and 'don’t be late again, doll.'” using your best tom voice, you recounted his threatening goodbye greeting for pansy.

“oh, girl! he was definitely flirting with you!”

what?

“pans, you’re crazy. i just told you that man threatened me, and your first thought is romance?”

“dark romance.” her voice almost cut you off, correcting your improper labelling.  “that’s how it usually goes, trust me!”

“you’re of no help. i should’ve just called drac­–”

“draco’s advice is ass. listen to me!” pansy continued, ready to present you the best plan of actions. “dress prettily for him, maybe get out that low-cut top you got with me–…”

“oh, so he can call me a broke and a whore? no thank you.”

“stop complaining! you want to at least try to soften his resolve?”

“… yeah.”

“then open your damn camera and show me your wardrobe.”

•••

8 p.m. sharp.

the knock on the front door comes loud and deliberate, echoing through the thin walls of your apartment. although prepared for his arrival, you still flinched in your seat at the sound, nearly falling off the edge of the living room couch.

you got this! it will be fine.

raising from your position, you made your way to the door. with one last look at your reflection in the hallway mirror, checking the provocative outfit pansy insisted you wear for tom, you stepped towards the front door. thrusting the key into the lock with no hesitation, you rotated it twice before the door was completely ajar, revealing your landlord’s son.

tom riddle stood there, with an air of superiority engulfing him, like he owned the entire goddamn building. dark coat, tailored to perfection, ending somewhere close to his knees. collared shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the smooth line of his throat, peeking from underneath his coat. hair slicked back but slightly disheveled, like he’s run a hand through it in frustration.

probably because of this meeting with you.

his sharp eyes dropped immediately on you — not to your face, no, but lower, taking in the full expense of your bare skin. the valley between your breasts — visible thanks to your top, together with the delicate chain glinting against your sternum. he made a mental note of the flexible material of your top and the way it was swaying at the tiniest movement.

you made an... interesting fashion choice.

tom didn’t stop there though. his eyes traversed even lower, down to your short tight skirt and the visible outline of your panties.

damn, weren’t you a sight for sore eyes?

nonetheless, he didn’t falter like pansy predicted, his expression stone-like, as if a half-naked woman wasn’t right before him. only one of his eyebrows arched, but not in surprise or excitement.

but in ruthless judgement.

“are you going somewhere?” his deep voice vibrated across the hallway as he stepped inside without an invitation.

his tone was accusatory, and it didn’t take you much to understand what was going on in his head: to tom, it seemed like you were planning to shoo him away fast by using an evening outing as an excuse.

“no wonder you’re always late on rent,” tom muttered, brushing past you with a scornful click of his tongue. “too busy playing dress-up for your little boyfriends.”

and with that, the front door shut behind him with a heavy thud, sealing you in with the very man you dreaded most.

boyfriends? he was straight up shaming you, throwing unfounded assumptions at you like darts to a board. just to stir you up. just to make you fall into his trap and sprout more cruelties at you.

so you kept quiet, raising your arms from your sides and instinctively moving to cross them over your chest to show your indignation. unfortunately, such a movement only made matters worse, as it forced your tits to spill further out of your top and aid tom’s assumptions about your promiscuity.

the slutty outfit was definitely a miss, only acting as your weakness, not his.

tom did not turn around to observe the state of your breasts though, as he walked further into your apartment, stepping towards the kitchen section with big strides. you follow him suit, hurrying your pace to catch up to him, while also being more aware of your clothing.

you should be careful not to sway your tits out of the top completely.

“i asked you a question, doll.” he murmured with that dominant tone of his, turning to face you again. his hands slipped into the inside pocket of his coat as he let his eyes roam your figure a second time — now far slower, far more obvious.

still no sign of destabilization.

tom pulled out his notebook — that cursed landlord notebook — and flipped the pages until he found your name.

“or are you ashamed you spent your rent money yet again on useless dates?”

“n–no, i have—” you started, already flustered by the maliciousness his voice. he was so viciously belittling you, yet you couldn’t deny the strong throbbing between your legs.

“n–no?” he mimicked your stuttering, voice low with amusement. “then you have the rent for this month, hm?”

forgetting his notebook on the kitchen island, tom reduced the distance between your two bodies with two small steps. now he was a breath away, his tall frame looming over yours, making you feel small, pathetic, weak.

your knees wanted to give out under the pressure, yet you somehow maintained your position under his merciless gaze. “i just–…”

“go get it.” tom dipped his head lower, reaching your exposed ear and whispering a daunting command and a suggestion tainted with danger. “and hurry, i am not a patient man.”

your breath hitched because of the proximity, his hot breath hitting your ear making your whole body jolt in place.

tom registered your reaction and he chuckled — low and dark, somehow amused by your bodily response. the low vibrations in his throat reached your own body too, travelling all the way under your skirt and pinching at your needy clit, making you clench your thighs.

you parted your lips, ready to agree, but he was already moving away from you — crossing the small kitchen in calculated strides and tossing his coat over one of your chairs. tom then leaned his body against the kitchen island, hip hitting the edge of the notebook and pushing it further into your field of vision.

he didn’t care for an answer. he was just after the money.

“pay up, miss tenant.”

you swallowed thickly and moved away from your spot, reaching for the envelope you had left on the adjacent counter earlier. you did your best to bend your knees rather than hinge at your hips while retrieving the envelope so as to not flash tom with your barely covered pussy.

that was the initial plan – flashing him, but now you needed to play safe and not irritate him.

the feather-like weight of the envelope in your hand — containing less than required — was a painful reminder that tom will kick you out this evening for sure. every step back towards him felt like walking a tightrope, especially as his cold eyes were tracking your every movement like a predator sizing up a meal.

when you got close to him, you immediately extended the envelope — with trembling fingers, not daring to meet his gaze. your eyes were instead focused on his newly exposed torso: the way the dark button-up was nicely snug against his body, how it was tucked neatly into his dress pants and supported by a leather belt.

how tom has actually rolled the sleeves of the shirt up to his elbows, exposing manly, vein-littered forearms to your wandering eyes.

you were so captivated by the sight, you did not realize he didn’t take the envelope right away. instead, tom was also eyeing you. he looked at your outstretched hand, then up at your loose top flashing him more of your tender skin. if he concentrated more, he could have definitely seen your perky nipples poking at the satin material.

fuck, he would have never thought he’d find you in such a promiscuous outfit, but he was definitely not complaining.

especially since you dressed so nicely just for him.

when tom finally took the envelope, he did so in one swift motion. letting his fingers brush yours for just a second — enough to make your skin thump like it had been electrocuted.

he opened it.

the room felt still. frozen.

then—

he scoffed.

it was soft, low, but somehow it hit harder than any other reaction he could have had. tom flipped through the bills with a single hand before slamming the envelope down on the counter.

“this isn’t the full amount, doll.”

your heart dropped. “i-i know. i tried, but—”

“tried?” he said it like the word offended him. “do i look like someone who accepts partial payments?”

fuck, why did you listen to pansy? why did you get your hopes up knowing what kind of man he is?

“i'll get the rest by next week, i swear—”

tom clicked his tongue again like a disappointed parent. “do you think this is a joke?” he stepped closer. “do you think i'm my father?”

you flinched, taking a step back as tom slowly crept towards you. his jaw was clenched with an unspoken anger, while his dark eyes glimmered with something else.

more primal. more raw.

the corner of his lips raised in a cruel grin, pleased yet again by your cowering reaction. he continued his menacing steps until he backed you all the way into the kitchen isle. and when your ass finally collided with the edge of the counter, he caged you in with his half-exposed arms.

keeping you trapped between the wooden furniture piece and his body.

“of course you do.” he leaned down slightly, forcing you to look up at him with those scared eyes of yours. “he probably let you cry and smile and flirt your way out of every consequence. but me?” his hand reached up and, with just a single finger under your chin, he tilted your face higher.

“i’m not a fucking charity, doll.”

you swallowed.

“i should toss you out on the street tonight. you know that, right?”

“n–no, please...”

“don’t lie to me, doll.” he growled in your face, mouth hovering so close to yours.

his hand removed itself from your chin, snaking lower until it reached the base of your throat. and, with strong and unrestrained fingers, tom latched tightly onto your airpipe.

“you knew what would happen, right?” he asked again, this time putting pressure on your exposed neck.

“y–yes.”

“yes what?”

shit, was this really happening?

“yes, s–sir?!”

“that’s right, doll.”

he groaned the pet name into your ear, his voiced drenched in lustful satisfaction. tom was visibly enjoying your submissiveness, and his body was proudly showing that through the bulge in his dress pants.

tom let his other hand trail lightly down your torso, stopping shortly at the hem of your skirt before fully sliding his hands over your ass. “so what are you going to do?”

it was clear as day what he was hinting at, yet he continued to taunt you with feigned ignorance, wishing to see you offer your body on your own.

“what are you offering in return? because cash clearly isn’t your currency of choice.”

your lips parted, but no words came out. his hand was harshly pressing down on your throat, veins popping across his flexed forearm, but that wasn’t the full reason why you couldn’t speak up. with his other hand, tom was groping at the plush of your ass, clawing at the stretchy material and making your brain all hazy.

“nothing to say?” he mused, pulling his lower hand back slightly, only to slap it across your butt cheek.

“you’re dressed like you want to be fucked,” he said coldly. “not pitied.”

you gasped loudly, partially offended, but your thighs pressed further one into the other.

because he was right.

you did it all intentionally and you had to bear the consequences of your scandalous behavior.

“here’s the deal.” his face was inches from yours now. “you give me something worth more than your pitiful rent... or you pack your shit and leave tonight.”

his fingers gripped the edge of your skirt, inching it higher and higher on your leg. tom was acting on his own, but such forward actions were merely based on your own little scheme of seduction. he saw through you, saw how you wanted to fuck your way out of this payment.

he might as well indulge you, no?

“don’t play innocent now, doll. you dressed up for this, didn’t you?”

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.

your breath was caught somewhere between fear and want, tangled up in the grip tom had around your neck and the arousal soaking your already ruined panties. you were trembling, eyes blown wide, chest heaving — but not backing away.

you didn’t move when he hiked your skirt up fully, baring your panties to the warm air of the kitchen. you didn’t stop him when he hooked a single finger into their waistband and tugged them down your thighs.

