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#not very satisfied with this one since it was a bit rushed
my313 · 5 hours
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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ perv!huening kai
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mdni 18+ only!
⋆ pairing: bobarista!kai & bobarista f!reader
⋆ summary: your shy and unbearably handsome new co-worker seemed normal. that is, until you catch him peeking through the back door to watch you change.
⋆ genre/themes/warnings: pervy!kai, no strong dom/sub themes, semi-public masturbation (m), getting caught (?)
⋆ word count: 1.7k
a/n: ITS TIME HE IS FINALLY HEREEEEEE. might do a pt 2 cuz im not very satisfied w this and i need them to fuck JDKDJF 😭 tysm to @boba-beom for helping me brainstorm <333 enjoy :3
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kai never meant to keep this habit up.
the first time was an accident. it was the one time you both were doing the closing shift, and like the nice boy he is, he let you get changed out of your work clothes first.
by the time he finished, you still weren’t out to greet him by the counter. kai decided, he’ll just take a slight peep at the back since he needed to discard his apron and hang it up anyway. it’s like the universe set the pieces perfectly in front of him, because the locker room door seemed to creak softly until an opening formed.
there’s been a number of times where he’s tried to make his broad frame smaller, curling behind the wall while watching you take off your shirt, memorising the colours and patterns of your underwear. kai could probably recite it the same way he does the boba shop’s menu – probably even better. it’s no wonder that you’re the first thing on his mind when his fist closes in on his length, and the last when he’s hiccuping your name while spilling for the third time every other night. the guilt only catches up to him when he feels the slimy ooze of his cum sliding down his stomach, wincing at the feeling.
he says this each time, something along the lines of, “i just passed by!” or “the door was open anyway…” to his own conscience. he knows you’re not hearing anything he says to justify why he starts to stay outside the locker room five minutes longer, ten minutes more — why he urges you to change clothes first, and why he keeps signing up for shifts that line up with yours.
at first, you thought kai’s constant efforts of being around you while blushing and barely being able to look at you was a small crush. something that dissipates once you undergo the weekend rushes, but kai continues his advances.
he makes you your favourite bubble tea and watches intently as your lips latch onto the thick straw then suction out the pearls. he helps you arrange boxes of ingredients when you can’t reach the tallest shelf, always hovering behind you and says he’s just “making himself useful.”
what you don’t know is that he’s grown an odd liking to watching your lips plump up against the roundness of the straw, fueling his feverish dreams of having you on your knees and doing the same to his cock. you don’t know that when he offers to ‘make himself useful’, he’s often thinking with his dick. he’s dazed by the delicious view of your skirt riding up, inwardly cheering when he catches a glimpse of where your thigh high socks squeeze the fat of your thigh.
on other days, he goes mad from seeing your shitty tights rip from the smallest movements. he pictures ruining them entirely, your face pressed against the very same lockers where he watches you undress.
the first time the bells started to ring in your head that kai may not be as innocent as you think, you’re just a bit shocked.
you recall the door being slightly ajar, and in hopes that your co-worker was still at front, you slung your bag over and went out, only to be greeted by kai’s blushing face and obvious boner. your eyes met for a brief moment, and while you expected some sort of explanation, kai only flashed an awkward smile like always and walked past you.
“s-see you tomorrow, yn.” he said, as if the huge elephant in the room wasn’t ghosting over your skin as he made his way into the locker room. if you hadn’t looked down, you would have thought you just caught kai in his natural state – flushed pink and too shy for his own good. but that definitely changed your mind.
so, you decided to run a few experiments to test your hypothesis.
the next few weeks consist of essentially testing your potentially perverted co-worker. it should be a harder pill to swallow, finding out kai had been watching your half-naked body for a good ten minutes per day. yet, you find yourself taking pride in the way you make kai act. you don’t bother to check if the door closes fully behind you each time you go change.
kai’s on his first toilet break of the day. he blames you and your choice of outfit. lately, you’ve been coming in in mini skirts and thigh highs, and today, you’re in one of his favourite pleated skirts and another one of your flimsy tights.
he swears you’re doing it on purpose, because on restock day, you’re typically grumpy and wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. but just the other day, you were fishing out the packets of pearls from the delivery, bent over with your cute, strawberry-printed panties immediately drawing out a “g-gonna take a break real quick!” from kai.
as if masturbating to you in the privacy of his bedroom wasn’t enough, he’s developed a sick routine of jerking off in the unkempt staff toilet. kai spends more of his lunch hours with his hands enveloping his cock at the thought of you than actually taking a break.
when it’s time for you to leave, your normal routine ensues. you go into the locker room with kai not-so-discreetly following behind, acting as if he’s double checking if the stock in the back is the right amount.
today though, kai doesn’t know what overcomes him. maybe it was the fact that you wore a matching set; pretty pink lace adorning your skin, holding you in places he wishes he could get his filthy hands on. maybe it’s the fact that you’re half-naked for a good five minutes, distracted on your phone to even proceed switching to a comfy sweatshirt.
within those five minutes, kai’s palming himself over the thick material of his jeans.
in the next two, he’s fumbling over the zipper and hastily unhooking the button. his cock is very obviously staining his briefs, leaking profusely and begging to be freed.
kai is quick to fall prey to his urges; what really does it for him is the way you bend over to pick up something that fell to the floor. he doesn’t notice nor care what it is. it’s tunnel vision from here on out, eyes trained on the plushness of your ass, deliciously cradled by your panties and pushed out for his viewing.
his mind is overtaken by obscenities. everything from smothering his face in your cunt to your knees faltering from how he’s made you cum.
he pictures his leaking tip soiling the crotch of your panties, imagining how he’d rut in and out between your thighs, like some makeshift fleshlight, before pulling your underwear off. his eyebrows scrunch at the thought of your skin covered in streaks of white. he thinks that you’d look up at him with wide eyes that ask for “one more?” even when he’s given you his load over and over, grunts morphing to sensitive whimpers.
kai’s body is on overdrive; eyes threatening to shut as his mind drifts into familiar territory but not wanting to miss the sight in front of him. his teeth are digging into his bottom lip to the point of tasting blood, while his arms are starting to give out from the speed he’s stroking himself at.
when you finally snap out of your phone break, kai takes it as a sign to speed up more than he already is. his hips chase after his tight fist, desperate to finish before you find out about his little secret. his stomach caves from the spike of euphoria until it peaks and he can’t stop himself from shooting out ribbons of his cum, his bottom lip surely taking a cut from how hard his canines have sunk into the skin.
he finally releases his bottom lip and takes a quick breather, cautious about whether you’ve put your clothes on. kai scrambles to rip a tissue roll to wipe the floor when he sees you absentmindedly smiling at your phone and walking towards the door.
he leaps into the staff toilet in a rush, just before you step out of the locker room.
you’re still on your phone when you move to the front of the shop, waiting on kai before taking your leave. glancing up at the toilet door from where you’re seated, you stifle a laugh as you think back on the delectable view you caught a peek at earlier. you shake your head at your co-worker’s antics, finding it a mix of silly, pathetically weird and also… sexy? hot?
kai makes an entrance with his apron snug against his body. you try to hold back a full-blown laugh and settle for a polite smile instead, waving your hand at him. “i’m gonna head out now– oh, wait,” your eyebrows knit together upon seeing the fresh tear on his lip.
you rush to his side, pressing your chest against him as your hands reach out to his face. your thumb rests on his bottom lip but you can feel his cheeks heat up against your other fingers. you know what you’re doing, and kai knows that you do. he’s thanking his self from five minutes ago for putting on this apron, because if not, you’d be stuck feeling his awakening hard on again.
“did you get hurt today? i didn’t see this earlier.” you frown, pressing your thumb against his bottom lip. he winces slightly, trying to pull away. a breath is stuck in his throat, the closeness rendering him to just a couple of meek nods or shakes of his head.
kai finally manages to get you back in your space. he shakes his head, “o-oh.. yeah! just– just cut my lip while eating earlier..?”
“be careful next time, yeah?” you chuckle, playfully bumping into him with your hip. “that face is our best seller!”
he laughs nervously, “that’s all you..!”
you’re leaning towards him again, coy with your hands folded behind your back. just enough to have him hitching his breath and anticipating more, but not so much to touch him.
you smile mischievously, hinting at what you just saw earlier. “both of us then? we put on a good show, hm?”
he gulps, “uh– no, you’re definitely much better.”
“i dunno,” you tease, finger tapping your lip almost mockingly as if pondering. “you’re a quick thinker.”
oh shit. you knew.
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xhavibee · 2 years
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💅🏳️‍🌈🫶🌼🦆
requested by: @the-multi-fandom-mess
notes: thank u for the request! :]
for anybody who is interested: check out my pinned post to request a moodboard yourself :DD
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kyo-00 · 2 months
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𓆩♡𓆪 SO NEEDY! ࿐࿔
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MINORS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DNI!!
content: needy!reader; afab!reader; fem!reader; nsfw; smut; porn with little to no plot; drabble? i tried, ended up being a oneshot; scenario w jjk men; dry humping; p in v sex; riding
w.c: 1k
n/a: i was really horny when i wrote this so i had to take a cold shower afterwards lmfao. silly scenario, lwk a headcanon too. english isn’t my first language and im still a rookie at writing so bear with me please! any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3
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...
"How was work?" Your boyfriend asks you as you get back home from work. You sigh heavily, 'it was absolute hell and draining. I wish I could quit,' you think. "It was okay," you say, lazily dragging your feet towards the couch. 
Right now, you want nothing but to be wrapped in your boyfriend's arms and think about nothing. No slacking coworkers, insufferable managers, just you and him. You join your partner on the couch, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck instead of sitting beside him, and he lets you. 
He can tell how drained you are. Your eyes are drowsy, your breathing heavy and slow, you look like you are about to fall asleep by the way you are snuggling your head into the crook of his neck, your soft breaths hitting his skin. "Tough day, huh?" he murmurs, a hand gently caressing your hair and playing with a few strands out of place while the other rubs your lower back.
You hum a soft 'mhm' and nod, inhaling the scent of his shampoo on his hair and the faint smell of his cologne, one you gifted him on his birthday.
Perhaps he didn't notice. Or maybe he did but chose to say nothing. But you did feel your clothed cunt pressed over where his cock was, a sudden arousal and need rushing through your veins as you cuddled him. You bit your lip, how long had it been since you had intimacy?
It was strange, considering how active your sex life used to be. However, due to a slight change in your work hours, his schedule and yours were not always matching. It was hard to have a moment with him that was not cut short. You'd often had to recur to your fingers to find some sort of release to satisfy your needs. Which were not always enough.
Your pussy started to throb, and you grew anxious. You were not one to start things out, it was usually him. Was it perhaps the stress from work that spiked your sexual frustration up to its breaking point?
You subtly started seeking friction for some relief, making it seem you were looking to get more comfortable on his lap. Of course, it ended up seeming strange the way your hips rolled and could not keep yourself still.
“What’re you doing?” He asks bemused. "I thought you were tired," he teases, his hand travelling from the small of your back to slip under your leggings, groping the bare skin of your ass.
"I'm sorry, I just-" you gasped, his hand squeezing the plush of your ass. He couldn't see the flustered look you had on because of being caught—not that you were 'very' subtle about it—trying to dry-hump him. But he could see the reddened tips of your ears from the corner of his eye and hear your small whimpers along with your breaths heavying the more you pressed yourself against him.
"You need to relieve some stress, is that it?" He murmured, a sly smirk tugging the corner of his lips. He liked seeing this new side of you, so needy and aching for him that you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, not even after a long and tiring day of work.
You nodded again with a small whimper leaving your lips, grinding your pulsing cunt with need against his hardened bulge. "P-please, I need you," you sputtered, one of your hands trailing down to the elastic of his sweatpants, trying to tug it down.
Your boyfriend quietly groaned, dropping soft kisses on your neck, nipping at the skin as his hands helped you to get rid of the clothes that stood between your pussy and him until the slick of your bare dripping cunt damped his sweatpants.
"You look so pretty when you're so in need of my cock filling you up, love," he whispered, his voice deep and filled with lust. He tugged his sweatpants down enough for his cock to spring out, hitting his abdomen and leaking in precum. He gave himself a few languid pumps, his tearing tip teasing your folds and grazing ever so slightly on your swollen clit. "How bad do you need me to stuff you full of my dick, baby?" He asked, his hand coming forward to gently stimulate your neglected bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb.
"Bad, really bad," You answered quickly, your voice wavering and desperate. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, your eyes pleading him to have mercy and give you what you yearned so much for. "Please," you breathed, angling your hips to align your entrance to his cock.
"Please what? Use your words, princess," he said, teasing you by gliding his tip between your pussylips.
You let out a shaky breath, his taunting sending shivers throughout your body and your heart racing. "Please, fuck me," you whined, leaning forward to press soft kisses along his jawline down to his neck, trying to coax him into stretching your needy cunny with his shaft.
Your boyfriend let out a guttural groan, leaning his head back as you sucked on the skin, giving you more space where to mark him as yours, marks he'd wear with pride the next day. "Fuck, baby, you don't know what you're doing to me," he grunted.
"So, is that a yes?" You asked impatiently, biting your lip in anticipation. He didn't have to answer, his cock did the job by easing its way inside your warm walls until he was fully sheathed inside you, gaining a moan of relief from you. You held on to his shoulders to steady yourself and wasted no time, bucking your hips at a deep pace, already chasing your so-needed release.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you whimpered, your eyes brimmed with tears of pleasure as you bounced on his cock, lewd and loud squelches of your wet pussy filling out the room. "Anytime, sweetheart," he hissed, his lips pressed on your ear, grunting as he met your thrusts pistoning his cock in and out of your cunt.
TOJI, SUGURU, CHOSO, HIROMI, NANAMI
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mphountitled · 7 months
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𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩
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: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader
: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.
