#he's in my clutches and nobody can take him away

[danhengposting]

[redacted] caught misbehaving by the high elder

[ghosttotheparty]

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence. 

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now. 

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed. 

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence. 

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands. 

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up. 

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again. 

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head. 

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her. 

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs. 

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him. 

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all.  He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers. 

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying. 

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak. 

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time. 

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know. 

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet. 

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous. 

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo. 

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold. 

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again. 

Until he can breathe without suffocating. 

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily. 

He’s never felt like this before. 

He feels so… lonely. 

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor. 

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s. 

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims. 

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating. 

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?” 

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously. 

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining. 

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly. 

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.” 

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful. 

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks. 

“What about me?” 

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind. 

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?” 

Eddie blinks again. 

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again. 

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…” 

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…” 

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him. 

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.” 

Steve nods. 

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die. 

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go. 

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares. 

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls. 

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

It’s not fair. 

It’s fucking bullshit. 

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself. 

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath. 

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again. 

“What?” Steve whispers. 

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again. 

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt. 

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively. 

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods. 

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe. 

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back. 

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes. 

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly. 

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak. 

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close. 

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…” 

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again. 

Steve says his name. 

It always sounds so nice in his mouth. 

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches. 

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly. 

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers. 

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah,” he chokes. 

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying. 

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his. 

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads. 

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part. 

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm. 

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull. 

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall.  Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip. 

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. 

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room. 

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders. 

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly. 

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair. 

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by. 

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him. 

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin. 

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves. 

[my--moon]

❝ Tonight is ours ❞

Pairing; Percy Jackson X Fem!Reader (Child of Dionysus) Warning; TEASED SMUT. READ AT OWN RISK PLEASE.. situation-ship? angst A/N; @riordanness, I hope your happy honey. this is your dinner. (Fluff, Angst and Smut) Full course meal

Previous: Daddy Doesn't Like You

The two stated that that wouldn't happen again.

That was a fucking lie. It wasn't long after the "situation" that Percy came back to her cabin.

Knock knock kn-knock knock! He tapped rhythmically against the plum coloured door, the grape vines wrapping against the porch freely. Seems nobody bothers calling a Gardner... Or a Demeter kid.

The child of Dionysus opened the door, clutching a bottle of suspiciously red coloured liquid in one hand and the door in the other.

“Oh great.” She rolled her eyes. (Y/N) looked the sea prince up and down. “What do you want? I'm NOT in the mood for a fuck sess. So this better be good.”

“Relax,” Percy put his hands up in surrender. “I came for a friendly chat... And a drink, whatcha got in that bottle?”

(Y/N) looked down at her bottle, and swished the red liquid around. “Cheap booze.” She answered.

“Uh huh, so it's too expensive for my taste?” He smirked before getting swatted by (Y/N)'s hand.

“The more of a smartass you are, the less booze you get.” She hissed. Percy chuckled before walking into her cabin, silently locking the door behind him.

(Y/N) walked into her bedroom area, with her desk, bed and wardrobe. She fumbled over to her desk chair, the sunsets rays shone through the curtains, casting a wine colour onto the floors.

Percy took a swig of the wine she held. It took him a moment before replying with a look of disgust. “Oh this is horrid.” He said, passing it back to her.

“Told.. you. Cheap.” She said, hating the taste but still taking a sip.

(Y/N) was absolutely stunning in Percy's eyes (even when half drunk). Percy was always a bit of a sucker for moody women, with her (h/c) fluffy hair, with (s/c) skin and features that challenge Aphrodite's...

When she smiles at him, his mind goes blank. He can already see himself doing anything she asks. Whatever she wanted from him, he’d happily offer it up. Who wouldn’t, when looking into her eyes?

“You should smile.” He said offhandedly, his own smile playing at his lips. A mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Shut up.” (Y/N) glared.

“C'mon. You're still mad about last time?” Percy questioned, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

“Of course I am! You left your necklace and my dad found out! Do you realise how hard it is to convince my dad that I'm not sleeping with you?”

“You mean wasn't.” Percy corrected. “You mean 'that I wasn't sleeping with you'.” Correcting her grammar with a smug smile—made her groan in annoyance.

“Shut. Up. Trout breath.” (Y/N) hissed at him, placing the bottle back on her table.

“Trout breath? I've heard Seaweed Brain, but trout breath is new.” Percy chuckled softly.

“What did I just say?”

Percy rolled his eyes at her defiance and annoyed glare. “Listen, just c'mere.” He beckoned her over.

(Y/N) cocked an eyebrow at before reluctantly standing up and shuffling over to him. “What do you want—”

“You.” He cuts her off, his face inches away from her own.

“Pardon?”

Before she can get a response—Lips smashed together, her eyes widened but quickly close, warm tongues dance in each other's mouths. He grabs her hips and pulls her close.

She holds herself up by grabbing on his bicep. Leaning against the bed, the pair fall on their backs as their lost in their own passion.

For a moment, they break apart, (Y/N) panting and hungry for more. Percy just smirks. “I thought you weren't in the mood for a fuck sess?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.” She replied, gripping onto his collar for leverage. Percy does as he's told.

His lips caressed her own, his palms make their way up and down. Gliding along her waist and hips like she was a delicate jewel.

The sun set as the two's moans and 'delighted' sounds got louder. The (h/c) girl groaned at his tongue in her mouth.

A fist full of the sheets scrunched up in her hands, her head thrown back as Percy removed his tongue from her mouth.

Percy looked at her neck and back at her. “May I, dear?” He asked. (Y/N) nodded, then he started his assault of hickeys on her neck. A low moan escaped from her throat, followed by breathless pants.

“Mmrph...!”

Percy found his way over to her shirt buttons, unbuttoning her shirt. As the piece of clothing slipped out, so did his own shirt.

“Relax, sweetheart. Let me handle it.” He whispered with a grin as (Y/N)'s eyes rolled back.

Outside of the cabin, the grape vines that wrapped around the porch beams—started to tighten and bloom. The grapes ripened almost immediately, the juicy grapes ready to pick.

People outside—who we're heading back to their cabins for their night routines—looked confused at the grapes sudden ripening.

They shrugged off the question—they assumed it was similar to the Demeter kids powers, growing and blossoming depending on their emotions.

Of course, they weren't technically wrong.

As the night washed over the blue sky, and the colours of the day turned dark—The pair inside the Dionysus cabin hadn't stopped.

“Uh~”

“Quiet down, honey.”

The two's drunken states became lust filled and passionate. Their love and alcohol driven states had lead to another night of ecstasy and desire. Another promise broken.

The sound of (Y/N)'s alarm rang throughout the Dionysus cabin. (Y/N) reluctantly arose from her slumber and tried to turn off her alarm clock.

“C'mon..” She groaned, banging on the clock's buttons to turn it off. She moaned in annoyance, as she flung the clock off her beside table, making it crash and break on the hardwood floors of the wine cabin.

(Y/N) looked down at the damage she made, letting out a small 'eh' as she shrugged it off. She fell back and hit the plush pillow. She turned over to find Percy, sleeping next to her.

He started to stir, his eyes flicking open. Spotting (Y/N) looking at him, a grin placed on his lips. His arms snaked around her body—this was all too familiar.

(Y/N) pushed him away. Percy's brows furrowed at her distant behaviour. “Hey.. What's wrong?”

“It's like last time.” She mumbled, grabbing her oversized shirt and slipping it on.

“Not true.” Percy argued playfully. “Your dad isn't knocking at our door. and I haven't called you vino yet.”

“My door.” she corrected. (Y/N) sighed before speaking in a whisper. “Besides.. It's a cycle at this point. You come over, we argue, we fuck, we don't talk for a few days—then it repeats.”

Percy paused, his grin faltered. “Well...” (Y/N) cut him off.

“Percy. Is a hook-up all I'll ever be to you?” She asked, her expression blank but her eyes asking for reassurance.

Percy kept his arms locked around her body, resting his chin on her shoulder, before answering her.

“Look... (Y/N). You're an amazing girl, and I do love you. If your dad didn't hate my guts, I'd 100% call you mine—”

“You've already done that. The hickeys prove it.”

Percy chuckled before continuing. “Yea yea, either way. (Y/N), I do love you. But until your dad comes around, this is all we can do.”

(Y/N) felt better knowing at least this wasn't loveless. “Thank you... Percy. For everything really.”

“I haven't done anything for you though?”

“well... Besides back pain and bruises, you're right.”

“You're an idiot. y'know?”

“oh shush. Now c'mon. If we get up now—guarantee on hot breakfast.” (Y/N) reminded, which made Percy smile and laugh.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 \\ eddie munson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 \\ eddie's a little surprised when you ask him to come over to platonically stay the night, but he's happy to try to make you feel better however he can.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 \\ 6.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 \\ SMUT (18+ ONLY), unprotected sex, mentions/discussions of a break-in, mentions of drug use, there was only one bed, fluff, kinda hurt/comfort (but less hurt more comfort)

"Thanks," you whimpered, sounding just as weak as you looked right now— your eyes were heavy and sunken in, your lips chapped, shoulders slumped.  "I just feel safer with someone here."

Not that Eddie was in any place to judge your appearance.  He'd walked here in the rain and probably looked a mess.  "Of course!" he offered as he stepped inside and you shut your door behind him.  He slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the couch, shaking the rain off his hair in a way not dissimilar to a dog after a bath.  "Wow, storm's been pretty relentless, huh?"

"Yeah," you agreed quietly, reaching up to cross your arm over your chest and clutch your opposite elbow.  "The cops said that's why they couldn't catch the guy— rain washed away fingerprints, and mud filled footprints, so…"

He nodded, looking down nervously at his shoes on top of your pale blue linoleum. "Can't believe some asshole's breaking into trailers.  What valuables does he think you have in here?"

"Well, they said he might have been looking for me…"

Eddie instantly regretted mentioning it.  He hadn't even thought of it like that, and it made a surge of emotions hit him when he did; most of all, a strange instinct to make sure you were safe.  "Do they think he might come back?"

You bit your lip, glancing down too with a shrug.

"Well, nobody's gonna try and mess with you once they get a glimpse of Smith & Wesson," he added jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Eddie!" you gasped.  "Did you bring a gun?"

You said it like it was a dirty word, even though he knew you had a revolver in here at some point.  "No, no," he assured, "those are my biceps: Smith—" he flexed one arm— "and Wesson." He bit his lip as he flexed the other, raising and dropping his eyebrows quickly.  You laughed, covering your nose and mouth with your hand as you snorted.  

He was quite proud of himself for amusing you, and even slightly hopeful that the tank top he was wearing (which he'd made by slicing the sleeves off of an old Zeppelin shirt) actually made him look muscular.

"So… I'll set up on the couch?" he assumed.

"Oh," you mumbled, seeming shy again.  "I mean, if you want…"

"What's the other option?" he wondered.

"Well," you said quietly, crossing your arms— damn it, he'd made you uncomfortable somehow.  Eddie was perceptive enough to read your demeanor, but too oblivious to understand what he'd done to make you shut down.  "The couch is fine."

He sighed, stepping closer to you.  "You said over the phone that it would make you feel better if I came over.  That's literally what I came for.  So, tell me what I can do.  I can stay up all night— or I can sleep outside on the porch if you want!"

"No!" you refused, starting to smile again.  "If it's not too weird, I thought you could be in my room with me.  I just…"

You sighed and began again, while Eddie's heart sped up a bit.

"If something happened, I wouldn't want you all the way across the house."

He looked to the bedroom door, to the couch, and back again.  "Sweets, it's a trailer," he announced with a sarcastic tone and a raised eyebrow.  "It's, like, five steps across."

"Come on," you rolled your eyes, "you know what I mean!"

"I do," he relented, "and it's fine.  I can be in your room if you want."

You smiled bashfully, looking down and pulling your shoulders up to your ears.  "Thanks," you breathed.

He hadn't asked the obvious question yet because he didn't want to seem too forward— maybe he'd walk in to your bedroom with you and see a pallet on the floor by the bed already; or, maybe he'd walk in and see a typical trailer bedroom which takes its name quite seriously and barely has room for anything but the bed.

When you guided him down the hall, he swallowed as he realized it was indeed the second.  "Sorry, it's kinda messy in here," you offered as you quickly kicked some trash aside, straightening out your bedspread a bit.  "I'm not usually this much of a slob, I swear—"

"No, it's okay, I'm in no place to judge," he promised, "and it's been clean when I've been here before."

He hadn't come over that many times, especially after you stopped smoking pot for your job so he didn't sell to you anymore.  He considered offering to toke up with you now, he thought it might call your nerves (which is why he brought some in his jacket pocket just in case), but it never really came up— you just seemed excited for a chance to get some sleep, considering you clearly hadn't been resting well.

"I'll stay on top of the sheets," he decided suddenly.  "For your modesty."

You nodded but started to pull down your pants a second later; he suddenly found the farthest corner of your ceiling quite fascinating and stared at it intently.  So much for modesty.  "I never sleep with pants," you explained as you crawled into the bed in just your loose t-shirt and white cotton panties.

"Lucky for you, I always keep mine on," he offered with a weak laugh.  Normally he would lose his shirt first, though, but it wasn't restrictive anyways, so he just laid on top of the bed carefully.  He sighed as he found a semi-comfortable position on his back, interlacing his fingers and resting the joined hands on his stomach.

"Don't tell me you actually sleep like that," you noticed with a smirk, and he looked at your face where it was peeking out from under the puffy quilt.

"Normally I sleep hanging upside down in the closet with my arms crossed," he joked, demonstrating the classic vampire-sleeping-in-coffin pose, and you laughed.

"You always struck me as a stomach sleeper," you informed him.  Wait, she's thought about that?

"I usually go for the left side," he corrected.  “You?”

“Lately I’ve just been curled up in a ball,” you admitted, “but I move around a lot— and you can wake me up if I’m snoring!”

“No, it’s fine,” he promised.

“Okay, well, goodnight,” you decided, reaching up to your bedside lamp.  Eddie began to turn onto his left side, which meant he was facing you, and adjusted the pillow under his head carefully.  He could tell you normally used this pillow because it smelled like your hair— was that why his heart was racing each time he took a breath in?

You flipped off the light, plunging the room into near-total darkness except for the distant yellow glow of another trailer’s porch light peeking through your blinds.  "It's okay if I sleep, right?" he whispered.  "You don't want me to stay up in case something—?"

"It's fine, I just want someone here," you explained.  Your voice got softer as you admitted, "I've never liked sleeping alone."

"That… explains a lot."

"Hey!" you yelped defensively, and he heard you turn under the blanket to face him.  "Are you calling me a slut?"

He raised his eyebrows.  "Are you denying it?"

You harrumphed.  "I know you can see my door from your window, but you've gotta stop spying, Ed— it's creepy.  And it's none of your business if guys are coming over."

"I know!  That's why I don't look— which is why you don't have a handy eyewitness for your B&E."

"I don't have an eyewitness because you were dead asleep," you corrected, "and so was everyone else. I'm guessing that was his motive for trying to get in at four in the morning."

There was a weighty pause.  "I don't spy on you," he insisted again.

"Okay, sure," you agreed, "not anymore."

"I never did!"

"Right,” you said, and he could hear your smirk even if he couldn’t see it.  He sighed, relenting to your depiction of him as a creep who watches you from his window— until the silence got longer and longer, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“I just wanted to make sure nobody shifty was coming around,” he blurted out, hearing you let out a quiet laugh.

“Eddie, they were all shifty,” you sighed.  He didn’t say anything, because he was afraid if he agreed too quickly it would offend you.  “Goodnight,” you offered again.

“Goodnight,” he returned quietly.

There was another long silence, almost long enough that he really thought you would fall asleep— personally, he was wired and would probably spend a few hours listening to you breathe before he drifted off— until you spoke again just a bit later.  "You're not cold, are you?" you whispered.

"Huh?  No, no," he denied.  Yes.

"You can get under the covers…"

God, he wanted to. And he figured he'd be able to control himself and everything— but he hesitated.  It wasn't too far, right?  Friends can share beds… even if he really didn't think until now that you and him actually were that kind of friends.  It's not like you were ever especially close, you just talked sometimes, even less now that you weren't a customer.  He was pretty surprised when you called him to ask for this.

And in the dark, Eddie got a little braver.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" he suddenly interrogated, until he heard how sleazy that question sounded.  "Uh, I mean, not why did you ask me to come here, but… why did you ask me?"

"Because I trust you," you answered simply.  "You always made me feel safe.  There aren't a lot of guys in this trailer park that I want here to try to defend me if it comes down to it— I mean, fuck, one of them is probably the guy who tried to break in that night!"

He nodded, already trying to imagine which of those lowlifes might try to hurt you— and wondering if he could take them.  He sighed when he realized that he didn't have much chance fighting any of the men here.  Unless it was Ricky Lupowski, Eddie had no shot— but even then, he didn't exactly want to beat up a twelve-year-old.  Hell, you could take Ricky if he was giving you any trouble, Eddie knew you were pretty tough: that was part of why it was so jarring to see you this vulnerable.  "I'm not the toughest guy you could call, though," he reminded you.  "I know people think I look kinda scary, but—"

"I know," you agreed.  "You're not the toughest guy, but… you're the safest."

Suddenly he wanted to switch his story— me, safe?  Nah, babe, danger's my middle name!  Hardened criminal, metal guitarist, occasionally maker of an illegal U-turn—

"That's why I wanted you to come," you finished, "and it's why I don't care if you get under the covers if you're cold up there."

From the looks of the guys he'd seen coming to your door when he definitely wasn't spying, it seemed like danger was usually what you wanted between your sheets.  And sure, Eddie wasn't exactly the valedictorian in khakis that he assumed every girl wants to bring home to mom— but he knew he wasn't like your usual fare either: no motorcycle, no neck or face tattoos, no prison time (yet).  

“B-but don’t feel like you have to,” you suddenly mitigated.

“No, it’s cool,” he decided as he curled his legs up to his chest so he could slip under the blanket and top sheet.  “They, uh, feel nice…”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. 

“Are they expensive or something?” he wondered as he adjusted himself in them— you were still a few inches away from him, but somehow it was like he could feel your body heat from all the way over here.

“No, they’re just clean,” you explained.

“Right…” he trailed off.  “Anyways, I’m glad you trust me— not just ‘cause it means I get to sleep under the covers.”

You snorted.  “Sure,” you shrugged.

“I mean it— if I can make you feel safer, that’s good,” he announced.  He was, in part, trying to convince himself; because in a certain way, it did sting.  You invited him here specifically because you knew he wouldn’t try anything, and you were right, but he sort of wished sometimes that he was the kind of guy you’d invite over for some comfort of the non-platonic variety.  But, he still really enjoyed being the guy that made you laugh, and the guy that made you feel safe, and the guy that got to be here with you right now.

"Actually, I thought if Wayne answered the phone, I might ask him to come,” you admitted.  “He told me when I first moved in to let him know if anybody here gave me any trouble— including but not limited to you.”

Sounds like Wayne.

“But I figured he'd turn it down— like, he'd say something about how I'm an unmarried young lady and he wouldn't wanna 'disrespect' me," you chuckled.  

"Yeah, he's pretty old school," Eddie agreed, "but he'd keep you safe for sure.  He actually would have brought a gun.  If he decided to come in the damn trailer at all."

“Yeah,” you laughed, “old people are weird.  Like, apparently they think if you spend the night here that’s the same as us having sex?”