“thought so,” he muttered, voice thick with disdain. “fucking whore.”

you whimpered as his hand slid between your legs, thick fingers parting your folds and dragging slowly through the wetness. you were so fucking drenched– his digits got sticky with arousal in one mean swipe.

and your hole, god! his finger prodded against your twitchy entrance and was almost sucked in by your hungry cunt.

“so desperate…”

tom complied to your bodily needs as he dipped one finger inside, pushing knuckle-deep without warning. you gasped, back arching, your ass pressing harder into the counter as your knees caved into one another, threatening to give out.

“fuck,” he sneered, slowly thrusting the finger in and out of you. “knew you’d be like this. knew that from the moment i walked in. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“t–tom.” you whined his name, voice high and cracking. your walls clenched around his finger, giving him a non-verbal answer.

you wanted this so so bad.

“it’s sir for you, doll.” he added a second finger, curling them inside you as your body jolted forward, face mushing against his chest. “say that for me like a good girl!”

and you did. you were putty in his hands and you couldn’t deny him nor the pleasure you were receiving.

“s–sir, si–ir.”

“that’s right, dirty whore.” tom hissed against your ear as he sped up his movement, his two digits now opening you up with urgency. “shit, you’re dripping down your thighs for a man who threatened to evict you.”

you’d so wish to defend yourself, but only moan came out of your drool-covered lips. it was humiliating how quickly he worked you up — how rough and impatient he was, fingers pumping into you like he wasn’t trying to coax your pleasure, just use it.

and fuck, it was working. your hips were rocking against his hand, desperate, mindless.

“you’re not even trying to resist,” tom murmured darkly, pulling his hand away from your cunt, only to deliver a harsh slap to it. “pathetic.”

“turn around. now.”

tom ordered, yet didn’t allow you to conform. he manhandled you as he wished, pulling his hand on your back and spinning you around, only to shove you forward, pressed down into the counter. your cheek was smushed against the notebook, ink now stretching across the pages due to your sweat.

but it didn’t matter now, really. what was the point of writing down your tabs if you weren’t going to pay the traditional way?

you only gasped as the cold surface met your chest, your tits now spilled out of the satin top and pressed nicely against the wooden counter. one strong hand grabbed your hip, yanking you back, while the other bunched up your skirt around your waist. the sharp edge of the counter dug into your stomach, your legs shaky and parted just for him.

what an obedient little tenant whore you’ve become.

“sloppy fucking pussy.” he groaned behind you, as he undid his belt and shoved his trousers down just enough to free his cock.

the sound of his zipper made you shiver, your heart hammering in your ears. and then you felt him, hot and heavy, sliding between your soaked folds, teasing your entrance with the fat head of his shaft. he smeared the leaking tip through your slick, mixing his precum with your own juices. to torture you even more, he even drew it upwards and formed circles over your puffy clit.

all just to watch you squirm beneath him.

“payment time, doll.” tom hissed, voice right behind your ear. “a proper payment, for once.”

and with no warning, he slammed into you.

completely. in one full push.

you cried out, legs nearly buckling as his cock filled you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. he didn’t pause to let you adjust, no. he just grabbed at your hips, digging his digits into your skin, and started pounding into you.

hard. fast. indifferent towards you.

each thrust shoved your body further into the counter’s edge, making your tits drag all across the surface. the stretch of his cock burned, your walls clenching around him, fluttering helplessly with every ruthless snap of his hips.

“god, listen to that.” he growled, hips jutting into your ass over and over again, the harsh slap of skin to skin filling the kitchen like music. the wet squelches of your cunt were loud and constant, a true indicator of your unmeasurable arousal.

“you like being used, don’t you? like being bent over and ruined like a whore?”

“y–yes, sir!” you cried out, voice muffled by the countertop, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from pain and pleasure.

tom chuckled cruelly at your desperate answer, dragging his cock out almost completely, then slamming back in with a sharp grunt. “you’ll be lucky if you can walk after this.”

your fingers clawed at the edge of the counter, so so overwhelmed by the way tom was bullying his cock into you. he was hitting all the nice spots and, fuck– this position allowed his tip to kiss your cervix just right.

"don't cum." he bent over your ruined body, sneering into your ear.

you seem to be too lost in the feeling — eyes rolled back, mouth agape; you definitely did not hear tom. so he took matters into his own hands and brought you back to reality. by reaching around and slapping your sensitive clit — quick, sharp swats that made your body seize and shake.

"you don't get to finish, whore."

you sobbed, ecstatic from the thick cock stretching you so good, from the filthy cruel words, from the unbearable heat building in your belly. tom was relentless, drilling into you with contempt, hammering that spot inside you again and again.

“fuck—" he hissed suddenly, thrusts growing erratic. his grip on your hips tightened like a vice. “you're gonna take all my cum. you hear me, doll?”

“yes, sir! please– please–!”

and with a deep growl, he slammed in deep, hips crushing against your ass as he emptied his balls inside you.

thick, hot spurts of cum painted your insides, his cock twitching with every drop released. he stayed buried into your cunt until the very end, panting into your neck as his hands made sure your hips stopped moving.

you trembled beneath him, your cunt pulsing around his cock, aching for more. for anything. but he stood still, letting you feel his white sticky release fill you to the brim.

then slowly, cruelly, he pulled out.

his cum immediately began to drip out of your swollen cunt, running down your thighs in thick streaks.

no. way. was he really denying your orgasm?

tom looked down at the mess, satisfaction painted all over his face. to see your puffy pussy covered in his cum, all sensitive and begging for release– it almost made his cock sprung back to life. almost.

“payment accepted,” he said coldly, tucking himself back into his pants and taking a step back.

“w–wait, but–?”

“is something the matter, doll?” he muttered with venom, moving away from behind you and walking up to his forgotten coat.

“did you thought i’d make you finish just for begging like a whore?”

“please, sir…” your voice was cracked and breathless, brain hazy with the growing ache between your legs. “please, i-i need–”

“you need what?” he interrupted cruelly as he carefully readjusted his sleeves to put on his coat. “you need me to fuck you stupid? let you come all over my hand like a pathetic little tenant whore?”

you whimpered, nodding rapidly as your hips push back against thin air. “yes, sir… please. please let me cum…”

a beat of silence.

and then tom started buttoning up his coat.

“you didn’t pay the full rent,” he said flatly, voice devoid of any emotion now.

your head whipped around, eyes wide with disbelief, pleading for him to change his mind. but he only grabbed the notebook and the envelope, dropping them inside his pocket. “you thought that desperate performance would buy you an orgasm?”

“what? no– no, please,” you gasped, still bent over, cunt dripping, aching, throbbing. “please, i’ll do anything–”

tom laughed menacingly — a sound devoid of humor but full of cruel satisfaction. “yeah, i know you will. so next time, bring the full fucking payment.”

your mouth hung open, chest heaving with shock and disbelief as he walked towards the door.

“t-tom! please!” your voice cracked, tears of frustration dripping down your cheeks as you stood there, spread over the counter, wrecked and ruined.

he paused at the door, hand on the doorknob.

“you get your orgasm when i get my money.”

he glanced over his shoulder one last time, with a smirk so toxic it made your knees shake all over again.

“next month, doll. don’t be late.”

©dearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @downbad4reid, @cafechichay, @lov3notts, @nottslove

[strayingawayy]

series: love me two times

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

chapter 2: trending naked

read introduction here

chapter 1

word count: 2500 words

WARNINGS: strong language, sexual content, emotional manipulation, toxic family dynamics, power imbalances, alcohol use, eventual gun violence, blood and injury, blackmail, surveillance, themes of control, secrecy, betrayal, repression, psychological tension under the guise of romance, dubious business dealings, manipulation via arranged marriage, and consistent, unapologetically bad decision making from most, if not all, characters involved. british humour. in case you all pussy out from that.

A/N: after a month of banging my head, here's chapter 2. i'm not that proud to present it but i sincerely hope you all enjoy it. to a certain extent atleast.

playlist.

─── Some things weren’t meant to be seen.

Not by cameras. Not by friends. Certainly not by the entire world before breakfast. Some truths weren’t meant to come out, not this fast, not like this, and definitely not with a scandal trending in thirty countries.

And some mornings…

Well, some mornings arrive like a car crash in slow motion—silent, bloody, and impossible to stop. This was one of those mornings.

And by nightfall, it wouldn’t be the only thing that had exploded.

Because the scandal was just foreplay.

Minho doesn’t give too many fucks. That, perhaps, is exactly why the media can’t get enough of him. His reputation for ignoring paparazzi—walking past flashbulbs like they were beneath him, brushing off scandal like lint from his shoulders—only fuels the curated image the world has built for him: rich, cold, handsome.

The kind of man who never apologises, never chases, never looks back.

A man with cufflinks that cost more than most people’s rent and a gaze sharp enough to file lawsuits.

He never fails to live up to the version people have conjured of him: an aloof enigma who seems to have stepped straight out of a bloody Wattpad story with a dark past, a tailored coat, and a five-star attitude. Ice in his veins. Designer cologne on his skin. The untouchable heir to a corporate empire.

Which is why it was, in fact, utterly unacceptable that he had woken up to find himself trending worldwide.

Naked.

Trending naked.

His bed, once a haven of order and pristine thread counts, was now a battlefield of duvet limbs and existential panic. And just as he stirred—blissfully unaware that his dignity had been annihilated in high definition—his bedroom door was kicked open with the force of a raid.

“BLOODY HELL, MINHO, WAKE UP, YOU ABSOLUTE WEAPON!”

Three things happened in rapid succession.

First: his brain registered Han Jisung’s voice at an inhumane decibel level.

Second: his eyes opened to the sight of said menace launching himself bodily onto the bed.

Third: he was being shaken so violently he momentarily forgot his own name.

“YOU’RE ON THE NEWS,” Jisung screamed, as though this were the beginning of a film and not, as it would turn out, the single most embarrassing day of Minho’s entire existence. As though the evening of the engagement wasn't enough.

Minho groaned, shoving weakly at Jisung’s hyperactive limbs. “So? I’m always on the news.”

Jisung’s eyes went white with incredulity. “NOT LIKE THIS.”