: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink
5k words
A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.
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You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.
“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….
You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.
It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…
“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"
You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,
“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."
Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.
“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.
"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.
"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:
Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?
Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.
"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.
Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."
Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.
When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.
Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..
“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.
Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.
3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.
That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.
"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.
Not when you took so much of him, so well.
You clench your toes.
Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.
"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”
You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.
"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."
"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"
You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"
He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.
"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.
As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.
Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.
Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."
Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.
Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.
"Tell anyone about this-"
"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."
And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).
As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.
It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.
"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."
It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.
So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…
"Sorry?"
"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.
"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.
"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"
"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."
You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.
"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."
"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."
Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.
His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.
You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.
Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.
Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.
Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.
His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.
Did you not have friends?
And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?
What if…
Perhaps if he…
"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.
"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.
"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.
Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"
"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.
"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"
It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…
Your breath hitches in your throat.
Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.
"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.
"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.
He finally slips under your skirt.
His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.
Not at all.
If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.
The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.
Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"
Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.
"I asked you a question, Harry."
"I like reading."
"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.
Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.
That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.
He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?
You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.
"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"
Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.
Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.
"Understood?"
Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.
Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.
However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.
"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.
"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.
Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.
"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.
"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"
"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."
Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.
"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.
"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.
Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.
You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.
You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.
The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.
"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"
You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.
"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"
This is all new, even for the two of you.
"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.
"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.
Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.
You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.
"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.
"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.
Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.
Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.
"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.
"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.
He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.
"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"
"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.
"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."
"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.
His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.
"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."
"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.
"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.
"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.
The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.
"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.
"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."
And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.
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IM SO SORRY LMFAO
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peachesofteal · 5 months
Note
you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies
Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader
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He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.
Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.
The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.
“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.
“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.
“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.
“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.
“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”
“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.
“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.
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foli-vora · 1 year
Text
too close
joel miller x f!reader
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a/n: more porn, idk what to say lmao. i want him to be cold and rough and i want it to hurt, y’ know what i mean?? anyway, here’s a supremely pissed off joel — enjoy! x
word count: just under 3.1k
warnings: swearing, very brief violence/mention of weapons, a close call, clicker attack, joel being a hero and being annoyed af about it, angsty vibes, the king of emotional constipation, SMUT 18+ ONLY: brief hand job, being restrained by being held down, unprotected p in v, very rough sex with bit of pain, no orgasm for reader coz punishment, cum shot over da assss
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He hadn’t spoken.
Nothing. Not a single damn word since it happened.
Your heart still thunders in your chest, pounding in your ears and threatening to break free from its bone cage. The adrenaline has long worn off, leaving you with a tremble in your hands you can’t quite seem to get under control.
The weight of it still lingers on your body. The inhuman high pitched roar of it still circles your mind on an endless loop. The overwhelming rush of fear had paralysed you, frozen you under its brute strength and your touch had been numb around your weapon. That should’ve been it for you—done. Dead. Torn to fucking shreds right there on the filthy, muddied floor.
But he’d come out of fucking nowhere. 
A body had rushed in from the side, the clicker barely able to turn towards the noise with a wailing screech before a weight spear tackled it and gave you the chance to roll back onto your feet. You had watched, through dazed eyes, as Joel had wrestled with the creature before firing a few bullets into its sickly orange flared head with his own roar of fury.
The snarl hadn’t left his face as he stood, glaring down at the clicker, almost daring it to fucking twitch, before he spun for you, tugging harshly at your arms and collar to look for any marks. He’d shoved you away after his hurried check, uncaring as you stumbled back from the unexpected rough touch and seemingly satisfied with your untorn skin.
He had ignored your shaky thank you.
Though he doesn’t talk, he still touches. His hands cover any sharp surfaces you pass, his forearm presses into your chest to keep you from moving forward when it’s too risky, his palm pushes at your head to ensure you get through the tunnel without hitting your head—
Little things.
Little things that let you know he’s not about to throw your ass out onto the streets of the QZ for being such a fucking idiot… you hope, anyway.
The silence remains, thick and uncomfortable, all the way back until you finally reach your quarters undetected. Joel dumps his pack on the floor without a care, striding straight for the bottle of shitty homemade booze left out on the table. You hang back, nervously fiddling with your fingers as he downs a generous mouthful, ignoring the drop that escapes his lips and melts into his patchy beard.
You swallow, tongue sweeping over your dry lips, “Joel?”
He doesn’t react.
Instead, he tears a chair out from where it’s tucked under the table and allows himself to drop into it with a sharp exhale, one hand brushing down his tired features. His eyes focus beyond the floor, the slosh of the amber liquid the only sound in the dark room as he nurses the bottle slowly.
“Joel.” Firmer. Harder. “Can we talk ab—”
“No. No, we cannot.”
The pure acid in his rumble of a tone burns. You shrink from the force of it.
“Joel, I… I’m really sorry—”
“Oh, well shit—that just makes it all better!”
“I’ll be quicker next time, it just took me off-guard, bu—”
“‘Next time’?”
It’s incredulous, spat through tight lips as if it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever fucking heard in his life. His wild eyes suddenly focus on you and your breath sticks in your throat. They zero in on where you stand, still hovering by the door, nervous to take a step further into your shared dwelling.
“There ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ ‘next time’. Your ass is stayin’ in the QZ—permanently.”
“What? Joel—”
“I do not want to hear it,” he snarls. “The hell were you thinkin’, huh?! It fuckin’ had you!”
It all comes back. The feeling of it hitting you, grabbing you, forcing you to the floor and screeching in your face. Death had been mere inches from you, death had had you in his damn grasp. The shadow of it brings a shiver along your skin.
“I know.”
It’s weak, pathetic.
“You can’t afford to freeze like that! Not out there. You get one chance to not fuck up—one fuckin’ chance! If I hadn't been there… Jesus Christ.”
He shifts to lean forward, resting an elbow in the upper crease of his knee as his fingers press tightly into his eyes and rub. You step lightly towards him, crossing the space between you and carefully reaching out to run a hand along the arch of his back, feeling the muscles jump under your touch.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, carding your fingers through his dry, mussed strands and softly working through the slight knots sitting there, “I really am—”
He bitterly knocks your hand away, jerking away from your touch like you’d burnt him, and it cuts into your heart, tearing through muscle and spilling a vicious icy ache through your chest.
“That doesn’t make it okay,” he mutters stiffly, standing from his chair and walking away from you.
You bring your hand back towards your chest and swallow the thickness building in your throat before you can choke on it. The rejection stings, and the tears that build along your lash line are automatic.
They blur your vision of him standing at the window, back to you, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He’s rigid, posture hardened by the mix of emotion filling him. You know better than to approach him again, and instead sink down into the chair he vacated.
Silence returns, the tension rolling from his shoulders in waves reaching you despite being across the room. You pick at your skin, peeling the flakes of dried mud from your hands and pulling at the stray threads loosened from your sleeves.
Was there any way of coming back from this? It had taken you weeks to wear him down enough to even think about taking you out of the QZ on a small run, and now? He’d never go for it again. You’re back to having the mile high walls as your prison, your cage.
You’re more capable than this, you’d just been surprised is all. Surely you weren’t the first person to have been taken off guard by their appearance? To wonder how the hell something like that could come from a human? You’d never seen one at that stage before… couldn’t he just understand?
There were others, a quiet voice rings through your mind, only they never made it to the other side to think about it, to question it.
It could’ve killed you, it could’ve killed Joel, and that was all on you. All the work, all the planning, all the potential earnings… gone to shit, because you couldn’t keep your head straight the second you ran into trouble.
“I’m sorry for ruining the run,” you mutter, quickly swiping away the hot tear trailing down your cheek, “I’ll find extra work and get you the ration cards you’ve lost from this.”
He slowly turns to face you, a deep scowl carved into his stone set features and his arms drop to his sides, his hands clenching into fists. You fight the urge to curl in on yourself and remain stiff shouldered, returning his glare with a shakily stubborn gaze despite the few remaining tears that slip free from where they gather along your lashes.
“Christ. Is that what you’re thinkin’ about right now?” He’s quiet, but the rage still simmers away beneath the surface of his tone, causing the already deep drawl to roughen. “I don’t fuckin’ care about the damn cards.”
“Then why are you so fucking mad at me?” You cry out, “I said I was sorry! I made a mistake, everyo—”
“I almost fuckin’ lost you!”
You freeze at the sudden volume of his voice, the low simmer now a full boil. His shout bounces off the cracked walls and brings a whole new kind of silence to the room, the sheer ferocity of it bringing your heart into your throat.  He shakes his head and turns back towards the window, saying nothing more and leaving his words to hang in the dark.
The little thing between you and Joel had never been defined, and probably never would be. He just wasn’t like that. Sweet nothings and declarations of feelings had never, and will never, leave his lips. You weren’t even sure he liked you most of the time. You’re almost positive you’re nothing but an inconvenience to him, merely there to fill the deep void of loneliness the disaster of a world brought upon everyone.
But his words have your mind racing. Would it have bothered him that much? Does he see you as something more than an annoyance? Was it just as a companion, or maybe it ran deeper? Do you dare let the small bud of hope growing in your chest blossom into something stronger?
“Joel—”
“You should get some sleep.”
There’s no room for argument.
You give a small nod and stand, shedding the thick jacket draped from your shoulders and kicking your boots off. He doesn’t acknowledge you again, never moving his attention away from the window as you do a quick once over your dirtied skin with your damp rags before slipping under the thin, patched together blanket draped over the bed.
“Are you coming to bed?” You ask quietly, eyes following the curve of his side profile illuminated by the hue of street lighting seeping through the glass.
“No.”
Swallowing the discomfort starting to constrict the back of your throat, you give a strangled, “Okay,” and roll over, turning your back to him and burying your face into his pillow to hide the tears that escape when you squeeze your eyes shut.
He does.
Sometime in the early morning, your hand brushes against his back and it’s enough to bring you out of your troubled slumber. You’re careful not to jolt the bed too much as you shift closer to him, pressing up tight against his back and carefully smoothing a hand along his side.
You soak in the warmth his body provides, inhale the familiar waves of dirt and sweat that constantly roll from his skin. If you focus enough, you can detect the faint traces of mint that linger beneath the grime from the bar of soap it had taken you weeks to save for. You knew he liked it.
He’s awake—you can feel it. The tension is still wound tight in the muscles of his shoulders, his body still practically trembles from anger, but at least he doesn’t push you away again. Your hand wanders further, smoothing down to run over his stomach and up to his chest, resting over the heavy drum of his heart.
“Are you still mad?”
Silence follows your question. Did he hear you? Maybe you’d been wrong in your earlier observation and he was, in fact, asleep. Or he was just simply ignoring you, but then finally—
“Yeah,” he answers in his thick exhaustion riddled drawl, the word rough on his tongue.
“Oh.”
There’s nothing more to say. What could you say to make it better? Nothing. It had happened, and now you simply had to wait it out until the rage started to seep from his system. Would it take days? Weeks? Your hand starts to wander as you think, and you pay no mind to the paths it makes until you feel him stiffen under your touch.
You feel your fingers brush along the waistband of his jeans and your heart jumps in your chest, beating just that little heavier. He still doesn’t push you away. Maybe there’s nothing you could say, but maybe something you could do? Give him an outlet, a chance to work the anger from his system—
Heart pounding, you let your fingers slip beneath the denim and rake through the thick patch of curls there before finding his soft cock and carefully taking it in your grasp. There’s not a whole lot of room to work with the unforgiving stretch of his jeans, but you settle for what you can do, keeping your strokes light and restricted.
It doesn’t seem to matter.
His cock swells in your hold, the soft flesh thickening and hardening until it strains against its confines, throbbing heavily in your hand. The feel of him responding to your touch lights a fire in your core, every shallow jerk you make over his cock sending waves upon waves of warmth through your system until it builds in the pit of your stomach.
This could work. This could—
A hand curls around your wrist and tugs, tearing it out from inside his jeans and throwing it back towards you. Your stomach twists at the harshness of it, a brief flutter of panic shooting along your nerves as Joel tears the sheet away from his body and turns on you.
“What the hell are you doin’?” He demands in a rough grumble and you’re rolled onto your stomach before you could even think of uttering an apology, pressed into the unforgiving mattress by the weight of him straddling your upper thighs. “You think jerkin’ me off will make everythin’ better? You think it’ll make me forgive you? Huh?”
“N-no—”
“No?” He parrots gruffly, taking a wrist in each hand and pressing your hands into the bed. “That’s what it fuckin’ feels like.”
“That’s not—” you shift under the weight of him, attempting to adjust his grip on your wrists only for him to briefly tighten his hold, “—Joel, I—”
“You think I’m gonna soften on you just coz you’re touchin’ my cock?” He continues as if you hadn’t said a word, pushing himself roughly off your wrists and curling his fingers into your waist until it stings, forcing your ass up until he can curl over you and shove a hand to the front of your pants, “Think again, girl.”
He tears them open and straightens, fingers digging under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear before tugging harshly at them until your ass is bared to him. He doesn’t bother taking them completely off, merely shoving them down enough out of the way so he’d be able to reach your cunt.
It’s a rush. Your heart thunders in your ears, your nerves wind tight in anticipation. He’s not gentle. Your skin burns where the denim had been yanked down, his hands grab and squeeze until an ache follows his touch. 
You’re barely able to comprehend the faint sound of a zipper before the blunt head of his cock is suddenly pushing between your thighs and nudging at your folds. It’s instinct to tense, knowing you’re not even slightly ready to take him, but you find yourself arching into him nonetheless.
He lines himself up, probing at your entrance before letting his hips slam forward in one savage thrust, forcing you to take the entire thick length of his cock and crushing you into the mattress. Your cry of surprise, pain, melts into the bed; your hands scramble across the bedding in search of something to hold, something to steady yourself with as he starts to move in earnest.