He laughed too.  “Yeah, that’s so crazy.  ‘Cause obviously we’re not…”

“Of course!” you agreed emphatically.  “You’re just doing me a favor.  Which I really appreciate— I know it’s probably harder for you to sleep here.”

“No, it’s great, actually,” he blurted out— realizing it sounded sort of weird once it was out of his mouth.  “For Wayne, I mean.  He got to upgrade from the fold-out bed tonight.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you hummed, but his eyebrows furrowed when he felt you shake.  It happened again, and he realized: “Sweets, are you shivering?”

“Y-yeah, but the sheets are just cold still,” you explained.  

“You took off your pants!” he remembered.

“Well, I can’t sleep with them on!” 

“Yeah, but you can’t sleep if you’re freezing, either,” he sighed.  “Did you ever get your heater fixed?”

“Um…”

He frowned.  “Didn’t that break like two months ago?”

“Y-yeah, but who needs a heater in August?”

“It’s not August,” he reminded you.

“But it was when it broke.”

He rolled his eyes, but then you shivered again.  “It dropped, like, twenty degrees when this rain came in,” he reminded you.  

“Yeah, I noticed,” you replied.

The next time you shivered, he heard your teeth chattering, and he instinctively scooted closer to you.  “Is there another blanket I can get you?” he asked.

“No, but—” you began, and his breath caught when he felt your hand— your ice cold hand— reach out and touch his shoulder.  “You can just—”

You moved closer to him and he started to move back.  “I don’t think I should—”

"Just, hold me?” you pleaded in a quiet, meek voice.  “So I can get warm enough to fall asleep?"

God, he was so completely powerless to you asking that, even if he knew it was a bad idea.  He wanted to help you so badly— and he knew it was more than your temperature that made you ask him for that.  He’d never seen you like this: scared and weak and worried.  “O-okay,” he agreed quietly, reaching his arms out and letting you settle between them.

Your face pressed to his chest, your nose poking his skin that was left exposed by the low and jagged cut— and the tip of that was cold too, he could just imagine giving it a little kiss.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and he felt you nod.  Carefully, he let his arm rest so it draped around you— but he didn’t let his hand touch anything but the sheets on the other side.

You hummed as you pressed yourself against him even more, your legs tangling with his, your tits— oh god, he couldn’t even think about your tits right now, because if he did he would remember that they were squished up on his torso and he’d wonder if being so cold meant your nipples were hard—

He cleared his throat, knowing that through his sweatpants, his dick was pressed to your tummy.  He willed it to somehow not get hard from this, putting all his energy into not moving or reacting at all.

“Thanks,” you whispered.  “This helps a lot.”

“Of course,” he breathed in return.  “Wh-whatever helps…”

He felt you take a deep breath against his skin, the softest fan of warm air hitting him when you exhaled.  Your arm was around him, but he hissed when you slid your hand up and the cold skin made contact with his bare back.  “Sorry,” you reacted instantly.

“No, it’s okay— you’ll warm up soon,” he promised.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “why are you so warm?”

Now he understood why the phrase ‘you make me hot’ meant that you were attracted to someone.  He nearly said it out loud, guess I’m just hot for you, but amazingly he caught himself.  Instead he only shrugged.

“I’m glad you came over,” you told him, and he could hear your voice getting a little more slurred— you were so tired, poor thing, you’d mentioned over the phone that you hadn’t really been sleeping.

“Can you really fall asleep like this?” he asked quietly.  Cause I sure can’t.

“No, I was just gonna get warm,” you admitted, “I’ll turn the other way when it’s time to sleep.”

Turn the other way… wait, she doesn’t mean—

Yeah, you did.  A few minutes later you flipped yourself around with a sleepy mumble of ‘g’night, Ed’ and made him into your unwilling big spoon.

Okay, not totally unwilling, but completely in over his head.  His problem wasn’t with the cuddling, it was with knowing it was all just supposed to be friendly, it was with wondering if you were coming onto him (unlikely) or just stupid (also unlikely), it was with trying not to get a horribly-timed but perfectly-warranted boner.

It was just these stupid sweatpants and your little white panties between him and your ass— he could feel the shape of it, even the warmth of your skin, through everything and he was going to lose his goddamn mind. 

You did move around in your sleep, like you warned him that you would, but you hadn’t warned him about those pretty sighs, the soft little hums, the way you’d stretch a bit and arch your back…

For the first hour, he just held you, and listened to you, and drank it all in.

You warmed up quick while he was holding you, you felt so nice to hold— he wanted to hold you tighter and pull you closer and kiss your cheek or your ear or your shoulder, but he couldn’t.  He almost wondered if he could, without waking you up, as he started to get sleepier himself and his logic began to slip.

He fell asleep in that way where he didn’t even realize he’d been asleep when he woke up, if you’d asked him he would’ve denied it— but you weren’t asking him, you were holding his arm close to your chest, pressing back against him, rubbing against him.

Oh god, he was hard, he was fucking throbbing, and you were breathing heavier as you grinded up on him.

When he opened his mouth, he fully intended on asking you what you were doing, or maybe apologizing for his boner, but then you arched your back harder, and he realized two things: one, you knew exactly what you were doing; and two, he didn’t need to apologize.  So, instead, he let a low groan fall from his lips, and you moaned a bit in reply.

He rocked his hips, pushing his cock right between where your panties were riding up and hugging your ass; you moaned again, still shaky but a bit more confident, and he wondered if maybe he was dreaming.  It wouldn’t be the first time he dreamt about this.

His hand was already on your chest, so he only had to move his hand down a bit to slip his fingers inside your tight t-shirt and feel your tits.  He groaned as soon as he felt how soft your skin was, how hard and excited your nipples were.  Your hips gyrated when he played with them, and feeling the control he had over you from such a simple action— just one slight curl of his finger and you gasped and arched your back deeper, your whole body under his command— made his cock twitch and weep inside his sweats.

When he took his hand out of your shirt and moved down to hold your hip tightly instead, you whimpered quietly.  “Eddie,” you moaned under your breath, instantly bringing him back to reality; this was actually happening.

Guilt twisted in his chest, but need still controlled his mind.  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quickly.

“N-no!” you whimpered.  “I like it.”

He sighed and kept going with your blessing, securing his grip on your hips and letting his fingertips toy with the elastic holding up your panties.  When he thrusted again, a long drag of his cock against you that let you both feel every detail of each other, your head fell back and your neck was right there for the taking.

He leaned down and latched his lips onto it, kissing all along your pulse, and you moaned louder.  "You can fuck me if you want."

That should've been hot— and it sort of was, especially in your whispered voice— but it hurt his heart a little bit and he stopped kissing you.  "If I want?" he repeated, feeling you nod against his shoulder.  "What do you want, sweets?"

"I… I want you to," you answered.

"Baby," he whispered, feeling you shiver in his arms when he said it— in a different way than before.  "I— I know you're feeling vulnerable right now… I wouldn't wanna take advantage."

"You wouldn't be."

"You don't need to do this to make me stay."

"You don't need to do this to make me want you here," you replied.  "But I want you.  Please, Ed."

He hadn't been trying to make you beg, he almost felt guilty for it— making this poor girl plead with him for some affection when she's scared and alone.  But he was too busy feeling turned on like crazy to feel really guilty; because he never thought he'd hear you beg for him like that, and it was beautiful.  Sexy, yes, and erotic, but most of all beautiful.

Rolling you onto your back, he climbed up over you and felt your legs spread instantly— god, that was just too perfect.

In the dark, he still couldn’t see much, but there was just enough light to see your eyes blinking up at him.  It reminded him why he called you sweets as much as he could get away with it: because you were just so sweet, the sweetest eyes, the sweetest smile, the sweetest lips that he wanted to kiss until they were swollen and wet—

He grabbed your panties at the seam on your hip and snapped them in two; you gasped as he tossed them away, wiggling under him excitedly.  When he laid his body on top of yours now, he could feel your pussy through his pajamas.  Speaking of swollen and wet…

“Oh my god,” you breathed, reaching up to hold onto his bicep— Wesson, specifically.  “Eddie, you’re— fuck, get these off…”

Your free hand started tugging on the waistband of his pants, and just your fingers ghosting over his hip was enough to make him moan.  He grabbed where the gray fabric gathered, about to help you pull them down, until he remembered.  "Shit, I, uh," he choked, "I didn't bring any condoms."

Obviously.  Because what kind of creep brings condoms when his friend asks for help?  But now he was kicking himself wishing he'd had the foresight somehow.

"I could go back and—"

"No," you interrupted, clutching at his tank top.  "Don't leave, you don't need to wear one anyways."

Oh, dangerous territory.  Compulsory, cautionary health class videos flashing through his mind…

"I mean, you're clean, right?" you assumed.

"Yeah, I've never— well, I've never actually done it without protection before, so—"

"Me either," you explained, "and I'm on the pill— and I… I wanna feel you."

"That's… hot," he admitted with a tilted grin.  "Shit, really?"

You bit your lip as you nodded, and he growled playfully at you as he leaned in and kissed your neck.  You writhed beneath him happily, your plump little mound rubbing on him through his sweats— and he would give you anything you wanted after you did that.

"Y'wanna feel me, sweets?" he taunted lowly.  "Wanna feel my cock stretching you out?  We can do that.  Gonna fuck you raw."

You whined and arched your back.  "Please, Eddie— that's what I want."

"Shh," he soothed, reaching down to push the stretchy waistband over his hips to his thighs.  His cock sprang free and brushed on the inside of your leg for a moment, making you move your hips again— so he held them down with one hand.  "Baby, I'm gonna give it to you, okay?  Calm down."

"I just need you," you whispered, tugging on his shirt again.  "Eddie, I just need you inside me—"

He moved his head between your lips, groaning at how warm you were already— god, you must be like an oven inside.

When he found your opening, he didn't waste much time before pressing forward and sliding himself in.  It was a specific feeling— overwhelming, yet irresistible.  It was nearly too much for both of you and yet he had to keep going, had to fill more of you until his pelvis was grinding on your clit and the tip of his cock was reaching right to the end of you.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned the second he was buried inside— not just because it felt good, but because he knew instantly he couldn't go back now.  Feeling you bare, getting drenched by your sticky, hot walls… how was he supposed to be satisfied with anything else again?  Or maybe it wasn't the lack of a barrier that made it so good— maybe that was just you.

Either way, he didn't want to go back: to condoms, to other girls, to any of it.  He didn't want anything but this.

"Baby," he said again, holding you a little tighter.  "Is this how you want it?  Deep and slow?"

You whined quietly, clutching at his back.  "Y-you can go a little faster," you offered.

"Mm," he moaned as he rocked his hips more quickly, your heat gripping him so well he struggled to control himself.  "Like this?"

"Yes," you praised, "oh, Eddie, just like that— fuck me like that."

Christ.  You were gonna make him lose it too fast, talking like that and feeling so damn good.  You were like heaven inside— cozy and warm like a living room on a Christmas card.  Which, yes, he was well aware was a bizarre thing to compare a vagina to, but he wasn't gonna say it out loud or anything!  Babe, your pussy's like a Norman Rockwell painting might not even be Eddie's worst attempt at dirty talk in his life, to be honest.

"Ah, fuck," you panted, arching your back as he gave you a little more force with his thrusts.  "Did you ever… did you think about this?"

"Yeah," he admitted instantly.  "I mean, a few times.  It's hard not to…"

"Did you hope something would happen tonight?" you pressed, voice all wavery and breathless.

At best, he had hoped the way you hope you're gonna win the lottery or that a unicorn will appear in your yard.  "I didn't think about it like that," he assured, "I knew you were scared, I just—" he hissed as he struggled to focus on this conversation with everything he was feeling— "wanted to protect you."

Then the thought hit him, and he had to ask.

"Did you know something would happen tonight?" he returned.

"I told myself I wouldn't," you breathed, "but you… smell really nice."

Holy shit, I owe Wayne my life for getting me this cologne for my birthday last year.

"And you're so sweet," you added with a pant, "and honestly I've wanted you since—"

"Don't tell me," he interrupted, "I don't wanna know— unless you're about to say since you walked in the door, I'll drive myself crazy knowing I could've had you sooner, that we could've been doing this for months."

You sighed in agreement; it seemed like you were getting even wetter the longer he went on, and he groaned as he heard the beautifully filthy noise of his cock churning inside your walls— and it felt even better than it sounded.

"Feels so good," he blurted out, resting his forehead on the pillow just beside yours.  

"You too," you sighed.  "S'big, Eddie, and without anything I can feel how warm you are…"

"Warm, me?" he laughed thinly.  "Shit, you feel so hot inside I figured I felt like a popsicle to you."

You giggled, and god, what a beautiful sound.  Making you laugh was an honor enough— if he could make you come, too, he'd be king of the world.

In the spirit of that goal, he started fucking you a little faster, pressing in all the way with every thrust.

"Oh god, Eddie, so deep, you're so deep," you groaned.  "Fuck!”

He grinned proudly, reaching under you to move your hips— he lifted them just how he wanted them, forcing his cock even deeper inside you the next time he thrusted, and he got to grope your ass a bit so it was really a win-win.

He saw your eyes roll back and it just made him want to fuck you even harder.

“Tell me what you need,” he asked.  “Tell me how to help you, sweets.”

“I— I just need you to touch me,” you returned, your voice sounding a little hoarse. 

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” you choked, “everywhere… your hands feel good.”  He groped your tits first— easy choice— and heard you mewl happily.  “Fuck,” you breathed when he pinched a tender nipple, and he felt your walls bare down on him for a moment— so he did it again.

“You’re so sensitive,” he noticed proudly, beginning to drag his hand down over your abdomen as he watched the anticipation build on your face.  “How about your little button, s’it sensitive too?”

“Yeah, fuck,” you encouraged, moaning and dropping your head back onto the pillow as he gently pressed his thumb to your bud.  He’d barely started rubbing in circles before your moans got louder and higher-pitched; maybe it was a stupid comparison, but it reminded him of playing his beloved guitar— the other lady in his life.  He wanted to play your body like his instrument, he wanted to make music even more beautiful come out of you.

So he rubbed harder, and picked up his pace again— he had to flex his gut and keep it tight to try to stave off his own orgasm, his balls were already tightening up a bit as he got closer, but he knew he could hold off as long as it was to keep you satisfied.

“So good,” you praised, “it feels— fuck, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed.  “I know, you can come, sweets— I wanna feel you come around me.  Just tell me what you need.”

“Jus’ don’t stop,” you begged, “don’t stop, Eddie, just like— fuck!  Right there, oh my god—”

Is it just me, or is she liking this a lot more than the other girls did?  Did I get awesome at sex sometime in the last few weeks?

But really, he knew it was just that it was you and him together— it felt like you were made for each other, like he fit inside you perfectly.  He rubbed your clit even harder, technically disobeying your command of just like that, but it went over okay since you nearly screamed at the feeling.  "Eddie, I'm coming, I'm coming!" you kept saying, voice thin and strained, tightening up around him so hard he nearly struggled to pull back so he could keep up his pace.

"That's my girl," he praised, loving the way it felt to call you that— so he kept doing it.  "My girl, my girl," he chanted with each thrust into your flexing channel.  

“Oh god,” you sobbed, pushing his hand away from your clit; it must have become too sensitive right after coming.  Your hands reached up and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him down to lay more of his weight on you.  “Eddie, I— f-fuck, it’s so—”

“Shh,” he cooed, “it’s okay— it’s not too much is it?”

“Almost,” you whimpered, “b-but I don’t want you to stop.”

He fucked you faster, feeling you quiver under and around him; he wrapped you up in his arms tightly, keeping you still so he could slam everything into you at once, letting your somehow-even-tighter-now walls massage his throbbing cock.  "I-I don't know how much more of this I can take," he grunted, "you feel so—"

"I want you to come," you encouraged.

“Where?” he asked roughly, lips by your ear as he laid his head next to yours on the pillow.

You hesitated, and he could almost hear the gears in your head turning.  He knew you were considering it, and it made him groan just realizing that you wanted to let him fill you.

“You want it inside, baby?” he asked in a rough whisper, and you nodded with a quiet moan.

“Yeah,” you admitted, hands holding onto him tighter until he felt your nails bite his flushed skin.  “Yeah, fuck, that’s hot.”

He fucked you faster with a groan; his balls were starting to get sore from trying to hold back, but he didn’t want it to end yet— he couldn’t even be sure you would wanna do it again.  He couldn’t let this moment be over so soon—

“Eddie, I’m yours, make me yours,” you pleaded.  Nevermind, he could let this moment be over, because god damn hearing you talk like that didn’t leave him any other option but to come right fucking now.

"You're sure it's okay to come inside?" he breathed.  "I can pull out—"

"It's more than okay," you insisted, "Eddie, I want it so bad, please—"

"Don't say please," he instructed, "I was just checking— I'm gonna give you whatever you want, okay?  You want me to fill you with my come, I will.  You don't have to beg me for anything, it's all yours."

"Oh," you moaned, "say that again."

"All yours, it's all yours, sweets," he promised.  "Whatever you want from me.  Which, right now, is all this fuckin' come in your cute little pussy, right?"

"Yes," you sighed.

"I'll give you everything," he assured as he fucked you faster.  "Every drop, all this come is for you, baby."

“Oh god,” you hissed, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“You really mine, sweets?” he whispered— you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the slamming of his hips on yours if he wasn’t speaking right by your ear.

“Yeah,” you answered breathlessly.

“Promise,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you insisted, “m’yours, Eddie, had such a big, stupid crush on you—”

“Fuck!” he spat, digging his fingers into your soft thighs as the first ropes of come sprayed from his cock; it felt so different, knowing it wasn’t just filling a latex reservoir but filling you, your perfect body, your warm pussy—

You sighed out his name one more time, tightening your arms and legs around him, keeping him close and whimpering with each soft breath; you sounded so beautiful, he almost felt guilty for dirtying you this way, but it was worth it… and you seemed to be enjoying yourself too.

He let out a long, hot breath as he stilled, feeling the last few drops of his come dribble out and into you; “Shit,” he hissed, “that— fuck.”

You laughed quietly in agreement.  “Yeah.”

He started to try to pull out, but you whined and hugged him again.  “Don’t go yet,” you begged.

“Okay,” he relented, relaxing on top of you.  “Am I crushing you?”

“No,” you laughed, “you’re not that heavy.”

“Good,” he mumbled as he planted a quick kiss on your temple.  

You moved a little bit and he hissed, having to hold you still by your hips.  

“D-don’t,” he choked, “I’m still— it’s really sensitive…”

“Oh, really?” you grinned, clenching on him on purpose to make him grunt and laugh quietly.

“Fuck,” he warned, “you’re tryin’ to drive me crazy, huh?”

“A li’l bit,” you admitted mischievously.

“Can you… feel it?” he wondered.  “Like, without a condom, can you feel my, uh, come?”

You considered it for a second.  “Not really, m’all, like, numb right now,” you admitted with a little giggle.  “But I could feel your cock, like… moving.  Even when you weren’t moving.  I dunno if that makes sense…”

“No, it does,” he nodded.

“What did it… feel like for you?” you asked, sounding almost nervous and shy again.  How could you act shy after that?

“Uh, fuckin’ amazing,” he laughed.  “You’re incredible.  Did you really mean what you said?  About, um… being mine?”

He felt your breath catch, and he reached up to pet your head for a second, moving some stray hair out of  your face.  

“Listen, it’s okay if you were just caught up in the moment,” he offered.  “I understand.”

“Do you understand because you just wanna be friends after this?” you asked.  “Or do you understand because you’re super sweet and don’t want me to feel pressured to sleep with you again?”