As if summoned by the very chaos vibrating through the room, Changbin barrelled in behind him, phone clutched in hand, screen already aglow with doom.

And there it was.

The headline that would haunt Minho for the rest of his natural life, and potentially a few reincarnations after that:

LEE MINHO & FIANCÉ(E)’S PRIVATE MOMENT LEAKED — SCANDAL OR SECRET LOVE STORY?

Minho blinked. “...Private moment?”

Jisung, ever helpful, snatched the phone from Changbin with the reflexes of a pickpocket (we’re going to ignore his experience in this regard) and began scrolling like a man possessed.

“The media’s trying to be classy about it,” he muttered, squinting at the article, “but, mate, it’s a full-blown sex tape.”

“That’s not possible,” Minho said, more to the universe than anyone in the room.

Changbin inhaled slowly, as if preparing to deliver last rites. “Oh, but it is.”

Jisung tapped ‘play’.

And there.

There.

On the screen: Minho. You. A luxury hotel bed with gold-accented sheets. Your leg hiked over his shoulder like a Cirque du Soleil audition. The unmistakable cadence of debauchery. There was a brief moment of hope—it could be someone else, blurry or cropped footage—

But no.

There was his face, though not evidently visible but definitely his. His body. His hair slightly mussed in that aesthetically criminal way. And then—just to ensure he’d never sleep again—audio.

“Oh my God,” Minho breathed, horror pooling behind his eyes like storm clouds.

Changbin nudged him, eyes still on the screen. “Bro, you gripped the headboard.”

Han let out a noise so ungodly it might’ve summoned spirits. “Nah, why did Y/N tell you to shut up and you actually did?”

Minho’s hand shot out, slamming the phone screen-down against the mattress like it would do him any good. “I am going to pass away.”

But alas. The gods of disgrace were only just getting started.

Because the next moment?

Jisung—bright, chipper, and holding a remote like a harbinger of doom—turned on the television.

And there, in crisp HD on national news, was a panel of analysts dissecting Minho’s thrusting technique.

“So, if you pause at 1:15, we see Minho taking the lead.”

“Briefly.”

“Right, so that’s where you can see the power shift. Minho thinks he’s leading, but actually Y/N takes control.”

“Fascinating power dynamic. Wonder if that’ll affect the company in the future. And at 2:03, we see a rare moment of desperation—”

“And a rare moment of his perky arse—”

Minho buried his face in his hands. “This is not happening.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Jisung corrected, practically vibrating with mirth.

And just when Minho thought he’d reached the peak of his humiliation—

The door slammed open.

You.

You looked like a mythological fury: hair askew, eyes burning with a fury that could level cities, your phone clutched so tightly it was a miracle it hadn’t shattered under the force of your wrath.

Minho had faced hostile shareholders. Ruthless competitors. Once, even a death threat from a rival conglomerate.

He had never been this afraid.

“YOU,” you spat, striding towards him like a vengeance incarnate.

“Me,” Minho squeaked.

You hurled your phone at him—a Samsung-shaped missile of fury. He only just managed to catch it before it smacked him between the eyes.

The screen?

A live press conference.

“We are deeply concerned by this invasion of privacy—”

“Yes, but let’s focus on the real issue. What does this mean for Lee Corp’s reputation?”

“More importantly, what does it mean for his stamina?”

Minho launched the phone across the room like it was cursed.

Han and Changbin were now weeping on the bed with laughter, occasionally slapping the duvet for oxygen. Like that would help.

“FIX THIS,” you snarled, stepping closer.

Minho gulped. “Okay. But, um, how?”

You were incandescent.

“I don’t know, Minho, maybe by explaining why THE WHOLE WORLD JUST WATCHED ME DOMINATE YOU IN A FIVE-STAR HOTEL?”

Jisung wheezed.

Changbin slid off the bed entirely.

Minho inhaled a dust bunny from the mattress and promptly choked on his own spit.

“First of all,” he croaked, his ears practically glowing, “I would not say ‘dominate’—”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. Full force. Righteous and deserved.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY.”

He held up both hands. “You’re right. Not funny. Very serious.”

You exhaled sharply, pacing now like a tiger in a cage.

“This is huge,” you muttered, half to yourself. “My career? Ruined. My name? Dragged through the mud. My family? Calling me to ask if I’ve ‘forsaken God’—”

Minho blinked. “Okay, that’s dramatic.”

You stopped dead, eyes wide.

“DRAMATIC? MINHO, I HAD TO BLOCK MY AUNT ON FACEBOOK BECAUSE SHE CALLED ME A JEZEBEL.”

A beat.

“…What century is she living in?”

“FOCUS.”

Minho sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

And for the first time since this entire trainwreck had begun, he really looked at you.

Your arms were folded tightly across your chest, jaw clenched so hard it trembled. Your breathing was uneven. And underneath the righteous fury, the fire, the rage—

He saw it.

Humiliation.

Fear.

This wasn’t just a scandal to you. This was your life. Your reputation. Your family.

Your safety.

Minho straightened, cleared his throat and managed to muster enough courage to find his voice.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. Calmer. “We’ll fix this.”

You laughed—a bitter, brittle thing. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Minho’s jaw locked.

He didn’t know.

Not yet.

But whoever had leaked that footage? Whoever had thought they could reduce you to gossip and grainy pixels? Humiliate you and smear your life across the tabloids like it was theatre?

They had made the single worst mistake of their lives.

And Lee Minho was going to make sure they regretted it.

•━━━━━━━━━━━•

Twenty minutes later, however, Minho was sitting in his office, head in his hands, while his PR team screamed at each other like contestants on a reality show.

“Do we deny?”

“We can’t deny! It’s him! We can literally see his face!”

“Okay, but how do we spin this?”

“Maybe say it was deepfake technology?”

“Oh, so AI Minho was out here breaking beds now?”

“WE NEED AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT!”

Minho groaned. “Jesus Christ, can everyone just—”

“Shut up?” one intern offered, ducking as a binder went flying across the room.

The office was a warzone. Papers. Coffee cups. Screaming. Someone crying softly in the corner. Possibly the Head of Crisis Communications. Hard to tell through the chaos.

Minho sat slumped at the conference table like a cursed prince in a kingdom of flaming paperwork, flanked by twelve PR specialists and zero solutions.

He hadn’t even had coffee.

“The stock’s dipped five percent in the last hour,” a voice piped up from the end of the table.

“Five?” another gasped.

“Six,” corrected a third, refreshing a graph with trembling fingers.

Minho exhaled through his nose. “So what I’m hearing is: we’re all doing really well.”

“I have a plan,” said a voice.

Silence.

All heads turned.

It was Felix.

Felix, in his immaculate blazer and pixel-perfect skin, who—until this very moment—had been watching from the window like a gothic Victorian ghost. Now, he stepped forward, chin raised, golden hair gleaming like divine retribution.

“You’re not going to like it,” he added, with the kind of grim solemnity usually reserved for war generals.

Minho gestured weakly. “Let’s hear it.”

Felix tapped his phone. The smart TV blinked to life.

LEE MINHO: THE MAN BEHIND THE HEADBOARD. A Love Story.

Minho said, “No.”

“Listen,” Felix said. “We lean in. We make it a love story. A passionate, uncontrollable, deeply consensual love story between two people thrown into an arranged engagement who—oh no!—accidentally fell into bed before marriage.”

“You are insane.”

“I’m a visionary, hyung.”

Jisung burst into the room. “It’s not insane. It’s working.”

“What?”

“Your ship tag is trending. #MinYN. There’s already a Tumblr fic called Cuffed By Fate and it’s got 4200 likes. Wish people reblogged more these days though.”

“In one hour?”

“Internet moves fast," Jisung supplies with a shrug, cheeks stuffed with grapes he had managed to grab in the midst of this chaos.

Changbin followed in, tablet in hand. “You’re not going to like this either—but your dad called.”

Minho sat up. “What?”

“He says this whole ‘sex tape’ thing? It’s good for business.”

Everyone stared.

“The engagement was polling terribly. Now people think it’s romantic. Reckless. There’s a petition for you two to star in a K-drama.”

Minho leaned back slowly.

“I want everyone out.”

They scrambled. PR scattered. Jisung took three pastries and saluted on the way out.

Only Minho, Chan, and Felix remained.

“I want to know who leaked it.”

Felix nodded, smile gone and work mode locked in as he adjusted his glasses. “We’re tracing the footage. CCTV. Remote access. Not an accident.”

“Who the fuck has that kind of access?” Minho’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

Chan’s arms folded, and for a heartbeat the room held its breath. Then, in a low, careful tone: “Someone high up. Someone close. Possibly… family.”

Minho felt the walls tilt. His mind raced—replaying every meeting, every forced smile, every curt nod exchanged with your father. Protection. Control. The words echoed in his skull.

Had the engagement ever been about safeguarding you—or about cementing ownership?

He pictured the hidden CCTV feed, the silent transmission, the deliberate timing. This wasn’t an accident. It was precision.

Minho’s chair scraped back as he stood. His pulse hammered in his ears. “Where are they?”

Chan hesitated. “Left with their father’s driver.”

“Willingly?” Minho’s question trembled on the edge of accusation.

Silence stretched. Then: “I’m not sure.”

Gears turned in Minho’s mind. Someone orchestrated this. Someone who knew every code, every security hole, every blind spot. Someone trusted. Someone inside.

He tugged on his coat, fingers brushing the gun at his hip. Outside, the city pulsed with oblivious life. But here—right here—Minho understood the stakes had just become lethal.

He stepped toward the door. His jaw clenched.

He only wished he knew the true target.

...

taglist: @imfoive @jisunggy @hyunebunx @peskybirdysya @rockstarkkami @knowbites @mischievousleeknow @thepoeticpurplepotato @artemesiareads @valreifang @alisonyus @jisuperboard @8minho @robinnotgood24 @sarahfirecrystals-blog @lmnhx @maskedcrawford @bluesoobinnie @butterflydemons @pinkpunkdynamite @stickymusictale @lazymfblog @krssliu @halesandy @vcordova1460 @gnusihcom @cutecucumberkimberly @coldcraftmusiclight @superwholockiancrackhead @starfishblobblob @privatespotyk @thingsiwannaseelater @loveunt0ld @showingmafandomlove @2minpov @hantaechan @skyinkpop-blog @helpijustgothere @herejusttemporary @kpopenthusiast143 @miyaluvvsyou @shuuporanglinos @abbiestearsricochet @pixie-felix @loxgirl2004 @met30c1ty @feelikecinderella @uhhhhhokay @moon0fthenight @cashtonsbetch

[feeshu09]

What if Shen Yuan gets a petty princess boyfriend because the universe (I) said so.