His pace is brutal.
It’s quick, hard.
A clear punishment, and you take it all eagerly, muffling the various noises he rips from your throat into the bedding. Arousal steadily builds as you flutter and clench around him while he takes what he wants, the feeling of him hitting a spot that feels almost too far in your cunt shooting right through your system until you feel tears sting your eyes. 
Every hit to that spot is blissful agony, your body jolting and twisting from the feeling of having him practically in your stomach with every upwards thrust. The more you try to squirm away from him hitting so fucking deep, his hands tighten and tug you back, pressing you into the mattress and unable to move away from the steady force of his hips.
A hand curls around the nape of your neck, pushing and pushing you further into the bed and keeping you completely still and at his total mercy.
It’s too much. It’s fucking perfection.
None of it is for you.
Your swollen clit throbs from the lack of attention, the ache in your core only growing wilder and wilder as his cock continues to pound into you with no end in sight. There’d be no edge, no release. Only Joel and the way he seemingly tears you apart from the inside out, forcing your body to take the weight of his fury, the weight of his fear, again and again.
The cry that leaves your lips is sharp when he eventually rips himself away, his broken exhale mingling with a downright obscene grumble of a moan doing nothing to temper the relentless fire birthed from his aggression. He finishes over your ass cheek after fisting his cock and giving it a few firm jerks, painting your skin with his hot cum and letting the weeping tip of it slide through the mess as he comes down.
You pant into the bedding, your fingers still clutching the sheets for dear life. They ache when your grip finally loosens, your joints protesting the sudden relaxing of the digits. You hurt. You throb. You tremble from the rough fucking, your cunt quivers and weeps for more despite your walls feeling tender from his merciless entry. 
He rolls off of you to sit on the edge of the bed, raking a hand through his now wild hair and drawing in a few deep breaths. Your eyes begin to flutter, your body heavy where it sinks into the mattress. He leans forward and braces his forearms on his thighs, barely sparing you a look at you over his shoulder.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” he warns lowly, bringing you briefly out of the haze coaxing you further and further into an inky black abyss, “do you understand me? Never again.”
The words go unspoken, like so many had done before—I can’t lose you, too.
-
everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal​, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories​, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks​, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair​, @alexxavicry​, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist​, @outercrasis​, @thisshipwillsail316​, @toxicfrankenstein​, @hotchlover​, @ew-erin​, @mishasminion360​, @jitterbugs927​, @penelopeimp​, @woodland-mist​, @pedro-pastel​, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell​, @1andthesame​, @elegantduckturtle​, @captain-jebi​, @magpie-to-the-morning​, @sharkbait77​, @sleep-tight1​, @musings-of-a-rose​, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23​, @frasmotic​, @songsformonkeys​, @loonymagizoologist​, @aynsleywalker​, @ruhro7​, @bluestuesday​, @what-iwish-you-knew​, @princess-djarinn​, @totallynotastanacc​, @girlofchaos​, @pjkimrn​, @bangaveragewhitewine​, @trickstersp8​, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate​, @ms-loverman-066​, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1​, @tintinn16​, @iceclaw101​, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt​, @tusk89​, @withakindheartx​, @curiouskeyboard​, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance​, @titabel​, @xdaddysprincessxx​, @dnxgma​, @astronomeoww​, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin​, @mando-amando​, @mx-ferelden​, @trinkets01​, @jxvipike​, @thesmutslut​, @thereisaplaceintheheart​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @mwltwo, @loveslide​, @artsymaddie​, @untitledarea​, @sukunababe​, @emiemiemiii​, @your-slutty-gf​, @wisecolornight​, @emilianamason​, @justreblogginfics​, @marcmurdock​, @everythingisspokenfortbh​
joel miller: @jujuliaispunk​, @joelmiller67​, @tubble-wubble​, @uwiuwi​,
plus my two gorgeous babes who i think will enjoy: @charnelhouse & @frannyzooey
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hanjsquokka · 1 month
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Caramel Macchiato - [ Kim Seungmin ]
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🩷 SYNOPSIS : Seungmin hated the morning shift. He hated the way some people thought they could say whatever they wanted to him just because he wasn't able to hand them their scalding hot drink quick enough. You were an enigma of sorts the second he saw you walk in. And suddenly, the six hours he spent every day were too short.
GENRE : fluff, strangers to potential lovers
PAIRING : barista!seungmin × f!barista!reader
CONTENT WARNING : none
WORD COUNT : 2.5K
AUTHOR'S NOTE : I honestly had a lot of fun writing this even though I'm not that satisfied with the ending. The title is inspired by BTS' song Coffee, which is one of my favorites (yes, I wrote it with Jungkook's voice in mind). Hope you enjoy <3 (part of valentines collab with @stayconnecteed )
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The bristly cloth of a rag scratched his palms as Seungmin wiped down the counter. The morning rush died down, leaving behind a quiet lull in the coffee shop he was working in. He looked up at the clock. Five more hours until his shift ended. It had been nearly a week since the manager of the shop asked him to work the morning shift rather than the evening one because they were down an employee. Seungmin didn't want to. He really didn't. He hoped the blank stare would send a clear message — please go find someone else — but the man simply didn't understand that. Since the money for his vocal lessons were coming from the very paycheck the manager said he'd bump up, Seungmin reluctantly agreed.
The morning rush hour was a living nightmare. Annoyed and moody adults trying to get their daily dose of caffeine before they headed to their jobs they willingly applied to with a sour face, barking at whoever talked back to them until they've had a shot of expresso. Then they would get mad when he didn't make their coffee fast enough. He'd nearly bit his tongue off trying to hold back a sharp reply that would easily get him in trouble. Instead, he swallowed back the sentences and continued doing his work, trying his best to ignore them.
Seungmin didn't understand why those people were like that. Obviously he'd give them what they ordered for. Handling hot, steaming coffee was difficult. And even with two people on deck, the coffee shop was located in mid downtown — of course there would be a lot of people rushing in.
He was honestly about to give up and beg the manager to give him the evening shift instead, but that was when you walked into the shop. Wearing the same beige shirt with the coffee shop's logo printed onto the pocket. You greeted the manager with a bright smile, asking him how he was. You disappeared into the locker room beside the kitchen and came back with a brown apron in hand.
“Oh, hi?” You said as you approached Seungmin, a puzzled expression forming on your face. He mirrored the same, because who were you? And why did his heart stutter as you drew closer to him?
“Y/n, he's Seungmin. He's not new, don't worry. He used to be on the evening shift.” The manager told you and went into the kitchen, presumably to speak with the guy in there about how they ran out of croissants.
You looked relieved when the man told you Seungmin wasn't new. “Ah, sorry. I've had exams the whole week. I didn't know you were dealing with this alone.” You chuckled. “I apologize.”
Seungmin, for the first time in his life, found himself starstruck. Utterly starstruck by the person in front of him. His words betrayed him, so he simply nodded and turned away to clean the expresso machine before he could embarrass himself more.
He was dumbfounded. Because when had he ever been at a loss of words like that? The answer was never. He was witty and always had a snark reply waiting on the tip of his tongue when his friends made a joke.
It was just the two of you, working in silence. The other guy (was it Jeno?) had gone out to run an errand. There weren't that many customers, just the occasional one whom you greeted like they were old friends. You easily struck up a conversation with the person in front of you. It was like Seungmin was witnessing witchcraft. Not only were you able to keep a smile on the customer's face but you were making whatever they needed in the blink of an eye and handed it to them, telling them to come by again soon. He made awkward eye contact with you every now and then, but he still hadn't managed to say a word.
The next day, you were there before him, looking far too optimistic for someone to be at seven in the morning. For some reason, that didn't irk Seungmin as much as other people did. He wasn't against positivity and happiness, but he expressed those emotions in different ways. Ways other people didn't like. While they spread happiness in smiles and good vibes, engulfing their close ones in lingering hugs, he would add an extra pump of chocolate in their drink and made sure the latte art looked extra nice. You belonged to the former category. He could tell as the usual bustle of people walked in. You handled them all with such ease, he had to mentally slap himself to get back to his work and stop staring at you.
The two of you just clicked, working in harmony seamlessly without uttering a single word, despite never formally introducing yourselves to each other. The mornings started to become a thing Seungmin looked forward to. The six hour shift seemed too less. Every day he woke up, a skip in his step because of the fact that he could see you. Not that he like liked you or anything. His feelings were a whirlwind or chaos ever since you stepped foot into his life. His usually self poofed away, leaving behind a shy boy who could barely look you in the eye.
Although he was slightly jealous of your outgoing personality, he found it endearing the longer he worked with you. You remembered every little detail about everyone — from a man's promotion to a school kid's test grades. And you weren't doing it on purpose. You genuinely liked knowing about people and tried to change their day for the better. He heard you tell Jeno that you would like to be the reason someone smiled at least once that day.
Seungmin didn't speak with you directly, but your attitude was bringing a change in him too. His friends were the first to notice the change in him when they dropped by the coffee shop one day. Seungmin happened to be serving another customer and he looked happy instead of his regular blank expression. It was a nice change. When asked about it, he simply glanced in your direction, that infectious smile plastered all over your face as you placed fresh brownies in the showcase. You found joy in the most miniscule things, it was bewildering to him but he found it rather cute.
Hyunjin noticed his friend's gaze on you and for once, he didn't interrupt or tease him. A soft smile on his face, he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, watching the way Seungmin was looking at you. He wasn't a fool to see that his friend had much more than platonic colleague feeling towards you, whether he understood it himself or not.
The morning shift was starting to be somewhat productive. Once the majority of the people left as soon as the clock struck eight thirty, the place was empty except for the occasional one or two people. He had time to do whatever he wanted. Sometimes he cleaned down the tables and restocked the showcases. Other times, he would study. His daily vocal lessons were taking a toll on him. Not that he would ever quit. But he did have his moments of stress.
A ceramic mug was placed in front of him with whipped cream and caramel syrup piled on top of it. He turned away from the papers for his vocal lessons he'd been hunched over and looked at you. There was no customer in the shop, so you definitely weren't mistaken when you placed it in front of him. Besides, he was sitting behind the counter next to the cash register.
“Caramel Macchiato. Think of it as an apology —” Apology? — “if I managed to upset you in some way, I know I can be a bit too much —”
“I'm not mad at you?” That came out as a question. Not the tone Seungmin was hoping for, but he decided to go with the flow. “What made you think that?” Another dumb question. He'd been borderline ignoring you for the past week. Obviously you'd think you'd done something to upset him which in fact the complete opposite. “Nevermind, I can see why you'd think that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning around in the bar stool so he was facing you properly. “I'm sorry. I — uh, I'm Seungmin.”
“Y/n.” Your mood brightened up once he said that he wasn't mad at you. “You can keep the latte though. That one is my specialty.” You smiled, your eyes drifting from his face to the mug, eagerly waiting for him to try some. Which he did. It was… perfect. Not too sweet and the caramel didn't come on too strong. He used his thumb to wipe off the excess whipped cream over his mouth, a satisfactory nod following which made you beam. “Is it good?”
“Very.” Your bright smile was making him crack a small grin as well.
“You should start smiling more.” You pointed out, wiping your hands on the towel tucked in your apron pocket. “It suits you.”
The days that followed were filled with conversations between the two of you, although you were the one doing most of the talking. He didn't mind. He found a strange sense of happiness in seeing you ramble on and on about your cat or about the good grade you got on the test you were stressing about. He found himself wanting to know more and more about you. To see you more than the stupid six hour shift.
The insecure part of his mind told him that the smiles you gave him were the same as the ones you gave everyone else. It was just your nature. Being a living, breathing Pinkie Pie — making a change in an another person's day your life's sole mission. You were only talking to him because Jeno usually helped in the kitchen. Seungmin was just… the same as everybody else.
He didn't want to be everybody else.
You should smile more. It suits you.
Your words rang in his head day and night. Were you being nice or did you genuinely mean that? But you always meant whatever you said. You weren't afraid to hide your true thoughts, although you often sugar-coated your words so you wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings.
There was a new thought arising inside him that he tried to play off. Seungmin turned to his right, watching you make someone's drink. The morning rays of sun made your skin look golden, highlighting the pink tint of the lip gloss you applied that morning.
How could someone be so effortlessly breathtaking when making a cappuccino?
He wasn't foreign to the feeling of love, but you were something else entirely. You gave him a smile whenever you met his eyes, an action that made his cheeks turn pink as he looked away.
“Something on your mind?” You asked as you took a donut out of the showcase.
“No…” He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”
“You've been piling a little too much whipped cream onto that latte.” His eyes widened when he looked at the cup in front of him, a mountain of whipped cream sitting on top. His ears turned red when you chuckled. All the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop canceled out and it was only the sound of your laughter and the thumping of his heart in his chest that rang in his ears. He liked it. He liked hearing you laugh. He liked being the reason of your happiness.
He liked you.
That was a strong revelation. Normally, he'd let those thoughts mull over in his head for a while, but not this time. An idea formed in his head and he began to put his plan into action. He grabbed a cup and started making a latte.
“I do have something on my mind.” He said a while later, when you were sitting idly on your phone.
“What is it?” You asked, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. Your curious face made him hesitate for a moment. He took off the baseball cap he was wearing and ran his finger through his brown hair before focusing on you again.
“You.”
“Me?”
He swallowed. Seungmin picked up the drink he'd been trying to perfect and put it in front of you. He was scared. Your once beaming expression and turned into furrowed brows and an emotion he couldn't gage.
“Caramel Macchiato?”
“Jeno helped.”
A wide, toothy grin broke onto your face. “And here I thought I annoyed you.”
“The only thing that's annoying me is that you aren't trying my coffee.” He tried to act annoyed, but he wasn't able to play down the joy he was feeling.
