#only like 4.5K but enjoy

[woahjo]

APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist 

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 

"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

"I'm not fucking around," he says. 

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 

You trail off a little. 

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.” 

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 

You shrug and give him a coy smile. 

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over

VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY

Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex

"You look so fucking sexy..."

large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.

One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.

"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."

Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.

In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.

"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."

Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.

Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.

"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."

"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."

His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.

Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?

You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.

You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.

You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

You should be happy, but you're not.

When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.

Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.

As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.

"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"

You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."

"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"

He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.

"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"

"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."

Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"

When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.

"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"

Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.

"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"

He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.

"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."

His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.

His name. "Mattheo..."

"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."

Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.

"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."

He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."

More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."

He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.

"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."

"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."

At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.

"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."

"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"

Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."

Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.

When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.

You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.

"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."

"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"

"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"

Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"

"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."

Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.

"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."

Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."

Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.

You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.

Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.

At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.

"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.

"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"

Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.

He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.

You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.

"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."

Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.

"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"

"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."

Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."

Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.

When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.

"Matty..."

Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."

You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.

As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.

"Mattheo, I swear to-"

A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.

"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."

You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."

His lips parted. "Good girl.”

His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.

"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"

"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.

"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.

"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."

"Please what?" He growled.

Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.

"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."

"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.

"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."

He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.

"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."

As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.

And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.

"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."

You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."

With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.

"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.

"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-" 

A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.

"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."

Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.

You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.

As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.

"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."

When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.

"No," you whispered. "We aren't."

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[munsonluhvr]

WATERWORKS!

synopsis: older!eddie munson x college student!reader. out on a joyride, Eddie subsequently passes your sorority car wash fundraiser and decides his clean car desperately needs to be washed. word count - 4.5k (!) warnings: 18+ smut with a teensy plot. fingering, body parts described, choking, spanking, squirting, cream pie, age gap, not spell checked yet!

In all honesty, Eddie has no reason to be pulling into your sorority houses’ driveway, forking over twenty dollars for you to wash his car, but he knew he had to when he saw you. It’s a warm day, just a few days after the end of summer, only a few days into the new school year. The hot sun beats down the earth making it the perfect day to stand in a bikini all day, hosting a car wash fundraiser. 

Eddie had been minding his own business, taking a joy ride in his new red corvette, enjoying all the progress he’s made in his life thus far. It was only a half hour into his day out and about when he noticed your sorority hosting a car wash, more specifically seeing you stand at the edge of the sidewalk with a sign that read: ‘Car Wash 4 A Good Cause; 20 Bucks or Free if UR Sexy!’ It was the sign that caught his attention first, but it was you that held his gaze long enough that he almost rear-ended the car in front of him.

You are a sleek little vixen, barefoot on the sidewalk, your drenched hair pulled back to show your beautiful, angelic face. You are hardly dressed, your body adorned in the skimpiest bikini Eddie had ever seen. It was a no brainer; he slows his car, flicking the blinker on to turn into the driveway. 

Eddie’s car was pointed in the direction of commotion, lines and lines of cars parked in different directions, males of all different ages scattered across the front yard either talking to girls that  suggestively scrub their cars or just watching from a distance. Eddie didn’t care about any of the other girls that flock to the cars, slipping folded bills into their bikini tops or bottoms. He just wanted to watch you bend over his car, breasts pressed against the hood of his car.

He watches, in his sideview mirror, as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, your arms dropping down with the handmade sign, your body wilting with exhaustion. It was hard work to wave a sign around, especially in the hot sun. All you want to do is sit inside with some water, far away from the seething hot sun. 

You’re bored, annoyed with cars honking and men whistling; you didn’t want to be the one holding the sign, but you had been forced to by the other girls. You decide to take a break, and you turn on your heel, beginning to walk up the driveway to the front lawn where the rest of the sorority worked. It was then that you notice a bright red corvette, clearly brand new, and that the driver was glancing over at you. You watch as he offers you a small smile, his hand that dangles on the outside of the car pick itself up and offer you a wave. He’s cute, clearly older, late twenties, early thirties at the latest. You feel your day, and your energy, start to pick up. 

Within a few paces you stand at the driver’s side of the stranger’s car, bending forward, placing your hands on your mid-thigh, as you peer into the car. “Here for the car wash?” 

The curly haired man nods, his eyes lingering down your nearly naked body. “That, amongst other things.” 

You smile innocently. “Doesn’t look like your car needs to be washed.” And it’s true; as you stand close to the car you see how it’s practically new, not a speck of dirt on the exterior, not a single scratch. Standing close to the window, you can also smell the scent of brand-new leather, the car barely lived in.  

He shrugs, his eyes looking forward then back to you. “A car can always use a good wash. I’m Eddie by the way.”

You raise your eyebrows, already amused by the man in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. I’m y/n. If you pull up, I’m sure one of the girls will happily wash your car.” 

Eddie hums, glancing in front of him where tens of girls scantily clad in bikinis, soap suds clinging to their arms and legs, scurry across the sorority house lawn to attend to the ever-growing line of customers. “They all look pretty busy with cars already. Can’t you help me?” 

You clasp your hands in front of you, understanding, now, that Eddie wants you to clean his car, not anybody else. You purse your lips and make an over-exaggerated sigh, though a hint of a smile is displayed across your face. “I suppose I could. Pull on up.” You gesture for Eddie to follow you up the driveway, searching for a free spot for Eddie to park his car. 

As you walk, Eddie is lucky that he doesn’t run his car into someone else’s as his eyes are completely entranced by your ass that’s exposed in your bright yellow bikini bottoms. He clenches his jaw, doing the best he can to park where you gesture towards, as he feels himself grow hard in his jeans. The lust he feels, staring at your nearly naked body, cloaked in a light sheen of sweat, is unbearable. 

“You can stay in the car if you want,” you say, watching Eddie move to step out of the car. “It’s kind of the whole point of the car wash in the convenience for the customer, you know? Pull in, get your car washed by a girl in a bikini, then pull out.” 

Eddie shrugs, closing the driver’s side door. “Darling, I wouldn’t want to pull out, but I think I’d prefer to watch from outside of the car.”  

You feel your cheeks flush, the back of your neck get hot with heat. All day, boys from the surrounding fraternities, or creepy, married men have been in and out of the sorority driveway. However, there is something about Eddie that’s so edgy, nerdy yet confident. Eddie is a refreshing change; one you want to entertain for a little while. “Suit yourself,” you say, as you bend over, dunking your hand into the bucket of cold, soapy water, then pull your hand out with a sopping wet sponge. 

Eddie stands a foot or two away from you, his arms crossed against his chest. He watches closely as you pick up a super-sized sponge, bubbling with soap bubbles, dripping with water, and smudge it across the hood of his car. His heart thumps against his chest watching as water trickles out of the sponge, down his shiny red car, and dribbles down your thighs. 