“Um… guess it’s the second one,” he decided, face getting warm.  “I mean, I’m okay being friends after this.  I’m extra okay being friends with benefits.  But if I’m being honest, sweets, I wanna be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” you encouraged, the smile in your voice making his heart twist.

“Yeah,” he answered.

You held his face and kissed him— soft, gentle, sweet just like you.  He kissed you back, lifting his head and deepening it as much as he could get away with; you moaned against his lips, and it was so sexy he almost wondered if he could give you another load inside without even having to pull out—

But you broke away and looked up at him with heavy eyes, and he realized how tired you really were.  “We can talk in the morning,” he decided, “you just need to get some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed.  He carefully pulled out, trying not to overstimulate his softened cock, and laid behind you to be your big spoon again.  “This feels nice,” you hummed.  “I mean, m’kinda sticky and gross and all, but I feel safe.”

“Mm,” he agreed, fluttering his eyes shut— he was more tired than he realized, and the dark was already pulling him deeper as he held you.  “Me too, actually.”

[ultravioletrayz]

hii, i hope your day/night has been well !!

i was wondering if i could request husband miguel who’s at the society with chubby/curvy wife where reader is just literally stuck to him like glue because she’s on her period and like also period horny and she desperately wants a lolipop qnd miguel is like totally taking advantage of it by straight up making reader give him a bj for her to satisfy her oral fixation

Holy shit that’s so hot.

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, oral (m. receiving), size kink (kinda), miguel and reader both being equally needy, public sex? (they do it in miguel’s office), miguel gets kind of rough so throat fucking ig, cum eating, awfully translated Spanish

Summary: following your husband around his workplace all day means miguel gets to take full advantage of your current… situation 🩸

A/N: someone give reader her lollipop :(

Word Count: 1.6K (unedited)

At this point, you couldn’t tell whether Miguel was genuinely clueless, or just being a dick. You’ve been following him around HQ all day, not wanting to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the Spider Society, all the while trying not to cry out in pain and discomfort from how bad your cramps are getting.

It’s like your body wants you to suffer. The dizzying combination of pain, exhaustion, arousal, and the desperate need to distract yourself with something, anything, is enough to make you scurry away from your husband in desperate search of any kind of relief.

You try to follow the signs and the memory of Miguel showing you around his workplace the first time he had let you visit, making your way into the cafeteria. A few Spider-People look your way, confused as to why Miguel wasn’t by your side.

Shyly, you make your way to a few food stands and counters set up throughout the room, asking around if anybody sells a lollipop or anything else that would satisfy your need for distraction. Unfortunately for you, nobody has anything to offer, causing you to smile politely and leave the room, despite how frustrating this whole situation is.

You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom an obscene amount of times, been caught clutching your midsection as a result of your more painful cramps (day 2 fucking sucks), and you’ve been biting and chewing at the collar of the cute little blouse you’re wearing, which was your first attempt to communicate to Miguel this morning that you are painfully horny. And yet, the man you married for his caring and observant nature was none the wiser.

“¿Adónde fuiste?” Miguel’s voice booms behind you, causing a startled yelp to leave your lips as you turn on your heels and look up at him. His expression isn’t one of anger, like you had expected, it’s more amused than anything. (Where did you go?)

“I wanted a lollipop,” You say softly, fiddling with the hem of your blouse as the mere sight of your tall, tan, muscular husband in that skin-tight, holographic suit makes your thighs instinctively clench together. “But nobody sells them. You should get onto that, Migs.” You joke, trying to focus on anything but the aching in your lower tummy and the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Why do you want a lollipop? If you’re hungry, get something real to eat, cariño, a lollipop’s not gonna fill you up.” Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, his sharp red eyes full of confusion as he tries to pin your unusual behaviour.

“Miguel, I'm on my period, you idiot.” You giggle, your suspicions regarding Miguel’s cluelessness towards your situation being confirmed. It was a bit annoying that despite how long you two have been together, he can still get so caught up in work that he doesn’t remember the important things, like when your period’s due and that your oral fixation worsens during that time of the month. But he’s too hot to hold a grudge.

Miguel’s amused expression drops and he lets out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his temples as he mumbles apologies for his negligence towards your feelings the whole day. “Lo siento, querida, I had no idea. Can I do anything to help you?”

You smile softly at Miguel’s apology, licking your lips and fighting the urge to suck on the fabric of your blouse as you look up at your husband. “I need something to distract me from my cramps. Is there anywhere here that sells lollipops? Maybe one of the kids has candy or something stashed in their lockers?”

Miguel tries to hide the devilish smirk that creeps onto his lips as he steps close to you. He rests one of his massive, calloused hands on the back of your head, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “¿Necesitas chupar algo, nena?” (Need something to suck on, baby?)

You blush, Miguel’s teasing comment making you weak in the knees and going straight to your dripping cunt. Your eyes dart around the area the two of you are standing in, terrified one of Miguel’s subordinates may have heard him. Once you’re sure the two of you are alone, you nod, the needy look on your pretty face causing Miguel’s dick to throb in his suit.

With haste, Miguel drags you into his office, your lips crashing against one another as he slams your much smaller frame against the wall, his tongue forcing its way into the warmth of your mouth. One of his hands is buried in the softness of your silky locks, the other cupping your dripping pussy over your jeans, the heel of his palm grinding against your pulsing clit and causing you to whimper against his plump lips.

“Fucking lollipop,” Miguel hisses against your lips, his tone dripping with teasing and dominance as he sits down in the nearest desk chair and gestures for you to follow. “If you wanted to suck my dick that bad, should’ve just said something, princesa.”

Miguel spreads his muscular thighs, and you take it as an invitation to kneel between them. Your head rests on his leg, causing his holographic suit to flicker at the contact. He can’t help but chuckle at the adorable sight before him. His pretty little wifey, desperate to feel his heavy dick in her mouth. With a grin on your face, you reach up to tap the glowing screen of Miguel’s dimensional travel watch, the bottom half of his Spider-Suit dissolving. His hardened cock springs up, pre already dribbling from his reddened tip just because of how needy you are on your period. It drives him fucking insane.

You wrap your hands around Miguel’s shaft, your digits barely enveloping his girthy member, causing him to let out a quiet moan. Your eyes remain glued to his sharp, red ones as your tongue darts out to lick a fat stripe from his swollen balls, along the veins on the underside of his dick, all the way up to his leaky tip. He groans as you plant little kisses against his moist slit, claws protruding from his fingertips and digging into the arms of his chair.

“Stop teasing, cariño,” Miguel whimpers, hips bucking against your mouth to try and force his cock inside. “I thought you needed this-” Miguel’s words are cut off by a loud moan as you unexpectantly give his tip a harsh suck, swirling your tongue around it as you savour the taste of his precum.

He knows that you’re overly sensitive and fragile when you’re on your period, but the second your moist, plush lips surround his cock, he loses all self-control. You wanted something to suck, something to distract you from your cramps? Miguel was going to give you just that. He grabs you by your hair and bucks his hips upwards, his cock slamming into the back of your throat and causing you to choke and cry. He fucks his dick into the depths of your mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he pants and moans above you. You hollow your cheeks and rest your hands on the thick flesh of his legs, trying to ground yourself and adjust to the way Miguel smears his precum all over the walls of your mouth.

“Lo siento– ¡mierda! Lo siento, cariño.” Miguel whines, his hold on your hair loosening as you start to bob your head up and down on his length, sucking him off properly now. He reaches out to wipe away your tears, whispering sweet praises to you to make up for his harsh thrusts before. “Doing so good, baby. Keep going.”

Saliva drips down your chin as you take as much of Miguel in your mouth as possible, your hands firmly stroking the bottom half of his shaft that isn’t inside the gushy warmth of your pretty lips. The weight of Miguel’s cock against your tongue, the way his veins pulsate and brush against your lips each time your head rises, and the sight of his head thrown back and his thighs twitching as he gets closer and closer to cumming makes your aching pussy drool, your panties surely ruined by how turned on you are.

“I’m- fuck! I’m gonna cum, bebé.” Miguel whines, the muscles in his thick biceps bulging as he grips his chair and lazily fucks into your mouth to reach his release. Feeling his twitching cock filling your mouth makes you moan, the vibrations of your pretty sounds sending Miguel over the edge. His cum coats the inside of your mouth, spurting against the back of your throat as he pants and curses to himself.

You release his softening member with a pop!, licking up the stray ropes of his release that coat his shaft and lap, swallowing his load and making sure to clean him up thoroughly. He chuckles breathlessly at the sight of you being so obedient and he lifts your chin in one hand to stroke his thumb against your cheek.

“Gracias, mi reina,” He whispers, enabling his suit once again, his heavy, moist cock disappearing underneath the digital strands of blue and red. “I’ll return the favour at home, okay?”

You giggle and nod your head in agreement, staring up at your fucked-out husband gratefully.

“Can you still help me find a lollipop to buy?”

Teehee :)

[kaciebello]

Wrong address

Masterlist

Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts.  She just wishes people would put the proper address on it.

Warnings: mention cigarettes, no use of y/n

Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

Previously: Left on delivered

Next part: Too many voicemails

word count: 1.1k

notes to deliver: 365

It wasn't hard to find the Slytherin boys, usually you could hear them from miles away. That is why sometimes when they want to keep their business private, they sneak into the room of requirements. Not only was it soundproof, but no one just stumbled upon it. Most importantly nobody knows they hang out there. Or so the thought.

the giant door slides open revealing a makeshift sunroom. Nobody should have been able to find them there, yet they are not surprised when they see a certain Hufflepuff girl with a yellow bow in her hair. She was fondling a note in her hand looking at it confused. She steps into the room as a door closes behind her, making her way to the number of sofas in the room. The room senses her presence, makes sure there is room for her, and even goes as far as giving her a cup of tea.

“ What you got there mail girl?” asks Draco before closing his eyes and soaking up the artificial sun. Maybe he won't get sunburned from this one. 

“ Note for one of you…” all attention was on her now. Curiosity reeks from the boys. They are not strangers to being delivered notes or letters from the girl. If anything, it became like a norm at this point. Not that they ever respond to any.

“Well dont keep us on the edge of our seats. For who?” Says Mattheo eager to open it and read it.

“That's the point. I don't know.” She says and sighs. Promptly burying her head in her hands. Eager glances are swapped for confused ones.

Various versions of ‘Why do you mean you don't know.’ leave the boys. She just looks at the note before speaking.

“ I usually have people write to who on the folded note. and you know, that system works! Sure, some people mic Fred and George but who wouldn't.” She pauses, thumbs of agreement. She fips the note. “ This one is addressed to ‘ the cute guy from Slytherin’.”

“Oh sunshine, isn't it obvious? Give me the note.” Theodor says reaching for it. Blasie stops him with a disgusted look. She knew this would happen.

“Like hell it's you, if anyone here is cute it’s me!” says Draco no longer behaving like a cat in a sun but one that is about to pull out its claws. One by one the boys got increasingly offended if they were not suggested by the others. The girl places the note in her lap and reaches for her tea. It was amusing to see her fight for the title of the cute boy in Slytherin. And some people say they are dangerous.  Tooning them out, she looks around the room to admire it. 

“Sunshine.” Says Lorenzo making her turn back to them and pay attention. 

“ Give us the note.” He says, his eyes were a tad bit crazy. She shakes her head and places the cup on a table. Sometimes her friends scared her, not for the reason many people thought. Looking closely at all of them. They all had the same look in their eyes. 

She gets up and swiftly moves to stand behind a sofa, making sure there is some barrier between her and them.

“Sunshine, give us the note,” he repeats extending his hand to her. She just takes a B-line to the door. A crashing sound behind her made her clutch to the note in her hand. A few steps before the door Mattheo appears and blocks her way. She knew better than to start backing up so she turned and made her way to the glass door that seemed to be leading outside. She however could never outrun 5 boys in their prime, no.

A decision was made right then and there. When she can feel Draco catching up to her, she ducks—completely missing her and running into the glass door. She however already running to the fireplace. She was a few steps from it when Lorenzo jumped out of nowhere and tackled her on the floor. Making sure to turn them around so he sounded her fall. The note slips from her grip. The two groan on impact.

“Bro that was unnecessary.” She whines and rolls at her friend. Sitting her to him while he lies on the floor with a smile.

“Yeah, but I got the note…” He says and looks in the direction the note has fallen. His smile drops when he sees it. The note has landed in the fire just as the girl intended to. The sides curled and ashy, there was no saving it. A victorious cheer leaves the girl, while others groan in frustration.

Looking around the scene, some pillows were thrown on the ground. One chair was flipped over and was lying on its side. Draco was holding his nose as Blasie helped him up. Something told the girl his father won't be hearing about this one. Overall it looked like someone casted Bombarda in the middle of the room.

Turning to the friend next to her, making sure he's okay. He just waves his arm at her and jumps up. Before helping her up. In the meanwhile, the rest have sat down in their previous spots. Mattheo flicked his wand to clean the room up a bit. 

Silence sat among the friends. A new batch of tea was made, and they all tried to figure out what just happened. The only sound in the room was the fire cracking, the remains of the note still visible. It's Blaise who breaks the silence.

“Um, that was…” HE swallows the rest of his thought, opting to just nod his head.

“Man, we should have read it together, just aloud.” Says Theodor, pulling out his cigarette and offering it to anyone willing to take one. Nods and hums of agreement were heard from the boys.

“You know, the girl that gave it to me was very cryptic.” She says sipping on her tea and swapping the smoke away occasionally. Their ears perked up but they were still licking their wounds to pay proper attention.

“ She said, and I quote. ‘ You know who’ and winked before running away.” She pauses to take a sip before continuing. “ I think she wanted me to give it to the one I thought was the cutest” Lost in her thoughts, her gaze remained on ashes. She did not even notice that the chatter stopped.

Silence from the boys. Until.

“Well, who do think it's the cutest?” She just sighs at the question. Here we go again.

notes to deliver: 364

Tag list: @daisiesformylove, @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8

[intoxicated-chan]

What about a first time having sex with Miguel and he accidentally hurts them in which he gets very insecure and stuff, and although reader is hurt she still somewhat comforts him and they continue?

You’re Right By My Side

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ You and Miguel had complete trust in each other, but when it came to more intimate moments, he wanted to sure that he was always careful.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Dead of Night” by Orville Peck. Requests will still be closed for a while since I want to get out as much as I can so please be patient with me! I used Spanishdict so please let me know if there is anything wrong!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 920

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, sexual content, clawing, blood, angst-to-fluff, hand job, penetration, dacryphilia, light begging, size kink?

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You enjoyed the way he held you in his arms and hands, the same hands that protected you from any harm that came your way. It showed how much he loves you. And if there was one thing that nobody knew about Miguel, it was how much of a softie that he could be when it came to moments like these.

You were laid back on the bed that you shared with him, he hovered over you. You could see how clouded his eyes were. He was in between your legs and one of his hands went down to his cock, barely pushing in and out of your hole.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He leaned down and whispered into your ear.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, “Please.” You asked him, tears swelling in your eyes as tried to pull him closer.

“I’ll give it to you.” He pressed his forehead up against yours, and slowly, he pushed himself in.

You tried your best to relax, your hands came up to his back and your nails dug into his skin. Finally, he bottomed out. He let you adjust for a couple of minutes before you tapped his back, letting him know that he could move.

Yet he couldn’t help himself, his slow pace quickly went faster and faster. Not that you’re complaining, you threw your head back as your Miguel went fast and hard. It was harder than you expect though.

Your walls were tight and hot around his cock, filling right to the brim and slipping in and out of you with ease. Using one of his hands, his fingers slipped over your lips and you obediently sucked on them.

His other hand was once on the side of your head but moved down to grab your waist tightly. Your hips grinded against his cock, begging for more.

With each thrust, you were pushed into bed and his fingers were pulled from your mouth. His hand went to clutch the mattress to the point where his knuckles were white.

You were moaning on the top of your lungs and you could feel his hot breath on your ear. That’s when you felt the sudden snap of pain.

It makes your moans stop and jolt in response. You felt something warm pooling besides and when you looked down at your hips, you saw blood.

“Miguel-!” You pushed at his chest, “There’s blood!” You hiss loudly.

Miguel pulled his body away from you and looked down at your hip, seeing his familiar claw marks on them. He could see the mattress soaking up the blood.

“Shit!” Miguel rushed out of the room and came back with a rag and bandages, “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean…” No words can describe his shock and shock was an understatement.

You took a deep breath as you felt the rag graze over the open wounds. You sat up carefully, turning on your side so he could clean it better.

“It’s fine.” You continued to take deep breaths.

“It’s not fine!” Miguel retorted, looking over the wounds. They weren’t very deep but they did bleed. Once he was sure the bleeding stopped, he began to patch them up.

“It’s nothing, Miguel. Just a few scratches.”

“That I made.” Miguel was done cleaning your wounds.

You sat up and moved closer to Miguel, cupping his face so you can look at him, “I forgive you, Miguel. Look at me, please.”

He looks at you, he’s slow doing it and you could see the pain and anger in his eyes. You know how he swore to never harm you, ever.

“You have done nothing but care for me Miguel.” Your thumb runs over his cheek, “And I know how much it hurts you to hurt me but I’m fine Miguel. It will heal.”

“It could scar.”

“Then I’ll wear the scar with pride.” You weren’t going to lie, seeing Miguel hurt you as well, it broke your heart to see him like this, “This is nothing Miguel, at the end of the day, it will heal, and I forgive you.”

You went to place a kiss on his forehead but he quickly moved to kiss you on the lips. It wasn’t a hungry kiss but instead a soft one.

One of your hands travels down his body and slowly to his cock, “May I?” You ask him and he nods. You wrap your hand around his cock and slowly pump him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to soothe his emotions.

You then moved onto his lap, your hole right over his cock. You kept your eyes on him, you used your free hand to grab his chin and make him look up, “Ready?”

He nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Por favor muévete.” (Please move.)

You lowered yourself down on his cock, his hips jutted to go faster, but you put your hands on his shoulders as support, “Please, hold me, Miguel.”

You don’t see it but his hands shook as they slowly were placed on your waist. He was careful, especially with the hand over the bandages.

But then he moved to pull you closer, like a hug as you rode him.

“Por favor no te vayas.” Miguel whispered, “Por favor no me dejes.” (Please don’t go, please don’t leave me.)

Your hands came up to his hair, running your fingers through him, “I’m not going anywhere.” You pant, “I’ll always love you, Miguel.”

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey! Love your stuff! But i kinda notice you mainly do Vox and Al so...

Can you do like....... A husker x child!reader headcanons ? (Platonic ofc)

The old bartender finds a kid completely without adult supervision at a bar (their just drawing ) , goes up to them to find thier guardian only to realise they dont have any?

Husker wants to get rid of them but they ultimately grow on him and they become closer. The kid is sarcastic and they shit on alastor together....

And they draw a mocking pic of the radio demon and stick it onto the fridge of the hotel for everyone to see?

There is a LOT of Vox and Alastor in my inbox but I'm a sucker for Husk so-

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Unaccompanied minor in places a baby shouldn't be

Description: 👆⬆️

Sometimes Husk just needs a break from being a bartender, wanting to be the one being served

He wants to relax in his free time and just have a moment to himself

Actually starts to let loose when he suddenly feels a tiny hand tugging on his wing

Husk is so confused when he looks down to see a child staring up at him, clutching dirty paper and crayons

"Can you help me up, mister..? The chairs are too high..."