You laughed, taking a big gulp from the ceramic mug. “Not bad.” You gave an appreciative nod. “I could teach you though.”
“Oh yeah?” Seungmin stepped closer.
“Yeah. Consider it a date.”
“It's a date now?” It was a rhetorical question, he knew that. A bubbling feeling arose in him when you stood up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He could smell the caramel on you as you lingered close to him for a second before pulling back. He couldn't hold back the happy grin this time, letting it take over as he looked into your eyes. “I want to take you out on a proper date.” His hands found yours, holding them with utmost care, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.
“Well I would hope so. I do have better clothes than this uniform.” He chuckled. “And I want to see more of that smile.” You were definitely something different.
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mutable-manifestation · 3 months
Text
Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 3
Part 1 & 2
***
The lab is empty when they get to Fenton Works, his parents busy off helping the JLD wherever it was they were working from.
The journey the rest of the way to the Far Frozen passes relatively quickly under the weight of discussing how to reverse engineer the sarcophagus of forever sleep to make Naptime Box 2: Vlad Edition.
Could they probably just beat him up with the right plan and aid? Sure. But then they risk having to play royal hot potato (Danny doesn't want it and he doubts most of the allies he has would want the extra responsibility. Assuming there are responsibilities - Danny wouldn't know since there hasn't been a king, for all intents and purposes, since well before he became a halfa so who knows what the position even means in the context of the Zone).
Plus it would be way more satisfying to shove him in a box. Vlad gets a nice long nap and Danny gets to live the rest of his half-life without worrying about his Dad getting stabbed or something if Vlad starts feeling impatient.
It would also give Danny plenty of time to find some way to buy the Packers - not because he wants them, just because it would be really funny if Vlad eventually woke up to find that the only thing he wanted other than Maddie was now also very permanently out of reach.
The city of Green Bay could fold eventually, after all. But Danny? Danny would never yield, just to spite him, and Vlad would know that.
He probably won't actually do it, seeing as a) expensive and b) probably complicated.
But it would be really funny.
Their discussion on the ethics of using the Fenton Stockades as the base for the Box cut off as they land.
Without the distraction of their chat the adrenaline of panic comes rushing back, and he transforms as he steps out of the Speeder, nyooming to hover in front of Frostbite so quickly that the entire welcoming party - Frostbite somehow manages to have one arranged every time he drops by, and Danny is usually willing to at least try and indulge them since it seems to make them happy - jolts in surprise.
"Greetings!" Frostbite smiles wide, arms open in a grand welcoming, the only hint of lingering surprise the trails of slightly puffed up fur up his arms and the sides of his neck that has already mostly smoothed itself back out. "The Far Frozen welcomes the Great One and friends-"
"Hey Frostbite sorry for being abrupt but I'm kind of freaking out and you seemed like the best person - uh, ghost to go to because you always seem to know lots of things and I kind of need to know what's going on as soon as possible just in case it's a worst case scenario because the Justice League came to talk to my parents about some papers and I probably haven't mentioned them to you before because they're awful and I thought my parents made them but surprise I was wrong! Which is good! Except the League was mostly worried about them maybe causing the new ghost king to war with the human realm because apparently there's a supernatural branch of the Justice League and they think there's a new Ghost KingTM as in the Ghost King after Pariah Dark and I'm kind of freaking out because if there is a new ghost king there's actually a chance it's Vlad and oh ancients please tell me it's not Vlad or that the League heard wrong please."
Sam and Tucker had caught up by then, coming to stand on either side of him as Frostbite blinked.
"You are...asking me the identity of the current High King?" He asks, face scrunched in a bewildered expression.
"Oh my gosh Batman was right!?" He floats a bit higher at the news. "Please just tell me it's not Vlad! Uh, Plasmius."
"Plasmius?" Frostbite asks, eyebrows crawling higher. "Certainly not! What in the realms - do you truly not know?"
"Oh thank goodness," Danny sighs, sinking back to his usual level. "Not Vlad, okay, one less disastrous possibility. And whoever it is probably already knows they're the king and nothing bad has happened yet so it's probably fine, right?"
He looks back to meet Frostbite's eyes.
"Wait, nothing bad has happened yet, right? Like, is everything okay? I know Pariah caused you guys a lot of grief before; the new guy 's not going around causing trouble for you and you just haven't told me because you're worried about being a bother, right?" He frets, eyes flicking about, searching for fresh injuries on the various members of the welcoming party.
"...No, Great One," Frostbite answers, blinking away the surprised expression to be replaced by something soft. "Though I, and all the Far Frozen, are honored by your concern. While Pariah Dark is no longer the High King of the Infinite Realms, I can assure you, with utmost certainty, that you have nothing to fear from his successor. But I believe we have much more to discuss. Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk - and get your human friends out of the cold."
***
It didn't take them long to reach a sitting room, and soon enough they were all settled into the enormous, fuzzy chairs in one of the warmer rooms available, Danny and Frostbite each with a cup of shaved ice tea while Sam and Tucker were offered beverages warm enough to steam in deference to their need for warmth.
Once everyone had taken a sip - or bite - Danny launched back into his questioning.
"So did Dark have a kid hidden away somewhere or did some kind of council finally decide on his replacement? Actually can ghosts even have - wait right Box Lunch, forgot about that on purpose but never mind. Or is there some fourth option that isn't those or trial by combat that we didn't think of?"
"Before I answer that, Great One, may I ask why you have already discounted trial by combat?" He returns curiously.
"Because if it was trial by combat it would be Vlad - er, Plasmius - and you already said it isn't him."
"Or it could be you," Tucker ribs, waggling his fingers at him.
"We already talked about why it couldn't be me, Tuck," Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his... smoothie?
"Oh? And why do you think it would be Plasmius?" Frostbite asks.
"Because! I may have fought Pariah Dark, and sure I put him back in the sarcophagus, but I was running on fumes by that point, and he was still slamming around in there! Vlad, as much as I hate to admit it, is the one that turned the key and made sure he stayed locked away. It took almost everything I had to keep him pinned long enough. If...if he'd been even a few seconds later I probably would've died the rest of the way before he even had the time to break out a second time."
"But had you not put him there, no key would have mattered," Frostbite begins quietly. "Plasmius was no match for Pariah Dark; he was defeated in an instant the first time they clashed."
"Well, yeah, but so was I," he protests, not liking the direction the conversation is beginning to take.
"And yet, you alone went to face him a second time. You alone stood against the King of All Ghosts while your armies clashed."
"Our-!? I didn't have- you mean the ghosts that came to help me???" Danny sputtered, incredulous. "They weren't an army they were just-"
He pauses, searching for words that would not come.
"They were just a large group of ghosts who sided with you, who aided you in combat and kept the multitudes distracted while you went to face their leader alone. However you thought of them at the time, whatever they were to you up till then or are to you now, after, in that moment they were your army."
"Danny's totally the ghost king, isn't he?" Sam drawls after the brief silence that follows.
"Indeed," Frostbite answers her, but he looks Danny in the eyes as he does so. "You are the savior of the Ghost Zone, Pariah's Bane. And you are the High King of the Infinite Realms."
"I cheated!" Danny blurts out, shooting up to float above his chair.
"Cheated?" Frostbite's lips twitch as he fights down a smile.
"I had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton! That's totally cheating! Don't combat trials have to be honorable or something?!" He begs.
Frostbite chuckles.
"I apologize, Great One, but I am afraid there is no such thing as an honorable war," he says, expression briefly turning solemn. "And even if it were, just as you had your "Ecto-Skeleton," did not Pariah have his ring and crown?
You issued a challenge and he answered, your armies clashed while the two of you stood against each other and each other alone; you alone put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and you alone held it shut long enough for Plasmius to turn the key.”
Danny drifts back down to his seat as Frostbite speaks, then continues slouching further with every word.
“I am given to understand that Plasmius likes to think of others as pawns on his own personal chessboard,” he says, “But at the time he was but another ghost, come to fight Pariah's army on your behalf - as a member of your army. A pawn, to paraphrase his own words, that you used to topple a king - not through any intentional manipulation, but through the sheer magnetic charisma of your willingness to stand against monsters like Pariah Dark and of your ability to do so. The confidence to stand alongside you that such strength inspires. 
He would not have approached if he did not believe you could win - would not risk endangering himself so. At best, you could consider him a referee, calling the match to a close once it was decisively in your favor.
Plasmius may think of existence as a game with himself as the only player, and he may have been acting in his own self-interest overall, but by every measure, in this instance, he was undeniably your piece.
The Zone itself acknowledges your right to rule by the way the crown of fire sits where you left it, unmoving on the floor of Pariah's keep until the day you finally choose to wear it, no matter how many hands may try to move it."
Frostbite's words are slow and measured, but as undeniable as the creeping of a glacier. And by the time they cease, Danny has sunk so far as to end up an undignified heap on the floor before his chair.
The trio remains silent as they absorb his words.
Minutes pass before Danny finally speaks.
"If the crown can't be taken, then how did I get it from Pariah?" He questions, a final hope that Frostbite may be mistaken.
"It will only remain unmoved until you first put it on. After that, it will be up to you whether it stays safe on your head."
Danny groans his despair, final bit of hope shattered.
"I must apologize again, Great One," he says solemnly. "Had I known you were unaware of your station, I would have informed you sooner."
He frowns heavily, looking into the distance thoughtfully.
"The Observants should have informed you long before now."
"Well, that explains it. The Observants hate Danny's guts," Tucker says.
"To neglect their duties for such a reason...," He trails off, his glower highlighting the inhuman nature of his visage. 
The trio fidget.
Danny coughs after a few seconds of tense silence.
“Uh, speaking of duties,” he begins, relaxing as Frostbite’s expression smooths back into something kind and polite as he listens, “What exactly does the Ghost King even do? Like. Pariah was locked away for… a long time? I guess. So does the Zone even need a King? Can’t I just, like, resign?”
“I suppose it might seem that way from a younger ghost’s perspective - Pariah has been locked away for millenia, after all, and the Zone is still in one piece.” 
Frostbite pauses, leaning back in his seat and taking another bite of his drink. 
“However. What you must understand, Great One, is that the problems caused by the absence of a king in the Infinite Realms are not the whirlwind that such a thing would be in the living realm - social order is affected, but the speed of bureaucracy is slower by orders of magnitude in the Realms, and there is not the same level of inter-reliance that the living tend to require - but rather, they are winds and waters sliding against a rock, chipping away at it bit by bit until it is either worn smooth… or the whole structure collapses under its own weight.”
“How does not having a king cause dimensional collapse!?” Tucker shrieks, clutching his cup like a lifeline.
“How long do we have before it collapses?” Sam asks urgently not a second later.
“Oh shit, how long do we have before it collapses???” he echoes, hunching over his cup enough that the steam adds a layer of fog to his glasses.
Danny sits bolt upright, whipping wide eyes away from his friends to join them in staring at Frostbite.
“Total collapse would take millenia more to truly begin,” he placates before taking a more grave expression. “This does not mean that there will not be issues before that point, however; the symptoms of the High King’s absence have begun to show this past millennium. But rest assured, there is time enough to heal the wounds that have been wrought. The only permanent damage would be the collapse itself, and that, as I said, is millenia away.”
“Is… is that why you never mentioned it to me before?” Danny asks, dropping back to the ground in relief. “Because it’s not urgent and you figured I’d just…get to it eventually? Actually, why did you think I knew if you knew that the crown was still in Pariah’s Keep?”
“It is the duty of the Observants to observe, but also, as you have experienced, to oversee - the timeline, trials, the general functioning of the zone. Without a king to report to, much of their ability to act is crippled, of course - their ability to interfere directly with the timeline has always been severely restricted, their options for sentencing are severely reduced, and there are some things the Realms require that only the High King can provide - but one duty remains unaffected: overseeing the ascension of new kings. 
Coronations have taken many forms in the past, from a quick swap in the battlefield to a formal ceremony to a celebration that lasted a decade. Given the dark era we are, at last, able to put behind us and the non-urgent nature of even the most severe problems that the Realms are currently affected by, I had assumed that the large delay was in preparation for that last form - the lead-up to a grand celebration.”
“Except instead it’s just them being petty,” Sam notes, sitting back up from her own relieved slouch. 
Danny groans, leaving his tea to float and covering his face with his hands.
“Why couldn’t it have just been as easy as shoving Vlad in a box,” he whines.
“I mean, we still can?” Tucker offers, prompting Sam to smack him over the head before pausing consideringly.
“OW!”
“He might be right, actually,” she says, ignoring his exclamation. “Given Vortex’s trial and sentencing, there’s clearly some kind of legal system in the Zone that isn’t just Walker on a power trip. No doubt he’s broken some kind of Actual Realms Law - I’d be surprised if breaking Pariah out like he did wasn’t some form of highly illegal - so you could probably send him to actual Ghost Jail. It’s certainly where he belongs, given all the….”
She makes a vague gesture with her hand in lieu of words.
“That doesn’t resolve the problem of I Don’t Wanna Be A King!” Danny exclaims, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air.
Then he turns to Frostbite, eyes pleading. 
“Can’t you be king?” he asks. 
Frostbite opens his mouth to reply, but Danny steamrolls over him.
“It makes sense! You already know how to lead people! And your people love you! You already know about all the king stuff too! You’ve beaten me in spars before! We’d just have to go to the keep, I put on the crown, you beat me, and problem solved!”
Frostbite’s smile is a mix of amused and pitying.
“I have only ever beaten you in training spars, Great One, and you and I both know that is largely because they were focused on improving your skill with ice and ice alone. Even if I could defeat you in a true all-out fight as you are, I believe you underestimate the boost granted by the crown of fire.”
“I can just put it on then take it off again before we fight! And we can stick to ice!”