You move slowly, bending across his car further and further, as you work hard to scrub the imaginary dirt off his car. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your body, knowing his eyes must be as wide as saucers, his skin crawling with lust, his stomach churning with anticipation - you just have that impact on men. You move to the opposite side of Eddie’s car, working on the other side of the hood. Now you face Eddie’s direction, making a show of leaning over his car, once again, pressing your breasts against the car, flicking your eyes to meet his only for a fleeting second, enough to get his heart rate up even further. 

Once you turned your eyes back to his car, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly feeling disoriented. Was it the sun and the heat or was it you that was making him feel this way? It had been a long time since Eddie pursued a girl, he was never very good at it. He had a small sense of confidence, but that only got him so far. Now, he’s several years older, still unexperienced, yet here he is, letting you seduce him happily, not knowing if he’ll do anything about it. 

You continue to work on Eddie’s car, making your way around his vehicle. Every move, every stretch you make is calculated, made to manipulate the male mind. It’s fun, you think, to put on a show for a boy, no a man. It had been so long since you been intimate, the boy you were surrounded by were useless, only out to use the female body to solely pleasure themselves. The act of being fucked boys that were in college was a cold venture, one that only left you feeling alone and empty – and certainly not feeling any pleasure at all. You had hoped you’d meet someone older, someone who would care about how you felt. Now here stands Eddie, clearly older, clearly into you by the way his cock is so clearly pressing against his jeans, and the way he makes no attempt to hide it. It’s worth a try, you think. 

With one last swipe of Eddie’s car, you take the hose that snakes throughout the driveway and spray his car down. Lastly, you take a soft towel, wiping the small droplets from his windows. You were finally done, your body more exhausted then before. 

When you turn your attention back to Eddie, he’s holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “I think I recall your sign saying it’s twenty dollars.” 

“Then you’d also recall that the sign also said it’s free if you’re sexy, so you can keep your money,” you say, wiping your wet hands on the towel. 

Eddie frowns lightly, then smirks. “All that hard work you just did for free?” 

You shrug, mimicking the way Eddie shrugged earlier. “What can I say? I’m eager to please, especially for a pretty guy like you.” 

Standing in front of Eddie, you see the size difference between you two. You’re shorter then Eddie, your body much smaller than his. Even from where you stand, you can smell his cologne, the scent making you salivate – you’re a sucker for good smelling cologne. He’s dressed in all dark colors; his body lean underneath his fashionably tattered clothing. It was then you realize that you want him bad.

“Oh, really? For an old guy like me?” Eddie says, interested to gauge your feelings on older men. He is sure you’re constantly approached by guys of all ages, constantly turning heads or breaking hearts. 

You lean against his car, crossing your ankles and crossing your arms against your chest. “It’s even better that you’re older. Guys my age don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” You unfold your arms, making a show of glancing at your fingernails. “Emotionally or physically.” 

Eddie gulps, scenario after scenario rolling over in his mind Thoughts of every position he wants to fold you in to in a matter of minutes, replacing the soapy water trailing down your legs with ropes of his own cum comes to him immediately. “A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be neglected emotionally or physically.” 

You glance at Eddie now, knowing that you have his full attention. “Tell me about it.” 

Your eyes linger on each other, tension as thick as the heat hanging between you. You forget that the rest of your sorority is hard at work around you, cars entering and exiting the driveway consistently. All you can focus on is Eddie. “You look parched,” you say suddenly, pushing yourself off his car. “Why don’t you come inside.” 

Eddie nods without saying a word. He’s pretty sure he’d walk to the ends of the earth for you. Eagerly, he follows behind you as you weave through the cars parked in the driveway and across the lawn. You glance over your shoulder once, amused to catch Eddie’s eyes stuck on your rear end once again. You have this man wrapped around your finger. 

You push open the front door of the sorority house, noticing how a few of the girls had sought refuge from the customers and heat within the kitchen and cavernous living room. Eddie’s eyes disconnect from your body to look around the house. He honestly never thought he’d ever find himself in a sorority house, he could never imagine a sorority girl giving him the time of day. But here he is- here you are. The inside is large, all the furniture in the rooms dwarfed by the tall ceilings and large rooms. 

“Come this way,” you say softly, gesturing towards the large, winding staircase that’s directly at the front door. Your feet are tempted to carry you to your room quickly, but you do your best to stay composed, not allowing yourself to showcase your eagerness. At the top of the winding staircase, the hallway to the bedrooms is long. As you walk, you pass door after door, each of your sorority sister’s rooms. Finally, you reach yours near the end of the hallway. 

You remember that your room is messy, but you don’t care. You doubt Eddie would even notice; you can feel his eyes glued to your backside. 

You open your bedroom door, glancing over your shoulder to encourage Eddie to follow you into your room. You notice his eyes flick to across your bedroom, landing on your messy bed, the blankets, and bedsheets all tangled. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Is it okay if I’m up here?” 

Technically, boys aren’t allowed in the sorority house, especially not in the bedrooms. You shake your head softly. “No, but I’m sure we can make it quick.” You let a small smile play across your mouth as you clasp your hands in front of you. 

Eddie’s eyes widen, your insinuation making him realize your intentions loud and clear.  Underneath his jeans, Eddie can feel his bulge begin to ache even more, his core aching from anticipation. Even you can feel the tension between you and Eddie, it’s clear you find each other attractive. Between your thighs, you can feel your stomach tingle with excitement; what kind of pleasure this encounter hold for you? 

You back yourself up to your bed, feeling a small chill standing in your airconditioned room in a skimpy bikini. Your heart thumps against your chest, your breath escaping your body. Eddie takes a small step towards you, biting at his bottom lip. You are the loveliest sight Eddie has ever seen, so delicate and soft but he so badly wants to be rough with you, turn your body inside out with pleasure. 

Now merely a few inches from each other, Eddie reaches his hand out, his fingertips brushing against your cheekbone. His fingertips tails across your face, guiding their way to your lips. Instinctively, you part your lips, Eddie taking advantage and slipping his thumb into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. Watching you suck his finger, Eddie loses his breath, the feeling of your tongue around his finger too much to bear. 

You take the opportunity to reach your hands out, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. You lift up slowly, and Eddie lets his thumb slip out of your mouth, helping you lift his shirt off. Now you see his torso, his soft skin decorated with scattered tattoos. Your mouth salivates at the sight of his happy trail, disappearing into the band of his jeans. 

You lean forward, raising up on your toes to let your lips hover of Eddie’s. Without a second thought, Eddie cups your face, his lips pushing into yours. He steps forward once, twice, and you step back once, twice. You gracefully fall back onto your bed, your legs parting to allow room for Eddie. With one swift movement, Eddie reaches his hand behind your back, pulling at the string of your bikini, the string unraveling and your top slipping off. 