Sets you up on the barstool next to him, still too stunned to really ask why you're even here

He looks at the bartender as they pass him his drink, gesturing to you with a wtf expression

They just shrug as they give you a plastic cup with water in it, obviously used to having you around by that point

Finally snaps out of it once the bartender pushes a plate of food towards you

Don't look at him like that it's perfectly natural to be freaked out by a kid at a bar

You're just kicking your legs and drawing, munching on the food given to you

You shouldn't be in a rowdy place like this, who's supposed to be watching you??

"So uh...does your mommy take you here often?"

"No, does yours?"

Motherfucker you're already spilling your water on yourself-here let him help you-how are you so bad at this???

"Your papa then?"

"No, I don't have any parents but- *insert bartender's name* -is really nice and let's me hang out in here.."

You're breaking his fucking heart, kid

"Oh well...don't mind me then."

"Uh yeah, I won't."

Sarcastic for such a little squirt, aren't you?

His drink suddenly tastes sour and he's no longer in the mood for another, watching you unhappily

Starts seeing you every time he visits the bar, always keeping to yourself and oblivious to the things going on around you

At first, he's annoyed whenever he sees you, reluctantly keeping an eye on you and making sure nobody bothers you

Even if they do, you're so witty for your age that you leave just about everyone gobsmacked by the shit that comes out of your mouth

The whole point of coming where was to relax and instead he's worrying about some kid

Then that annoyance slips away to reluctant fondness as you worm your way into his old heart

He starts to look forward to seeing you and starts bringing little things for you like clothes, toys, coloring books

Listens to you babble about what you do with your days and how you've managed to survive on your own

Not the bartender developing a crush on him for it

Husk doesn't even realize how attached he is until one day he visits the bar and you aren't there, the bartender distracted and upset

You haven't shown up in couple of days

He immediately goes looking for you, frequenting all the places he's heard you mention

Is asking anyone if they've seen you, getting more frantic with each negative answer

Finally finds someone who knows where you are, leading Husk to where you've been hiding out

And now he knows why you haven't shown up

Husk gathers up your shaking, feverish body, hating the fact that you're so sick

"H-Husk..?"

You can barely even open your eyes, he can feel your little body burning up in his arms

"Hey kid..."

He's not leaving you here

He takes you back to the hotel so that you can be properly taken care of, leaning on the others when he doesn't know what to do

Charlie and Vaggie are the biggest helps tbh, they're actually good at caring for people

Alastor is entirely unhelpful except for the fact that he can provide medicine and other supplies

"My my~ Look at what the cat dragged in! Aha!"

"Shut up...you weird strawberry man.."

Even when you're sick you're still a riot

He tries to keep Niffty tf away from you but you think she's funny

He and Angel are your makeshift heaters, so fuzzy and warm that you want to cuddle them all the time

Angel complains the entire time though so you don't really prefer him

Mostly you want Husk with you and he sticks with you until you're feeling better

By then you're well acquainted with everyone at the hotel and they're all quite attached to you

Everyone agrees that you live there now and you get your own room even though you have a habit of sleeping in Husk's

It's okay, Husk looks forward to waking up to your adorable face and doesn't even mind when you kick him in your sleep

You play with Niffty and Angel, learn from Charlie and Vaggie, bother Alastor with your less than flattering renditions of him

You don't like that Alastor is so rude to Husk so you've taken to being a little thorn in his side

Kids pick up on their parent's emotions what can I say

Which Alastor absolutely hates but hides it behind a tight smile, he's surprisingly patient with you

And if those drawings of Alastor on the fridge suddenly go missing?? Husk can always ask you to make him another one

Husk finds himself thinking of you as his kid more and more often, surprised that you ever got this close to his heart

And you yourself slip up a few times and call him dad/papa/daddy/father/pops

You're always a little embarrassed by the chorus of awwws that follow afterwards but you don't really mind it anymore

And neither does he if he's being honest

He struggles sometimes to be a proper caregiver for you but you always seem to just love him more for his flaws

You're too fucking cute

You're definitely his kid

And don't worry Husk lets the bartender know you're safe and brings you to visit them after their shifts

I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I LOVE DADDY!HUSK SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT TOO

[macfrog]

Good Morning Lovely, I hope you have a great Sunday! I was wondering if you could possibly write boyfriend's dad! Joel x female reader where your boyfriend was caught cheating on you but you go to his dad's house and found comfort in him. 💗

guest of honor

yep yep yep bfd!joel is something i have never written before but i would love to write more. thank u sm for this request!!! i hope you enjoy 🙏

pairing: bfd!joel x fem!reader

summary: mr. miller didn't raise his son to be a cheat. so when he turns out that way, his dad decides to make it up to you.

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap everybody), fingering, dom!joel, praise kink, joel being protective, age gap (reader is early 20s/college age, joel late 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, cheating

word count: 4k

Three days. It’s been three days.

Three days since you last saw him, arm waving out of the car window as he drove off after dropping you back home. You’d gone to crazy golf. He’d text you that night to say goodnight, and text you first thing the morning after to wish you a good day, and then…nothing.

Radio silence.

Your boyfriend wasn’t the best at communicating, this was true. But three fucking days? Something was weird.

You: Hey, I was gonna swing by later if you’re around?

You: Everything ok?

You: Hello????

You: Getting kinda worried now

When your third call goes straight to voicemail, you decide to head over and see what’s up.

Your car squeaks to a halt outside his house. Both his car and his dad’s truck are parked in the driveway, and you glance in his driver’s window as you pass. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Nobody answers when you ring the doorbell, so you slowly turn the handle and let yourself in, closing the door quietly behind.

You call out his name. Nothing.

Leaning to glance down the hallway, you notice the sliding door in the kitchen open, the silhouette of his dad sat on a lounge chair out back.

You head upstairs slowly; maybe he’s sleeping, or at his desk with his headphones on.

The top stair creaks when you step on it, and you pause, hearing movement on your left. From your boyfriend’s bedroom.

You say his name, and the noise stops dead.

“What the f…” you whisper to yourself, wandering over to the door. “Are you in here…?”

You push the handle and the door slowly swings open. The curtains are closed, it’s dull. You can only just make out the discarded articles of clothing strewn all over the carpet, leading to the foot of the bed, on which…

“Oh, fu–”

Your boyfriend jumps up, stark naked, some girl clutching the bedsheets to her chest. Your breathing falters as he reaches for his underwear.

“What the fuck?” you yell, backing away from the door. He holds a hand out to stop you.

“This isn’t…No, hey, come back!”

Spinning on your heel, you rattle back down the stairs, vision blurring with the tears rapidly bubbling. You reach the bottom of the stairs and steady yourself on the handrail, before making off for the front door.

“Hey, hey.” A strong arm suddenly links around yours as you flurry by, having heard all the commotion. “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”

Mr. Miller turns you and takes the back of your head in his rough hand, gently tilting your face up to look at him. When he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, his jaw tightens, brows furrowing, and he yells upstairs for your boyfriend.

“Get – the fuck – out here. Now!”

The bedroom door opens, you hear shuffling, and the figure of your boyfriend, still in his underwear, materializes on the landing.

Mr. Miller’s hand hasn’t left yours as he turns to look up at his son, and you cower behind his broad shoulders.

“What the fuck is goin’ on? You got someone else up there?”

“Dad, it’s–”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie! I heard you come in with someone. You tellin’ me you’re cheatin’ on your girlfriend in my house?”

Your boyfriend’s shoulders drop and he glances back toward his room. “I…It was a mistake.”

“Get her out. Both of y’all. Get!” he roars, thumb pointing over his shoulder.

When his son’s scrawny form wobbles back to his bedroom, Mr. Miller gives you a half glance over his shoulder and his hand squeezes yours. He leads you down the hallway without a word, taking you to the kitchen, where he pulls a barstool out for you to sit on.

“Water?” he asks.

You don’t reply. He understands.

He closes the fridge. “Whiskey.”

As he’s pouring two glasses, the pale face of your boyfriend leans around the doorframe.

“Listen, I…”

“Didn’t I tell you to leave? You, too!” he yells down the hall, and a pair of footsteps scuttle off. “If you ain’t out that door in the next ten seconds, you’re gonna know all about it, son.”

With that, his head and shoulders disappear, and you listen as the front door opens and slams shut again.

Mr. Miller slides your whiskey over the counter to you and downs half of his in one swig.

“Damn boy,” he mutters, licking his lips. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ‘im. He always this much of an asshole?”

You shrug, still staring at your glass.

The truth is he didn’t seem like an asshole when you met him. He was confident, and smart, and funny. He had a crowd of boys around him anywhere he went, and you liked the attention y’all got whenever you were with him. Liked being on his arm. Liked being kissed by him in a bar full of people.

Was there anything there, between you guys? Past what other people saw? Not so much. He liked video games, and football, and cars. You liked watching and waiting for him to quit playing so you could hang out, weren’t so much into football, and liked his car, only when he’d take you out in it.

Sex was…uneventful. Little foreplay, little payday for you. Most times it was five or so minutes of grunting, a pause inside you while he filled the condom, and then a heaving sigh as he tumbled off from on top of you to lie beside you in a sweaty mess and pull out his phone. He liked watching gameplay videos on YouTube once he’d finished.

So, all in all, not an asshole, per se. He was always decent to you, always made sure you got home safe and held your hand in public.

The issue was he wasn’t not an asshole, either. He was perfectly lukewarm. Right in the middle.

Fuckin’ boring.

This is the first real asshole thing he’s done. The first step in either direction of extremity – first leap, really.

Realistically, it’s a bit of relief. Wow, you do have a personality after all. Just sucks that this was what he’d chosen to do with it.

It stings. You feel your cheeks heat as they flush with embarrassment, the memory of you pushing that door open replaying over and over in your head. You need a sedative, something to make you forget what just happened.

“Hey,” Mr. Miller says again, thumb holding your chin. “You okay?”

You lean into his touch. “Not really. It’s…whatever. He can do what he wants.”

He’s quiet. His eyes track your lips as you speak, and when you finish, he looks back up into your eyes.

“He don’t deserve a girl like you,” he whispers.

You smile a little, tilting your head and looking up at him.

“I’m gonna make you feel better. Make it up to ya for raisin’ him. How’s that sound?” Mr. Miller leans back and sets his glass down, clapping his hands. “Want some food?”

You giggle, brows furrowing. “Food?”

“I’m starvin’. Was waitin’ for you comin’ over so we could have dinner. Didn’t know that was goin’ on, but…”

“Food sounds good,” you say, cutting off the end of his sentence. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

He shakes his head, brows knitted together, and insists, “Joel, baby. Call me Joel.”

Joel rustles up some burgers, insists that you stay put in your stool and don’t move a muscle as he cooks.

“Guest of honor,” he tells you, “your job is to sit there, look pretty, and let me do all the work.”

You oblige, making polite conversation and accepting when he pours you another glass of whiskey. Y’all talk about plenty, from work, to college, to whose food is best out of Tess’s Steakhouse or the Southwestern Grill.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Joel mutters, tossing a handful of fries in his mouth, “I’d give ‘em both a run for their money.”

“Alright, but you’d be a threat to Southwestern quicker than you would to Tess’s.”

“See, now we gotta go to both to really compare ‘em,” Joel says, and you swear you notice your heart skip a beat.

You hesitate on your answer, watching him carefully. He’s leaning a little toward you, licking the salt from his fingers.

“Maybe we should,” you finally reply, cocking an eyebrow.

Joel smirks and stands up, taking your plate on top of his.

“Let me help with the dishes,” you say, and he shakes his head in response.

“No, darlin’,” he protests, holding a hand out as you follow him to the sink. “I’m hostin’ ya, I’ll get ‘em.”

“C’mon,” you say, lining up beside him, your shoulder meeting the middle of his bicep. “I don’t wanna just sit letting you do all the work all night. Let me help.”

He gives in and hands you a towel, before plunging your plates into the hot soapy water, and handing them to you to dry.

“Just throw ‘em on the rack,” he murmurs, “can put ‘em away later.”’

You can feel the heat radiating off of him just standing next to him. The sleeve of his flannel brushes off of your bare skin as you work, making your shoulders tense. Joel’s rigid too, facing forward at all times, staring out of the window instead of meeting your sneaking glances.

You pile the last plate onto the rack and turn to face him.

“I’m gonna…run upstairs and just grab a few of my things before I go,” you tell Joel, and he nods as you head out of the kitchen.

Your boyfriend’s bedroom is still dark, curtains blowing in the gentle breeze, sporadically letting sunlight in like your unsteady breaths. You open your bag, blindly lifting anything you’ve left here during visits. A lipstick, a hairbrush, a teddy bear you got him from vacation last summer.

When you’ve scanned the whole room, you turn to head out and notice a familiar silhouette in the doorway.

“What a fuckin’ mess,” Joel mutters, and you laugh as you make your way over.

He’s stood in the doorway, so you turn and squeeze by him, back to his chest. His hands come to rest on your hips as you pass, and your breath catches when you feel them squeeze.

Joel shuts the door and shakes his head. “It’s like he’s twelve years old.”

“Nah, that’s unfair. To twelve-year-olds.”

He scoffs. A pause. Then, “You sure you’re alright, baby?”

You lean back against the wall, bag hanging from your crossed arms.

“I’m good. Thank you again for dinner. You really took my mind off of…everything.” Your eyes flit to the door behind him.

Joel takes a step closer to you, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, and your heart quickens.

“Just wanted to make you feel better,” he breathes.

You can feel the blood pumping around your body like tidal waves circulating through you. Your breath falters, chest rising and falling quicker, and you feel something flutter between your legs.

You glance up and down the hallway. Whatever comes over you, the whiskey, or something more, you’re not entirely sure, but it makes you step away from the beige wall and close the space between you both even more.

“One of these doors yours?” You nod up the hallway, and Joel’s gaze instantly clouds over.

His eyebrows flinch, eyes flicker across your body just for a second, and he nods. Slowly.

“At the end.”

“Hm,” you muse, pushing your bottom lip out and wandering down the hall.

You have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, but Joel’s at your heels, following you toward his door. When you nudge it open, you turn, back to the door, and fall in.

His room is painted a dark grey, bed sheets to match. There’s not much in the way of furniture, a dresser over to the left, right by what you assume is the bathroom, and another over on the right under the window. A mirror stands by the open closet door, and a TV hangs from the wall beside the door, over your right shoulder.

Plain. Simple. Classic Joel.

You take a few steps inside, and turn, looking back at Joel, who’s leaning against his doorframe, watching you.

“Never been in here, have you?”

You shake your head. “’s what I expected.”

He laughs. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Looks like your room.”

Joel’s eyes dance over your face, your neck, along your shoulders, and down to your chest. He looks back up to meet your gaze and your eyebrows lift.

“Just one thing missin’ from it…” he grumbles, slowly walking over to you.

You feel the ache that’s been growing between your legs suddenly intensify. You clench your thighs.

Joel lifts his hand, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

“…you.”

You’re panting now, arms dropped to your side. Your bag falls from your loose grip when he takes hold of your shoulders and runs his hands down to your waist. Rough hands pulling you into him, against him, where you feel the swell in his pants.

“Joel…” you whisper.

“Hm?” he asks, chin lifting.

“Want you to…” Your throat holds onto the rest of the sentence.

He cups your face with his hand, tilting it up toward him. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me. In here.”

“Yeah?” he asks, starting to walk you backward to the bed. “You want me to take care of you, baby?”

“Mhm.”

He pushes you back onto the mattress, his smell all over the sheets. And then, he leans down, his body all over you.

He takes your wrists and pins them above your head, thigh between your legs.

“Gonna show you what it feels like to be fucked by a real man,” he growls, head dipping to kiss along your neck. “Gonna make you feel real good, pretty girl.”

You buck your hips and he laughs into your skin, teeth grazing against your throat.

“So desperate,” he purrs, shoving you further up the mattress.

He leans back, taking the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your body, exposing your bare chest underneath. You lay back and watch his eyes, heavy with lust as they scan over you, and you feel yourself wetter and wetter against his thigh.

“So pretty for me, sweet girl.”

His fingers find the waistband of your skirt and he hauls it down your legs, discarding it on the floor. You’re in just your panties now, laying sprawled out on your boyfriend’s father’s bed, soaked through, desperate to be fucked.

Joel’s hand cups around your sex, feeling how wet you are for him already. He slides your panties to the side and draws a lazy finger through your folds, coming to rest on your clit, where he circles around your sensitive bud.

Your back lifts, hands coming down to lock around his wrist. Urging him to keep doing it, but begging him to do something more.

His thumb stays on your clit, two middle fingers dipping to your cunt below. Your hands resume position above your head and you bring your knees up either side of you, allowing him access to your core.

Joel inserts his fingers inside you, and you bite back a scream. He curls them, hitting the spongey walls of your cunt, stretching you out good.

You’re breathing his name, chest rising and falling in time with his wrist pumping, before he pulls his hand from your core and you watch as he pushes his fingers between his lips, sucking on you.

He lets them go with a pop. “Sweet as honey, baby,” he coos, and a filthy grin paints across your lips.

“Alright,” Joel murmurs, taking hold of your waist.

He flips you over in one fluid motion, and with both hands on your hips, hoists your ass up in the air. His finger hooks under the band of your panties and pulls, releasing it with a snap back against your waist. You whine, face buried in his sheets.

Joel’s hands trail from the back of your knees upward, toward your aching cunt, where he massages the insides of your thighs, drawing desperate moans from you.

You hear the clink of his belt buckle, the sound of it sliding out of his pants and the thud when it hits the floor at his feet. The undeniable sound of his zipper being tugged down, and the ruffle of denim being shoved halfway down his thighs.

He presses his cotton-covered bulge against your lace-covered pussy, letting your slick rut all over his boxers.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and brings a hand down onto your ass. You jerk forward, moaning.

“Joel,” you whine, “just fucking do it. Fuck me, please.”

His hips pull away from yours only long enough for him to drag his boxers down before they’re right back against you, cock sifting through your soaked folds.

He groans as his length glides along your slit, gathering your slick all over his tip.

“You ready, baby?” he asks in a hoarse voice, breath stammering already.

“Mhm,” you breathe, almost shoving your hips back into his just to feel him.

He eases his thick head in first, and you feel yourself already stretching around him. You gasp, the feeling almost searing, before he pulls all the way out and strokes himself a couple times.

“So fuckin’ wet, darlin’. So good for me.”

When his shaft is coated in your juices, he pushes in again, this time not stopping. He goes slowly, allowing you to adjust to him, your back arching, chest pushing further into the mattress the deeper his cock reaches.

When you feel his balls against your clit, your hips connected once again, you exhale deeply.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and you hear him breathe a laugh. “You’re so…fucking…big.”

“Yeah? Aw, baby girl. You got no clue what you’ve been missing.”

His cock drags out of you, and, despite the intense pressure, you whine when he leaves. His tip still between your folds, he instantly pushes back in, getting faster and rougher with each thrust.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back to steady himself as he reaches a fast, punishing pace, fucking you like it’s all he ever wanted to do. His hips snap against yours, your thighs beginning to burn from the position. You feel a heat dripping from your belly to your cunt, swirling around, coil reeling.

“He ever fuck you like this?”

“N-no,” you whine, fingers gripping Joel’s bedsheets. The pressure between your legs is almost painful, his huge cock fucking into you so hard your mind runs blank, the only thought Joel, the only feeling…Joel.

“No,” he repeats, slamming his hips into your ass harder. “Need a real fuckin’ cock to make you feel good, treat that little pussy how it deserves.”