“I’m afraid it is not so simple,” he shakes his head. “If you do not give it your all, the crown - the Realms - will not recognize the transition. The only way to “throw the match” successfully would require your opponent to fully End you: to crush your core and snuff your spirit from the very fabric of existence. I am unwilling to do such a thing, and I sincerely hope you would not ask it of me - or, indeed, of anyone.”
Danny paled enough that he nearly matched his human form in skin tone.
“Right. Let’s… let’s not do that, actually.”
“On the bright side, you can probably weasel ruling tips out of Aquaman in exchange for not declaring war on the Living Realm!” Tucker chirps, aiming to cheer him up.
“I’m not going to threaten the Justice League!” he yelps, scandalized.
“But you probably won’t have to threaten them,” Sam chimes in. “They’re already trying to summon you, you already know their goal is to avoid a war. As long as you don’t ask for anything unreasonable, they should be inclined to give you what you want in exchange for peace.”
“Once you offer peace, they will be invested in your successful rule of their own volition as a means of perpetuating said peace,” Frostbite corrects. “If you would like to set preconditions to an accord you should make them things that will not readily be given as a result of said accord. But before we discuss further, perhaps you can fill me in on why war was a concern in the first place? I believe you mentioned something about papers?”
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hobiebrownbrowser · 9 months
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Don't Get Caught
🔞No Kids Allowed🔞
Hobie Brown x FEM!reader
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Doing something like this was beyond risky, your ass propped up on Miguel's desk as Hobie towers above you. You couldn't believe you let him talk you into this, thick calloused hands roaming up your thighs as he slides off your panties, tossing them into a random drawer.
Hobie knew Miguel had a thing for you, The thought of Miguel finding them in his drawer edging his confidence farther. Since the 'big boss man' was on a mission for a few days how about fucking around?
That's how you ended up here, legs around Hobie's waist as he explores every ounce of your body, Clothes a complete wardrobe malfunction as the clasp of your bra falls off your shoulders, lips making contact with your neck as Hobie leaves hickeys.
His lips placed onto yours as he pulls on your bottom lip. The silver ball in his mouth clinging against your teeth, making an odd, but pleasurable sensation rush through you.
The sweetness on the tip of your tongue sending Hobie's mind into a chaotic mess. If Miguel were to walk in right now you'd both be screwed, knowing that man takes his missions very seriously and probably doesn't even need a few days.
The thought grew the fear and excitement that clouded your mind. A whimper leaving your lips as Hobie's fingers make contact with your soaked cunt, Rubbing circles around your clitoris, stopping your brain from functioning as you sorely enjoy the pleasure. Your hand grasping around his arm as he pushes a finger inside of you, Falling for your delicious moans.
He added another finger, thrusting them in such a slow pace just to make you plead for him to go faster.
He obliged, his eyes fixated on your pussy as he tells you to lean back, taking up the sight of your arousal coating his fingers. A smirk on his face as your pussy calls for him, Squelching with every thrust of his fingers.
He turned you around on your stomach, your legs dangling from how tall the table was. His pants falling to his ankles as he prepped you a little bit more, smearing his pre-cum all over your flushed ass before leaving his own red handprint.
The tip of his cock probing at your entrance as he waits for you to beg, His name falling from your lips, satisfying his needs. The tip of his thumb delving into your anal as he slowly pushes inside of you, taking his sweet time to make this last.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't "want" to get caught, Taking what Miguel wanted for so long right in front of his eyes. The thought sending an unknown shiver up his spine as he snaps his hips into you, pulling your hips back with his palms as he ruts into you.
The table below you threatening to move with how rough he was being, your feet barely touched the ground, having to host yourself up on Hobie's shoes, Your back arching as he finds that delightful spot inside you.
He was sure anybody that walked by could hear your not so discreet moans, Your mouth agape as his cock grew thicker inside of your swollen cunt. His groans becoming feverish as he aims directly at the squishy spot inside you, abusing your ass with constant redness.
Every smack echoing louder throughout the small office, Your hands gripping onto the edge of the table as his hips halt with one last thrust, Earning a broken cry from you as he fills you up with his cum, your legs trembling as he makes a mess below you, his cum seeping down your thighs as he pulls out, Giving your ass one last smack before helping you put your clothes back on, cleaning up the mess you both made as it reeks of sex.
Sneaking back out the office as if nothing happened, his hand around your waist as he leads you down the hallway, kissing your cheek as he asks if you were hungry. His grin still in your brain as he tightly grips your ass.
It could've gone 'worse'.
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Author note: I know it's a little short, I love them that way lol
Commission completed! (Click here to see the commission!)
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799 notes · View notes
amalthiaph · 11 days
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✨ NOT-SO-SPOILER-FREE ART ✨
I am back on my Actors AU series with a very rushed illustration of these two. Somehow, I enjoy drawing Riyo with the Clones.
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To anyone whom I owe an art to: I can now go back to working on your commissions because I am once again ✨satisfied✨ with my own work. Just a little background: I sometimes get something like a short art block and during those times, I try not to work on commissioned art because I would NEVER want to deliver an artwork I am not satisfied with. So, thank you for being so understanding.
Also, there are two people who noticed that small detail I put in my last Actors AU entry (with Echo). It's a little something I add since I picture them as actors portraying our favorite characters. In past illustrations and on this one, you may notice that their armors aren't complete and this is because I picture that these are taken during their downtime, so some of them may not have their full costumes on.
And this is like the third time I drew Riyo and second time drawing Rex.
Unsolicited Life Update: I got bit by one of the neighborhood cats. He was very angry that day and fought my pet cat. I came to save my cat but the other cat attacked my right leg. I got four cat bites and sixteen scratches. We immediately ran to an animal bite clinic where I got my vaccines. Yesterday, I went back for my second dose.
Link to the rest of this series:
1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15
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daisynik7 · 1 year
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In Between
Pairing: Eren x f!reader x Reiner
Genre: college au, one-shot
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: ~4.5k
cw: threesome, cunnilingus, nipple play, blow job, vaginal sex (doggy), creampie, horny reader (I mean, who isn’t), pet names, use of the term ‘big brother’, but there is no actual incest here I swear and I’m so sorry. This is just filth. 
Summary: Your “big brothers” from Alpha Tau fraternity take care of you for a night. 
Notes: OKAY, so I’ve had this in the back of my mind for a while now. Fun fact for those of you who have read my other series Rush: I originally wanted to make it an Eren x f!reader x Reiner fic but was intimidated about writing a love triangle, so I axed it. Instead, here’s porn with little plot to satisfy this itch. Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated, I would LOVE to hear what y’all think! 
Additional Notes: This might be the smuttiest one I’ve written so far, idk, you be the judge. As always, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Also, think of this as an alternate universe to Rush, I’m using a lot of details from it, but there is no correlation. Okay, I’m done talking, have fun.
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It’s a Sunday night and Sigma Nu Kappa begins their first chapter meeting of the spring semester. Petra Ral, your sorority’s social chair, stands at the podium, a delighted smile on her face. “Good evening, sisters! I have very exciting news: Alpha Tau has agreed to pair with us this semester! This means we’ll be joining them to collaborate on charity events and most importantly, social gatherings.”
There’s a collection of giggles and pleased hums. Mikasa, your big sister and best friend, nudges you. “This should be fun.”
Although the two of you are the same age, Mikasa rushed SNK as a freshman, you joined as a sophomore this past fall. She picked you to be her “little sister” when you were a pledge, adopting you into her family line called The Angels. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable. 
Petra continues. “A neat thing we’ll be doing is combining families! We’ll be assigning each of our family lines to one in Alpha Tau. Consider them your ‘big brothers’. FYI, these were assigned at random.” 
She passes a stack of papers to each row. When you get yours, you try to find which family you’re being paired with. Before you can, Mikasa scoffs. “Of course.”
Next to The Angels is The Warriors. You turn to her with a questioning look. “The Warriors?”
“Guess who?”
You pause to think, then answer, “Eren?”
“Yup. Random my ass,” she jokes. 
Eren is Mikasa’s actual brother, older by a year. You’ve never met him in person, but you’ve heard plenty of stories about him from her. Petra notices her reaction and grins. “Okay, maybe yours is not so random. It just makes sense!” 
“So, what are we supposed to do with our assigned family?”
“It’s just for fun. It’s a nice way to get to know the brothers and build a strong connection with them. They’ll look out for you and take care of you, especially at the parties.” 
Since joining last semester, you haven’t properly bonded with anyone in the other organizations, too busy acclimating to sorority life as a new member. Now, with a bit more exposure to Greek Life, it’s time to build your own relations, make new friends. Maybe even find a boyfriend. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and you find yourself desperate for it. This new partnership with Alpha Tau is a good opportunity to find potential candidates. 
And, with the help of your new big brothers, you might be able to achieve this.  
~~~
The first exchange between Sigma Nu Kappa and Alpha Tau happens on Friday night, inside the fraternity house. The theme for the party is Game Day. Everyone is required to wear a sports jersey of some kind. You and Mikasa come in oversized basketball jerseys paired with black bicycle shorts. When you arrive to the house, it’s packed with your sisters and Alpha Tau brothers. Immediately, your big sis leads you into the kitchen where the drinks are. 
You help yourself to a serving of Jungle Juice, the common frat party concoction. Mikasa, already on her second, mentions, “I texted Eren. He’s finishing a game of beer pong with Reiner, so they should be meeting us soon.”
You chug the rest of your drink, excited to finally meet The Warriors. Several minutes pass, in which you spend time chatting with your sisters and refilling on more Jungle Juice. You turn around once you hear Mikasa yell, “Finally!”
In front of her are two well-built men, one with dark, brown hair wrapped in a stylishly messy man-bun, wearing a sleeveless jersey, showing off his tone arms. The other has a shorter, blonde cut, standing a few inches taller in a football jersey, displaying his broad shoulders. 
“Sorry, the game went longer than expected. Neither of us could sink a shot,” the brunette explains. You assume this is Eren, based on family pics Mikasa has shown you. “So, where’s our new little sis?”
You step towards them, hovering beside Mikasa to introduce yourself. They both smile at you, shaking your hand. “Welcome to the family.”
You exchange small talk, asking the standard questions to break the ice. Reiner, Eren’s big brother in the fraternity, is a senior, scheduled to graduate this spring with his bachelors in psychology. He hopes to eventually become a therapist. Eren is a junior, majoring in education to become an elementary school teacher. You were expecting them to be intimidating and arrogant, the stereotypical frat boys. Lucky for you, they are surprisingly easy to talk to.
In the midst of your conversation, Mikasa checks her phone and announces, “Jean just got here. I’m going to hang out with him for a bit, is that cool?” She seems to be directing it at you, specifically. 
“Don’t worry, Mikasa,” Eren says. “We’ll take care of her. Right, Reiner?” 
He nudges his big brother, who smirks. “Yeah, we’ll take care of her, alright.”
As soon as Mikasa leaves to hang out with her boyfriend, the energy shifts. Maybe it’s your imagination, but there’s a different vibe being alone with your new brothers. They have polite expressions on their faces, but behind it is something…sinister? Wicked? Naughty?
You refill with more liquor, your nerves getting the best of you now that Mikasa is no longer there to protect you. Before you tip the drink into your mouth, Reiner intercepts and covers the lid with his palm, stopping you. “Don’t drink that anymore. All that Jungle Juice will give you a hangover. Let’s take shots instead.”
“Yeah, we got some vodka in the fridge.” Eren opens the door to the refrigerator, reaching in to retrieve a brand-new bottle of Grey Goose. “Big brother here works for the Psych department so he can afford top shelf.”
“Yeah right, like you can’t afford it with daddy’s money,” Reiner retorts. “Did you know his dad is a doctor?”
You nod. “Yeah, Mikasa has mentioned that.”
“I’m not getting a cent after undergrad, though. He’s pretty disappointed that I’d rather be a teacher than take over his practice. At least Zeke’s going to do it.”
“That’s your half-brother?” you ask. Mikasa’s briefing of her adopted family, the Jaeger clan, is coming in handy.
“Yup,” he confirms, pouring the liquor into three cups, poorly estimating a shot’s worth in each.
“Being a teacher is just as important a job as a doctor,” you comment. “Maybe even more, considering the impact you make on the students. It’s a crime how underpaid they are. That’s my opinion.”
He offers you the shot with a small smile, watching you carefully. “What other opinions do you have?”
“Huh?”
“I’m sure you have lots of opinions in that pretty head of yours.” He passes the third cup to Reiner without taking his eyes off you. 
You’re unsure what to make of his comment, so you don’t respond, pretending to be fixated on consuming the shot. The buzz is starting to kick in, cheeks warm, head pleasantly airy, inhibitions loosening the slightest bit. Luckily, you’re being taken care of by your big brothers so that you don’t do anything reckless tonight.
The other two throw back the alcohol easily, Eren quick to refill their cups. He waves the bottle at you. “Want another?”
You refuse. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Can’t hold your liquor?” Reiner asks, moving to stand next you at the counter. 
“I know my limits.” You lean into him, comfy against his large physique. You play with the hem of your jersey, observing the other party goers in the living room, dancing to the music blasting through the speakers. Mikasa and Jean are nowhere to be seen, most likely doing it in his room upstairs. You spot a few of your other sisters dancing alongside the Alpha Tau brothers, having a grand old time.
“Should we dance?” you suggest, hoping they agree. You want to join in on the fun. 
Eren chuckles. “Reiner doesn’t dance.”
He stands up straight, setting his cup down. “That’s not true. I can dance.”
“I didn’t say you can’t dance, I said that you don’t. I have never, ever seen you dance, dude.”