At the sight of your bare chest, Eddie can’t help but groan. He cups your breast with his large hand, his head ducking down to let his lips envelope your nipple. Instantly, your head throws back, the feeling of his tongue flicking across your nipple heavenly. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your lips parting just in time for a soft moan to escape from your throat. 

Letting his fingertips drag across your torso, Eddie slips his hand into your bikini bottoms, his fingertips grazing your cunt. You hold onto his shoulder for balance, your fingers gripping him tightly. With ease, Eddie continues to place his body over yours, arranging yourself on your bed comfortably. Anticipation and lust begins to bunch in your stomach, arousal beginning to drip from between your thighs. 

“You’re so pretty,” Eddie mumbles, his mind spinning. He places his lips on your jaw, messy kisses trailing down the front of your throat. His fingertips begin to work against your sensitive core, teasing your entrance. Your thighs tremble, pressure building in the bottom of your abdomen. Eddie’s movements are slow and sensuous, and your hips begin to rock back and forth against his hand, unable to take his slow movements any longer. You begin to whine softly. 

Without warning, Eddie plunges his long digits into you, curling in the right spot to turn your whine into a loud moan. Already, you can see the difference between the ridiculous college boys you’ve played with and the man that Eddie is. Pleasure courses through your torso, your skin tingling, a shiver running down your back. Your thighs begin to clench around Eddie’s hand, begging him to keep going. 

Your arms reach out, your fingertips seeking eagerly to unbuckle the belt that holds his jeans. With success, Eddie’s belt buckle unravels in your hand, your hand moving away to palm his bulging cock over his jeans. Over you, Eddie shutters at the sensation of your touch, his breath leaving his body. He so badly wants to have his way with you, but he knows he’d rather take his time. 

Not able to sustain your calmness further, you unzip the zipper on Eddie’s jeans, his cock already pressing against his boxers. As you attempt to work his jeans off, Eddie continues to plunge his finger deep into you, causing your ambition to de-clothe Eddie to take longer then usual. 

Just as Eddie jeans dip passed his mid-thigh, his cock springs out from underneath his boxers. His member is large, larger then you could have ever imagined. At the very tip, a drop of pre-cum slithers out, the veins protruding across the thickness of his cock. Your mouth waters just at the sight, an intense need for him to fill you blossoming in your abdomen. 

To be able to help you pull his jeans off, Eddie lets his fingers slide out of you, your bottom half feeling empty and incomplete without Eddie’s touch. With one swift movement, Eddie’s jeans and boxers are off and all that’s left is your bright yellow bikini bottoms. 

Eddie presses his lips on your neck, and begins to trail down to your stomach, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his light touch. Hooking his pointer fingers at your sides, Eddie gracefully pulls your bottoms off, leaving you completely naked. Without much thought, Eddie drops the skimpy article of clothing on the floor beside your bed. You blush in your nakedness, feeling your eyes flutter shut. 

Eddie parts your legs gently, lowering his head towards your bottom half. His warm breath flushes against your skin, goosebumps beginning to appear down your thighs. With every second that goes by, the anticipation grows thicker, leaving you breathless, arousal gathering between your thighs.

Eddie feels his anxiousness jitter throughout his fingers, his hands trembling ever so slightly. His hands tighten around the flesh of your things, prying your legs open. Without the slightest hesitation, Eddie lets his lips connect with your slick cunt, his tongue beginning to work on your immediately. 

Your head throws back in instant pleasure, your thighs beginning to tremble from the motion of his tongue. You begin to writher underneath Eddie’s touch, and he tightens his grips around your legs to hold you still and in place. Your toes curl as he continues to go on, your muscles tightening and releasing rhythmically.

Eddie is in bliss, the taste of you sweet to his tastebuds. You are so soft, so gentle, yet so bold and in charge. Although Eddie doesn’t know you well, not even at all, he knows that he has found heaven between your sun-kissed thighs. 

Eddie blinks back into consciousness, noticing how your body is reacting to his touch. He looks up at you, seeing how your eyes are fluttered shut, the bright sunshine from your window above your dashing across your face, your back arched from the pleasure. His only goal is to make you feel good, to let pleasure course through your body, so he does what automatically comes to his mind – he plunges his fingers back into you. 

A loud squeal escapes your lips, followed by your hands grabbing at your bedsheets. The frat boys have never made you feel like this before, not even close. 

With rhythm, Eddie plunges his fingers in and out of you, causing pressure to build in your lower abdomen. It’s only been several minutes and already you feel yourself getting close; you don’t want your time with Eddie to end.

Without warning, around Eddie’s fingers you squirt profusely, your thighs trembling around Eddie’s head. A strong course of pleasure runs up and down your body, leaving you breathless and exhausted once your orgasm is through. On the other hand, Eddie is energized by your loud moans.

Coming up from between your thighs, Eddie hovers over your slumped body, his large hand lightly grasping over your throat. He doesn’t want to scare you with this move, it is after all the first encounter you’ve ever had with each other, but he wants to take control a little more. 

His long nimble fingers place themselves around the length of your neck, and your eyes flutter open at his grasp on you. You feel small underneath Eddie’s touch, and you love the feeling. 

With his other hand, Eddie reaches down to part your thighs again, and then adjusting himself to line up with you. 

Eddie dips his face down, hovering over your lips; they brush yours ever so slightly. “Can I?” he asks softly. Your hand reaches out to grasp his bicep, anticipating the intoxicating burn of a thick cock entering you. You nod eagerly. Eddie lets go of his grasp on your neck, leaning on to his arm to position himself comfortably. 

With ease, Eddie pushes himself into you. You feel yourself stretch around his length, a slight groan escaping from your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing stars, a fluttering feeling emerging in your chest. 

Evenly, Eddie moves back and forth out of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers drag the length of your side, finding your hands in the process. He intertwines his fingers with yours, enveloping his hand over his. You squeeze back, the small gesture making the moment more intimate with this complete stranger. Your legs find the strength to wrap around Eddie’s waist, driving him further into you. 

With slow strokes, Eddie brings you immense pleasure, making you wonder why luck was on your side to meet such a generous stranger out of nowhere.

You and Eddie stay in the missionary position for a moment, slight eye contact here and there. You’re drawn in by the soft brown of his eyes and the darkness of his pupils. He was a beautiful human, his messy, curly brown hair adding to his attractiveness. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when Eddie pulls his upper body away from you, your body feeling cold from the lack of warmth from his body. He pulls you up with him, making a quick movement to flip you on your stomach. 

Your head spins from the quick movement but feel a small smile creeping across your mouth: oh, how you love being manhandled. 

Lifting your hips with both hands, Eddie elevates your bottom half, placing you on your hands and knees. Once you’re in a stable position, Eddie guides himself back into you, pushing in roughly. You gasp, loving the feeling of him inside of you all over again. 