-wrote a little ficlet about them under the cut ✨-

Shen Yuan's (very confused) POV:

You know, there are days you wake up and think, “Wow, life is weird.” And then there are days you wake up and there's a beautiful, irritated, probably-came-from-a-period-drama man sitting on your couch like he owns the place, glaring at your toaster like it personally offended his ancestors.

Yeah. I’m talking about that kind of day.

It started, as these things always do, with a thunderclap, some suspiciously glittery mist, and the next thing I knew, there was a very angry, very elegant man standing in the middle of my studio apartment. He looked around my humble little man-cave—okay, fine, it was a bit of a pig sty. I wasn't expecting visitors—and sneered so hard I thought his face would stay that way forever.

“This is your abode?” he asked, with the same tone I use when I accidentally step in dog poop.

“Uh,” I said intelligibly. “Yes…?”

He hissed. Hissed. Like a very angry, very pretty feral cat. It was alarming. And a little hot? No, stop that, Shen Yuan. Bad. No petting the murder kitty.

So. A quick summary: the stranger introduced himself—begrudgingly—as Shen Jiu.

A handsome stranger.

And he was in my house.

Living in my apartment.

Breathing my air.

Criticizing my instant ramen choices like he wasn’t literally eating all of them.

“You eat like a beggar,” he said yesterday, sipping tea he made himself after complaining my kettle was ‘barbaric’. “This isn't sustenance. It's punishment.”

Okay. One: accurate. Two: rude.

But we fell into a rhythm after a few weeks, somehow. Like a weird little odd-couple sitcom. Every morning, I’d wake up to Shen Jiu curled in a pile of throw blankets on my futon, looking like a disgruntled Persian cat. He hated the TV but would still watch it with a kind of horrified fascination. He especially hated anime. That was… a problem.

The turning point came when he caught me watching some over the top shonen anime and heard me make a passing comment about the protagonist’s abs.

“You like that?” he asked, voice tight. “You like him?”

“What? No, I—” I laughed, awkward. “It’s just anime—”

He made a sound like someone dropped a piano on his pride and turned off the laptop with a single disdainful poke of a button.

“You’re not allowed to look at other men,” he said, eyes narrowed.

“…What?”

“You heard me,” he said, as if that explained anything and then settled on my lap.

Then he stole my glasses.

He literally plucked them off my face like a bully on the schoolyard and perched them on his own perfectly arched nose.

I stared. Squinted, really. “I’m legally blind.”

“Good,” he snapped. “Then you can’t ogle those fake men anymore. Who draws them like that anyway? It’s obscene.”

“Jiu-ge,” I said gently. “Um… Can I have my glasses back please?”

“For what? To look at other men? I don’t think so.”

Never—and I mean never—has anyone been so furiously jealous of fictional anime boys that they physically robbed me of my glasses. It was almost impressive.

And I let him keep them.

Why? Because the alternative was him going back into Feral Mode™ where he hisses and threatens to set my bookshelf on fire with qi that I still don’t believe exists in this universe.

Besides… I didn’t mind the glasses thing so much when he was situated on my lap like I was his personal throne.

“You’re warm,” he said, nonchalant, like this was normal. Like he didn't came from a completely different reality.

“Cool,” I wheezed, not cool at all.

“You’re flustered,” he added, smug.

I was. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Instead, I tried to focus on the dead screen of my laptop, even if everything was blurry.

So now I’m trapped in a never-ending loop of being lowkey bullied by a man with cheekbones sharp enough to commit murder, who eats all my ramen, hoards my glasses, gets jealous of anime characters, and has absolutely no concept of personal space.

And you know what the worst part is?

I think I might like it.

Please send help.

…Or not.

[fawnnlvr]

model | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x model!reader

masterlist

author's note: small small 1k words drabble that has been on my mind for a long time and i feel like it should he shared with the world. inspired by the middle photo because it genuinely haunts me in my dreams in a good way.

"Come on pretty boy, smile for me." you softly spoke as you stared down at your boyfriend, a camera right beside your face as your finger hovered over the top button.

Spencer's hands rested on your hips as they steadied your stance. He sat on the couch as you straddled him, legs on either side of his body, locking him in place.

He would be lying if he said it was a wonder how he got in that position, but due to his memory, he remembered it clearly. His curious nature of needing to know everything had gotten him in that position, forcefully might he add.

Being the partner of a model, he should have expected that you would own a variety of cameras to capture your beauty. He innocently picked one up and started to snap a few candid photos as you and him went on a book date. The two of you messed around with the camera, snapping photos of each other in silly poses. One thing had led to another and Spencer found himself under your powerful, sultry gaze.

"You can't force me to model for you." he laughed, thinking this entire idea of you photographing him like he was a model to be absurd.

"You, my pretty boy, are a model in my eyes and I want to capture you with my lens."

"This was supposed to be your photoshoot." this entire thing began simply because he liked taking photos of you— to preserve all the moments he had with you. He isn't the type have his photos taken and he was fine with that idea because in his eyes, you are the star— his star.

"I'm a model. I've had many photoshoots in my lifetime so now its time for the student to become the master."

"That isn't how the saying goes nor is this the right context—" he was silenced by your manicured finger finding its way to his lips, successfully shutting it.

You moved the camera from your face to look at him, "Come on. No one will see these photos, but us." he still looked a little reluctant so you sighed and moved closer, your lips to his ear, "We can take a little more private photos if you want to later. A little boudoir—"

His breathing became uneven as you felt him swallow. His grip became slightly more stronger on his hips as he stared up at you, the pupils of his eyes increasing.

"Just for you." you used a free hand to caress his jaw. Just for him. Only for his eyes to see.

"S-so, what's the theme for this photoshoot?"

"A handsome man who loves his girlfriend?" you tilted your head as you suggested a theme that barely needed any acting and just his face.

"Very doable."

"Great. This camera is a sort of one and done so we need to be very selective on the positions." your hand stayed on his jaw, a thumb to his cheek as you tilted his head to be in the perfect position for the camera to catch him from above.

Spencer leaned into your warm touch, "I feel nervous looking into the camera."

"Look at me then," he stared at you through his eyelashes as he leaned his head into the palm of your hand, "there we go."

He looked like a lovesick puppy from that position. Staring up at you from behind the camera with these cloudy dazed eyes. Looking at you as if you were his world and he couldn't believe you were his and he was yours.

Snap!

The polaroid made noise as the mechanical engineering inside of it had colorized and printed the photo. A few seconds later and the photo was already rising from the top.

Spencer raised his hand and placed it on top of yours that rested on his face. Using his free hand, he grabbed the photo from the camera and placed it off to the side to complete.

"That will be mine. We can take two." you told him, already cheesing at the sight in front of you as well as unsure how you would be able to handle your hot boyfriend in this position forever preserved in a photo.

"Same position?" Spencer asked as the camera was already in place to snap another photo.

"You have more artistic direction. Whatever suits your boat."

"It's float your boat, but I do have a small idea." He used a hand to guide yours from the higher side of his face to the lower. Your thumb slid from his cheek to his soft lips, tracing the small traces of your lipgloss. His lips slightly parted and his hand that was one yours had let go before it found its place on your waist.

Your felt your thumb slowly go further in and Spencer kept eye contact as he brought his lips into a circle to slowly suck the tip of your thumb. Tilting his head just slightly up, you swore you saw an angel.

An unsteady breath escaped your mouth as you felt your stomach tense, "I feel like I should pray to the heavens for blessing me with this sight."

Spencer tried to suppress his smile for the sake of the photo, but it was obvious in the ways his eyes crinkled and the way he was staring into the camera lens as if he was staring into your soul.

You hurried to snap the photo, afraid that a moment like this could slip away and you wouldn't be able to remember the full details or relive it to its fullest. As soon as the camera finished capturing the scene, you gently placed it down on the table beside the ends of your couch before pulling Spencer in for a kiss.

Hands in his hair, softly tugging it and pulling him closer, letting your lipstick paint his lips, nose, cheeks and all over his face.

It was going to be a long night.

[dreamsteddie]

I've been thinking about a rockstar Eddie thing that's just a little bit cracky but enraptures my imagination anyway.

At, like 25, all of Eddie's wildest dreams have come true way faster and way easier than he ever dreamed for himself as a high school super super senior and ultimate dropout. The band grinds for a year or two and comes out with a full album, and it's an instant success. A couple more years down the line, they're touring and making a lot of money and going to all the galas and events while maintaining their sense of self. Wayne semi-retires and gets a more relaxed part-time job close to where Eddie lives in Detroit.

Eddie is riding high and he decides, fuck it, all my wildest out of reach dreams come true, I'm going all in on the only thing I've always thought was less reachable than becoming a wold renound musician, finding love and settling down.

He goes from zero to a hundred, getting himself ready to find the love of his life. The CC boys and Wayne are just watching as Eddie starts dressing a little nicer and making him home a little more comfortable and putting a little extra into his shows and wandering around afterward. Eddie has never really dated, and so he's kind of just throwing it all out there to see if he can just...run into the love of his life, woo them, and show how serious he is by showing off his nice but comfortable home and non-rockstar capabilities. He's basically acting like some kind of bird.

Unfortunately, no one really takes him that seriously. Not the guys or anyone Eddie tries to woo. The whole wild rockstar thing gets in the way of how people see him. The band thinks this is another wild whim that will pass in a few months, maybe a couple of years. The people Eddie tries to get something started with take his overtures as either a ploy to get something (a lay, a date, someone to accompany him to an event) or see that he really is trying to fast track find somebody to love and jump both feet first into semi-domestic bliss with and gets scared off.

After a girl, who seemed receptive and fun and like someone Eddie could love, ghosts him Eddie finds himself with his head buried in his knees on a bench in the park near his house, wondering if this is truly the one goal he won't ever be able to reach. He feels someone sit next to him and usually, with his current mindset, he would take this as a sign and start chatting this person up, but he stays buried, hoping they will leave him to wallow in peace.