With a mischievous grin, he looks at you and says, “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
In an instant, Reiner is leading you to the living room, Eren following close behind. It’s crowded, the small space not accommodating for the size of this party. The three of you squeeze in the middle, surrounded by other warm bodies, too intoxicated to care about being smushed. Someone shuts the lights off and only a dinky strobe illuminates the room. You start moving to the music, bobbing your head back and forth, swaying your shoulders to the melody of whatever top hit is playing. Eren is in front of you, copying your motions, a lazy smile on his face. Reiner is to your rear, close enough that you feel the fabric of his jersey brush against you. 
Eren leans forward, lips grazing your ear. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He shuffles closer to you, still dancing to the music. 
From behind, Reiner drifts towards you, hands at your waist, his husky voice hot on your other ear. “You look so good dancing like this.”
It’s sweltering now; from the lack of air in the cramped capacity, the alcohol taking its effect, the swing of your hips in tandem with the bass. Or the situation you currently find yourself in, sandwiched by two extremely attractive men, breathing compliments in your ear, exploring your body. They trap you, Eren’s chest basically pressed to yours, your back flat against Reiner. His hands are still at your sides, while Eren reaches for your nape, pulling you in to kiss along your neck. 
You should stop it. That’s what you should do. Whatever this is, it’s wrong. These are supposed to be your quote unquote big brothers. What would Mikasa think? 
But something snaps in you. It’s curiosity. The need to know. What would it be like to be fucked senseless by them? It has your imagination running wild. How can you deny this opportunity? It’s basically being served to you on a silver platter.
“Let your big brothers take care of you,” Reiner whispers, nipping at your ear lobe, grinding his hips on your ass. It’s so wrong. So wrong, you keep chanting in your head. 
Eren fondles your breasts through your clothes. “You want to feel good tonight, right baby? We can help you feel good.”
Is it the pet name that pushes you over the edge? Or is it the allure of being pleasured by two guys at the same time? Either way, you reach behind you to run your fingers through Reiner’s hair while you take your other hand to tug Eren forward into a sloppy kiss. 
“Fuck, I think she wants it,” Reiner murmurs, licking a stripe behind your ear. “Let’s go.” 
“Follow us, baby. We’ll take care of you tonight.” Eren grabs your wrist, leading you upstairs to follow Reiner into his room. It doesn’t seem like he has a roommate, considering the beds are combined to create one that is nearly king-sized. Too busy inspecting the interior design of a typical frat boy, which so far consists of flattened boxes of beer packs hung up like posters and a large Alpha Tau flag strewn across one side of the wall, the sound of the door shutting loudly brings you to your senses. 
You’re very aware now that it’s the three of you, alone in this bedroom, air dense with sexual tension. Suddenly, you’re nervous. You’ve never had a threesome. It’s certainly been a fantasy of yours, but to experience it first-hand, you start having self-doubts if you can really go through with it. 
Eren, sensing your trepidation, puts his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Reiner, who’s already sprawled out on the bed in his boxers, clothes promptly stripped off, adds, “Yeah. We can just chill here. It’s all good.”
They’re not pressuring you, which you appreciate. You’re hesitant, sure. But you haven’t changed your mind. You want this. You want this bad.  
“I want to do it,” you state, removing your shorts and tossing them aside. 
Reiner laughs, sitting up to watch you, shoving his own boxers off. “You’re eager. She’s eager, Eren.”
“Yeah, she is,” Eren muses, tugging at your wrist. “Let’s go to the bed, sweetie.”
Reiner scoots over to make room for you, palming his growing erection, watching Eren strip you nude. When you’re naked, you turn to Reiner to kiss him. He smiles before shoving his tongue into your mouth.
“Lay down for us, baby,” Eren purrs, now naked, boner stiff against his sculpted abs, kissing your stomach. He peers up at you with twinkling eyes, almost innocent, knowing for a fact he’s about to wreck your pussy apart.
Reiner lies beside you, cupping your cheek, large tongue working its way deep inside your mouth. His hand trails down to your chest, squeezing at your breast. “Do you like having your nipples played with?” he asks, lips glossy with spit.
You nod, eyes glancing at Eren, his head positioned between your legs, palms spreading your thighs wide, staring at your pussy already sticky with arousal. Reiner refocuses your gaze on him, muttering, “Pay attention to me, princess.” Another nod and you close your eyes, kissing him, enjoying the soft caress of his hands on your tits. 
Below you, Eren, the fucking menace that he is, doesn’t start slow. He wraps his lips around your clit, swishing his tongue against it until you’re whimpering from pleasure.
“Oh fuck, she likes that, Eren. Keep doing that. I want to see her come all over your face,” Reiner smirks, brushing his rough thumbs on your hardening nipples. He moves down, facing your chest, sucking on your breast until it’s hard and plump. “Fuck, your tits are amazing,” he rasps, flicking his tongue. 
Eren gives you a break, slowly licking your sensitive bud a few times before latching on once more. It’s almost too much, body instinctually jolting from his touch. You endure it, though; the sensation too divine to stop. 
“Finger her, Eren,” Reiner demands, as if reading your mind. The desire to be filled is overtaking everything else.
Tongue flat on your clit, he hums in the response, middle finger teasing your slick entrance before slipping inside, knuckle deep. Still, it’s not enough. Even Reiner knows it.
“Put another,” he growls, eyes focused on your pussy being wrecked as he continues to play with your tits. “Fill her up.”
Eren obeys, sliding his ring finger along with the middle, pumping his digits inside you. You’re a whining mess, unable to control the lewd sounds escaping your mouth. Drool leaks out from the corners of your lips, your tongue lolling out from being fucked out. Reiner chuckles, releasing you with a loud pop. “You’re a loud one, aren’t you? You need something in your mouth to keep you quiet.” He grazes your tongue with his thumb, staring at you hungrily. “Suck on these like they’re my dick.”
All you can do is nod dumbly, grabbing at his thick wrist to stick his three middle fingers down your throat. He pumps them into your mouth as he suckles at your nipples, like an animal desperate for milk.
You’re overstimulated, from having your mouth and pussy stuffed, to your most erogenous zones being consumed by lips and teeth. Your toes curl from the pleasure, throat dry from the endless moaning around Reiner’s rough digits, skin damp with sweat and saliva. The orgasm hits you like a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, exciting every nerve in your body. You whimper on Reiner’s fingers, tickling the back of your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. 
“Fuck,” Eren muffles below you, still lapping at your clit. The wet squelches sound even more lewd from your noticeable orgasm. He flicks his tongue on your sticky mess, smearing it over your puffy bud, repeating the action several times until he’s satisfied.
“Ah, Eren. Fuck,” you breath out, mouth relinquished from Reiner. He has been relentlessly working your tits, swollen and sore from his efforts. When he’s done, he slides back up the bed beside you.
“Look at the mess you made.” He grips at your chin, directing your gaze at Eren, who’s face is glistening, smirk coated in your shiny cum. 
“You did so good for us,” Eren says, crawling up the bed to join you on your other side. He gently pinches your tit, sucking on your neck. Reiner kisses you on the mouth, massaging the other breast. You grasp their hard cocks, stroking them simultaneously, resulting in both of them moaning. 
“Fuck, baby.”
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
“Fuck yeah, she’s such a good girl.”
“So fucking good for us.”
The three of you stay this way for a while, erections growing unbelievably stiff in your fists. One of their hands, at this point you’re not sure whose, is at your clit, tapping it and rubbing fast. You’re convinced that you can come like this if they let you. 
“Think she’s wet enough?” Reiner asks his brother.
“Yeah, she’s really fucking wet, dude. It’s going to feel so fucking good.” Eren answers. “Can you take it, sweetie? Can you take Reiner’s fat cock?”
“I can take it,” you breathe out, needy and aching to be filled again.
Reiner moves to the bottom of the bed. “Are you on the pill?” 
You nod, humming against Eren’s mouth, occupied with kissing him. 
“Good. I want to fuck you raw.”
“Come inside her, Reiner. Give her a fucking creampie,” Eren murmurs, kissing your forehead affectionately, despite the filthy words coming out of his mouth. The way they speak to each other, instructing one another on what obscene act to perform on you next, spurs you on. Makes you feel like you’re in fucking heat, ready to be bred. 
“You want my cum inside you, princess? Want me to fill up that tight cunt?” Reiner spits into his hand then strokes himself, teasing your slit with his tip. 
“Yes,” you respond, voice shaky.
“That’s not enough for him, cutie,” Eren whispers to you. He massages your clit gently as Reiner slides his cockhead up and down your folds. “He likes it when you beg for it.”
You’re too desperate to care about pride. You’re going to beg for this, no matter what. “Please, Reiner. Fuck me, please.”
“That’s more like it,” he grunts, stroking himself faster. “Get in front of her, Eren.”
Eren gives you one last smooch before sitting up and kneeling at the top of the bed, tossing a few pillows to the floor to make space. 
Reiner taps at your hips. “On your hands and knees, slut. And stick that ass up for me.” His voice is raspy, demeanor rougher than a few minutes ago. Something has taken over him; it’s his carnal desire to fuck you into the mattress. 
You do as your told, arching your back to give him a nice view of your pussy, wet and fluttering, ready for cock. Without warning, he smacks your ass cheek, laughing. “I’m going to fuck you so good. You have no fucking idea.”
Eren kneels in front of you, erect and oozing with precum. “You’re so cute, you know that? So pretty.” He caresses you delicately, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Can you suck my dick, baby? Pretty please?”
You’re beginning to understand the dynamic that’s going on here. Eren is sweet, tender, and considerate. Then there’s Reiner: rough, harsh, and greedy. Opposites of each other, working together to tear you to pieces, rip you into shreds. Two sides of the same coin. 
You wrap you fingers around Eren, leaning forward to spread the bead of precum along your lips like gloss. He smiles at you, still cupping your face. “So fucking pretty.” 
Reiner continues to tease you, gathering your slick onto his cockhead to rub it on your bud. “I’m going to fuck you now, princess. Let me take care of this pussy.” Aligned with your entrance, he slowly slides in, your walls stretching to adjust to his girth. You hear him suck in a breath behind you, cursing. “Fuck, you’re tight. Such a good girl.”
“You are a good girl.” Eren pushes past your lips. You take him into your salivating mouth, surrounding him with your wet heat, tongue tracing the prominent vein running along his shaft. “Our good girl. Our good fucking girl.”
You bob your head on his dick, further and further until he’s deep down your throat. You keep him there, swallowing around him, resisting the urge to gag on his cock. Through teary eyes, you peer up at him, looking for approval, wanting him to be proud of the way you take it. He meets your gaze, breathing heavily, eyes wild with lust, staring at your stuffed mouth. His kind disposition from earlier is crumbling; he caresses your cheeks tenderly, but his expression gives him away. Still, he stays still, hesitant to take control.
Reiner, however, is on a different level. He starts fucking you, pulling his cock out halfway only to slam it all the way back in, pace picking up gradually after each thrust. The force causes you to plunge further onto Eren, nose buried in his dark pubic hair, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth. Your muffled whimpers vibrate around him, causing him to moan from the sensation. 
“Fuck, you’re doing such a good job,” he praises, holding your head cautiously. 
Reiner holds you firmly at your hips, fucking you hard and fast, grunting. “Take my cock, princess. Take it like the fucking slut you are.”
You pull off of Eren just enough so that only his tip is engulfed by your mouth. With your fist jerking his shaft, you blow him, swirling your tongue on the slit. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Feels so good. Gonna make me come.”
“Make Eren come,” Reiner huffs. “Make him nut in that slutty mouth.” He’s found your sweet spot, barely pulling out to hit it over and over. You’re soaked around him, convinced that your arousal is dripping onto the sheets, making a mess of his bed.
“I’m coming,” Eren warns, stomach tight, eyes shut. His warm cum shoots into the back of your throat as you suck him off, swallowing every drip. He slumps against the headboard, catching his breath. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, bowing down to kiss your puffy lips. “Thank you.” 
“I’m gonna come soon. Gonna fill you up with this load,” Reiner growls. Your ass smacks against his groin, his heavy balls tapping lightly onto your clit. You’re close to your second orgasm, but you need just a little bit more.
“Come here, Eren. Play with it while I fuck her.” It really is as if Reiner can read your thoughts, aware of exactly what you need to push you over the edge, get you closer to that peak. 
Eren crawls down the bed, kneeling beside you, hand reaching between your legs, finding your swollen bud. When he does, you cry out, “Ah! Fuck!”
They both laugh, Eren brutally rubbing it as he watches Reiner fuck you from behind. 
“Look how creamy it is. That’s all her. She fucking loves it.”
“Our pretty girl loves getting fucked.”
“Pinch her little clit. Make her come on my cock.”
Eren squeezes your clit gently between his thumb and forefinger. It’s too much. You let go, the orgasm so intense, you’re trembling, fists bunched in the bedsheets below you, whining in ecstasy. 
“Holy shit, I’m coming.” Reiner thrusts into you a few more times before his cock spurts inside you. 
“Fuck,” Eren swears, loosening his grip on you.
Reiner stays in you for several seconds, coming down from his high. He slowly pulls out, his cum and yours leaking out of your fluttering hole. They both breathe out a satisfied fuck, staring at the flow of cum dripping out of your slit. Someone, you’re not sure who, plants a smooch on your lower back. Most likely Eren, the more affectionate of the two. You lower your torso onto the bed, relaxing into the mattress, exhausted and satiated from the insanity that just occurred.
Once again, you find yourself sandwiched between them, both facing you, smiling. You turn on your back to stare up at the ceiling, glancing at each of them, unsure what to say.  
Eren is the first to break the silence. “Did you have fun, cutie?” He turns your head towards him, nuzzling his nose with yours.
“Yeah, I did,” you answer, grinning. “That was amazing.”
“You came so much, princess,” Reiner adds, chin grazing the skin of your shoulder, palm tracing languid circles on your breasts. Eren kisses you on the lips while Reiner works on your neck. The three of you stay like this until a phone starts ringing. 