You jolt when Eddie places a small smack on your bottom, adding spanking into the mix. You offer a small giggle, biting your lip in the process. The sharp sting of his hand meeting your soft skin makes your stomach flutter in a way that’s never happened before. You find the feeling dangerous as you become curious at the other kinks you’d find exhilarating. 

Behind you, Eddie’s movements become rigid, his back-and-forth movements no longer fluid. He inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist. 

Eddie feels woozy, pressure building in his lower abdomen. He knows he’s close, though he doesn’t want to be. He wants his moment with you to go on forever, laying out on your bed to recover and when you’re ready, fuck you in all different angles all over again. 

He inhales and exhales sharply, his heart beating fast and blood flowing rapidly throughout his body. He pushes into you one last time, a thick load filling you to the brim completely. Eddie’s cum leaks out from around his member, beginning to drip down your legs. Although you’ve already orgasmed, the feeling of Eddie dribbling down your legs is nearly orgasmic. 

As you hold yourself up, your arms and legs quiver with exhaustion. You slump against your bedsheets, your muscles not about to help you sit up. “That was…really fun.” You say, then frown at your own words. You feel like you sound juvenile, though what you said was trust; it was indeed a lot of fun. 

Eddie smiles, nodding once. Although, he’s distracted by looking at the specks of his semen that decorate parts of your thighs. “I-I’m glad. Nothing I did was too much?” 

You shake your head. “Not in the slightest.” You watch as Eddie gets up from the end of the bed, beginning to pick up his clothes that are scattered across your bedroom floor. You wish Eddie didn’t have to go so soon but you know it’s for the best; the last thing you want is for your sorority sisters to notice that you’ve broken the most important rule – no boys in the bedroom. 

Your naked body captivates Eddie as he glances down at you while refastening his belt. It seemed like only seconds ago he was about to pass you by on the road, and now here you are lounging gracefully on your bed in front of him. And to think it all started with spotting you in your bright yellow bikini. 

“You know,” you hum, bending over to search for spare clothes to throw on. You really want to see Eddie again and to not let this be the first and last time you interact with him. “We’re having another car wash next weekend. Your car might need another scrub by then.” 

Eddie laughs flattered that you want to see him again. “My car will absolutely be dirty by then; I’ll for sure swing by.” 

[missnxthingg]

I CAN'T LIE TO YOU ✮ LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x bestie!Reader (childhood best friends to lovers) summary: Lando Norris decides to surprise his best friend after being a long time away from home. What she didn't expect was that he had a big secret that he couldn't share with her words: 4.5K - warnings: swearing, suggestive content & not proof read author's notes: I'm back once again! Now you just know I'm a sucker for childhood besties to lovers. Also, I may have already started writing a part two for this one... let me know if you want it!

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The days in England have become more boring with time. Y/N was losing her mind over the repetitive routine that follows the life of a college student. Work, study, beer with close friends and bed. So when her mother invited her for a family dinner, she worried about how excited she got with the event. It wasn’t supposed to be anything special, just her parents and a few of their close friends gathered to catch up over nice food. 

Coming home felt way too good. It’s a feeling most college students get when they go back to their hometown, leaving their crappy flat in university to be served with their parents pampering during their quick visit. Y/N was supposed to be back to her place in just a couple of days, but she felt satisfied to be in a different place than the four walls of her house. Not to mention that she was having a good laugh with everyone at the table.

Her mother always takes dinner parties to another level, serving the best food in her special crockery, saved for moments like this. So Y/N packed a nice new outfit; a cute long-sleeved dress that looked perfect with tights and heels. Not that the guests cared about how she was dressed, but it felt nice to look beautiful and all put together for once after months of hoodies and leggings.

As usual, her parents invited the Norris family, as they’ve been the best of friends for the longest time. Not only they lived next to each other for years back when she was younger, all of their kids were really close friends with Y/N. But the spotlight always goes to Lando, who is the same age as her, making them grow up attached to the hip.

They all grew up going to the same school, not to mention that she would always tag along in Lando and his brother’s karting sessions, having the best time watching them drive flawlessly on tracks. He always enjoyed the times when she’d steal her parents cameras so they could make some homemade videos of their time together. Or when they would sit back, watch their dads play golf every Saturday and share candies in the cart. 

  Y/N and Lando have been inseparable since the age of four, growing up side by side, going through everything together. She was so important to him that, when he joined Formula 1 and had to choose a number to race, he chose the age the two of them had become friends. 

“The number four is for my best friend, Y/N. She was the one to suggest it, and the meaning behind it is very cute. Actually, I don’t want to tell you to not spoil anything, but I can only say that it’s very dear to my heart”, Lando said once in an interview during his second season in F1, making every single one of his fans curious about the meaning.

But it’s been a while since the infamous duo had been together. They supported each other from afar; Y/N sometimes joining him for race weekends and Lando coming back to see her on birthdays and weekends in London, while he visited the McLaren factory. But the last time they had been together was four months ago, during summer break, when he dragged her to join him for his crazy trips around the world. When racing and university was back on, they lost a little bit of touch; almost no calls and only a few texting breaks so they wouldn’t fall apart.

A lot happened in those four months. Lando had a new gorgeous girlfriend; a model who everyone had become obsessed with her TikTok videos for beauty tips. They had been seen together a few times around the world, her joining him for the races and a lot of make-outs behind DJ booths at parties. Y/N, on the other hand, was lacking in the dating department. But the friends she made over the past year made everything worthy. After years of pretty much having Lando as her only very close friend, she finally found new people to go out and have fun as a normal 20-year-old.

With that, Y/N and Lando’s friendship got weird. He had been avoiding her for a while, with the excuse of being too busy with racing, but actually not wanting to talk about his personal life with someone who knew him like the palm of her hand. Meanwhile, she was having a good time with her friends to be bothered by anything. But lately, life had become more boring and Y/N felt like having Lando back would bring some more fun into her life again, with all the epic parties and the good times they always managed to happen.

“Only one month left”, she thought, as winter break was approaching, meaning that Lando would finally be free to come home for the holidays.

She was pushed out of her thoughts by Adam Norris, who now seemed interest in Y/N’s life after a long catching up with her dad. “Tell us more about college! Are you having fun? Learning anything special?”, he asked with a kind smile.

“Oh, I’m graduating this spring, so it’s been… rough”, she chuckled. “But everything has been amazing, you know? The internship is so cool and the people are nice as well”.

“I just can’t believe it will all be over soon”, his wife, Cisca, responded. “It feels like it was just yesterday when you joined uni and Lando started his first season in F1. Time really flies, uhm?”

Every mention of his name made Y/N smile like a fool. But lately, it has been accompanied by a ting of pain on her chest. God, she missed him so much.

“What is it that you miss?”, Cisca asked, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. Shit, did she say that out loud?