Instead, the guy asks if there's anything wrong. Eddie has never needed an invitation to rant and none of his friends are taking him seriously so he starts to ramble, not looking up, about his quest and how no one wants to give him a chance, and he just wants someone who wants to share a life with him.

Steve is immediately like, "Oh, that sounds really nice!"

No one has ever given that positive of a response right away to Eddie's idea so he shoots up, surprised at the reaction. The guy next to him is stupidly handsome, with perfect hair and a pretty smile and the sweetest moles Eddie has ever seen. He just stares with big, wet eyes as the man extends a hand.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Steve. I'd be down to give it a shot, show me what you got."

Eddie leaps out of his seat, keeping Steve's hand in his own as he gets down on his knees to kiss his hand like a knight. Steve laughs and Eddie knows this is it, this is his chance and he's grabbing it with both hands.

Eddie has been planning a hundred-and-one perfect dates since he began this scheme and he pulls out half of them in one day for Steve. They go to his favorite cafe with an outside patio, meander through one of Detroit's many car shows, go roller skating, let Steve pick the dinner spot, and walk through the nicest part in the neighborhood, eating ice cream cones with one scoop picked by each of them.

By the end of the night, Eddie is sure that he's found what he's looking for in Steve, but after so many failures, he's scared to ask if Steve feels the same. They walk hand in hand toward Steve's place, the night coming to a natural end. When they reach his door, Steve stops and asks why Eddie went to quiet.

Eddie admits that he's afraid to let this slip through his finders, that he doesn't want to say goodbye. Steve smiles and tells him he doesn't have to, tells him to take him home.

Eddie lets hope and love bloom in his chest and kisses the back of Steve's hand again, and calls them a ride to his house. They lead against each other, eyes closed, wiped out from their whirlwind day as the city passes them by. When they get in, Steve settles in easily, remarking on the plush-looking couch and vintage-style kitchen.

They don't have sex that night, don't even kiss, they just get settled for bed and curl up into each other. Eddie cracks the window to let in a breeze, and they drift off easily with smiles on their faces.

[revelboo]

See im wondering how the humans react to another human flirting with them after getting with the bots

Also the realization of "omg im not attracted(romantically) to my own species anymore"😭

Your writing is so good. Ive still got a lot to binge, but im making my way to trough

🤣 that awkward moment you run into someone just lovely, they’re flirting and into you. And before, you would have been all over them, but there’s no interest at all. Your alien’s ruined you for other humans.

Attraction

Thundercracker

• Leaving your alien husband’s avatar in the paranormal romance section browsing for inspiration, you head for the journals. Know he mostly writes on his datapad, but you’ve seen him writing on paper for the ‘authentic human experience’ and your mate even had the Constructicons make him some reading glasses he absolutely doesn’t need, but feels give him an authorly air and you smile to yourself. Loving your mate.

• Picking up a journal and leafing through its gilded pages, you startle when someone reaches past you to pick up one with a red and gold filigree cover. “Sorry,” says a soft voice and you turn. And look up at the handsomest man you’ve ever seen, his smile boyish as he waggles the book slightly, looking almost embarrassed. “You weren’t after this one, right?” He asks, turning toward you as those pretty hazel eyes run over you in interest.

• And before Thundercracker, you would have latched onto a cute guy like this with both hands. Especially when he’s looking at you with a flirtatious twist to his lips. “No, that one’s a bit too much for my husband,” you say and he rocks back slightly, attention dipping to your hand to look and you lift it, fingers wiggling. The ring pretty enough, but the delicate lacy necklace nestled against the hollow of your throat, is your real wedding ring. Your conjunx gift. And this guy’s got the cutest little dimples when he flashes an awkward smile at you, embarrassedly apologizing. So handsome and doing absolutely nothing for you.

• Because he’s not Thundercracker. Doesn’t have big, strong hands that are so gentle with you, plating that’s warm against you when he tucks you close, wings that flick and move to broadcast what he’s feeling, or kind, red optics. And an arm hooks around you, his avatar tucking you close as you smile. So much for surprising him with a present. Hear him make a low noise in the back of his illusionary throat as he eyes the guy. His jealousy too cute. Like this guy has a chance when you just want him.

• Tucking you close as his arm hooks around you, he stares down the other human. Not about to say anything if you’re enjoying talking to this guy, because you can do whatever you want. But he can’t help but rest his chin on top of your head. Making it apparent to this human that you’re taken. His little mate. Wonders if maybe you miss other humans, wish you’d chosen a human mate instead of him, but you interlace your fingers with his avatar’s. “Let’s go home,” you whisper and he lets you pull him along behind you. “Find any new books?” Spark warming as he follows you.

[omniphilic]

Is it bad that i lowkey really want milf reader and mark to bang🫣 very immoral but the dynamic just scratches my brain perfectly

(Amber bennett this is nothing against you i love you)

NO ITS NOT ITS NOT because i really want them to, too, but i feel like this has been a reoccurring … issue … between her mom and ambers past boyfriends!!! i think her mom (you) would be on her p’s and q’s around mark just to make amber feel comfortable bringing her boyfriend over. But…..

If you two did fuck, it’d go a lot like how mark imagined it going—he would not let you up. You’ve been … handled before, people seem to like to throw their weight about with you, but Mark is a different beast. An abuser of his own power for sure, trying to twist you like a pretzel just because he can because he likes seeing all your bits jiggle when his hips smack into you at just the right angle. He’d want to see the face you make when he bottoms out and you arch your back and take it like a champ for the first few minutes.

You have experience where he has stamina and strength, so after a while your gentle instructions on how he should roll his hips or play with your tits fades away as he successfully fucks you into a stupor. He surprisingly doesn’t need much help, his little girlfriends were the training wheels to prepare for you, it would seem; Mark seems to know full well what he wants and does a great job guesstimating how to get there. How to have you stutter, scream, squirt? He hardly needs pointers—it’s clear he’s done his research.

Usually young men don’t last very long when they’re inside you, but Mark, he’s different. You don’t know how or why but he’s made you tap out more than enough times. He’s a very vigorous lover, to put it bluntly. Especially because you have experience, he’d feel less inclined to take it easy on you. You don’t have enough fingers to count how many times he’s forced the air out of your lungs, dick so big it hollows out your guts.

He’d have fucked you three times back to back just to circle around after a cool five, with a leaky dick and heavy balls like he hasn’t emptied multiple full loads already, and you’re bent over wondering what his mother must be feeding him for him to have grown so generously. Handsome and strong, not to even mention his dick; you’re only flattered he’s as obsessed with you as he is. With a body like his, he could’ve had any man or woman under the sun—And yet… he chose you. It even sounds odd to say it aloud, doesn’t it?

But to him it’s very simple math: You’re funny, smart, kind, beautiful…

And you can do a split on his dick. He’d be a clinical case if he didn’t capitalize on that offer.

Imagine for a second too, if you knew he was the Invincible? Fresh fruit on the counter and leftovers in the fridge, always. Quickies because you’ll never know when he might dip out or when he’s gonna come back, asking him to take you up and show you the clouds (and then he’ll try to weasel his way into your pants and fuck you in the sky).

He’s liable to give amber a little sibling on complete accident unless you’ve gotten your tubes tied/are on birth control but idk sometimes I feel like human birth control has nothing on viltrumite virility. He’d find a will or way to knock you up, somehow.

I think in general milf reader and mark would be really cute. I’m also thinking of the universe where mark is the one who turns you into the MILF…. Dilf mark, anyone???

extra bc I just thought about it: for all my small milfs, mark takes the manhandling to one hundred with you, uses any excuse to pick you up and push you around that he can. Sometimes he wonders how you even gave birth to amber when you’re at least a few inches shorter than her—small boned, fragile.

Worries that if he accidentally knocked you up the damn baby might be too big for you to give birth to (Marie kondo baby anyone??), that your tiny pussy might break if you tried to take all of him. As much experience as you have, it was always with much smaller partners—mark feels liable to tear you apart.

Your tits are too small for boobjobs but he sucks on them like a life line and he love love loves seeing both of your hands on his dick because he’s too big for you to suck all at once !!! You still try though… squirreling away cum in your cheeks as you try to swallow the whole load. Sometimes you cough a little, get some cum rolling down your chin and drip on your thighs, but it’s an A for effort in mark’s book.

(I’ve been poisoned by milfs save me lord)

[makeitworse]

𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔱𝔥

♱ preacher’s daughter x remmick. religious guilt. dubcon. fingering. period oral. 18+

note: guess who watched sinners

what fear a man like him brings upon a woman like you!

poor thing you were, sweet lamb of the reverend’s blood. the mattress creaked under your weight as you tossed restlessly— long abandoned by any sleep.

your sheets were damp with sweat, even with the breeze’s bitter cold streaming in through the crack in your window. outside, the cicadas sang their mournful hymn just beyond the windowsill. the moon hung low, waxing gibbous swelling like a watching eye as the night pressed heavy on the old clapboard house— thick as sin and twice as quiet, which your mind was far from.

inside, you clenched your thighs tight beneath your cotton nightgown. warmth pooled in your panties, slick with the sin you swore you’d repent, and yet failed to feel regret for.

it happened yesterday, the day’s heat still clinging to the chapel as the golden glow of the evening bled through the windows. you’d been alone, splinters sharp on your skin as you recited Psalms on your knees— head bowed, hands folded tight, when his knuckles came rapping at the wooden doorframe.

a stranger. white singlet bronzed with sweat from a day’s work, suspenders loose around his hips and worn boots on his feet; face plastered with a devil’s smile. said he was in need of salvation. said he’d been walkin’ all day.

you could catch the way one’s eyes would gleam when their motives didn’t match their mouths. the cloth raised you— you could tell when the preacher’s gospel was falling on deaf ears. you could tell purity from filth masquerading as it. and this man, you knew what he was asking for was far from what he really wanted. nothing that you could offer him in the Lord’s house.

when he realised you weren’t letting him in, the light in his eyes shifted to something you couldn’t describe— not with any words you’d read in scriptures. you should’ve called for your daddy. you should’ve slammed the door shut in his face; God help you, that handsome face of his.