“Shit, that’s probably Mikasa,” Eren mutters, breaking away. He hops off the bed to retrieve his phone on the other side of the room. Reiner quickly turns you toward him, taking this opportunity to kiss you passionately as his brother answers the phone. His arms are snug around you, cozy and comfortable in his warm embrace. 
You don’t pay attention to Eren’s conversation, focused instead on making out with Reiner. It ends as soon as Eren comes back into bed.
“What did Mikasa say?” you ask.
“She’s looking for us. Specifically, you. She’s worried.”
“About what?”
“Probably about us corrupting you,” Eren laughs, nestling his face into your neck.
“I guess she’s on to something,” Reiner responds, copying Eren. 
You snuggle them. “She doesn’t have to know about this. It’ll be our little secret.”
“You’re okay with sneaking around next time?”
“Next time?” In your head, you already decided this would be a one-time kind of deal. Not because you want it to be, but because you assumed they wouldn’t want to do this again. 
“You don’t seriously think this is the last time we’re doing this, do you? Baby, you’re too cute,” Eren says, grinning.
Reiner chuckles. “You’re stuck with us now, princess. You’re way too good to let go. Right, Eren?”
“Yeah. I think we’ll keep you for a while.”
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End Notes: Happy birthday Eren!
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robot-horde · 2 months
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Could I request an nsfw with a fem reader x mirage or bee, like during summer and she has to give them a car wash because they somehow got dirty? It’s hot outside so she’s wearing very little clothing and they’re both wet from the hose and things get steamy? 👀
Satisfied With Your Service
Mirage x Fem!Reader
Dude it feels like forever since I wrote for Mirage. I love making him a sassy dork and always have fun with him if you couldn’t tell from the word count.
Warnings: Suggestive and flirty, but nothing explicit
Word Count: 1.5k
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You stood in your driveway, looking incredibly unamused. One hand was on your hip and the other held a watering hose ready to be weaponized against your friend.
“You did this on purpose,” you accused, frowning and tapping your foot with impatience.
“What?” Mirage shot back, trying his best to sound innocent and offended, but you knew him well enough to know he was a dirty-rotten liar. “Someone would have to be crazy to go get this muddy. I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Mm-hmm, sure. Keep that attitude up and see what happens.”
“What attitude?” he replied and you could almost picture the smug grin on his face.
Without a second thought you pulled the trigger, spraying his alt-mode with a harsh jet of freezing water.
“Hey!” Mirage shouted, startled by the sudden rush of cold water levied at him, “Okay, rude.”
“Yeah, well it was rude of you to get so messy again. Now I’ve gotta be the one to clean up after you.”
“Aw, don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he teased, flashing his headlights, barely noticeable in the late afternoon sun. “If you were really mad about it you wouldn’t have that bikini on.”
Another quick spray of water hit his hood, poorly punishing him like a defiant animal. You gave him your best scowl, looking deadly serious. This was the third time this month he’d needed a “bath”. The brat refused to go to a real car wash because it could “blow his cover”, but it was obviously just a ploy to get you half naked and wet.
“C’mon,” he huffed, “Don’t be like that.”
“I should leave you all nasty like this and make you beg someone else to get clean,” you grumbled, all the while filling a bucket with soapy water. “Asshole,” you grumbled under your breath.
If he heard you, he didn’t reply with any snide remarks. Maybe he didn’t want to test your patience any further. The mech was down bad for you and it was pathetically obvious, so he wouldn’t risk having you follow through on your threat to leave him high and dry.
First came his least favorite part: getting sprayed down with cold water. The pressure got most of the mud off, but the spray came back to hit you, coating your skin in a mist of shining droplets. With how hot it was outside though, you found it to be refreshing. Mirage on the other hand hated it. He tried to stay quiet, but every so often you could hear him hiss at the temperature.
Next was your least favorite part: giving the mech a sponge bath. It was a tedious process interspersed with Mirage’s banter. You didn’t truly mind his flirty comments, but the occasional wolf whistle was a bit embarrassing and you were still on edge about flirting back. He was handsome in a strange alien way, but it was uncharted water and it’s not like you could go ask anyone for advice on how to handle an interspecies relationship with an interstellar being.
The thought ruminated in your mind as you dunked the sponge in soapy water and started washing his side windows. It was easy to keep your distance at this point since you didn’t need to lean over to get hard to reach spots. Soon though, you ran out of easily accessible surfaces and you prepared yourself for getting up close and personal.
It had been a game for months of playfully swatting away his advances, not fully believing he meant it. But he was so persistent and obviously derived entertainment out of it at least. So why couldn’t you join in and have some fun of your own? You could give it a try at least.
When you bent over to clean his wheel wells, you did so slowly, dramatizing the arch of your back in the process. Mirage didn't say anything, but you caught his side view mirrors shifting subtly to get a better view. 
“Make sure you don’t miss anything,” Mirage purred.
You never did, since you didn’t want to hear him complaining about it later, so after thoroughly scrubbing the dirt off the bottom of his door, you moved to focus on the wheel well. As you shifted, you trailed your fingertips along his side. Previously all of your touches had been shielded behind cloth and sponges, so this was new and the change didn’t go unnoticed by Mirage.
Mirage’s mirrors moved again, seemingly out of reflex like a dog sticking their ears up at full attention. You just smiled and continued to wash away the grime, paying special attention to all the curves and edges. Using your fingers to mess with him was easy as you curled them under the well to feel behind the exterior metal. It almost felt forbidden, like it was the equivalent of running your hands under someone’s clothes uninvited.
He seemed to like it though if his engine rumbling was any indicator. “Sorry, just trying to be thorough,” you shrugged and gave him a smug grin.
“This is why I demand your services. You know Autobell wouldn’t do this good,” he replied with a smile in his voice.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to hide your own smile. At least you were having some sort of effect on him, but it wasn’t enough. You’d have to get bolder to match his attitude.
With a careful grace you stood up and walked in front of him. After getting the sponge wet again you started to scrub his hood clean. The further you scrubbed, the more you had to lean over to reach, so you let your bare stomach press against his soapy hood as you stretched to clean every inch.
Just for good measure you decided to move to the side to scrub at the windshield and roof. Careful not to let yourself slip, you reached over to clean the center of his roof, very blatantly rubbing up on him in the process and giving little care to how much of you was touching him.
“Mmph-“ Mirage seemed to choke and you smiled.
“What’s a matter?” You asked with a mocking innocence. “Cat got your tongue or something?” You chuckled.
He didn’t talk back as you stretched further. Mirage was simply too distracted by you pressing your chest hard against his windshield and letting your wet body glide across the soapy glass. There was nothing but a flimsy layer of fabric separating the two of you and excitement started to creep into your system. Maybe you were enjoying this a little more than you’d intended.
“No, uh- Nope. All good here,” he replied, clearing his throat.
You hummed in response, choosing not to relent, instead becoming even more blatant by pausing your cleaning just to casually rub your hand over his frame. You wondered if you could count this as a win, getting him flustered enough he didn’t have a comeback. It was hard not to laugh quietly to yourself at the thought of Mirage having had these fantasies before and being stunned into silence now that they were real.
“Do ya think I missed anything?” you asked while slowly strutting around him, your eyes roaming his frame to scrutinize your work.
He was clean. Probably cleaner than you’d ever gotten him, but it was just too much fun to move around and watch his mirrors adjusting to keep you in view. He wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore, though you weren’t sure he realized.
When you circled back around to his front, you walked up and leaned over his hood once again.
“Oops,” you hummed, “missed a spot!”
You slowly slid your hand up the hood of his alt mode before wiping away a non-existent spot on his windshield. When pulling back, you hesitated, letting your body rest against him for a moment before standing up and planting both hands on his hood.
“Satisfied?” you grinned.
“With the wash or the view?” Mirage purred.
“The wash,” you chuckled. “I know the view was excellent, and I better get a good tip for it.”
“Oh, I can think of a few ways I could repay you,” Mirage said with a playful tone.
You only smiled and gave a final pat to his hood before stepping back and bending over to pick up the hose again. You moved slowly, trying to hide what you were doing by distracting him with the way you were showing off your body.
“Someone sounds excited to show his appreciation,” you teased.
“It’s only polite,” he replied.
You looked back at him over your shoulder with a smile before swiveling around and spraying him with a jet of cold water.
“It’ll have to wait ‘till after all the soap is gone though,” you laughed.
Mirage wasn’t happy about the unexpected spray, but he was far too busy thinking about the implications of your conversation to complain. If you were being serious, it meant that in the future he wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble of rolling around in the dirt just to get close to you, which would be a massive relief. Now, instead of being stuck in his alt mode, he might actually get the chance to put his servos on you, so goodbye cold showers, hello pretty lady.
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zorrasucia · 8 months
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Teach Me Tonight - Part 2
[Part 1] Part 2: [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]
Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Mutual masturbation, P in V sex, Quickie, Oral (F receiving), Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink
Summary: Either Carmy was a very good student or you were absolutely crazy about him. Maybe both. 
After that night, something changed in Carmy. He seemed a lot more comfortable touching you - actually, he seemed to crave it. He didn't mind if Sydney or Tina saw him kissing you good night, usually a quick peck at the back door of the restaurant, promising to text him when you got home. Sometimes, however, the day ended with him cornering you against the back alley, kissing you like he was a man starved, and then wishing you good night with his hair ruffled and a satisfied smirk. Your schedules didn't permit much more but what you had was good.
The bell on the front door rang.
You looked up and found Carmy changing the door sign to closed and walking up to you with purpose.
"Hey, you okay?" you asked with concern. 
"Can I steal you for a minute?" he said, out of breath.
"Sure!"
He grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the changing room.
"Carmy, wha-"
He started kissing you, dirty, his tongue eager and his hands everywhere. After the initial shock, you sighed into his embrace, enjoying the feeling of him all around you, tracing the muscle of his arms over his shirt. You hummed into his mouth. 
Pleasure took over and when Carmy started undressing you, you followed suit. You opened you legs to bracket one of his thighs, getting close. He seemed to enjoy it, grinding against you. It was a lot; the feeling of him vibrating out of his skin on your front and the wall on your back...
"Fuck," Carmy breathed hard against your neck as he unbuttoned his trousers and yours. Before you knew it, he had taken your trousers and your underwear off all at once. 
"You brought something?" you asked into his ear, out of breath and needy.
"Yes, I got you, yes," he groaned as he put the condom on. 
You smiled into his shoulder. He was desperate, out of his mind with want, and he still took care of you. That tenderness turned into lust quickly though when his arms lifted you up against the wall so that you had to hold his shoulders with all your strength and cross your legs behind his waist. He started pounding into you hard, a little painful, the sounds he made were feral - it was so so good.
"Jesus, fuck!" he growled on the side of your face. 
You couldn't speak, the only thing you could utter were choked out, wanton moans. 
Your orgasm surprised you. Between one thrust and the other, you started shuddering with pleasure. It was almost silent, but overwhelming all the same. His hair tickled at your cheek and your legs shook around his waist. Carmy kept you upright as he went on, chasing his peak, and you let him, whispering encouragement.
"That was so hot, Carmy, so fucking hot," you mumbled. "I'd let you do that to me every day."
His hips stuttered then. He let out a moan so lewd that it made you curl your toes and hum with pleasure. He lowered you to your feet as gently as he could with his arms and legs trembling.
"Holy shit," he sighed.
"You can say that again," you replied, your fingers carding through his hair. "What happened?"
"Dunno," he was still trying to catch his breath, lingering in your embrace. "I just- couldn't stop thinking about you. What I'd do to you. And then the lunch rush and- I felt like I needed you right now or I would die."
You nodded, your heart beating faster even though you both were still. 
"I haven't stopped thinking about you either, for the record. Ever since, you know..." you blushed.
"I didn't think it would be that good," he confessed, his face hidden in your neck. "I can't stop thinking about it," he caressed your lower back. "I feel like a fucking teenager or, I don't know, Richie."
You both laughed. 
"I think it's sweet," you said after a while. 
He took a step back to look at you, disbelief painted all over his face. But you leaned over and kissed him tenderly to clear up any doubts. 
"Come on," you said. "Let's get dressed before they realize you're missing."
Carmy put his boxers on and then helped you dress, placing kisses in random places as he went. Then, he quickly dressed himself. He was flushed but his hair looked the same as ever. The same couldn't be said about you - the mirror showed the picture of a well-fucked woman, hair messy and clothes wrinkled. 
"This is vintage, you know?" you reprimanded him playfully as you rearranged your top to actually cover your bra.
"1960s?" Carmy guessed.
"1970s, but close enough," you kissed his cheek and sent him off. "Go! I'll see you later."
He went back for another kiss before running out of the shop and into the restaurant, not before turning the door sign back to open.
~
While a quickie in the back of the store was understandably thrilling, you both agreed that everyone at the restaurant would figure out something was off if Carmy kept disappearing for fifteen minutes, then coming back smiling. So, you started to schedule some time together. It forced Carmy to take time off the restaurant, which initially made you feel guilty until you bumped into Richie one day.
"Looking for Carmen?" he asked, a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
"Yeah, I'll wait, don't worry." You were supposed to be walking together to his apartment for a quiet night in. 
"I have to thank you," Richie said all of a sudden. 
"Thank me?"
"You're keeping him sane - Carmy," he took a deep breath. "He was this, you know, fucking control freak, micromanaging nightmare," he cleared his throat. "He's taking time off, leaving on time, because of you."
You played with the strap of your handbag nervously. How do you reply to that? 
"Uh, you're welcome, I guess."
"I mean it," he insisted. "He's actually sleeping and shit. He's intense. I know," he waved the cigarette around. "But he's- family, you know? I want him to be happy."
You smiled. "I want that too," you said softly.
"Good," he replied simply and walked away just as Carmy got out, jacket and hat on. 
"Was that Richie?"