“I said I missed your pie so much, Cis. You know I have always loved it growing up”, Y/N tried to cover it up by stuffing her mouth with the cheesy pie, trying to keep her thoughts of being spoken out loud. But something caught her by surprise.

“Yeah, mum’s pie is the best in the world, isn’t it?”, a male voice said from behind her, one that she hadn’t heard in person for a while. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, only to turn around and see Lando standing right behind her tugged into his signature comfortable hoodie, with a giant smile plastered on his face, and a bouquet in his hands. “Surprise!”

Y/N brought her hands up to her mouth, trying not to cry at the sight. She couldn’t believe what was standing in front of her. So she jumped out of her seat and jumped into his arms, not caring about anyone else in the room or the flowers being crumpled up in his hands. Lando buried his nose in her hair, taking in her scent, making him feel at ease for once

“What are you doing here?”, she leaned back, holding his face between her hands. His soft eyes looked down at her, his smile never faltering.

“I thought I could surprise my best girl”, he admitted, digging one of his hands into her hips, making her securely close to him. “I had a break before the end of the season, and it had been so long…”

“Shut up, you idiot. I just want to hug you”, she cut him mid-sentence, burying her face in his neck, making his smile even wider, if that was possible. Everyone on the table laughed at her reaction, but let them have their moment after months without seeing each other. It felt too good to be true. 

“I missed you so much”, he whispered in her ear, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“I missed you too. Welcome home, Lan”, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, making it tinted red. Lando was so cute when he blushed. “You brought me flowers! How cute is this?”

She took the giant bouquet filled with red and pink roses out of his hands, bringing it close to her body. “It’s an apology for not being here as much as I should”, he said, making her heart so warm with the thoughtful gift.

“You being here is enough”, she pressed another kiss to his cheek and quickly pulled him for another hug. They just couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Alright, we all know you both really miss each other, but you can catch up after dinner. Food is getting cold and poor Lando must be starving”, her mother cut them off, making Y/N look back at the table, her face burning in embarrassment. He laughed at her behavior and pulled the chair next to her so they could sit together.

Through the whole dinner, Lando told all of his amazing stories traveling the world, leaving all the ‘best friends only’ parts for later, when he would be alone with Y/N. She felt so happy to finally have him by her side, making fun of her table manners, resting his hand on her knee and cracking any bad jokes just to see her roll her eyes. And even though he lived those many adventures, Lando knew life couldn’t get better than having his favourite person in the world back on his side.

“So, Lando, what finally brings you back home?”, Y/N’s father asked, making him shrug.

“You know, the championship could’ve been better and I feel really tired, you know?”, Lando searched for his best friend’s hand under the table, entwining their fingers once they met. Then he looked at her with an adoring smile on his face. “I just need some recharging. Thought I could use some home time before the last few races of the year”.

“You’re always welcomed to recharge in our house if you want to, Lando”, her mother said before the conversation was taken somewhere else once again.

While everyone else chatted, Y/N and Lando updated their phone gallery with new pictures of them. A lot of cute selfies and pictures of their homemade dinner which soon found their place on their Instagrams.

y/username

liked by landonorris and 3,419 others

y/username: always feels good to have my best friend back in the house

tagged: landonorris

landonorris Besties reunited LFG!

↪ y/username you’re such a bore

fanacc1 FINALLY SOME Y/N AND LANDO CONTENT

fanacc2 Wasn’t him dating a model?

↪fanacc3 He is, but Y/N is his childhood best friend

fanacc4 ugh, if i was his gf, i would be so jealous of them together

↪fanacc5 I bet his girlfriend actually hates them

fanacc6 Does this mean more Y/N around the paddock?

The dinner was coming to an end with the delicious sweet treats they prepared for dessert. At that point, Lando and Y/N were just existing at the conversation. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she found a comfortable spot to lean into him and keep sipping on her wine while they shared a slice of cake. But even though they were quiet, they surely weren’t tired. So as the rest of the adults continued with their chat, they took their glasses of wine to the backyard, just so they could have some alone time.

Lando chuckled when he saw what was still standing strong in her backyard. “You still have our old treehouse?”, he asked and she nodded excitedly. “Wow, it looks so much nicer than before”.

“It’s because I renovated it, you fool. Haven’t I told you?”, she asked, but Lando shook his head. “Oh my… you have to see this! Now it’s a grown up treehouse! Take a look”.

Y/N dragged him to the small construction and made him climb all the way up to the house. It changed a lot with the renovations. Their wall doodles from when they were little kids were preserved by a varnish coat on the wood. She also substituted the old toys for books and her collection of vinyls, making the place look extra cozy. There was even a table for afternoon tea and card games, a TV and a huge futon, with lots of cushions, so they could just lie down and spend the rest of the day hidden from the world.

“What a glow up!”, he joked. “I loved it. This is amazing”, Lando took a place next to the window, where the moonlight invaded the room. Y/N sat next to him and almost immediately pulled out her camera just to capture the moment. And just like old times, they had fun doing a tiny photoshoot together, only to be cut off by his mom, calling them from the ground.

“Are you coming, Lando?”, Cisca asked, making him look over to Y/N, who replied for him.

“I’m not letting him go anywhere, Cisca”, she joked, throwing her arms around Lando, making his mother laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your son”.

“Have fun you two”, they waved at her and sighed after finally being left alone for a proper catching up between best friends. Lando had a satisfied smile on his face and he felt so calm at that moment. He threw both of his arms around his best friend and hugged her tightly.

“Home, at last”, his cheek was pressed on the side of her face, making her giggle with the contact. “I want to know everything going on with you. Just blurt it all out. I owe you this”.

“Oh, nothing great happened”, she shrugged. “Nothing that you didn’t know already. The internship is nice, but it’s coming to an end soon and I’m not sure they’ll keep me with them. And college is almost finished, so that’s kind of bittersweet”.

“I thought you were excited to have a degree”, he said, making her sigh. “Are you not happy about graduating?”

“Of course I am. You more than anyone knows how important this is to me”, she answered. “And I made so many good friends and I’ve been having the best time with them. I know graduating will make us grow apart”.

“Endings aren’t always nice, uhm? But you have to look at the bright side of things”, he started. “You’re finally achieving something great and you managed to have a really good time along the way. Made friends and worked really hard to become the best professional out there. I’m so proud of you!”

Lando has always been her biggest supporter on pursuing her academic path. He remembers all the talks they had about her wanting to master in communications. While he didn’t get to finish school to up his game in racing, he was there for every step his best friend took until enrolling in university. So when they talk about it, he always has that beautiful proud smile on his face, to which Y/N loved seeing.

“Thank you”, she smiled shyly. “And what about you, Mr Worldwide? You’ve been everywhere these past months. How was it?”