You’re listening to the words he’s saying, but not really hearing them. Your mind is blank, overcome by the feeling of his length fucking in and out of you; the perfect pain when his tip hits the edge of your cunt, the stretch of his thick cock, his balls slapping against your core when he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, squeezing the sheets until your knuckles whiten. “Wanna cum all over you.”

Joel groans, his head falling back at the sound of your whimpers. “Gonna make you cum, baby, make you cum real good. He ever make you cum?”

You shake your head. “Never.”

“Poor baby,” he tuts. “Never been able to cum for him, have you?”

You can’t answer him a second time. In your silence, you feel his hands on your shoulders, dick still thrusting in and out of you, and he pulls you up to his body, flush against his chest.

His arms snake around you, one around your waist and the other drawing circles around your swollen clit. You lean your head against his shoulder, hooking your left arm around his neck.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Uhuh,” you moan, turning to look at him.

Joel turns to face you and his jaw lowers, lips finding yours in a wet, messy kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers drill into your clit.

“Gonna…cum…all over…you,” you whimper, and he nods.

“Let me feel you, darlin’.”

You begin to slip in his grasp, feeling your cunt tightening around his cock and the heat in your stomach scorching. A few more thrusts and the room goes white, stars crowding your vision as you sob out.

You fall forward back onto the bed, limp with the pleasure between your thighs. Joel keeps the pace up, chasing his own high.

“So – fuckin’ – good for m-me, pretty girl,” he mutters, pounding into you.

You’re a soaked, sweaty, fucked-out mess, you know it. And you fucking love it.

When Joel’s thrusts become staggered, you know he’s close. You don’t move, save for your hands finding a hold of his sheets again, bracing yourself through the overstimulating feeling of him rutting into you over and over again.

He lets out a quiet groan and pulls out, pumping himself a couple times before his warm cum spills all over your back. The sound of his moans and the feeling of him emptying all over you are almost enough to wind that coil again.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes when he’s done, hands holding onto your ass. He gently massages you again, and you groan at the feeling.

“Lemme grab a towel,” he says, and his warmth disappears for a few seconds.

He returns from the bathroom and wipes your back with a soft towel, holding you up by the waist until he’s done, when he lets you go and you collapse onto the bed on your stomach.

“Been waitin’ so fuckin’ long to do that,” Joel pants, falling onto the bed beside you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You close your eyes, thinking back over all the times you’ve been here, the nights you’ve stayed over, when Joel’s in the house. Thinking of how he might’ve been looking at you, the thoughts running through his head. Knowing you were in his son’s room, knowing you were doing stuff with him that Joel wanted to be doing to you.

It fills you with equal parts longing and fucking arousal.

You both lay in a panting, sweating state of bliss for a while, eyes tracing down each other’s bodies.

Your hand crosses over to lace through Joel’s on his chest, and he smiles softly at you.

“Good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, eyes closing over in your exhausted state. “Good,” you whisper.

He nods reassuringly and squeezes your hand.

The moment – is it even a moment? – is cut short by the sound of a car pulling into the drive. The door slams shut and footsteps trail to Joel’s front door, which opens with a call of, “Dad?”

He sits up, coolly, almost unbothered, and taps you on the shoulder, before getting off the bed and opening his door.

He wanders out into the hall, to the top of the stairs, and you push yourself off of his bed, legs burning, and start getting changed.

“Yeah?” you hear Joel call.

Your boyfriend asks if you’re still here. “Her car’s in the drive.”

“She’s just grabbin’ her things. Made her dinner, made sure she was alright, since you were a fuckin’ dirtbag.”

You hear your boyfriend sigh as you slip back into your sneakers and leave Joel’s bedroom. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn, but holds a hand out behind his back, and you freeze.

“Do me a favour ‘n put the dishes on the rack back, would ya?” he calls down to his son.

You hear him walk through to the kitchen, and Joel turns to you. He nods once down the stairs, and you sneak past him, his hand on the small of your back.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your fingers around the handle, you turn back. Your boyfriend’s stood in the kitchen; eyes locked on you.

Slipping out the door, you nod to Joel.

“Thanks again, Mr. Miller.”

[fandomxpreferences]

Man Eater (18+)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x dark femme female reader (like siren energy)

TW: toxic, manipulation, smut, I think this counts as dub con, oral ( f receiving), I think that’s all but as always read at your own risk

Summary: Rafe can’t help but fall into your trap every single time.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: this is not my best work but I’m dipping my toes back in so please be nice to me

As much as he hates it, there’s something about you Rafe just can’t let go of. You're mysterious and seductive without trying; the most elusive woman he's ever met. You hold all the power, and for some reason, he keeps coming back for more.

Nobody knows what the two of you do behind closed doors. You show up when you feel like it, and every single time Rafe is waiting on his knees for you. Every time you leave he swears he's done, but then you call or show up and you're all he can focus on. You have a hold on him in a way that no one ever has before.

You don't think twice as you walk into the gala at tannyhill wearing a red gown; you smile and greet familiar faces just like usual. You're somehow kind and heartless at the same time, and Rafe has never been able to make sense of it.

He swears his breathing stops altogether when you make your entrance, but he remains stoic as he sips on whiskey. There’s something so powerful in the way you carry yourself; like you either own the place or don’t care who does. It draws him in and he can’t help but be mesmerized by just your presence.

He watches people move out of your way and men nearly break their necks as you float by ethereal and beautiful as ever. You’d think you’re a royal that should have a security team the way you command the room, and Rafe can’t look away.

You know he’s there and you can feel him watching your every move as you slink toward the bar and stop just a few feet away from him. While you may be sweet as sugar to most, Rafe gets to see the opposing side of you.

It's as if you're a siren; so beautiful and innocent one moment and sinister the next. He shifts closer so your shoulders are almost touching, and flags the bartender down with the subtle wag of his finger.

“She’s with me. Pour from our personal collection.” He instructs, and the man nods.

You glance over at him with a smirk and place your clutch on the counter before propping up on your elbows. You raise your eyebrows expectantly, and as if he has been perfectly trained, he orders your usual drink without further instruction.

“Always so eager to please.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your crimson-stained lips, and Rafe watches you with the same predatory gaze he always does.

“Only you.”

The way you stare up at him through thick lashes and winged eyeliner nearly makes him collapse, and he tries to calm the wild beating of his heart. You’re the type of beautiful that’s intimidating; so stunning that even the unshakable Rafe Cameron quakes in your presence.

You take a sip from your glass with a wink before strutting off, and he grins to himself. He knows how lucky he is to have you in any sense, and he also knows that you’re not in a place to be tied down.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from longing for more. He’s certain that you were made for him; and that there aren’t any other men in outer banks truly capable of keeping up with you the way he can.

As strong as he is, even Rafe falls victim to your spell. Anyone else would simply be steamrolled, and he thinks on some level you know that. He knows you two would rule Figure Eight together and be unstoppable, but he’ll accept what you give.

He’s not usually worried about you getting around because even if you aren’t exclusive by any means, you’re extremely selective. You don’t seek attention; that's why you get so much of it. Normally, you don't pay it any mind.

Tonight, however, Rafe clenches his jaw until it aches as you nurse drinks made from his liquor while rubbing another man's arm. He knows he has no claim to you; you’ve made that very clear. He isn’t even sure if you have his name saved in your phone.

Despite having that knowledge, he finds himself slowly maneuvering through the crowd in your direction. You lock eyes with him over the shoulder of the man sitting in front of you, and you quirk your brow just enough for Rafe to notice.

It startles Rafe sometimes; how your eyes sparkle with the same thrill and mischief as his. You’re easily just as crazy as he is and he’s absolutely addicted to the rush of being with you.

“My dad wants to say hello.” Rafe lies, not giving you a chance to speak. He can see the way you’re weighing your options in your mind. He knows there’s a possibility that you tell him to fuck off; despite your arrangement, going home together is not a given.

“Excuse me.” You politely smile, giving one last squeeze before releasing the man's bicep and stepping around him.

Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist instantly, with his hand splayed across your side and onto your stomach as he holds you close to him. You stumble a bit in your heels when he jerks you into him, but don’t show any emotion.

“Bit bold tonight, aren’t we?” You say just loud enough for him to hear, and his fingertips dig further into your flesh.

“Not bolder than wearing a dress with your entire back out and drinking my liquor with another man.” He bites, and you let him lead, not wanting to cause any more of a scene. He doesn’t stop until you’re standing in his room and shuts the door.

He stays facing away from you for a moment, and you tap your shoe impatiently.

“Did you bring me up here just t-“ You’re cut off when Rafe tilts his head back and sighs with annoyance.

“Shut up and listen.” He turns around and you try to cover your shock at his forwardness.

“Are you fucking other guys?”

You open your mouth to answer but he takes a stride forward and grips your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“The truth.”

When you don't speak, he narrows his eyes and takes a step impossibly closer.

“Look me in my eyes. Are we ever going to be more or am I really just a hookup? I need to know.”

You give him a pointed look but he doesn't waver and you roll your eyes.

“Rafe, don't pull at this thread. You know what this is.”

He licks his lower lip and nods before pulling back.

“I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Without skipping a beat, you close the distance he created and run your hands across his chest and onto his broad shoulders.

“I know you like it when I dress up, Rafe. Let's just work it out with our bodies, yeah? Let me ride you and ease your mind.” You purr and with lightning speed, Rafe grabs your throat and spins you around so your back is pressed against the door.

“Don't.” He grits out, but you can see the will starting to crumble in his ocean eyes.

You push against his chest just enough to get his attention, and he keeps his hold on your neck as you slowly move him backward. You both know that this dance always ends the same way, and it infuriates him as much as it turns him on.

He crashes back onto the mattress and you stand between his knees while he peers up at you. If you asked him, Rafe would insist that you’re not real. He swears there’s a glow surrounding you as he finds himself succumbing to you once again.

You reach back and slowly unzip your dress before wiggling your hips dramatically and letting it pool around your feet. You leave the heels on and swing one leg up so you’re half straddling him, and he watches with lust-blown pupils.

As much as he hates this cycle, he loves it just the same. You’ll manipulate him and he’ll let you because that's how much power you have over him.

You slowly crawl up his body, dragging your hands across his twitching muscles until your fingers are laced over his head, and lower your hips until you’re sitting on his bulge.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, your lips brushing against his throat.

“No.”

You slowly push forward and brush your chest against his face, sitting up when he tries to nip at the skin. You guide his hands against your hips and shift slightly, eliciting a deep groan.

“Show me how to please you.” You whisper, and something in Rafe snaps. He doesn't care about the party downstairs, he doesn't care that he's giving in to you again; all he cares about is claiming you in a way that shows you he’s capable of taking the control back at any second.

Before you can process, he flips you onto your back and rips your panties in half. You gasp with wide eyes, and Rafe slips his hand behind you. You arch your back so he can unhook your bra while his other hand dips into your folds.

He sucks a hickey into the top of your breast while his nimble fingers slip your bra off with ease, and he licks a strip from the dark bruise to the column of your throat. He keeps his head buried there working on the tender flesh while pumping his fingers in and out of your slick.

You buck up when he curls into your g-spot, and he repeats the movement while gasps fall from your lips.

“I know, baby. I got you.”

He presses one last kiss to your collarbone before trailing his lips and nose all the way down your torso. He wastes no time, and you cry out when his lips wrap around your clit. His free hand settles on the inside of your upper thigh, holding it open.

He hits a spot that causes you to pull away from him, and a sharp slap rings out before he wraps his hand around the back of your leg and yanks you back into him. He moves with your body as you writhe around, and continues his brutal pace.

He has you approaching that high in record time and reaches up to lace his fingers with yours as your head flings back while you tremble against him. He carries you through it the entire time, not even flinching when your nails draw blood or when his signet ring digs into his finger.

As soon as your vision clears, you sit up and start ripping at the buttons on his tux. He smirks at how eager you are and watches the way you try to cover it up. Regardless of what he is to you, no man will ever have you the way he has and you know that.

His lips crash against yours while you fiddle with his tie, and he quickly removes his belt and pants before leaning forward until you're flat against the bed. He gently moves your hands away and takes over, taking off the layers of clothing the best he can without breaking the kiss.

The second you feel the heat from his body, your hands roam his exposed flesh. His large hand grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg around his waist, and you nod into him. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps a few times, hissing at the sensation.

He breaks away and presses his forehead to yours before tilting his head down to watch where he presses into you. You both inhale sharply, and you cling to him for dear life as he eases In until his pelvis hits yours.

He rolls his hips, hitting that sweet spot while also brushing against your swollen bundle of nerves. It's a torturously slow pace as he fucks into you deep and slow, and your sweat mingles as your bodies start to fall into a natural rhythm.

You push forward when he pulls back, and he litters bites and licks across your neck. Your sweet moans mix with his deep grunts and occasional whimpers to make a hymn as you worship each other.

“Fuck, you feel too good.” He groans, and you whine into his shoulder.

“You always think you're this little minx that can get whatever she wants. I let you because I want you to be happy. Sometimes you just have to be reminded that you’re not the apex predator you think you are. Not with me.”

His hand wraps around your throat and squeezes lightly, and you grin at the feeling. You can say whatever you want, but Rafe knows you would never let another man have this level of control let alone smile at it. It's those little things that keep a spark of hope alive; moments where he sees you want him as much as he wants you.

He forces your mouth apart with his tongue before devouring you like a man starved. Your skin burns hot as the two of you tangle in the sheets, too lost in each other to care about anything else.

You leverage your weight and flip over, slipping back onto his pulsing cock before he can protest. His head falls back with a strangled groan as he reaches a new depth, and his hands instantly settle on your waist.

You rock back and forth a few times, testing the water before settling in. You note every little gasp and nose scrunch, making sure to make those movements again.

His fingertips dig into the flesh on your hips as he guides you and you watch him through hooded eyes as he attempts to maintain some semblance of composure.

The two of you writhe in unison as you chase your highs, beads of sweat glistening like diamonds as they trickle down your bodies and mingle together.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Rafe is barely within his right mind, but the statement still sends a paralyzing shiver down your spine. For the first time, you feel a tinge of remorse and it causes your movements to stutter.

You recover quickly and continue until you feel him twitch and ride him through his high. Your mind is racing at light speed as you quickly climb off and start dressing, eager to get away.

Suddenly the room feels suffocating as Rafe’s cologne engulfs your senses and you keep your eyes cast downward. You don’t want to see the lacrosse trophies or the framed family photos; reminders that outside of your arrangement, Rafe is a real person with a real life.

“Whoah hold up, slow down.”

Rafe’s voice is laced with confusion as he comes back down and notices you all but sprinting around the room.

His large hands wrap around your biceps in an attempt to stop you, and your heart lurches when you spare a glance at his cerulean eyes.

“You’re not staying?”

Admittedly, you’ve gotten a smidge too comfortable and it’s become somewhat of a routine for you to stay over and leave when the sun comes up.

When you don’t answer and instead try to side step him, his brow furrows and he matches your movement so you’re blocked. His hand comes up to pinch your chin between this thumb and forefinger, and you try to ignore the way your skin tingles.

“Look at me. What’s going on?”

It occurs to you that he isn’t aware of what he said, and you swallow before taking a deep breath and holding your head high.

“I think you’re right. We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

His hand drops in shock, and before he can react you slink around him and race downstairs straight out the door.

Rafe stands in place for a second trying to process what just happened. He yanks on some sweatpants and goes bounding after you, but by the time he makes it outside, you’re already gone.

He runs his hand over his head before taking off back toward his room. He ignores the odd looks he receives from Gala guests roaming the property and continues on his mission until he’s back upstairs holding his phone.

It’s muscle memory at this point, finding you in his favorites comes with ease and it only takes a second for his thumb to press the number that he’s committed to heart.

His heart thumps in his chest as it rings once, then twice.

The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again.

He hangs up and calls back three more times only to receive the same dreaded message each time before he lobs his phone across the room and looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 11.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of rape and abuse, mentions of breeding, mentions of death

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Things are about to take a turn, can you guess what's next?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

„Well... that sure was... something.“, Mitsuki says while staring after y/n.

„Tsk, I've told you she's got fire.“, Katsuki tells her smugly.

Part of him understands y/n's anger. Hell, he's angry with his mother too. He can't imagine what it must be like for y/n when people talk over your head. Katsuki knows that y/n isn't stupid. He's sure she figured out that this argument was about her. It's not like his mother tries to hide her disgust about y/n.

Suddenly, the entrance to the tent shifts and Katsuki half-expects y/n to enter the tent again. However, it's Kirishima who pokes his head into the tent. The red-haired man seems to shrink a bit when he spots Mitsuki.

„Uhm, hey chief, hate to interrupt but our scouts have returned from the kingdom. You might want to hear what they have to report.“, Kirishima informs Katsuki.

Katsuki gives him a firm nod and follows him outside. His mother is close behind him. Together they walk to the war tent. It's where the maps are and where the tribe plans its raids and strategic maneuvers. On their way there, they come face to face with multiple injured men. They're taken to the healers. Many of them are unconscious or clutching very bloody wounds.

„What happened?“, Katsuki wants to know but Kirishima only shrugs.

„Don't know any specifics only that the mission must've gone wrong.“, the man tells his leader. Katsuki scoffs. While his men often got injured due to their reckless fighting style, the sight is worrying.

Upon entering the tent, the men inside stiffen and give Katsuki and Mitsuki a sign of respect. Nobody dares to say a word.

„So?“, Katsuki barks, „What happened? Why are my men bleeding to death out there?“

A man in dirty armor stands up. He's not looking too good, actually. Katsuki guesses he's been with the scouts.

„We've been scouting out an area East of the mountains. It was a bit more inland, deeper into Todoroki's territory than usual. It's a rural area far off from any havens or big rivers so we didn't expect to run into any trouble. We were looking for small settlements that we could attack in the next few months.“, the man explained.

„And let me guess, you did run into trouble?“, Katsuki follows up and the man nods.

„Yes, we've just scouted out the area and landed to discuss which settlements would be the best to attack during our next flight when we were ambushed by Todoroki's soldiers. In all honesty, we didn't see them coming. They were hidden from the sight above and even upon landing, our dragons weren't alarmed.“, the man continues.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows. Their dragons usually can smell prey from miles away. It's strange that none of them sensed the enemy. Moreover, it's quite the same as when y/n and him were ambushed by those bandits. Is this a coincidence? Or is there a connection between the two incidents?

„And then what? Don't tell me our mighty dragon warriors lost to a few mere human soldiers?“, his mother interrupts his trail of thoughts. The scout suddenly looks really pale.

„Well, there were just too many of them. We have no idea where they suddenly came from. We tried to fight them, but it got clear pretty quickly that they overpowered us in numbers. That's why we retreated.“, the man explains in a squeaky voice.

„Retreated? Since when do we retreat? We fight till death! We are warriors!“, his mother's voice booms to through the tent. All men looked at their feet not daring to meet their former chief's eyes.

„We've lost enough people the last few years. We can't afford to lose further tribe members by being reckless. You made the right call.“, Katsuki tells the men and indirectly puts his mother into her place. His mother scoffs and mutters something about cowards under her breath.

„So, how did the king know we'd send scouts to this place? Do we have a traitor among us?“, Kirishima changes the topic.

„The question is did he know or is he simply strengthening his forces?“, another man chirps in.

Katsuki isn't sure about that. They already noticed that there is a stronger military presence throughout the kingdom. He's sure that his tribe's attacks play a significant role in that. In the past few years they've raided more paces than they usually would. They've grown bolder, more desperate, and moved further inward. It might be that the king mistakes their raids for attempts to see how far they can get, to see if they can weaken the kingdom and overtake parts of their territory. Maybe the king doesn't see that these riots are due to the weakened state of the tribe, to ensure their survival.