"Yep," you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 
"What'd he tell you?" he looked nervous.
"Nothing," you shrugged and then added with a smile: "Only that you are very annoying and that he thanked me for taking you away."
"Fuck off," he chuckled and put an arm around you. "Let's go home."
~
Carmy was on top of you, the mattress was swaying back and forth with the force of his thrusts, and your hands were grabbing his ass, keeping him close. You weren't kissing, not really - your lips touched his, mouths open, moaning against each other. It was messy and beautiful. 
"Holy shit," he groaned, picking up speed. 
You arched your back trying to get the right angle, to have his cock hit that spot inside you, but he kept missing. It was a little frustrating but you held on to him; his skin was warm and soft, and the sounds he made were heavenly. It was all for you, it was everything.
"Carmy," you moaned softly.
"Oh, fuck," his climax hit him like a train; he collapsed on top of you, hips still trembling. You shifted to hold him close to your chest, your hands caressing his curls. The back of his neck was wet with sweat. 
After a little while, he gathered enough strength to roll off from you, his breaths still labored. 
"I love how you sound when you come," you confessed, tracing his jawline with your finger. He hummed, soft smile and closed eyes. 
Suddenly, he opened his eyes. "Wait, you didn't-?"
You shook your head, still touching his face.
"It happens. Remember I told you it wasn't always like that?"
In truth, you had been very lucky that this was the first time you two had this particular problem. Either Carmy was a very good student or you were absolutely crazy about him. Maybe both. 
"What can I do?" a wrinkle between his eyebrows interrupted the bliss on his face and you tried to iron it out with your fingers. 
"I'm a big girl. I can manage," you declared. "You can watch if you want," you said mischievously. 
Carmy gulped. "Okay."
You opened your legs wide, feet on the mattress, and you started fingering yourself. It was slow, you turned your head to see Carmy as you moaned, putting a little bit of a show. He got close, his forehead to yours.
"Can I help? Please, let me help," his voice was hoarse with need. 
You guided his hand down. He had gotten quite good at reading you since that first time together, getting quicker when you gasped, pressing harder when you moaned. 
It startled you when he stopped - you whined a little.
"Sorry," he apologized. "I just want to try something."
You saw him raise the hand that had been touching you up to his face. Without breaking eye contact, he sucked his middle finger dry. You moaned at the sight. 
Slowly, he kissed his way down your body: your neck, your shoulder, your nipple, your belly, your hip... He shifted on the bed until he was lying on his stomach, between your legs.
"I'm gonna need you to guide me here," Carmy said; you could feel his exhale on your navel. 
"Fuck, Carmy," you writhed on the bed. "Hold me," you gestured at the place on your hips that would keep you still, his long fingers anchored there. "Do what you're comfortable with," you said, flushed to the chest with desire, "I'll tell you where it feels good."
You expected him to maybe kiss around your clit shyly, perhaps the gentle touch of his tongue between your folds... You didn't expect him to lick a long stripe from the bottom of your lips to the top, flicking at your clit. You let out a loud moan. He repeated the movement a few times, speeding up as he went, you buried a hand in his curls. 
"Yes, that feels- yes," you mumbled nonsensically. He hummed into you. 
Then, he peppered kisses all over, which felt nice and let you catch your breath, but he wasn't satisfied. He reached your clit and started licking at it. You thanked your stars for Carmy's strong hands, because you could not stay still, writhing in pleasure. 
"That's so fucking good, Carmy," your voice went higher and your fingers tugged at his curls. 
He moved downwards, lapping eagerly at your wetness, his nose hitting your clit as he moved.
"Fucking- oh!" you arched your back and he tightened the grip on your hips, almost bruising and so hot. "Please don't stop," you begged. 
He stayed there, keeping his rhythm steady, tilting his head a little, making you moan.
"You make me feel so good, Carmy," you praised, knowing by now that he liked that. He looked up, his eyes dark with lust, and you extended a hand to hold his, tattooed fingers intertwined with yours. "You are so good to me."
He sped up at that, the slow tilt of his head turned into him shaking it, his beautiful nose hitting your clit mercilessly. His mouth kept sucking and sucking, bringing you closer and closer...
"I'm gonna-" you gasped for air. "I'm gonna come."
It was white hot, blinding, and loud. You didn't realize you were screaming until you stopped. Carmy soothed the skin on your hips gently, waiting for you to come back. His blue eyes marveled at the sight of you and he ran a hand over his face to clean up a little bit. 
"Carmy," was all you managed to say, out of breath and absolutely fucked out. He climbed up your body and kissed you, smiling against your mouth.
"I love the way you sound too."
[Part 3]
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aziraphales-library · 1 month
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hello, I thank you very much for what you do, I wanted to please ask recommendations of fan fics that are romantic, the most romantic there are, I would appreciate them a lot 💕
Hi. Here are some romantic fics for you...
Five Times Crowley Fell Asleep and the One Time Aziraphale Did Too by toastergrove (NR)
Five times Crolwey has fallen asleep and one time Aziraphale did too. It's very a fluffy and cute little fic
The Very Second Day of the Rest of Their Lives by AntiquarianAndUnusual (T)
It's the first Monday since the Armageddon That Never Was, and Crowley and Aziraphale start their new lives out with the quiet, gentle, and almost romantic morning they deserve.
Never Too Late by AppleSeeds (T)
It's been thirty-five years since the height of Aziraphale's enormous crush on rockstar Anthony Crowley, but when he sees that Anthony is still performing, Aziraphale feels he owes it to his younger self not to pass up the opportunity to finally hear him sing live. The last thing he expects is for Anthony to actually approach him once the concert is over, extending an invitation that surpasses every fantasy Aziraphale harboured about him as a young man and resulting in the most memorable night of his life.
天明 (Tenmei) by angelsnuffbox (T)
“This, right now, could be one of those moments you’ll look back on in ten years and wonder what could have happened, how the night could have gone if you’d taken that strikingly handsome man’s offer of a night stroll around Tokyo.” “You certainly like to flatter yourself.” A rush of relief went through him now that Aziraphale looked more relaxed. “All I’m saying is, wouldn’t you rather look back and know how the night went instead?” “You’re actually serious.” “Say yes to me, Aziraphale, and I’ll make you the happiest you’ve ever been — at least for tonight.”
What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? by theshoparoundthecorner (G)
“Bit of an odd tradition, if you ask me,” he said, if not to get his mind off the longing that had settled in his chest. Aziraphale shrugged. “I think it’s rather sweet. A kiss for good luck. Seems a nice way to start the year. Very human.” Crowley nodded. “Can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, that lot. Always finding excuses. First it’s mistletoe at Christmas, then it’s luck for the New Year…” “Well there’s no need to be so grouchy about it,” Aziraphale said. “I think it’s lovely.” Crowley’s heart ached a little more as he watched Aziraphale smile up at the glowing numbers on the building above them. Yeah, he thought, lovely. Five times Crowley thought about kissing Aziraphale on New Year's Eve, and one time he did.
Pictures of You by AnnetheCatDetective (M) (WIP)
It starts with a well-meaning gift, and a hopeful invitation. Mod note: While this one is technically a likely-abandoned WIP, it does end in a satisfying place
- Mod D
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mikachacha · 6 months
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𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)
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Synopsis: Ever since the Smoke Challenge blew up, you've been practicing it to surprise your girlfriend. You wanted to cheer her up even just a little since she's been stressing out for the upcoming mission.
Warning: Language
🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸
"Baby I'm off to practice with the girls, yeah? I might be coming home late tonight so don't try and wait up. I love you." Bada says and gave you a sweet kiss and you handed her the lunch you prepared for her and the girls as well as her water.
"I know baby. Be safe out there and don't forget to eat. I love you and you got this." You smiled and walked her to the door where she gave you another kiss before rushing off. Once she was gone, it was time for you to get working. You did the chores first and checked your emails for any upcoming project before proceeding to the one you're really working on, your dancing. You could dance but not as well as Bada and ever since her choreography for Smoke blew up, you've been practicing your ass off just so you could surprise her. She gets really proud and happy when you learn her dances and you love that.
"How can she look so good while doing this? Fuckkk I look like a drunk chicken dancing.." You groaned as you still weren't satisfied with your dance and it's been an hour of practicing already.
Meanwhile, Bada has began losing her shit as their routine is still not nearly as polished as she would like it to be, the deadline is already closing in. All she wants to do right now is just wrap herself in a blanket with you cuddled up to her. She would give anything right now to see your pretty face to maintain her sanity.
"Bada-unnie! Y/N-unnie message me to tell you to check your phone." Tatter said as they were taking a small break to drink some water and rest up before another gruelling practice ensues. Bada looked a bit confused but did what she was told and checked her phone. You had sent her a video with lots of I love you's and heart emojis to cheer her up. You really know how to make her feel better when she's way too stressed out.
"Oh my fucking goodness.. Is she serious with this??" Bada gasped as she saw you dancing to her choreography in the living room of your shared apartment. She grinned as she watched you dance, it was adorable and she's very proud seeing you nail every step with no problem.
Curious, the rest of the BeBe members looked over Bada's shoulders as their leader sat down on the couch with a grin on her face while watching something. They watched and couldn't help but giggle at how lovestruck their leader looked while watching your video once more.
"Y/N-unnie did nail that choreography down. She's really good, wonder why Bada-unnie didn't let her join BeBe." Kyma praised and the others gave nods of agreement.
"Now we know how to get Bada-unnie to calm down when she's stressed.." Lusher giggles and Bada could only glare at them playfully before getting everyone to start practicing once more. She's in a better mood now because of your video.
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belovedyandere · 1 year
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yandere emperor domming prince reader he finally managed to capture after conquering his country?
cw. angst, noncon, sexual themes, war, yandere themes
it had been just moments following the capture of the final bit of land that pitiful kingdom reigned over. the emperor was thrilled, experiencing that familiar rush of adrenaline and victory, and what better way to mark the conclusion of a bloody war than to spend time with his beloved prince. the soldiers continued to fight back even after he had captured their prince, though he should note that he is surprised that the war continued at all. however, since they no longer had any land to defend, they were outnumbered and eventually capitulated. the emperor once more faced the prince after forcefully blowing open the entrance chambers. he would have taken him as soon as he had been dragged into this very room but he reasoned that receiving his body as payment for winning the war would be more exhilarating. it was a sight to see, a person of royalty chained to the bed due to your multiple attempts of escape and failed plans of assassinating the emperor. it was amusing how red your face bloomed from anger when you saw him, something told you that this wasn’t one of his short visits. he resembled a child who was told he was heading to the zoo because he deserved it.
pulling at the chains, it strained your the skin of your wrists, you knew they were bruised and red just by the throbbing pains. “What do you want, here to gloat at my predicament you bastard of the devil?” you spat, you were seething with fury but deep down you were fearful of the people, your people. you weren’t aware of what was occurring outside this room, the servants were no help, keeping silent whenever you were in their presence.
“I’m here to celebrate, my prince. Today is a momentous occasion. For today is the end of a war, and for my winnings, you outshine them all.” you stayed still when he spoke of the war, what did he mean by end of it? you grew paranoid now, pleading that this monster of a man bloomed a human heart and ended the war with no more bloodshed. but you were met with reality when you found him sitting beside you, his fingers softly tracing your chest, pinching and prodding your nipples. “I must say, your men do remind me of you, so stubborn. Chaining you was the only way to keep you amicable. And taking your last pot of land was the only way to have your soldiers stop their useless fighting.” he sat in between your legs, his eyes scanning as though you were a newly bought painting. how unlucky you were to be held against your will with no clothes, you could feel the embarrassment head to toe. the emperor paid now kind to how you felt, he knew by the end of it, you’d be begging for more of him.
“You must of noticed the servant bring in a new glass bottle, would you like to know what it is meant for?” without waiting for your answer, he held the bottle and tipped it down to where your hole was. it was hold at first but slowly warmed up. it appeared to be an oily substance, with a noticeable scent. “As much as I enjoyed your brattiness, I much prefer you like this. Compliant,” thrusted fingers had your body freeze in shock, “and obedient. We suit each other perfectly, no?” hovering over you, his lips met your nipples while his fingers played inside your gummy walls. he wasn’t gentle, biting you above while forcefully spreading you below. his actions speaking of impatience, he had waited long for this, and he couldn’t contain himself. satisfied with the work, he sat up and positioned himself, “My bride to be.” he said almost lovingly before thrusting into you full force. the size of his member a sharp contrast to his fingers, you felt a painful gasp leave your throat and tears brim your eyes. he was too big, too forceful and you were by no means accustomed to this sort of thing. “Don’t mourn for your kingdom, celebrate for your husband to be.” he grinned, his cheeks slightly tinted in blush at the very word. and like a jackal, he never halted, his cock piercing you so deeply that you couldn’t hold back anymore. when had this pain morphed to pleasure? you realised this when your gasps had turned to moans.
seeing his prediction come true, his prize mewl for his body and his marriage to be accepted, he couldn’t get enough of this blissfulness. is this how heaven felt? victorious? warm? so filling? he couldn’t care less, because here you were spurting cum over yourself with every thrust. “Such a good boy.” he praised with a dark chuckle, his hand clutching your waist ever so tightly as he rammed into you, he was surprised he was this close to cumming so early. it must’ve been your hole wanting to be filled by his milk, and he would be more than obliged to do so. with a few more thrusts, you felt ropes of cum cover your walls before seeing white. this sinful act, it left you breathless and dazed. so much so that you hadn’t noticed the chains on your wrists had been unlocked and you were holding onto the emperor’s arm for some sort of grounding.
“This isn’t the end, though I should go easy on you, our ceremony will be in a few hours and we don’t want our guests to see their emperor’s bride leaking cum.” truthfully the emperor would be more than happy to view such a sight, and perhaps he would have it that way.
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