“Oh, always amazing”, he beamed. “I got to see so many amazing places around the world. You would’ve loved all the clubs I went to. The DJ booths are amazing. Oh, and the golf courts… breathtaking”.

“Yeah, I saw all the pictures”, Y/N arched her brows and rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even bother on calling, telling me about your adventures”.

“Sorry, I lacked in that department”, he apologized. “Even though everything has been amazing, I’m so tired of this year. I could’ve done better on the track and the last few races have been exhausting. I knew that I needed to recharge before the last two races, so I came back to you”.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you home”, she ran her hand through his curls and smiled. Lando always saw Y/N as his home. She always brings him that sense of familiarity, and her absence in his travels around the world were taking a toll on him.

Not to mention that hiding a big secret from his best friend also wasn’t doing him any good.

“But I’m not here to talk about me. I want to know everything about you”, he poked her side with his index finger and smirked. “Anyone special appeared in your life in the past few months?”

“Please”, she rolled her eyes. “The last time I had a proper hook up was during our summer trip to Bali with that guy on the club”.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad”, he giggled, but Y/N’s face was burning in embarrassment.

“I had a few dates in the past months, but fuck me, they were annoying”, Lando laughed at her statement. “One of them found out you’re my best friend and spent the entire time asking questions about you. And the only guy who was actually decent came in his pants when we were making out in his car. Didn’t even get to touch me”. 

“Oh, poor you”, he giggled. “So no boy to be my new best friend? I mean, come on, we need more male energy in this friendship”.

“Sorry, Lan. No boyfriend this time”, she said. “You, on the other hand, started dating this gorgeous model and forgot to tell me about everything.”

And there she said it: the topic Lando had been avoiding the most throughout the whole night. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Y/N, because his big secret had been hiding right there. He knew he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, lie about anything to her. And he also knew that he really needed to vent about this secret with her as well.

Lando turned really quiet, and looked away, avoiding her eyes. “Don’t start now, Y/N. I mean, there’s not much to say, to be fair”, he mumbled.

“Come on, I want to know everything about the woman who stole my bestie’s heart”, she poked him, but Lando didn’t dare to look Y/N in the eyes. “I mean, everybody loves her and she seems sweet. Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together”.

“What do you mean? I’ve seen the Instagram pictures and the gossip pages posting videos of you two kissing in the club. I thought you were becoming a thing”.

“Y/N, don’t push it”, he asked, his voice bargaining on his throat.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together, I told you”, he sighed. “She’s a PR stunt. She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s been consuming me from the inside ever since we started this little thing”.

Lando finally looked her in the eyes and Y/N saw them brimming with tears. As an immediate response, she rested a hand on his arm and waited until he was ready to talk more. He leaned into her touch and the tears started to stream down his face. He’s never one to cry for anything, so the tears meant that it was so much more than he was letting show. Her heart broke at the sight of her best friend.

“Is this why you look more tired than usual?”, Y/N asked and he nodded, making the tears fall harder. “Oh, Lan… Come here”.

She pulled his head to rest on her chest and Lando wrapped his arms around her, needing some sort of comfort. He didn’t say much for a couple of minutes after, feeling his heart aching on his chest. He wanted to talk about everything with Y/N, because he knew she would understand him. He always feels vulnerable and safe enough to talk about anything with his best friend. 

“Everything is so fucked up, Y/N”, Lando cried out. “God, I can’t take this fake relationship anymore. Do you know how disgusting it feels to pretend to be in love with someone you’re not? And to lie to everyone, hiding it from my parents. From you. I can’t stand it”

“I’m sure you have a good reason to be doing so”, she said, fingers running through his curls and making him sure that she was right there with him. Y/N felt his fingers clinging tighter onto her. “You’re just doing your job and that’s okay. This won’t last forever”.

“I feel so lonely, you know? I was doing so bad on the last few races and I missed home so much. I missed talking to my dad and hugging my mom. I missed making fun of my sisters and going for a drive with my brother. And I missed you so much. I wish I could just stay here for a long while”.

“Soon you’ll get to be here for as long as you want, baby”, Y/N pressed a kiss on top of his head and Lando sighed in comfort. It ached a little less with her there. “And we’ll get to spend so much time together. You can come over and we’ll have sleepovers. We can take the car, drive around and go clubbing until sunrise. Whatever you want”.

“God, it would be so easy if it was you”, he whispered, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. What did he mean with that? Just those single words made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. Truth is, while her heart ached for her best friend, she was relieved he’s not in love with someone else. Did he have feelings for her? 

“You know, I looked over my so-called girlfriend one night while we were hanging out at the club and I wanted to shout to everyone that it was all an act. She’s like a solid reminder of how lonely I am all the damn time. It’s ridiculous”, he grunted. 

“Come on, look at me”, Y/N pulled his face to look up and held his head between her hands. “Lan, you are never alone, okay? Even if you feel like you are, and even if I’m not there physically, you know that I’m always with you. I’m right here”, she rested a hand over his heart, making him smile through his tears. “I've been in your heart since the moment we met”.

“I…”, he started, but couldn’t get to say the rest. After all this time, Lando was afraid that the next move would ruin their friendship forever. But looking her in the eyes, comforting him through this rough time, he knew she felt the same. “I love you, Y/N”.

She was expecting anything. ‘I know’, maybe. That was so much bigger than what she imagined. Lando had said he loved her countless times over the years they’ve known each other; after all, they grew up together, almost like brother and sister. But this time, it was different. Y/N knew it, and Lando knew it too.

Y/N was too stunned to speak, so he continued with his confession. “I always have, you know? And I only hid everything from you because I can’t lie to you. And because I thought you’d never look at me the same way if you found out”.

“Lando, I…” she stopped mid-sentence, trying to catch some air. “Fuck, this is a lot. Just wait a second”.

They giggled together and he leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to not say anything right now. I just dropped a giant bomb on your lap. This wasn’t the way I wanted to confess to you, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore”.

“Are you saying this because you’re emotional? Because I swear to God, if you are, I’m gonna kill you for misleading me”, her eyes were brimming with tears and Lando whipped them away.

“I’m telling you the truth”, he assured. “I think I’ve loved you my entire life. With all the crazy things I’ve experienced in my life, you were the only constant. You’re home, Y/N”.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”, she asked and he took a deep breath.

“Because I was afraid of losing you. Scared this might ruin our friendship somehow”, he admitted. “You’re the most precious thing in my life. Do you know how scary it is to fall in love with your best friend when you’re just a kid? And then grow up, and those feelings never go away, just getting stronger every day. I just didn’t want to lose you”.

“You weren’t going to lose me, Lan”, her eyes softened at his confession and now he was the one wiping her tears. Y/N brought him back for a hug and even though he didn’t have an answer, deep down he knew she felt the same.

“I’ve loved you since we were four. There’s a reason why I always carry this number with me”, Lando confessed. “God, look what you do to me. I never cry”.