but his voice— low and sweet like molasses, a honeyed drawl dripping from his words— had coaxed you to come outside with him. he led you by the hand ‘round the side of the church where the sun couldn’t see.

there, beneath the shade of the old cedar tree, he’d kissed you. little sips of your lips, slow and deep like he was drinkin’ up your resolve. and when his hands slid beneath your skirts, you didn’t stop him.

in the quiet of the dusk, he took what was sacred to marriage. not cruelly, nor with force. he’d cradled your neck in his palm, his fingers slow as they worked at you— thumb drawing little circles over your nub, his index finger slippin’ into your damp core.

wordlessly, you had let him. spreading your legs for his hand to dig deeper, parting your mouth for his tongue to slide against yours.

he was gentle with you, but there was a hunger simmering under the surface, you could tell. like he’d been wanderin’ the desert and your pure, pretty body was the saving grace for his thirst.

your cries echoed soft against the chapel wall as you came undone on his fingers. shame rose in your throat like bile, only to be swallowed down with a moan as he’d kissed you like a crazed man.

he’d left without so much as a name. only the ache of him between your thighs lingered.

and now, alone in your bed, the memory haunted you out of any rest. you couldn’t stop thinkin’ on it. on him.

his voice in your ear, his hand on your throat, the taste of him on your tongue. he’d been no man of God. he was temptation dressed in sweat and skin. the Devil himself, with eyes like dying embers, offerin’ you that apple. and foolish girl that you were, took it right outta his hand. lapped it up like a starvin’ dog.

you ain’t prayin’ tonight. tonight, you’re beggin’.

tentatively, your fingers creep beneath the cotton hem. you’d found yourself slick and ready. you press onto your sensitive bud the way he had, calling him back with nothin’ but the memory of his touch. whispering the name you’d never learned into the night, you slipped a finger into yourself. warm, wet. thick. you gasped.

you jolt as you retract your hand from yourself, holding it up to the moonlight streaming in through the window. your fingers were painted crimson.

you stifle a retch, about to stand from your bed when a scraping sound on the windowpane has you jumping. long, curved talons casted a shadow across your room as they scratched the glass. you tell yourself to breathe, that it must just be a stray branch, until on the wind came a man’s humming; a soft lullaby. the Devil’s call.

you know it’s him. it’s why you wipe your hand off on your sheets, why you creep to the window and push the frame up over your head. you peer over on the porch where the deep tune’s drifting in from, heart poundin’ like a fist on a coffin lid.

he’s sat in the rocking chair, legs stretched long as the wood creaked under shallow sways. he draped lazily on the chair like he had a right to it. like he’d been welcomed onto your property.

you hear him clearer now: mumbled words strung in between his hums, the rhythm of a man who ain’t in no rush. his eyes, or what should be his eyes— twin stars in pools of black— flicker up to you. he smiles at you. crooked. nothing good to come of it.

“well now,” he drawled, voice syrupy and low, “fancy seein’ ya here.”

you gripped the windowsill tighter. “how did you find me?”

“oh, you can thank daddy for that,” he chuckled under his breath, the sound laced with something sinister. you swallowed thickly. “some nights ago down at the tavern, he was tellin’ me all ‘bout this daughter of his. pretty lil’ thing, nice girl of the cloth. had to see for m’self.”

your breath dissolved in your throat. you knew your father’s tongue turned loose when the drink spoke for him— spillin’ gospel and whiskey in equal amounts. but like some other story at the bottom of a bottle, he’d offered you up to some stranger at the bar.

your voice faltered. “and you… you only found me to—”

he tsked softly, leaning forward. the old rocking chair squealed. “now, i know i heard you singin’, missy. wasn’t no song they teach in the church choir.”

silence stretched between you. even with the cold nipping at your skin, your cheeks burned, replaying the memory of how you’d moaned for him outside the chapel— voice cracking as his fingers strummed at you. a stranger.

you exhaled a shaky breath. “who are you?”

“name’s remmick, sweetpea.” he tipped his head, eyes gleaming under the porchlight. “now why don’cha let me on in, huh? ain’t that what you want?”

“i’ll scream for my daddy,” you lied. daddy wasn’t home. tonight, like any other night, daddy was half-drowned in whiskey by now. save for you and remmick, the house was an empty one.

remmick smiled wider, but not kindly. “you and i both know daddy ain’t comin’ home.”

your eyes faltered, falling to the floorboards. you were out of excuses, whether to him or to yourself, to not succumb again. remmick slapped his knees with a sigh.

he stood, crossing the porch over to you with the grace of a man who’d been welcomed with open arms. that stare of his, it’s like he wanted to eat ‘cha right up.

“or, you can c’mon out in the cold with me.”

you think over his offer once, but you don’t move. your knuckles curl into fists on the windowsill, and he sighs at you recoiling away from him. so he steps again, invading further into what little air separated you from him.

“c’mon now,” he coaxed, voice powdered with gentleness. it could almost fool you. “ain’t no shame in wantin’.”

another step closer. “i know it’s in you, girl. heard it. felt it.” he makes a gesture with his hand, recalling that evening at the chapel. your face goes hot. earnestly, he puts his palm on his chest. “i ain’t here to judge. just wanna give you somethin’ warm to hold onto. somethin’ real.”

don’t you want that? you may say your prayers to the sky, but the Lord doesn’t answer. you know he’s plucking your loose strings. you know he’s just telling you the right words so you give him what he wants. but God forgive, you wanted it too.

your body leans forward before your mind can catch up. your thighs press together, already aching.

remmick reaches out, his hand hovering in the air as he offers it to you. a question.

“i ain’t gonna bite, girl.”

he’s smiling, but not in the way that it’s a joke. you don’t linger on that thought, perhaps foolishly, as you hike a knee up to the windowsill. you hear remmick inhale as your nightgown ruches up your thighs, and he damn near moans.

with a hop, you push yourself up onto the windowsill, your tender skin erupting in goosebumps at the night air. you steady your breath— then, you reach out, take his hand in yours.

his palm is rough, calloused from travel and work you’d assumed, and somehow cold, like stones in a riverbed. his fingers curl around yours slow and deliberate.

remmick’s watching you like he’s starvin’, a predator on an empty stomach— like his patience is about to boil over. his eyes follow every shift of your body as your legs slide down on either side of the sill. the cotton parts with the motion, and you wiggle forward, settling. open, vulnerable. his to take.

and then he’s there.

remmick’s between your thighs in a blink— hands on your knees, spreading them wider without askin’ and without resistance. you almost flinch at how quick he leans in, and you cry out when his lips latch onto your neck.

his mouth’s hot on your skin, tongue swirling on the flesh like he’s memorising your taste. you wince, his canine teeth nipping at a sensitive spot under your ear. you shudder at how heavy he was breathing as he kissed you. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was resistin’ the urge to bite a chunk outta you.

his mouth trails over your jawline, kissing to your chin and then finally, his lips find yours. you meld against him with a sigh, body curling closer to him as his hands glide up, up, up on your thighs. you muffle against his lips— frantic.

“w-wait, i’m—”

fruitlessly, you try to push him away, but the fabric of your nightgown’s already hiked up to your stomach. instinctively, you try to shut your legs— trembling at the cold air on your exposed crotch, blooming red— but remmick keeps them pried open with a firm grip on your knees.

you glance at him— you almost don’t want to, but you do— jaw going slack when you see he’s droolin’ over the sight.

you’d been raised to believe that your monthly blood was something dirty, something you speak of in whispers. you don’t talk ‘bout such filth around men of the Lord. but remmick, he was gawkin’ at the blood between your thighs like it’s a river runnin’ through the Garden of Eden— and God, girl, was he parched.

you thought you couldn’t be any more speechless, but then he drops to his knees.

remmick’s head cranes in, breath ghosting up your inner thigh, his lips brushing soft against the skin— like he’s barely restraining himself. right there on the porch, only the night to bear witness.

"you smell so sweet, preacher’s girl," he murmurs, voice low, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

then his mouth is on you.

you damn near scream out— but he’s quick to hook two fingers in your mouth and stifle your cry. you bury a hand in his hair for dear mercy, gaspin’ as he licks a slow stripe up your pussy, copper slick on his tongue.

stars blink down from above. remmick’s mouth moves slow, soft— like he’s savourin’ a peach fresh off the tree. he leaves kitten licks on your tender bud that have your spine arching, head tipping against the frame. his open-mouth’s hot on your pussy as his tongue swirls, like he’s spellin’ his name between your legs.

his sweetness don’t last much longer.

he groans against you— low, guttural— before his depravity bares its teeth. he grips your hips tight, nails leaving crescent moons as his tongue works at you with unholy skill. he devours you like a man possessed, mouth wet and desperate, eagerly lappin’ up every last drop of blood you got.

your knees shake, his fingers on your tongue breaking your moans into the night, only cicadas and pine to hear. your fist tugs hard on his hair when he sucks that little sweet spot, and a growl reverberates on your core— like he liked it.

there’s a sensation bubbling low in your belly; a warm serpent coiling there, like you’d felt that evening outside the chapel. every swipe of his tongue had your voice crackin’ in your throat.

it seems forbidden, what he’s doing to you: it feels too good, it must be bad. every wet sound he draws from you, wrong in all the right ways. but you can’t push him off you. you’re long past saving now— what he’s givin’ you may be the closest you’ll ever feel to Heaven, not after you’ve let the Devil mark you with his mouth.

your whole body seizes, back arching as blinding white burning through your vision— holy and hellish all at once— as you come apart on his tongue.

and remmick don’t stop, not when your thighs quake tight around his neck, not even when you whimper like you’re beggin’ for mercy. he keeps on licking, agonisingly slow and deliberate, savorin’ every last drop. he finally looks up, mouth comin’ off with a wet pop. slick coats his lips, adorned with blood red down to his chin. his eyes are dark— sated.