Or maybe the king senses an opportunity to end the Dragonblood tribe once and for all. Strategically speaking, it wouldn't be a bad idea. The tribe lost strength and if there would be a fitting time to get rid of them once and for all, it would be now. Katsuki did his best to keep the plague a secret and make the tribe look strong on the outside. However, somehow some information must slipped through the cracks. It might be due to outside contacts like Deku or Uraraka. Katsuki refuses to believe there might be a traitor among them. The last thing they need is a riot.

Katsuki's quiet while his men start yelling and fighting in front of him. His mother nudges him. Waking out of his trance, he notices how his men are almost about to start a fistfight.

„Silence!“, he yells and his men freeze before letting go of each other and straightening their posture. 

„How many did we lose?“, Katsuki asks calmly.

„About 13 and counting. We don't know how many make it through the night.“, the scout tells him.

An eery silence befalls the tent. It's too many lives lost. Not even four children have been born this year to replace them. Plus, these children were born weakly and maybe won't live until adulthood. If this rate continues, the tribe will be gone before the end of the next decade.

„We need to bring in more women.“, Denki says into the silence. 

„Why that? These women only give us weak children! If any at that!“, another warrior comments. Some murmur in agreement. Kirishima looks conflicted and is very careful when he starts speaking.

„Maybe we should consider hiring men from other tribes. If they and their families settle with us, it will improve our situation from a strategic point of view.“, Krishima carefully proposes.

Immediately, men start speaking over each other.

„Bring in outsiders? No way, we can't trust them!“

„These outsiders can't compete with our strength!“

„They will piss themselves just at the sight of our dragons.“

„Silence!“, Katsuki yells once again. The volume comes down again and everybody looks at their leader expectantly.

„We're of dragon blood.“, Katsuki declares, „It's already humiliating that we have to mix our blood with those of commoners. At least that offspring will have some of our ancestors' strength in them.“

„Then what do we do?“, another man asks. Katsuki staightens his posture and lets his eyes wander through the tent.

„We lay low for a while. Scouts will fly in smaller groups. We stay on the outskirts of the Todoroki kingdom. Also, we should scout other kingdoms as well, such as the Yaoyorozu kingdom.“, he declares.

„What about raids?“, a man asks.

„We only hold small raids. Our focus will be bringing in as many females as we can. Leave gold and treasures behind. We only focus on the resources we really need.“, he tells them.

A murmur goes through his men. They don't like holding back. Katsuki understands them. There's no feeling more empowering than letting fire rain on an enemy and taking their treasures. But for now, they will have to focus on more important things.

„Kirishima, send a small scouting party to the Yaoyorozu kingdom. And get me that damn Deku here, goddamnit!“, he orders and pushes himself off the table he was leaning on.

„Now, get the hell out of here!“, he yells at his men. His men rumble and reluctantly leave the tent. Kirishima gives him a worried glance before leaving his friend and his mother alone. When they're alone, Katsuki turns to his mother.

„Do you understand now, Mother? Why I can't wait until one of our own is of age?“, he tells her.

Mitsuki stays silent in response.

~*~*~*~

Y/n's a shadow. She slips in between the tents trying to stay out of sight. Somehow it feels forbidden to seek out another woman. Luckily for her, the warriors of this tribe seem to hold a conference. It makes it easier for her to find her way back to Nadia and it also means that Nadia's husband won't be looming over her and they might just have a minute to talk.

When y/n found her way to Nadia's tent, she stands in front of it inconclusively. She's not sure how to make herself noticeable. It's not like they have a doorbell. Y/n takes a deep breath and decides to carefully enter the place. She pushes the fabric at the entrance away and pokes her head into the tent.

„Nadia?“, she softly calls out to the other woman when she can't see the other woman in the darkness of the tent.

Suddenly, there's rustling and the shuffling of feet. Nadia's face appears in front of y/n and she immediately grabs y/n's arm pulling her into the tent.

„What are you doing? Are you crazy? You can't just walk around in the middle of the day!“, Nadia whispers. Y/n gives her a bewildered look.

„What do you mean? Are you forbidden to go outside?“, she asks the pale woman.

„Aren't you?“, Nadia asks back carefully. 

Y/n thinks about this for a moment. Actually, she's not sure. It's not like she could understand Katsuki even if he told her about a rule like that. Then again Katsuki didn't seem too pissed when he saw her walking around earlier. He didn't even chase after her when she left his tent. Y/n shrugs.

„I don't know.“, she answers the other woman truthfully.

Nadia shakes her head in disbelief.

„You need to be more careful.“, Nadia tells y/n. Y/n furrows her brows.

„Why? What are you afraid of? Does your husband really forbid you to go outside?“, y/n rambles desperate to get some information out of Nadia.

Nadia looks into y/n's eyes for a few seconds silently before stating: „You really don't know anything, do you?“

It sounds accusing as if it's somehow y/n's fault that nobody tells her anything. At least not in a language she doesn't understand. Also, she doesn't think that Katsuki is the explaining type of guy.

„No.“, she tells Nadia calmly, „That's why I'm here. I don't understand what is happening. Please tell me everything you know.“

Nadia sighs deeply and then waves for y/n to sit down at a chair. She makes some tea before joining y/n. The women stay silent for another moment. Y/n is itching to pressure Nadia further. Before y/n can open her mouth, however, Nadia carefully asks:

„Do you know why they've brought you here?“

Y/n looks into her tea cup. It's a difficult question. She assumes that Katsuki brought her here because he liked her. A dreadful feeling starts to form in her stomach. What if that's not all? What if Katsuki has further plans for her?

Nadia takes y/n's silence as the answer.

„They brought you here for breeding.“, Nadia tells her without any emotions in her voice.

„E-excuse me?“, y/n asks taken aback. It's a word she has heard farmers use for cattle but never in the context of human beings.

„Have you seen any women around here? Probably not. It's because they're all dead. They bring us here so that we bear their children.“, Nadia explains.

Y/n stares at the woman. She puts down her tea cup. That... can't be right. No, Katsuki wouldn't do that. Of course, there was some tension between them and she's sure that if she'd let him, Katsuki would fuck the living daylight out of her but... not because of that. Because of... what actually? Love? Y/n almost has to laugh at that ridiculous thought. They've known each other for a couple of days. She's sure Katsuki is fond of her, but it's not love. Yet, a hopeful little voice says in the back of her head. Y/n shakes her head to get the thought out of her head.

„That's ridiculous.“, she tells Nadia. The woman leans back in her seat.

„A normal person might think like that. But these aren't normal people. They're monsters, barbarians who don't care about anything but themselves.“, Nadia answers. She sounds bitter.

„I'm sure Katsuki doesn't think that way“, y/n thinks out loud. Nadia's head whips upward.

„Katsuki? As in Katsuki Bakugou? Don't tell me you'll be married off to him!“, Nadia says in horror.

„I'm not sure about the marrying off part...“, y/n trails off.

„Did he put you into fancy clothes and paint and showed you off?“, Nadia asks. Y/n nods silently.

„Then he takes you. For himself or for one of his men, I don't know. Not that it would matter anyway. They're all the same.“, Nadia states.

Y/n crooks her head.

„Tell me Nadia, what did these people do to you that you think so lowly of them? So far, Katsuki wasn't cruel to me.“, y/n asks carefully. Nadia swallows hard.

„They attacked our village. When they've slaughtered most of the men, they rounded the women up. Some of us were chosen and taken to their camp. The others... I don't know raped or killed or both.“, Nadia says in a shakey voice. Clearly, the memory is hard for her.

„You've been taken here against your will?“, y/n asks even though she should be able to guess the answer.

„You weren't?“, Nadia asks again in disbelief. Y/n shrinks under her gaze. She feels as if she should feel ashamed for going with Katsuki.

„I didn't have much of a choice.“, she decides to reply. Nadia starts looking at her hands.

„Neither did we.“, she continues, „We've been brought back here. The men who chose us presented us to the chief who... I don't know, gave them his blessing or something like that. And then...“

Nadia doesn't finish the sentence. It sounds as if she's choking. Y/n doesn't see any tears glimmering in the dusk of the tent.

„Then what?“, y/n whispers breathlessly. She wants to know, even if it's horrible

„Then, the man who chose me took me back here. Violated and abused me right there on this bed.“, Nadia whispers back and points to the bed on the other side of the tent.

„Ever since then, I'm forced to live here as his wife or something. He continues to hurt me, to... He's not a kind man. I'm scared of him. Of him, of this place, of everything.“, Nadia whispers. 

Now, y/n sees the shimmer of tears on the other woman's face. She's at a loss for words. What can you say to a woman who is a victim to such terrible crimes? Y/n just bows her head and stares onto her own hands.

She's been blind. Blinded by Katsuki. By his strength that saved her. By the security his presence promises. She's heard the stories of the Dragonblood tribe. Was she really stupid enough to believe that they were all lies? She's seen what Katsuki can do to a few grown-ass men. Murder, abduction, and rape are all she connected to this tribe for years. After a few days with Katsuki and y/n lost all common sense. Mostly, she feels ashamed for not questioning this whole thing further. What kind of person just rides off with a strange man and his firebreathing beast? A stupid one.

„I'm really sorry.“, y/n whispers and takes Nadia's hand. Nadia grips her hand tight.

„Don't be. It's better you're prepared for what happens next.“, Nadia tells her.

Y/n doesn't have the courage to tell her that Katsuki isn't like that. Then again, could she say these words with confidence? She starts to realize that she doesn't know Katsuki at all. Maybe he is that kind of person. He seems to allow his men to commit these acts. So he either approves or doesn't care. Either way, it's bad.

„How many others are there? Women they've brought in?“, y/n asks Nadia. Nadia shrugs.

„I barely leave this tent. I'm too afraid and it's too cold out there anyway. The others probably feel the same, so there is no real way of knowing.“, Nadia tells her.

„You can't just rott here!“, y/n exclaims, „We should contact the other women. It's best if we stick together.“

Nadia looks up at her with tired eyes. Her posture is slumped. Y/n thinks that she looks a hundred years old right now even though she's not much older than y/n herself.

„Y/n...“, Nadia starts, „I can't. I'm too afraid and too tired. You don't know what it's like to do this day in and day out. Never knowing in what kind of mood he comes home.“

Nadia looks exhausted. As if she's already given up on everything and anything.

„Nadia, I'm sure we can do something!“, y/n tries to motivate her. 

The pale woman doesn't answer her. She just stares into her tea cup. Everything about her looks dull, y/n thinks.

Suddenly, there's clamoring outside. Voices of men and clashing of metal can be heard. Nadia bolts up.

„You need to go. You can't be here when he comes back!“, Nadia panics and grips y/n's arm. She pulls y/n onto her feet and starts pushing her out of the tent.

„Wait, there's still so much...!“, y/n starts and is interrupted by a sharp hiss by Nadia.

„You need to leave. Now. Or we're both not safe. Don't come looking me for a while. It's too dangerous. I'll find you soon“, Nadia spits out and pushes y/n completely out of the tent.

Y/n stares at the fabric in front of her. The last part sounded like a lie. She's sure Nadia won't try to find her and start something. She's too much in survival mode.

~*~*~*~

It's already dusk when y/n is pushed out of Nadia's tent. Men light torches next to their tents and along the paths around the settlement. Keeping Nadia's words in mind, she tries to avoid the men. Most of them, however, don't pay attention to her or only give her curious looks. No one yells at her or tries to drag her back to Katsuki's tent. It makes her wonder how seriously Nadia's explanations should be taken.

Y/n wanders aimlessly around until the sun has set completely and only the torches illuminate the settlement. Men retreat to their tents and the smell of food lingers in the air. Just then, y/n notices how hungry she is. She only had a small breakfast before the presentation. She was too nervous to get much down. Nevertheless, she doesn't want to return to Katsuki. At least not yet.

Her head is pulsing with information she can't really process. She hoped that visiting Nadia could help her navigate this place somehow, to better understand Katsuki and the others. However, Nadia confused her more than it helped. Her own perception of Katsuki and the tribe is so different than Nadia's. 

Y/n considers trying to find other women. There must be others that speak her language. Nadia said that multiple women from her village were taken. But since most men returned to their homes, y/n doesn't dare to just open a random tent and peek into it. She promises herself to look into it tomorrow.

When her hands and feet grow too cold, y/n decides she must go inside soon. Somehow she's not ready to find Katsuki yet. Sleeping a night separate from him would be best. Close proximity to Katsuki makes her mind and emotions unpredictable. She needs to clear her head and find a focus.

Unfortunately, she doesn't know any place to go. She considers looking for the tall red-haired man but then again it's likely he settled down for the night as well. And there's no way of telling what his tent is. 

So, the only place she does know is the great red's den. Y/n shudders at the thought of having to cross paths with all the other dragons in order to get there. Y/n figures that if they didn't attack her earlier, they probably won't attack her now. She's probably just a fly to them.

The path to the dragons' living space is not as lit as the rest of the settlement. Y/n steals one of the last torches at the outskirts of the settlement. The path is uneven and y/n stumbles over her feet a couple of times. The darkness doesn't bother her. Her people often camped in forests or mountainsides. She's used to hearing strange noises at night or walking in the darkness of the night in order to pee. When she's at the gorge's entrance, she halts for a moment. In contrast to earlier, the place lies in absolute silence. Maybe all the dragons are asleep?, she thinks before taking a deep breath and entering the dragon-occupied territory. 

Luckily, she remembers the path to the great red's den well so she walks at a fast but quiet pace. She keeps her eyes low, focused on the path. It's best not to make any eye contact with a dragon. Especially not one of the scary black ones. Her eyes flicker up when she's close to the den. Y/n lets out a shaky breath in relief. She made it!

Suddenly, a hot stenchy breath hits her shoulders and face. Y/n freezes in her step. Don't look, don't look, she tells herself. Another hot steam hits her face. It's hotter than before and closer. The dragon must be right beside her. How did she not notice a giant lizard crawling up on her. 

Y/n hears the giant creature shuffle closer. Go away, go away, she prays in her mind. A huge, scaley snout shoves her shoulder. The pressure pushes her over and y/n lets out a loud yelp before dropping to the side and letting go of her torch. Instinctively, she tries to shuffle away from the creature that now completely comes into view. It's a green one. Y/n is sure that the beast must have a bilious green shade in broad daylight. A color as poisonous and deathly as the breath y/n is forced to smell. 

The dragon is smaller than the black ones, maybe even than the blue ones. In contrast to those and the great red, it has no horns at the side of its head but a row of sharp spikes from the middle of its head all the way over its spine to its tail that is crowned with two longer, crescent-shaped spikes. Cunning red eyes watch y/n's every move. If y/n wasn't panicking, she probably would've thought that they looked similar to Katsuki's eyes. The pupils of the dragon are formed into fine slits and y/n is sure it is focusing on its prey right now. The prey being her of course. 

The creature snarls at y/n and snaps at her. It's enough to make y/n yell out in fear. However, it's clear that the dragon did not intend to truly catch her in between those sharp teeth of its mouth. It's playing with me, y/n thinks. But not in the cute way that the small ones did earlier. More like a cat playing with a mouse. Making it dance and bleed before snapping it in two. It's cruel and befitting for a dragon, y/n thinks. 

It kind of makes her angry, too. Clearly, this is an intelligent creature. It makes her sick to the stomach thinking about that this is how she's supposed to die. I can't fight it, y/n figures. And I shouldn't provoke it either. My only chance is to make a break for the red one's den. 

Y/n tries not to advert her gaze. If she looks into the direction of the den now, it'd be a dead giveaway. She tries to collect herself, to even her breathing. She closes her eyes for a second and tries to set her intention. When she opens her eyes again, she's met with the burning red ones of the dragon. She gives it a determined stare. I'm not going to back down, I'm not going to die, she recites in her mind over and over again as she slowly stands up keeping her posture bowed and small. She takes one deep breath before starting a sprint in the den's direction.

She can hear the yelping sound of surprise behind her and the massive stomps of the beast following her. Suddenly, electricity lies in the air. For a moment the air seemed to become cooler. Y/N's heart starts racing. She's felt this before. Right before the great red burned that man into ashes. That's it, y/n thinks while quickly sliding down in a sad attempt to dodge the fire.

However, the flames don't reach her because suddenly the great red is standing right in front of her spewing its own fire. Y/n turns back and sees the fire of the green one meet the red one's in a firestorm. Seeing it side by side, y/n thinks that the green dragon's fire has a hint of blue in it in contrast to the red one's fire which is just a glowing red and orange. The green one cannot keep up with the red one's firepower and retreats. The red one throws an eardrum-busting roar after it. Y/n's hands race up to her ears protecting herself from the sound.

Small fires still smolder on the ground when the red dragon resumes its fighting stance. It turns to y/n and she's sure the look the great red gives her is angry. She's so sure about that since Katsuki has the same wild, untamed look in his eyes when he's angry. The red one snarls at her and retreats into its den. Y/n doesn't wait a single second to follow it inside.

„I'm really sorry for just showing up here, you know“, she rambles, „I don't want to go back to Katsuki and I didn't know where else to go. You see the situation is really complicated and...“

Y/n stops her spewing of words mid-sentence. What even is she doing here? Talking to a dragon? Y/n drops her arms to her sides. Suddenly, she feels exhausted and desperate and just... done. This day has been so frustrating. Y/n stares intensely at the ground.

What am I even doing here?, she thinks. Like literally, what am I doing? Following a total stranger who has a terrifying reputation back to his tribe of brutes and warriors? Walking straight into dragon territory? It's like all my logical thinking has gone out of the window since the moment I met Katsuki.

Y/n feels hot tears pour out of her eyes and down her cheeks. 

This is so stupid. I'm so stupid.

Maybe it's wrong to blame Katsuki for this. Maybe her making bad decisions started when the world started to fall apart. When the sickness took first her mother and then her father. When her brother left. Why didn't she follow him? Maybe she couldn't have joined the military but she would've made a fine nurse. Why on earth did she think she was better off alone?

Her tears hit the ground. She tries not to let out any sobs. Somehow showing weakness in front of the dragon is humiliating. Nonetheless, she can't help but cower to the ground. She remembers the first day with Katsuki. When she was all alone in the woods and the weight of everything that had happened started to crush her down. She feels the same right now. Only like ten times worth. At least back then she could've had the chance to return to the kingdom, find her brother, do something.

Right now, she's stuck. Her actions are so very limited. She can't tell these people what she wants or doesn't want. Also, she's sure that Katsuki and that blonde woman couldn't care less about what y/n wants. Katsuki didn't even ask her if she wanted to come along. He just assumed and put her onto the back of his dragon. He also didn't ask or even attempt to explain to her what happened this morning. When suddenly three strange women stripped her down and dressed her up like a playdoll.

Maybe Nadia's right. These people do not care about her or the other women. Maybe they do only care about producing children. Maybe that's what Katsuki wants. Maybe him liking her is just a plus point. A little extra he gets because he's the big scary leader.

Y/n pulls her hair at the roots. She lets out a choked scream. She's angry and desperate and so, so frustrated. 

Suddenly something nudges her foot. It's one of the little red dragons from earlier. It looks up to her with almost puppy-like eyes and it nestles its head against her leg like a kitten. Y/n lets out a raspy breath she didn't notice she was holding. Furiously, she rubs her eyes.