“You only cry for the important things”, she reminded. “That’s why I love you, Lando. I’ve been in love with you for my entire life too, idiot”.

His eyes widened as he looked up to her, who had a smirk plastered on her face. “Can I kiss you?”, Lando asked, but before she could properly shake her head in agreement, he crashed his lips into hers. He needed to be home, and Y/N has always been home for him. It was the most intense kiss they ever had, like years of lingering had finally paid off for both of them.

Lando pulled her closer with a hand on the back of her head. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, smiling into his lips. Then, as if it wasn't enough, he pulled her to sit on lap, making them closer somehow. She slowed down the pace, making the kiss needier and more delicious. Lando even let out a satisfied throaty moan, his heart speeding on his chest. Her touches made him feral, knowing that after years of pinning, he finally had his dream girl.

“Thank you for this”, he whispered against her lips, a wide and satisfied smile on his face. “Thank you for all the years, all the times you've been here for me, to tell me everything is going to be alright.”

“Always, Lan”, she played with the hairs on his nape. “I love you so much”.

“I love you too. So much”, he left one more peck on her lips before hugging her again. “I don't know what I'd do without you”.

“Yeah, me too”.

The story of how they fell in love with each other was long, but beautiful. Lando and Y/N sat in that tree house all night and shared all of those stories with each other. And for a second, he really believed everything was going to work out. After all, if he had Y/N, Lando would be just fine.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

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[archonsabyss]

╰─..✶. [ Artist, and their Muse ]

❒ pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader

❒ genre: smut [nsfw 18+]! fluff! romance

❒ warnings: shy virgin reader! first time sex! softdom rafayel! fingering! vaginal sex! unprotected sex! nudity! teasing! orgasm denial! vague mention of blood!

❒ word count: 4.5k

─❒ authors note: when the words keep flowing you end with a 4k+ fic. anyways, enjoy soft dom rafayel. smut took 10yrs of my life to write. It was so hard and frustrating. Hurt my wrists trying to finish this with the way I'm keeping my phone hah. Enjoy 💜

Amidst the quiet solitude of his art studio, you found yourself unexpectedly forced backwards as Rafayel approached with an unreadable glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but feel flustered and surrender under the look he gave you as he gradually closed the distance, compelling you to place a hand on his chest in an attempt to maintain a level of distance that was not merely enough to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"You're so close" Your gaze avoids meeting his, and the flames of desire surge as soon as he steps near. The moment felt strangely intimate with your fingers delicately pressing against the cotton material of his shirt and his round beady eyes seeking yours. Rafayel didn't beckon you solely to fetch his favourite dinner, especially when he had a personal chef at his disposal and a perfectly functioning phone to order it himself. The evidence of his little white lie became apparent as he nudged you backward while striding ahead.

"Close?" He queries, seemingly not understanding what you meant and his brows furrowed in contemplation, his gaze dancing over your countenance absorbing every nuance as if seeking inspiration to craft a portrait of your essence. There was a common misconception about Rafayel's passionate character– it wasn't easy to navigate, leading most people to misread his character or feel inundated by his eccentric personality. Meeting up with him as often as you did, led you to such a conclusion. Time with Rafayel was a constant experience in itself, particularly for someone like you who normally shied away and often felt nervous around such bright personalities. You were a stark contrast to his entire existence and at times you left torn between the desire to strangle him and the impulse to pinch his cheeks, yet despite the unfamiliarity of it; his spirited flirting and teasing with seemingly effortless wit, he remained easy-going which rendered any time spent together devoid of awkward tension, and as time passed you came to accept that it was the undeniable allure about him.

"Do you hate me?" His sudden question takes you by surprise, but the genuineness in it absolutely baffles you. There were only a few rare instances when Rafayel's witty persona faded away completely, unveiling a calmer and more serious demeanour beneath. His lips didn't form their usual smile rather they grew more serious, and his shoulders deflated rather than puffed up, contrasting with the usual clingy sassiness of his character. This was one of those nights where he laid himself utterly bare without restraints and it was evident in the way his eyes were solely fixated on you as he anticipated a response.

"Where did that come from?" You wrinkled your nose. "What makes you ask such a ridiculous question, Rafayel?"

"It's not ridiculous!" He exclaims, his boisterous personality momentarily slipping away before he clears his throat. "You hate me"

"Says who?!"

"Says your body language" He refutes, pouting.

"I don't hate you" You vigorously shake your head. What made him think you hated him?

"I'd beg to differ"

For a fleeting moment, your attention shifts from the minimal distance between you as you narrow your eyes scrutinizingly at him. While he always had a flair for the dramatic, this time it felt genuinely serious.

"What are you on about, Rafa"

Sensing the impending embarrassment of his rationale, his ears turn red and he wordlessly grabs your hand from his chest and brings it to his cheek, letting you feel the heat emanating from his skin.

"I don't understand what you mean"

"Rafayel" You swallow, growing flustered under such an intimate act. He attempts to dismiss the way you pronounce his name but he fails as it echoes in his ears with an undeniable submission.

He turns his head, and his lips meet the skin of your palm, planting a gentle kiss. You repeat his name a few times but he refuses to meet your eyes, focusing solely on the way your palm cradles his cheek.

It's when you try to pull away, does he finally meets your gaze with narrowed eyes, remarking, "See, you do hate me." as his grip on your hand remains unyielding.

"You do"

"But I don't" You insist, and Rafayel rolls his eyes in annoyance, "Tell me why you think I hate you?"

He huffs and confesses with a pointed tone, "Every time I try to touch you, you pull back. Clearly, my existence is truly despised if you retreat at every opportunity,"

His sarcastic remark catches you off guard with a problem you never expected. Your heart gets entangled, growing intensely flustered with such a confession.

What if Rafayel knew his advances were rebuffed solely because you were cautious not to misinterpret his intentions or inadvertently lead yourself on?

Lost in your thoughts, you feel your cheeks burning with heat. It takes Rafayel snapping his fingers in front of you to bring you back down to earth.

"What?" He scoffs as you stare at him. "Admitting you hate me? That's your loss, I couldn't care less. There are a thousand other fish in the sea! A million other girls out there in the world who would die to be kissed by me! Who cares if the one girl I want doesn't want me, right? My existence is just a nuisance to you."

Throughout his incessant rambling, the pout on his lips becomes increasingly noticeable and the words he utters do not match the emotions he's experiencing. In reality, his heart is gradually shattering into pieces at your silence, feeling as though he's facing rejection.

Never before in your life have you taken the initiative on your own accord but now it feels necessary. You extend your hand to cup the right side of his face and gently turn it towards you. Your thumb strokes his cheek in circular motions as you strive to maintain eye contact despite the shyness tempting you to look away.

"I don't hate you, Rafayel" You confess earnestly.