“tell me, sweet thing,” he murmurs, voice a low thunder rumbling against your overstimmed cunt, “that little prayer of yours… it get answered?”

your chest heaved with pants as you came down from your little glimpse of Heaven. remmick almost forgot himself.

the metallic taste of blood still lingered on his tongue, heady and addicting, and for a moment he’d nearly let the fangs slip. he’d been entranced, in the wet heat of your pleasure, that instinct nearly won out. his claws had already betrayed him, dragging down your thighs to leave welts blooming behind.

he’d almost broken his promise— not to bite. not yet, that is.

it took centuries worth of resilience to not sink his teeth in, not to claim you then and there. but remmick couldn’t strip you down just yet. no, not when the sugar of your purity clung so sweet to his tongue. he’d developed a taste for it— rot beneath ripe fruit.

he wanted to peel you back, inch by inch. to watch your innocence fall away, layer after layer, until there was nothin’ left of the good little preacher’s daughter.

only then, would he mark you with his teeth, leave a lovebite between your thighs that’d ache for days. you’d carry it like a brand, like a promise. so when the last light in you flickered out, when the sweetness soured and all that was left was a primal lust— then you’d be his. to worship and adore. to keep, forevermore.

taglist: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @bcfcpsh

notes: ooc maybe i just wanted him to b soft also not my usual fandom content but idc i am free

[sexy-monster-fucker]

It’s Easy to Tease

Erik Campbell x Reader NSFW

Summary: Reader is nervous to get her first piercing outside of her ear. Erik knows how to help her calm down.

CW: mentions of cheating and breakup, nipple piercing, perv!Erik, reader has tattoos, nipple play, pinching, biting, fingering, masturbation, oral m!receiving, cumming on chest, idiots in love

a/n: there are literally no gifs of him without words on them 😭😭 [update there’s all kinds now so thank you to the GIF creators of tiktok you have my heart!]