How silly, she thinks, it's not like crying will help it. She pats the little one's head and suddenly another little one appears on her side. Before she can help it, she's getting tackled again. This time, they're softer than before. Competing for head pats rather than trying to sink their baby teeth into her arms and legs. It's like they are sensing y/n's bad mood and trying to cheer her up.

A giggle rises in y/n's throat and she tries to swallow it down. As she tries to give each of them a head pat, the great red moves over to her and nudges her with its snout as well. Y/n knows better than to touch it without permission. She gives it a small smile however and she believes seeing something like content in its eyes.

Eventually, the little red ones grow tired of tackling y/n and set to rest against the great red. The bigger dragon shifts its wing like it did when y/n and Katsuki looked for shelter under them during the rain. Y/n takes it up on the invitation and slides in between the little ones. She leans against the red's tummy. While the little dragons fall asleep around her and even the great red's breathing starts to slow down, y/n stays wide awake in the darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

[disneyprincemuke]

american football * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: guys hi i'm still very sleep deprived so blurbs are all i can give you idk

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

“george!” you scream, stumbling back as you clutch your forehead. you drop your head as you watch the ball falls to the ground at your feet. “ouch!”

“personally,” george says, fingertips pressed against his chest, “i think you just need to be better.”

“you hurled the ball straight at me! you did that on purpose!” you throw your arms into the air and march towards him. “stop trying to take me out! i’ll still be toto’s favourite even in death!”

you bend down and grab the ball into your hands. “george! come here!”

“wait!” a hand snatches the ball from your hands, and suddenly you’re staring into a different pair of green eyes.

logan holds the ball in his hands, giggling at you. “you’re not gonna hit george with the ball.”

you raise your eyebrow and rest a hand on your hip. “are you telling me what to do, sargeant?”

logan tilts his head. he puts the ball back into your hands and steps back. “okay, then do it.”

“logan!” george cries, winding his arm back at the younger driver. “what is your problem?”

“it won’t make it to you,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. he turns to george. “trust me.”

you gasp, sounding out an offended squeal. “what do you mean? do you think i’m stupid or something? like i can’t throw a stupid ball?”

“no, like i think you don’t know how to throw a football,” logan says softly. “come on. don't do this to yourself, just give it back to me then i'll teach you how to throw it."

"i can throw a rugby ball."

"football," logan corrects you in a small voice. he presses his lips together and hesitantly reaches out to the ball in your hands. "just-"

"i can't believe you think i don't know how to throw a ball?" you squeak, taking a step back from him. "you hurt my feelings. i'm perfectly capable of throwing a simple ball. how hard can it be?"

"have you never played rugby before?" george asks, tilting his head. he finally approaches you and giggles. "no way."

"football," logan mutters under his breath. "come on, don't embarrass yourself. let me."

you drop the ball. "i don't wanna play rugby anymore."

you turn on your heel and walk away from the pair, ignoring george calling out for you to come back and that they'll teach you how to throw the ball.

logan bends down to pick up the ball. "football."

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Number eight with Azriel please!

Hi, love! Here you go. A mishmash of angst, fluff and smut. Hope you enjoy!

Number eight: “I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was. Then he can get his comfort.”

Warnings: Depictions of toxic family relationships. Smut. 🌶️

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“Are you alright?”

A warm hand landed on your arm, the pleasant scent of Mor’s perfume hitting you. The hint of vanilla was a source of comfort, a feeling of home.

Over your shoulder, you offered her a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. Nodded. She saw right through it.

Nobody understood better than she did — what it was like to return to the poison of the Court of Nightmares, where your estranged family lived. It had taken you years to get out of their vitriolic clutches, and the unexpected mating bond between you and the High Lord’s spymaster had been a saving grace; a reason to leave, a place to go. Life had been so colourful and vibrant since he’d taken you to live in Velaris with him; you’d never looked back. 

Until tonight. 

It had been entirely your choice. You knew nobody would have judged you if you’d chosen to stay behind. But a couple of months earlier, you’d grown sick of feeling useless and idle. You’d asked — begged — Rhysand to give you some sort of official role in his court; something for you to do. He’d been more than happy for you to play courtier, to perhaps even strengthen relations between the Night Court and the Court of Nightmares that had become strained over the years. Yes, you’d insisted, you could do it, and take away that sort of pressure from Mor, too. You’d sooner face your family than she have to face hers.

And perhaps you’d been a tad naive about how easily that might come to you. You’d had confidence in yourself, right up until you’d come face-to-face with your father, your brothers. They’d sneered at you at Azriel’s side and sneered at the Night Court attire you were decked head-to-toe in and sneered at your confidence. And sneered and sneered and sneered.

And suddenly you’d found yourself to be that cowering, tongue-tied victim again. You felt like an utter farce, parading around in such clothes and pretending to be confident. You weren’t sure you’d ever really gotten away from them, or ever really would. 

And when your brother had feigned leaning in to kiss your cheek, and had uttered words that had sliced you all over, you’d known — you had failed. 

“Whore.” He’d growled, his lip curling at the form-fitting, revealing dress you’d once felt comfortable in. “Mother would be ashamed of you, whore.”

You didn’t know if anybody else around you had heard. But the way your mate had tensed was indication enough that he was on high alert and ready to strike out if necessary. He remained that way for the entire evening.

You turned to face Mor, now, all of you having returned to the Town House. You didn’t bother to force a convincing tone as you answered, “I’m alright.”

“Let’s open some wine.” Her arm linked through yours, and she tried to pull you towards the doors to the kitchen. You planted your feet.

“Where is Az?”

The beautiful blonde pursed her lips, glancing over at Rhys and Cassian, who had also heard your question. You stared between the three of them, awaiting an answer. Your mate was nowhere to be found; had disappeared after setting you down on the doorstep.

“Where’s Azriel?” You repeated.

“He’s probably gone flying — to let off some steam.” Cassian said, not sounding at all convinced by his own words.

You heaved a sigh. What you needed, right now, was your mate with you. To hold you through the echoes of what had been an awful night. His absence was just another horrible layer. 

“Come.” Mor tried to pull on your arm again.

“I’m really tired.” You slunk back. “I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

Her gaze swept over you for a moment, before she nodded, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Sleep well, then.”

It was as you passed Rhys and Cassian that you stopped, utter exhaustion weighing you down.

“When he gets back,” you said, “tell him to just come to bed. Please.”

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Hours passed. You didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. And still Azriel did not return. 

You’d settled yourself at the glass doors that opened out onto the balcony, noting that you were as cold there as you had been in your empty bed, without a hard, warm body and wings to warm you. You tugged on that golden, glimmering cord of your bond, waiting for some response. But…nothing. Anxiety bloomed in you like nothing you’d ever felt. 

It shaped a little into anger when you finally glimpsed a passing black form and, moments later, heard the front door opening and shutting downstairs. Relief was a weak flame snuffed out by irritation. Perhaps a little bit of hurt. 

You caught the deep tenor of the three male voices below, deliberately lowered to make their words indiscernible. Perhaps it was that which snapped your tether and had you pushing to your feet. If he wasn’t going to come up and speak to you right away, give you some sort of explanation as to why he’d taken off and blocked you out, you would go to him and demand the answer.

You shucked a robe on, practically ripping your bedroom door off its hinges. There was a pause in the murmurs below, and you knew Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had all heard you leave your room and were awaiting your appearance. You hoped your footsteps padding loudly down the stairs were warning enough that you weren’t happy. 

As you appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, all three males looked up. Azriel’s eyes swept over you — your nightgown and robe — and he looked just about ready to jump up and shield you from sight. You held a hand up, cutting that thought off before it could properly form.

“Don’t even start with the territorial male bullshit.” You said coldly. “No one’s staring at my tits.”

Both Cassian and Rhys cleared their throats, very deliberately making sure that their gazes were anywhere but on you. Azriel’s jaw ticked as you turned to him.

“Where have you been?” You demanded.

He said nothing, his eyes boring into yours. You raised an eyebrow in expectation, but it was Cassian who spoke up.

“…it’s been a long, tense night for everyone.” He reasoned. “Visiting the Court of Nightmares is never a pleasant experience. What you both need right now is each other’s comfort. Surely you just want to forget about tonight and—”

“I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was.” You snapped, not tearing your eyes from Azriel. “Then he can get his comfort.”

Cassian slunk back in seat, raising his eyebrows as he lifted his glass to his lips, drained it, and then reached for the bottle. You folded your arms over your chest, waiting.

Finally, Azriel shrugged. “I went back to the Hewn City to have a catch-up with my wonderful brother-in-law.”

You clenched your jaw. “Why.”

“Because he’s a cunt.”

You almost flinched at the utter venom in his tone. He was always soft-spoken, always guarded, precise and measured in the words he used. It wasn’t like him to just…let his anger speak for him.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You stared at him. “Why would you—”

“Nobody talks to — or about — my mate like that.” He seethed. “Nobody.”

So he’d heard exactly what your brother had said. And he’d bided his time — before striking. 

And of course, a part of you, somewhere beneath the anger, adored him even more for it. But it would just make things worse in the long run. It would make it harder for you to return to the Hewn City and represent the Night Court without your family seeing it as their personal mission to terrorise you whenever they could. You’d left to get away from that. To grow.

“So…what?” You shrugged. “You killed him?”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes molten. “I could have done, you know. The Mother knows, I wanted to. But that kill is yours, should you ever want it. I just took the time to remind him that his death could come a lot sooner if he chooses to disrespect you like that.”

“You had no right, Azriel—”

“He called you a—”

“I know precisely what he called me. What he said.” You spat. “I grew up around it. I’m used to it. But you’ve gone and made it worse.”

Az’s jaw clenched. “How.”

“Do you know what they think?” A lump formed in your throat that you swallowed down hard. “They think me weak and foolish. They think you seduced me away from them. They think that I was brought to the Night Court merely to service you, and Cassian and Rhys.” 

You took a shuddering breath, your eyes pricking with tears. “And those thoughts? I couldn’t care less about them. They’re pathetic, and they mean nothing to me. But I do care that they think I’m weak. I care that they think me too much of a pathetic, cowering female to speak up for myself, because I’m not.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I know you’re not.”

“But by dealing with my brother on my behalf, you’ve only confirmed that for them. It’ll only make it ten times worse the next time I visit.”

You could see understanding dawning in his eyes. And a rational part of you knew that he’d acted on the carnal impulse of a male protecting his mate — that he hadn’t stopped to think about any of this. That he loved you.

But you…you couldn’t give over to that rationality right now. Not when you were still so angry, still so shaken by what had happened. You didn’t blame Azriel for wanting to protect you; to act without speaking to you first, however, made you feel as weak as your family thought you to be. 

You wiped your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m going to bed.” 

“I’ll come with you—”

“No.” You turned. “Stay and enjoy your drink.”

The words hit their mark, and you saw the scathing hurt in his eyes as he slumped back. You’d probably regret it later. 

But in that moment, you were too tired to care.

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Despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t find you properly. You drifted in and out fitfully, every little noise seeming to jolt you awake. Every single time, you found yourself glancing over to the empty space beside you.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there for, but your anger steadily morphed into loneliness, and trying to sleep without Az curled around you left you feeling as empty and cold as arguing with him had. You hated fighting with him.

And you knew he’d meant well. That he’d just been defending you because he loved you. Already, you were wishing you hadn’t been so hard on him. 

You jerked awake again as you heard the door slowly creak open. You watched through heavy eyes as Azriel filed in, making a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible — before noticing you were awake.

He studied you for just a moment, and then dragged his feet to the end of the bed. He slumped down onto his front, his long body stretching from the foot of the bed, right up to where you lay. You watched, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. He rested his head on your belly.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against it. He gazed up at you through thick, dark lashes. “Really sorry.”

You breathed a soft sigh, your hand reaching out to brush strands of hair from his face. “I’m sorry, too.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

You shrugged. Your fingers toyed absentmindedly with his hair as you said, “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I know you were only defending me.”

“I was blinded by my own rage at your brother, though. I should have thought more about how you felt. You must never, ever think yourself weak. You’re the furthest thing from it.”

A soft smile played on your lips. Az’s chin dug into your lower belly as he peered up at you, his fingers brushing indolent circles on your outer thighs. Your own eyes were hooded as you stared back at him — your mate. You loved him so ferociously. 

He hadn’t even thought twice about defending you, even against a baseless insult. 

“I really am sorry.” He pressed another kiss to the soft skin of your belly, the muscles there contracting at the sensation. “It’s such an honour for me to defend you that I sometimes forget you don’t need me to.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, Az.” You watched him — watched his nose graze the silk of your nightgown. “I love it when you stand up for me. And had that been anyone else, I would have left you to it. But with them, it’s just…complicated. I suppose I still feel like I have something to prove.”

“You don’t. But it’s going to take time for you to realise that.” His tongue poked out, licking the fabric of the indentation where your belly button was. “You know, don’t you? That what your brother said was ridiculous. The only people your mother would feel disappointed in are them.”

Your breath hitched at the sensation of his tongue moving through the fabric. You tried to stay your thoughts, to remain on subject. “I…I know.”

“You’re incredible.” He shifted down, pulling your nightgown up as he did. “Beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your now-exposed navel. “Strong.”

The cold air of the room brushed over your bare sex, and you jerked as Az nuzzled his face against your fine dusting of hair just above. He grazed his lips there, breathing in your scent. 

“Why don’t you come to bed?” You breathed, brushing his hair back. “It’s late. You must be tired.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “After I’ve apologised.”

You had no objections as he finally dipped his head, levelling his face with the very centre of you. His eyes flicked up momentarily to meet yours, and then he dove in.

Your head fell back, a low moan escaping you as his tongue swiped out and licked a stripe right up you, from your entrance, up, up to your clit. He kissed the area first, his lips a sensuous scrape against the sensitive nub of nerves. Your hips lifted off the bed, and he slid his hand up, pressing them back down. 

“I love you.” He breathed the words onto the damp heat of you — a place he had worshipped time and time before, and would continue to do so as the world and its stories changed around you.

“I love you too.” You breathed, and another moan broke from your throat as his tongue swirled around your clit. “Gods, Az.”

You felt him smile against you, and you utterly melted into the bed as he began his expert worship of your body, always knowing which areas drew which sensations from you, which touches had you moaning the loudest.

His tongue built up its pace, working at your clit as he slipped a hand down, gathering up your wetness on his fingers. He slipped one into you, pumping a few times, curling it inside you, and you gasped.

“Another?” He murmured against you, teeth grazing just slightly.

A small whimper left you. “Yes. Yes.”

And so he slipped a second finger in, and you were happy to give over to every sensation in your body as he began to pump in and out, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue. Tension coiled low in your stomach, a dull, pleasant ache that was building and building until your legs were trembling. 

“Az.” You groaned, hips lifting again. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”

“Take it.” He lapped at you, lapped and lapped as if he might never get another taste. “Take everything you need. Cum for me.”

Only a few more thrusts of his fingers, a few more strokes of his tongue, and you were tumbling off that precipice into place of weightless elation, stars bursting in your eyes, your ears ringing, your body shaking. Az continued to lick and stroke you through it all, murmuring encouraging, soothing words.

And when the force of your climax subsided, and you were utterly spent, he pulled his fingers out of you. Sucked your wetness from them. And then climbed up the bed to lay beside you.

He was very clearly hard as a rock, the outline of his straining cock visible. You made to reach for him, but he gently took your hand.

“No.” He said softly. “This was about you. We have tomorrow. And the day after that.” He leaned down, kissing your head. “And all the ones after that. But now it’s time for sleep.”

You didn’t protest as he lay properly beside you, tugging you against him and pulling the blankets around you. His fingers laced through yours, both your hands resting on your stomach. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered into the darkness, kissing the nape of your neck. “So fucking proud.”

You smiled, relaxing into him. Closed your eyes.

You were just drifting off as you heard him murmur, beneath his breath: 

“My mate. My entire world.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere

[jadedrrose]

Taking Care Of Him

Short fic where reader takes care of Law after the crew is ambushed :) I actually wrote this months ago but decided I’d post it now since I haven’t been writing due to my botw/hwaoc fixation lol

Warnings: fluff, mention of a wound, g/n reader

Normally, after any type of fight, Law would get the crew in order and make sure nobody was badly injured, ensuring he had nothing to worry about. But this time was different.

You’d been ambushed, this time. Most of the crew had been out on the deck, enjoying the sunshine. It was then that another pirate group attacked, presumably to take any poneglyphs or something of that nature. But, you’d all fought them off, winning the battle. So things seemed alright, until you realized Law wasn’t ordering everyone to go over injuries.

You caught sight of his spotted hat, quickly realizing he was injured, laid on the wooden planks of the deck. “Law!”

You ran over to him, the others gasping as they watched, all wondering aloud if their captain was okay.

Reaching his side, you found that he was clutching a hand to his left arm, and appeared pretty banged up from the fight. You gently grabbed his shoulders, looking your boyfriend over. “Law? Are you okay-“

“I’m fine. Go help the others,” he muttered, trying to act as though he was fine. He always got like this; not liking to accept help or admit that he’d been injured. Law was used to taking care of and healing others, not the reverse situation.

“No, you’re hurt,” you snapped, trying to pull him off the ground. “And I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not.”

He sighed, but decided to stand up for you and allow you to guide him down to the operation room.

—

Other than some bruising, the only concerning injury was the cut on his left arm. Apparently the enemy pirate’s captain had sliced him pretty well. It was nothing that wouldn’t heal, though. So you cleaned the wound before wrapping it up.

As Law grumpily sat on your bed after finishing up in the operation room, you held a warm cloth in your hand, wiping off any dirt or dried blood from his skin. “I can do this myself, y/n,” he grumbled, pouting as he spoke.

“I don’t doubt that,” you lightly chuckled, holding his wrist as you wiped around the tattoo of his right arm. “But you fought so hard, I wanna take care of you. Give you a break, y’know?”

“I’ll be fine,” he tried protesting, but you shook your head.

“Nope, just relax and let me take care of you, baby.”

Law finally sighed, letting his head fall back against his pillows. But he only got to rest for a couple seconds, as you quickly snatched his hat off of him.

“Oi! Y/n, what are you doing?”

“This needs to be cleaned,” you huffed, tossing it to the laundry basket kept in your room. “I don’t want it getting our bed dirty.”

Law rolled his eyes, now leaning on his arms rather than against the pillows. You took the opportunity to get closer to him, running a hand through his messy, raven locks.

“You look so cute like this,” you giggled.

You pushed his dark hair back and away from his forehead, lowering your head down so you could place a kiss on his skin. You smiled, continuing to play with his hair.

“Thank you,” Law suddenly mumbled, and you pulled your face back to look him in the eyes.

“What for?”

“For taking care of me,” he sighed, seeming like he didn’t want to admit it. It was endearing, honestly.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you smiled sweetly, giving him another kiss. “I love taking care of you… actually.”

“Why?” Law asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Uh well you just… seem to overwork yourself, so I… y’know, feel happy seeing you so relaxed…”

“I see,” he whispered against your skin, his hot breath fanning onto it. Carefully, Law raised his hand to pull you down so that your lips could meet his. “I love you, y/n.”

Just before your lips connected, you smiled again, a warm blush covering your cheeks. “I love you too.”

[starry-eyed-adam]

panic attack writing prompts :)

“My chest hurts. It hurts.”

“I can’t!”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Don’t touch me—don’t touch me!”

“Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

tw: gunshots, trauma, panic attack

takes place a year or so after chapter 21 of Head Over Boots, they’re on their camping trip :)

The gunshot seemed to scream through the air, some hunter’s nearby attempt at murder of an animal, the sound rattling against Yuichi’s skull as it penetrated his ears. Faintly, the logs in his arms tumbled and hit the soft forest floor, and Yuichi fell similarly, shaking hands over his ears as he curled up tightly, defensively.

Another shot, and Yuichi yelped as his chest constricted, heart thudding erratically as he felt an icy grip around him.

Boots on the dirt, towards him, barrel of a shotgun between his eyes.

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Honeybunny?” Leo glanced over his shoulder at the absence of footsteps behind him. The slider dropped his own firewood and hurried back, brow furrowed at the sight of his husband crouched low, shaking on the ground. “Yuichi, hey, what happened?”

Yuichi didn’t answer, barely heard a word. The world bled in and out of focus, his ears still rang, from the day his stallion threw him from the saddle and he lay there to die.

To die.

Cold metal against his jaw. A threat, and not an empty one.

Pump.

Click.

BANG!

Leo’s hand reached to gently rub his lover’s back, an attempt to ground him, bring him back.

“Don’t touch me!” Yuichi shrieked, and the cowboy instantly drew back. “Don’t touch me!”

“Darlin’, hey, you’re safe,” whispered his worried husband, kneeling before him. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“M-My chest,” Yuichi gasped, removing one hand from his ears to clutch at the front of his shirt. Tears spilled down his cheeks, left clean streaks against the dust and dirt. “It hurts, it—it hurts.”

He was going to die. He was going to die he was going to die he was going to—

“Honeybunny,” spoke Leo, slow and soothing, “I need you to take a deep breath, okay? It hurts ‘cause you ain’t breathin’ enough.”

Gasping, chest rising and falling so rapidly and shallowly, Yuichi tried to remember how to breathe. Sucking in air too fast, he choked and coughed. “I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Yuichi, honey, nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m right here, okay? Deep breaths, darlin’. Watch me.” Hesitantly, reluctantly, Yuichi cracked his wild, glistening eyes open, found Leo’s calm blue ones. “Good, good,” whispered the slider with a smile. “Take a deep breath in, through your nose. Slow.” Watching his husband breathe in, so slow and easy, Yuichi closed his mouth to copy him.

“There ya go! Good. Now out through your mouth.” Leo blew out a breath, and, shakily, Yuichi did the same. “Good job, honeybunny. Take another breath in.”

The guided breathing went on for what felt like ages as Yuichi’s chest loosened, and the frigid feeling slipped away, melted into the forest floor with his terror. “There you go,” whispered Leo with a small, proud smile. “Is it okay if I hold your hand, honeybunny?”

Yuichi wiped at his eyes with a sniff and nodded after a moment. The familiar feeling of the rough, calloused palm in his own, the sensation of Leo’s thumb rubbing little circles against the back of his hand, was an instant comfort, and Yuichi closed his eyes to breathe deeply again. “Good job,” praised his husband again, smiling warmly at him. “You wanna tell me what happened, there?”

Swallowing, rubbing at his eye again, Yuichi made a face. “It was, um. It was stupid,” he mumbled. “I heard a gunshot. And I got scared.”

“Mm.” Leo continued to rub his hand, still breathing so slow and calm. “That ain’t stupid. Gunshots are scary. Especially after what Don’s put ya through.” He shifted to sit beside Yuichi, guiding his husband to lean into his side, rest his head on his shoulder. Yuichi closed his eyes with the soothing comfort of Leo’s body, the smell of pine and hay and the cologne that always stayed on his clothes.

“Think you can make it back to camp, honey?” whispered Leo, rubbing his back. Yuichi sniffed again and nodded, moving to stand but wincing at the burning pain that radiated through his knees. Dammit.

“It’s okay, I got ya.” Leo grinned as he wrapped his arm around Yuichi’s waist, lifting him to stand like he weighed nothing. “Wanna grab your firewood? We’ll head back to camp an’ take a nap, okay? Panic attacks are exhaustin’.” He kissed Yuichi’s cheek with a small smile, and the rabbit yokai returned it, lingering for a moment. Yuichi watched with a grin of his own as Leo started back on the trail, going to gather the wood he’d dropped.

Damn, he was lucky to have someone who loved him so much.

prompts below! from @unboundprompts

[futterurl]

Hii do you do angsty smut? I’m craving angst & smut for Josh futturman . Love your first work here btw ❤️

tysm anon i fucking LOVE angst and smut mixed. literally two in one combo. i got u :b apologies if this wasnt what u were looking for!!

WARNINGS: angst, bleeding, pretty graphic, smut (mdni!), oral(f!receiving), p in v, creampie, afab reader

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you clutched your side, agony hitting every inch of your body. getting shot in your side wasn’t how you thought this mission was gonna go.

it was supposed to be simple: have everyone eat the Kronish balls, save the day, yada-yada. in and out. that wasn’t the case, however, when everyone who wasn’t borderline poisoned by the kronish balls turned out to be bionic.

josh wasn’t looking behind himself, not seeing a bionic creeping up to him at a quick pace with a knife in hand. you ran as fast as you could, trying to tell him to watch out.

you pushed josh out of the way, causing the bionic to stab you right in the side. the pain hit immediately, agonizing pain. you doubled over, wanting to remove the piece of steel. you knew this would only make it worse. you had to keep it in, at least until you were able to get somewhere safe.

“shit.” tiger panicked, seeing you on the ground, clutching your torso for dear life. you looked up at her with weak eyes, coughing up spurts of blood.

“gotta. got’ get help.” you tried to speak as hard as you could without exerting too much effort. she was able to pick you up and avoid the bionics, which wolf was going crazy with.

“guys! abort the mission. s’ in critical condition!” tiger yelled at josh and wolf, seeing their expressions drop as they saw her holding you, borderline limp in her arms. as they fended off the last of the bionics, they raced over to see you, crying and tired.

“fuck, fuck, this is my fault, fuck.” josh started talking at 100 miles an hour.

“this is nobody’s fault. someone get a goddamn car and bring us home.” wolf yelled. they all raced over to the car they took, tiger slamming on the gas the second you all piled in, josh now gently bringing you into the back.

“fuck, hurts s’ bad, fuck.” you grit through your teeth, hand bloody from holding onto your side. josh had propped you up against the car window. he kept his hand right on top of yours, whispering endless strands of “i’m sorry” and “this is my fault” through tears. this was the last thing he wanted to do, especially to the girl he loved, even if she didn’t know.

you were so selfless, you took a fucking knife to the torso for him. he owed you his fucking life, if you were okay after this, that is. he was gonna make sure you were okay. he clung onto your other hand and held onto it for dear life.

in just minutes, tiger was stopping the car in front of josh’s house. josh took you into his arms, racing up to his room, flat out ignoring his parents.

he laid you onto his bed, propping you up high with a good amount of pillows.

“i have a first aid kit in my bathroom. go get it. it’s in the cabinet.” he yelled at tiger and wolf. he couldn’t stay one second away from you. not like this.

wolf ran to get it, coming back in mere seconds. he had a wet rag. “we gotta take the knife out and put this over it immediately.” he panted.

“take my hand. this might hurt.” josh offered, holding out his hand to you, which you took into yours with ease.

“one, two, three”

tiger removed the knife, to which wolf covered you with the wet rag. you screamed and wailed as you crushed josh’s hand with yours. you had never experienced that amount of pain in your entire life.

“the worst is over. you did it.” tiger tried to ease your worries, offering you painkillers in the first aid kit wolf had brought.

“fuck. still hurts s’ fucking bad, fuck.” you silently cried. this felt like torture. you felt like you were going to puke.

“can you guys give us some privacy please? sorry, she’s overwhelmed and i know how to help her.” josh said, looking at tiger and wolf. “can you guys go talk to my parents? tell them we’re all good?”

they got the signal. they quickly left and shut the door behind them.

josh looked at you. “fuck, i’m so sorry. this is all my fault. i didn’t want you to get hurt like this, i’m so sorry…” he started to tear up.

you caressed his face. “it’s okay, josh. it wasn’t your fault, nothing you could’ve done. i’m still alive, aren’t i?”

“i know, but it shouldn’t be you with the fucking knife in your side.” he replied. he was really worried about you, his heart racing. he didn’t want you to be hurt. at all. he’d gladly take a knife for you for this to be overwith. for you to not be in any more pain.

“it’s okay, really. i jumped in.” you yawned, starting to get tired.

“okay, okay.” he wasn’t gonna argue with you anymore. “is there anything i can do for you?”

you squeezed his hand. “go to sleep with me for awhile?” you asked in a hushed tone.

nothing would’ve made him happier. he couldn’t be away from you, not now, not ever. he wanted to make sure that you’d be safe. with him. in his arms.

“of course. i..i’ll stay here with you. as long as you need.” he took a few pillows from under you, letting you lay down, he laying down next to you. you cuddled up to him a bit, making him blush. thank god the light was dimmed low.

“thank you…” you drifted off as you muttered those words. josh looked down at you, watching you fall into a deep sleep. he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. even after dying, you still looked so fucking perfect. how?

why would you take a knife for me? he asked himself, over and over. i hate seeing you like this.

the last thing he wanted to do was to see you in pain, and now he saw you in pure agony, on his behalf. he felt lime such a shitty person. the least he could do is lay with you.

he wouldn’t admit that was what he secretly wanted all along. he caressed your cheek before laying his head down, joining you in a peaceful slumber.

.

.

.

you spent the next couple days attached to josh like you two were conjoined at the hip. he was constantly there for your every need, whether that be for water, food, painkillers, anything.

you were healing up nicely. sure, you were still in pain, but it was significantly less than what it originally was. having josh by your side helped a lot.

you two were laying in his bed, when the painkillers sort of wore off. you winced.

“you okay?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“yeah, just hurts a bit.” you responded.

“you need anything? i can get it.” he offered.

“no, josh, really, it’s fine.” josh had been there for you at your every need, you were starting to feel bad. it felt like he was being a servant for you.

“i don’t want you to be in pain though.” he looked lost in thought. it looked like he wanted to say something.

“is there something on your mind, josh?” you asked.

“uh..uh, kind of. you ever have something on your mind but you don’t wanna say it because you don’t know if it’ll ruin something but you really don’t know what reaction you’ll get-” he started to talk faster and faster as he talked more and more.

“josh, we’ve known each other for what, how many years? we’ve talked about anything and everything. you can talk to me.” you propped yourself up to look at him.

he looked nervous. well, he always looked nervous. this time, however, he looked super nervous. something was on his mind.

"i was just gonna say, um, that, uh, i know a way to make you feel better...but, uh, it's kinda weird...yeah." he started stammering over his words.

"what is it, josh?" you asked. did he just bite his lip?

"i...i could make you...y'know..." he looked from your face down to your body, back up to you.

"make me what?" your heart started beating ever so slightly faster. might he be alluding to...?

"i...i could make you...make you cum. i know it's not a painkiller or anything, but it might take your mind off stuff. it's stupid, i..i should stop talking now. i shouldn't have said that. it's stupid. i'm sorry-"

you cut him off by putting your hand gently under his jaw and kissing him passionately. you started to grasp at his hair, holding it in fistfulls.

once your lips disconnected, you started breathing heavily. "josh, i'd love that. please. really." you never thought he'd ever ask you to do anything like this.

"really? am i dreaming?" he asked, rubbing your forearm gently.

"no. please, josh. make me feel good." you pleaded. now that the idea was out there, you were dead set on this. you didn't want anyone but him.

he got on top of you, starting to kiss your lips, your cheeks, your jawline, your neck. everything. it felt perfect. you could already feel your focus on your pain being subsided to this.

he lowered himself, settling in between your thighs, rubbing your hips. he held the ends of your shirt.

"can...can i see how it's doing first? just to check? don't wanna make it worse." he played with the hem of your shirt.

"yeah, yes. do it." you responded.

he lifted up your shirt to your ribcages, examining your bandages. it still looked pretty nasty, but it had certainly healed a lot since a few days ago.

"fuck...i'm still so, so sorry. i really am." he started to get a bit teary eyed while tenderly rubbing the skin by your bandages, careful to not get too close to where it would hurt.

"josh, really, it's okay. it happens. please. i don't want you to feel bad about this. it really is okay." you scratched at his hair.

"okay, okay...m'sorry. lemme make it up to you." he pressed a kiss to your stomach as he unzipped your shorts. he pulled them down slowly, not wanting to make your body jolt or be in any more pain that it was already in. he lost his breath, looking at you in just your shirt and panties. he still couldn't believe it.

"you...you okay?" you asked.

"y-yeah. i'm great. just...can't believe this is happening. you're so beautiful." he lay his head on one of your thighs, giving it a light kiss. that made you shudder. you didn't realize your thighs were that sensitive.

"thank you, thank you..." you started to mumble, becoming a bit nervous.

josh sensed your nerves. "you know, you don't have to let me do this, if you don't want me to. i know it's very up and personal."

"no, i really do, it's just...i'm just...nervous, is all. just...go slow please." you asked.

he played with the hems of your panties. "don't worry, i'll go as slow as you need." he pressed a kiss to your hip bones. "would you...would you mind if i took these off?"

"please. take them off." you were starting to get desperate.

he slowly eased them down your legs, getting a glimpse of your glistening pussy. he felt his eyes widen.

"can i...can i make you feel good?" he asked, pressing a kiss on your pubic bone.

"please, josh. want you to make me feel good so badly." you were practically begging at this point.

he lowered his head just a bit, propping himself truly inbetween your thighs, licking a stripe up your slit. you shuddered, new to the sensation. it felt weird, but in a good way.

"that feel okay?" he asked.

"yes, josh, for the love of god, please...more." you begged.

his tongue rested on your clit, rubbing it with the wet muscle. this sent shivers down your spine. it rubbed back and forth on the tiny area. you let out a moan, back starting to arch off the bed.

"shit...feels s'good josh, oh my god." you moaned, him drinking up your moans.

his lips attached themselves around your clit and just sucked. this sent all sorts of waves of pleasure through you. you pulled at his hair as he sucked at your clit. he ran his tongue in circles around the sensitive bud. had he ever done this before?

his tongue ran down your cunt, entering your tight hole with a moan from you. his thumb snuck up to your clit, not giving it a break as he rubbed tight circles around it.

"feels t' good, holy shit..." you were becoming putty in his hands as he tongue fucked you.

"you taste s' fucking good." he moaned into your pussy as his thumb became even faster around your clit, using your slick as lube. "love every part of you, fuck."

it didn't help that he was practically groaning into your cunt as he went down on you, letting out little whimpers and moans into you.

he heard you start to get louder and louder. he knew you were getting close to your release. his head went back up to your clit, giving it even more stimulation.

"josh...so close, oh my god..." your hips were starting to slightly buck up into his mouth.

"i know, pretty girl, not gonna stop until you cum down my fucking throat." he pleaded, urging you as he sopped at your clit, constantly hitting the bundle of nerves. your thighs got tighter around his head.

"i...oh my god...i think i'm gonna..." you started to pant hard, getting lost in the pleasure.

"c'mon. let it out. cum in my mouth. please. make me happy and cum on me. wanna make you feel so fucking good." he said in between licks.

one of them in particular make the tight band forming in your stomach snap, you finally getting that sweet, sweet release as you moan incoherent babbles to josh, as his tongue slowly eased at your cunt.

once you came down from your high, he started to rub little circles around your hips again. "you okay?" he asked.

"fuck...that was really fucking good, josh. oh my god." you panted as he peppered your stomach in kisses.

"good, m' glad." he rubbed the skin close to your bandage. "did i do anything to make it hurt any more?" he asked, worry etching on his eyebrows.

"no, it's all fine...i feel really good right now." you looked down at him, his face a mess of saliva and your slick. that was hot.

"good." he came up a little bit, you getting a peak at his erection standing through his pants.

"do you...do you want me to take care of that?" you asked, alluding to something more.

he caught his breath. "uh..are-are you sure? i know you just...y'know. you sure you want to?"

"please, josh. i want you to fuck me." you had never felt so desperate than you did right now. you needed him.

"i don't know if this is gonna hurt you. if it does, tell me and we're done." he said, getting out of his pants, his erection standing up in his boxers. your eyes widened. you couldn't believe he was going to be inside you.

"thank you josh, i will." you pulled him in to a kiss, your hand traveling down to his boxers, lightly gripping at his clothed cock. he let out a whimper.

"that feel good?" you asked.

"yes, fuck yes that felt good. but this is about you, not me. gonna make you feel good again. promise." he pulled away as he swiped down his boxers, freeing his girthy erection.

he positioned himself, sitting up on his knees, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder, alligning his cock with your dripping cunt. he ran his tip over your clit, you both shuddering.

"i..i'm gonna put it in now, okay?" he asked for permission, hands gently holding onto your hips, careful not to hurt you with the pressure. "i'll go slow, i promise."

"please." you whimpered.

he pressed it at your entrance, his tip slowly going inside you. he let out a shudder as he traced his thumbs back and forth on your thighs, trying to ease your nerves.

"fuck, oh my god. only have the tip in but it feels s' fucking good. you're so tight. fuck." he started to become a whimpering mess.

he slowly pushed his hips forward, entering you even more, at such a slow pace to make sure you weren't in any pain. sure, you had done this before, you told him, but it had been some time since. the last thing he wanted to do was make you hurt down there too.

"put the rest in josh, please." you whimpered.

he obliged, slowly bottoming out. all the sensations hit him at once: your tight, sopping cunt squeezing his cock. he knew he wouldn't last long.

"god, you're so tight, holy shit, feels so fucking good." he wailed, praising you as he caressed your hips. "you good?"

you nodded. you felt so full, it felt amazing. he looked at you with care and concern, like you were the only person in the world right then. it was perfect. he was doing all this for you.

"please start moving. feels good." you pleaded.

he nodded furiously, taking an experimental thrust into you, to which you both moaned out to. he was constantly letting out strings of "oh god" and "fuck" into the room as he started to grip your thigh.

he started to get into a motion, him pistoning in and out of you at a quick pace. your tight gummy walls pulled him in with every thrust, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you with every thrust.

"oh my god, you feel so good. love this pussy so much, holy shit." he was practically worshipping you at this point as his hips drove into yours, you letting out moans in response.

one of his hands found itself at your cunt, his thumb starting to bully your clit in tight circles, you letting out a loud moan in response.

"josh, getting close, oh my god. fuck!" you pleaded for him. his thumb around your clit started to move even faster as his hips drove into you, hitting every spot.

"gonna cum soon, please cum with me." he pleaded in between moans, hips moving even faster. you broke down into a moaning mess as you felt another orgasm coming.

"you're so hot, holy shit. wanna fuck you like this forever. wanna get lost in this pussy. please. want you to come on my cock over and over again. shit." he let out rambles as he started to reach his peak.

these words let you to your second orgasm, your cunt becoming even tighter around his cock as you moaned as loud as possible, yelling his name. your cunt squeezing him made him come undone, cumming inside you.

he kept thrusting into you, riding out both of your highs, until you came down. he put your leg down, him slowly pulling out and laying down on you, being careful to not lay down on your bandage.

"that...that felt so good josh, oh my god." you started to play with his hair and rubbing his back.

"good. m' glad. i really wanted to make you feel good." his head lay on one of your breasts, paying attention to your breathing pattern.

"you..you really helped. i feel really good right now. thank you." you squeezed him into a hug.

he put one of his arms around you, enjoying the warmth of your body. "i'll always be here for you, i owe it to you. i'll stick bt your side, no matter what.

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a/n: womp womp sry if that was kinda mid (im a loser if u couldnt tell)