title track 🎶🩸

~~~

Your palms sweated.

Rhythmically smacking your hands against the old steering wheel in an attempt to calm yourself down. The tattoo shop to your right was illuminated in neon reds. Obscuring your ability to make out the interior. Only adding to your anxiety.

It’s not like you had never had something pierced. Your ears had more than one hole in them. Even having some tattoos in places easy to hide with clothing. Corporate America not being a fan of inked employees. But for some reason this made you a nervous wreck.

You were new to the area. Having moved far away from where you had resided with your ex partner. Finding them in bed with another woman when they were supposed to be at work. Ridiculous. And you would not stick around for it.

You suppose that’s what made you want to get the piercings. Always being fond of body altering, even when your ex had shot down the idea as fast as you mentioned it. It did not change your want, just the reality of doing it.

So yeah, fuck them. You were getting your nipples pierced.

Getting out and locking your car. Breathing deeply as you walked into the parlor. Obscenely high ceilings with possible the biggest ceiling fan you had ever seen. Skulls and skeleton memorabilia decorating the interior. Bathed in the bloodlike glow of lights on every wall. It was pretty sick.

“Can I help you?” A monotonous voice asked closer to you than you realized. Causing you to jump clean out of your skin. Black hair and a scruffy beard. Tattoos on every bit of skin, including his exposed chest. Leather jacket unzipped without a shirt underneath. Piercings in both ears, septum, and his nipples. His head was tilted slightly to the side as he waited for your response.

“Oh, um— yeah, I have an appointment,” you rubbed your hand up and down your arm. A little intimidated by the rather rugged and handsome young man before you. Blue eyes scanned down your body, making you blush. He nodded as he flipped through the pages of the book.

Faking like he did not know what you were here for. You were his only call ahead of the evening. Possibly the last client he would have for the day. Since his boss had up and abandoned him to run down to the bar. Classic. And you were cute. No denying the way his heartbeat escalated when he saw you. Only seeing the studs in your ears, no other piercings notable. Practically a piercing virgin. It made his cock throb a little.

“Y/N?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yep,” you faked a smile.

“Sick,” he said slamming the book closed and extending his hand out to you, “ ‘m Erik.”

You shook it. His grip was strong. Long fingers wrapping around your hand. Cool to the touch rings decorating his fingers. He hopped down off the stool and rounded the podium. Hands on his hips. Examining your body once again.

“Assuming you haven’t ever had anything like this done,” Erik said more as a statement then a question.

“I’ve got a few tattoos, but no piercings. Just my ears,” you gestured to the side of your face. Awkwardly grinning as you returned to holding your arms over your chest.

“Well you filled out all the paperwork online, but I’ll still give you the crash coarse,” he wiggled his fingers at you. Waving for you to follow him back to an empty room. Smelling similar to a dentist office from the strong sterile cleaner they used. Burning your nostrils a little.

“So I’ll have you lay back on this chair. I’ll have gloves and everything on. Make sure all the instruments are clean. All that good stuff. Just gonna need you to take that shirt off,” he spun around on his heel and pointed.

You felt awkward suddenly. Embarrassment flushing down your entire body. This guy you just met was going to see your bare chest. As if there was any other way to do this. It was different when you found him this attractive. Lips forced shut as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“If that’s a problem, you’ve come to the wrong place,” he smiled at you. Trying to joke with you, resulting in your head hanging a little lower. He rolled his eyes, “I’m just kidding. Will it make it better if I turn around and cover my eyes?”

Another joke. Flirtatious even. His hands going to cover his eyes as he turned his back to you. Catching a glimpse of his toothy grin before his back faced you.

You squinted at him. Corner of your mouth curving into an amused smirk. You scoffed, pulling the shirt over your head. Bare breasts on display. You knew you would be leaving here without a bra so what was even the purpose of wearing one. Arms hugging tightly against your lower stomach. Breasts resting against them. Trying your hardest to hide your body from him.

Erik looked over his shoulder, peaking through his fingers. Smiling widely at the sight of you. ‘Pretty tits’ he thought, almost allowing it to slip before he saw how nervous you really were. Hands and knees shaking. Eyes doed wide and eyebrows upturned. It was so sweet, yet heartbreaking.

“Go ahead and get comfy,” Erik gestured toward the chair that was barely angled up.

Hesitantly, you took your seat. Cold leather making you jump. Chills danced down your body at the contact. Nipples hardening along with it. Teeth grinding together for a moment as your eyes forced shut. Eyebrows furrowing, but trying to stay quiet. Trying to focus on anything else. Watching Erik rummage through supply drawers, placing individually wrapped things on the metal tray beside you.

Sweat began to glisten along your hairline. Furthering your dive into embarrassment. You were a grown woman, there was no reason for you to be this scared about a little piercing.

Erik returned with a sharpie in hand. Wiggling it between his fingers, “Gonna go ahead and mark where I’m gonna stick ya. Okay?”

You coyly nodded.

Pop of the cap had your heart pounding. His hand scooped under your breast. Pulling back and jumping at the contact. Like a startled wild animal. Erik rose back to his full height. Arms going limp at his sides. Head falling to the side as his eyes hooded. Blowing his breath out and shrugging.

“Okay. You are very clearly nervous,” he deadpanned. Pulling up the rolling chair he usually used for tattooing. Sitting on it backwards, his arms folded over the headrest. Chin resting against tattooed limbs, “Tell me what’s got you so high strung.”

Surprised by the empathy he showed you. Genuinely caring about your well being, something you would never expect from his crude exterior. Soft blue eyes scanned yours. Trying to calm your panicked state.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s… the not knowing? How bad it’s gonna hurt?” Words coming out more uncertain than you intended.

Erik chuckled. Head swiveling as he drummed the back of the chair. Nodding while racking his brain. A devious idea coming across it.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re in the hands of an expert,” he hooked his fingers around his jacket, pulling it apart so you could see his own pierced nipples better. Taking the time to check him out. Since he was offering and all.

“I’ll tell you what. I can show you about how bad it will hurt, but I need you to be okay with me touching you,” Erik grinned, “No more of that gasping and jumping shit.”

Truthfully, you wanted him to touch you. That was the problem. His hands invoked some high school level hormone within you. Causing your mouth to run dry and hands to shake. And of course it was a little inappropriate to be lusting after your piercer. But you did not care. He would probably end up jerking it to the thought of your tits later. The way his eyes kept raking over them, it’s not like he was hiding his attraction to you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Quivering breath blowing out of your lungs. You met his eyes, “So you can show me without piercing me?”

“Whatever I need to do to help you relax,” gaze softening. Hiding the mischief that swirled around his mind. Barely able to keep his eyes on you with how badly he wanted to massage your tits.

“Let’s do it,” you said with a stern nod.

“Hell yeah,” he held up a fist to you. Bumping knuckles with a smile. Pushing your back flush against the cold seat, eyes falling shut in preparation. Trying to allow your mind to go completely blank.

The sound of him kicking away the stool clued you in that he was standing above you. Looming with shallow breaths. Anticipation practically holding a blade against your throat. Threatening to end you right here.

Your body jerked when he ran his fingers up your bare belly. Softly analyzing your skin with his digits. Smiling to himself at the way your eyebrows contorted and your lips parted. Taking in a deeper breath.

“Real easy,” his voice was low, “Just want to make you comfortable.”

Voice soothing your nerves. Fanning over your body with a blanket of calm and collection. It felt good. Tingling along your nerve endings.

His hand began traveling up. Finding the mound of your breast. Running his fingers along it, finding your hardened nipple. His tongue came out to wet his bottom lip. Having to force some kind of restraint. Thumb swiping over the bulb.

The whine that escaped you would have been unnoticeable to anyone else. But not Erik. Not when he was this close to you. Not when you sounded that pretty just from barely touching you. Not when the head of his cock was pressing against his zipper and growing more uncomfortable by the minute with you.

“Feels good?” a hint of tease laced his question.

“Mmhmp,” you nodded unable to form a cognitive sentence.

A soft blow of his breath resembled an endearing laugh. Deciding now was a good time to test your endurance. Finding your sensitive bulb between his pointer and thumb. Pinching it with a heft of force. Your mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, brows pinching together at the feeling. Electricity shot through you from where his fingers touched you. Unable to stop the moan that erupted from your chest.

Erik’s eyes widened. Realizing he had found his holy grail. Twisting your nipple experimentally. Watching the way you arched your head back, throat on display for him. Pressing your chest further into his touch. He smiled. Cock beginning to throb from the symphony you performed for him.

“So, that’s what it’ll feel like?” you were breathless. Turned on beyond belief. Wanting your newly met grunge friend to rip your clothes off and fuck you on the chair.

“Not quite, just a little test to make sure you weren’t gonna freak on me,” Erik grinned once more. Barely able to hide his excitement. Air not filling his lungs the way they needed. Body too busy thinking about the blood rushing to his crotch.

His hand tucked your hair behind your ear, “You did good.” Praising you with a low tone. Smile clear from how he sounded. You barely opened your eyes to look at him, embarrassment taking over. Groaning as they fell closed once more, head resting strongly against the leather. Your face the brightest shade it had been all night.

Erik framed your breast in his hand. Fingertips pressing into the soft flesh. He swallowed, leaning forward slowly. Like he was trying to sneak up on you. Parting his lips to wrap around your nipple. Meeting it with a soft kiss, tongue swirling around the pebble. Scruff slightly scratching your tender tit.

You struggled to moan his name. Gasping like a fish out of water. Tingling all the way down to your core. Skillful mouth working your sensitive tit. Sucking against it, unable to stop himself from leaving a little purple mark right next to it. Raking his tongue around the mound, ending with your nipple caught between his teeth. Cold septum ring tickling the top of your breast. His mouth completely flush with your chest.

Your hand tangled in his black locks. Holding him firm to you. Nails scratching his scalp as you whined and moaned with each swipe of tongue. Stimulating you perfectly.

Suddenly biting down on your nipple harder than before.

Your body bucked in response. Calling out to him at the pain you felt. Minimal. But a vast difference from the pleasure he had previously been inflicting.

“Shhh. Shhh, you’re okay. Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Erik’s hand traveled down your body. Single handily undoing your button and zipper. Sliding his hand past your panties. Easily gliding along your slick folds. Smiling against your skin at the feeling of your arousal, “I just wanna help you relax.”

His voice was drunk. Slurring with his own arousal. Completely thinking with his dick. Fingers circling your wet clit for a moment. Earning him a broken moan. Dipping his fingers in afterward. Welcomed by your needy walls. Curling perfectly inside you.

You nodded, relaxing all your forcibly flexed muscles. Staring up at the ceiling through hooded eyes. Heart ramming itself into your ribcage. Struggling to regulate normal breathing. He was good. Already having you seeing stars with his fingers.

Erik sucked off your boob with a pop. Movement catching your attention. Leaning your head forward to meet his eyes. His own pupils blown out. Eclipsing the beautiful blue iris. Catching his own breath, scanning your facial expression. You were beautiful. Cheeks flushed and eyes bloodshot. He was enamored by the way you looked at him. Wanting nothing more than to continue to please you. To have you all to himself.

His free hand cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing along it. Capturing your lips in a kiss. Hungry. Needy. Tongue prying your lips apart. Needing to taste you. Kissing you like you would be the last thing he ever had. Heads leaned to the sides to deepen the kiss.

Thumb finding its place on your aching nub. Circling it with a firm pressure. Shooting mind numbing ecstasy through you with each round. Rolling your hips against his fingers. Chasing your high.

Erik smiled as he continued kissing you. Hand leaving your face and traveling down to the ignored breast. Groping the plump skin.

You could feel your worries slipping away. Losing yourself to pleasure. Not even caring if you got the piercing now. Just wanting his hands on your body. Your hands cupped his cheeks. Scruff tickling your palms.

His cock was throbbing. Twitching at each moan and soft spasm of your walls around his fingers. Craving friction.

You softly bit your teeth into his lip. Tugging at it slowly. Erik sighed with half breaths in response. Cascading his lips down the side of your face, your jaw, and ending on your pulse. Sucking into your throat. You whined at the feeling. Feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tighten.

“Erik—“

“Yeah, baby?” the petname coming off so casual. Barely knowing each other’s first names.

“I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna—“

It excited him. Heart racing in his chest. Swallowing hard before pulling back to watch your face. Icy eyes blinking repetitively. Trying to focus his vision. Hardly able to think straight. Adding some pressure against your clit, wanting to force you over the edge. His brows contorted in anticipation.

You came unraveled. Hips arching upward as you gripped the leather and his bicep. Moaning louder than you ever had. All inhibitions washing away with your orgasm. Pulsing tightly around his digits. White hot bliss taking over your body.

“That’s it,” Erik cooed breathlessly.

His jaw flexed at the feeling of you. Knowing more than anything he wanted to feel how you would grasp his cock. Bury it so deep inside you that his dick ring grazed your cervix. He could not take it anymore. Slowly pulling his fingers from you. Wincing at the loss. Eyes admiring how they were coated in your release. Standing fully before you, clothed erection at eye level with you. Other hand undoing his belt and zipper.

Halting.

“Do you mind?” coming out as a run-on sentence. Desperate and airy. His want clear. Gesturing toward his groin before continuing.

“Please,” you sighed.

Erik groaned. Releasing his member. Flopping over his fly. Light reflecting the silver ring at his tip. Handful of veins running along his length. Swollen with how he had been holding back. It was hot. Making your pussy clench once more.

Long digits wrapped around himself. Making sure to use the hand that had your own orgasm on it. Pumping up and down his length with a twist of his wrist. Tip beading with pre-cum. Pretty little moans fell from him. Hooded eyes staring at your face as he jacked himself. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat. Taking quick breaths.

You were unable to resist. Throwing caution to the wind and stopping his wrist. Doeing your eyes up at him to ask permission. He smiled as his chest heaved. Nodding without a word. Readjusting your body so that he was easier to reach. Licking along his length and sticking your tongue between the ring in his tip. Erik’s shoulders shuttered. Leaning his head back displaying his throat.

You took the head between your lips. Cold metal resting on your tongue. Swirling your tongue around it. Erik’s fingers threaded through your hair, beginning to guide you up and down his length. Groaning when you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking harder on him. Piercing scratching the back of your throat when your nose met his base. Soft curly hairs decorating it.

He was close. Not having had someone go down on him in a while. Especially someone who was practically throwing herself at him. Or ever at his job. It made this all so much more scandalous. Rebellious. Almost wishing his boss would return and find you like this. Mouth full of cock. Just to disgust him. The fucker deserved it.

“Can I cum on your tits?”

You nodded. Continuing up and down his length until you felt him start to twitch. His hand tugging at your hair to pull you off. Sucking off with a loud pop. Taking position so that he could jerk off onto your chest. Erik quickly wrapped his hand around himself. Quickly stroking, “They’re— you’ve got— pretty fucking tits… goddammit, they’ll be even prettier when I— ugh—“

Hot ropes of thick cum shot across your chest. Moaning with a tight throat as he painted your bare breasts. Some of his cum frothing around the tip, gliding down the ring in his tip. It felt good on your chest. Dripping along your nipples. You scooped some up with a finger, pushing it between your lips. Tasting his salty aftermath. It made Erik shoot out one last time. Hard. Strained.

Erik ran a hand through his hair. Smiling from ear to ear. His hand pinching your chin so that he could kiss you again. Unable to stop giggling with glee. Having had so much fun with you. His hand grabbing your breast again, smearing his release all over your skin. Filling his lungs as he rested his forehead against yours. Kissing you again.

“Better?”

“Definitely,” you giggled. Still a little hazy from what had just transpired. Not expecting something like this to happen tonight. Happy it did.

“Good. I’ll get you cleaned up,” Erik walked away to get some disinfectant wipes. Sweetly getting his jizz off your chest. Making sure to be gentle on the spots where he had left marks. Throwing the towelette away.

“Does this count as my tip?” Erik joked. Cocky grin painting his face. Eyes squinted upward with how wide he was smiling.

You scoffed. Rolling your eyes at the statement. He was funny. Definitely the older brother type. You liked him. Wanted to know more about him. As if you had not just had his dick in your mouth.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you admitted. Face flushing as the words left your mouth. Watching the gears turn in his head with your words. Cocking a hand on his hip, head double taking.

“You think I’m cute?” Erik questioned. Almost as if he did not believe the words. Faming cockiness to hide his insecurity.

“Well… yeah,” you shrugged. Scrunching your face, slightly cringing at the way you said it.

“Yeah? You’re cuter,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Burning along your already heated skin. Biting your lip to try and hide how hard you were smiling uncontrollably.

“So,” Erik popped a black elastic glove on his hand, “We gonna pierce these perfect tits or what?”

You chuckled. Leaning back with your arms at your sides. Calm. Collected. Prepared for the pinch of the needle. Going through the motions with your new sweetheart. Honestly, you were scared for nothing. Yes, it hurt, but about as bad as your ears had.

Erik was gentle with you. Making sure it was all explained and done properly. Sometimes he did not care if a customer was an asshole. Allowing himself to be more lax. But with you, he wanted it done right. And he was right, your breasts looked fucking spectacular with the piercings in them.

You hopped off the chair and put your shirt back on. Loving the way the piercings looked through your shirt. Walking up front with Erik. He explained how long the healing process would take and things to avoid. You got your debit card out of your pocket preparing to pay when he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” Erik shrugged.

“Oh, come on. I’ve gotta pay you,” you insisted.

“Just let me take you on a real date and we can consider it even,” he smiled.

Your cheeks blushed. Really, that sounded like he doing you a double service. But who were you to complain? You’d make sure to repay him in a way you knew he would like.

Erik decided to lock up. If his boss was allowed to call it quits, he was too. Especially when the promise of spending the entire night with you was at hand.

You waited outside as he turned everything off. Watching each light click off until he was out front locking the door. Swirling the keys around his finger as he winked at you. Joining you right outside the door.

“Well, did it hurt?” sing song voice questioned you. Smiling at you on the poorly lit sidewalk.

“Honestly? I can’t remember,” you laughed. You were too caught up looking at him. And remembering how good he made you feel.

“Good,” Erik wrapped an arm around you, “Guess that means you don’t want to kill me.”

“Of course not,” you giggled.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

“I’d love to.”

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I’m shocked by the lack of fanfiction for Erik on tumblr. My TikTok fead has been eating him alive! As always, my inbox is always open! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated //

{tags}

@zroberts13 ~ @anniebeemine ~ @beanzwritez ~ @chirioleos ~ @chaoticluminaryperfection ~ @allyssoon ~ @gee72sstuff ~ @ekavamonfort ~ @starrthemushroom ~ @chugjugg ~ @anxi-tea-please ~ @megangovier ~ @kai-komaeda ~ @mythicalcowboyatheart ~ @heyimalex1513 ~ @devilslittlehelper ~ @p00kiepants ~