"Could have fooled me"

"I'm not lying, you jerk"

"Your wounds hurt me. Then tell me why you avoided me like the plague"

"Why didn't you accept my hand when I opened the car door for you?"

"Why didn't you allow me to rest my chin on your shoulder at the art gallery?"

"Why did you resist when I wanted to show you how to stroke the paintbrush to create a gradient?"

"Why did you avert your head when I attempted to give you a goodbye kiss on the cheek?"

'Why didn't you let me feed you? And recently, why did you try to pull your hand away from my face"

He was giving you a headache. Honest to God his rambling was excessive and you weren't sure if you even got all that but you nodded along.

"I'm not like you Rafayel. Those things... I didn't─"

"Didn't what?" He persists.

"If you rested your chin on my shoulder, the distance would become unbearable. If you taught me to paint, there'd be no reason to linger in your art studio, pretending I'm there to learn. And if you kissed my cheek, who's to say I wouldn't want more? And if you fed me... I might just have to adopt you and fit you in my little fish tank."

"I didn't want to misinterpret things. I'm not as straightforward and upfront with gestures like you are. If I took your hand, I feared I wouldn't want to let go!"

"The fish jokes are getting old. And besides, Cucumber is perfectly content in his tiny bowl, a little overfed but fine nonetheless; I can't believe you'd consider evicting him." He points out, and out of everything you said, that's the only thing he focuses on. You nudge his shoulder harshly in response.

"Maybe you have a point. Maybe I should just get a cat"

Rafayel freezes, head snapping at you. "You wouldn't dare"

You nod, challenging him, and your sudden boldness catches him off guard. "I certainly would."

"See, it's a blatant display of animosity. I'll reclaim ownership of Cucumber."

"You can't do that, Raf." You find yourself suppressing a smile.

"I will."

"No," You frowned, "I love that fish."

"More than me, it seems."

"Can't I love you and Cucumber both?"

"So you love me?" He blinks, his knack for selectively responding to specific remarks astounds you.

"Maybe I should just leave. Your sudden personality shifts are giving me a headache."

"No," He seizes your wrist and presses you against the desk behind you. A tin of paint topples off the edge and spews its contents. While you gaze at the mess Rafayel fixates on you.

"You love me"

You retreat into your shell. "No"

"You just said you love me! If you deny it, I'll think you actually hate me"

"I'm not sure if it's love just yet, but it's something," You admit hastily, not wanting to restart the conversation and contend with his overwhelming persistence.

"Guess I can work with that"

Rafayel is oddly compliant all of a sudden and it makes you suspicious. The entire situation is confusing and feels dubious. It's unclear what's happening between you two, and it almost feels normal like every other conversation you've had, if not for the underlying tension building between your chests and lower halves.

"Rafayel, what are you doing?" You frantically inquire, your heart betraying you as it beats rapidly with every centimetre he closes between you.

Rafayel inclines his face towards you and you turn your head to the side with closed eyes as he hovers beyond the boundaries of personal space. His nose delicately traced the contour of your jaw, forming a constellation from your chin to your earlobe, and you can feel every measured inhale and exhale he makes while your breath is momentarily suspended.

"Rafayel" You mutter his name in protest yet again, not refuting your enjoyment of his actions but sensing the irregular thumping of your heart you fear you might lose consciousness.

"What are you doing"

"Evading your personal space"

"Yeah l─" You inhale sharply, "I can tell, but why?"

Rafayel stops for a second. "Since you don't hate me for the moment, I plan to take advantage of being this close to you"

"H-How many times must I tell you, I didn't hate you"

"Yeah, yeah whatever. I'm not moving" He prattles, rolling his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "Do I make you flustered?"

The way you're holding your breath makes it evident, but he wants to hear it directly from your lips so your muster a weak, "Yes"

He nods and smiles with approval. "Now tell me, do you actually want me to move away?"

"No"

Your obedience kindles a thrilling excitement within him, like a flame fueled by your compliance. Each nod and acquiescence adds to the anticipation and it makes his heart beat in rhythm with your submission.

"Can I kiss you?"

A lingering hush punctuated by the rush of blood surging in your ears envelops the space after he requests consent, and you nod your head instinctively, agreeing before your thoughts or words can be articulated. The anticipation hangs thick in the air as you await the slow descent of his lips and your gaze flitted, searching for something in his eyes that bore unwaveringly into yours with a depth that is slowly becoming your undoing.

Pulled in by an imperceptible force, Rafayel bridges the gap and meets your lips in a fervent kiss with a passion you've never encountered before.

When his mouth slots against yours, an intricate play of uncertainty, desire, and experimentation ensues. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in the dance of your entwined souls.

Rafayel's hands tenderly cradle your cheeks, tilting your head back while pressing his body against yours as he angles his head to kiss you with a deeper sense of passion that renders you flustered and breathless when he eventually pulls away.

The birds' melodious chirps seem to celebrate this unexpected blossoming of romance as if their song is a serenade to the newfound connection that has finally come together.

You meet Rafayel's gaze with a timidity he yearns to unravel. He wants to pull you right back into another kiss and lavish you with myriad praises. He wants to take you by the hand and lead you to his room where he can tenderly place you on his bed and express the depth of his desire to love you.

His infatuation lies in the unspoken words that crash upon him like a sudden wave against the shoreline, threatening to erode the restraints he struggled to maintain. The weight of unsaid wishes presses on him and the carefully constructed barriers seem on the verge of slipping away in the face of overwhelming longing.

"Rafayel." Has any human voice ever sounded sweeter? It lures him into a sense of desperation, enchanting him to the point where he feels compelled to kiss you again.

In a matter of seconds, any other words you had to offer to fade into the collision of his lips against yours. Your mouth opens willingly, his warm hands cradling your face once more as the kiss intensifies with his sweet tongue swiftly intertwining with yours.

He has you exactly where he wants. The fact that you can’t help but lean into him is like a triumph for him. The way you willingly succumb to him is something he can't get enough of, and all he craves is to lead you to ecstasy. He wants more, and the moans escaping him make it abundantly clear.

"I want you, Rafayel... So bad" You confess, overcoming shyness.

Rafayel's eyes widen with curiosity, and his lower lip protrudes with a gentle breath as he lets out a whining sigh.

"Finally! And just so you know, there's no going back" He cautions, a warning lingering in his words as he shifts his hands to your hips, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

You're inclined to nod your head, grappling mentally with the weight of your confession. Yet, it doesn't change the undeniable truth that you want this, you want him, and that was all he needed to hear to lead you to the expansive couch positioned near the extensive glass window at the far end of the studio, the closest comfortable spot for what lay ahead.

"Well?" He mused and you reply, "What?"

You were inexperienced and jittery, nerves causing a slight tension in your posture, but Rafayel as always, was there to alleviate any tension just as he's done in the past.

He seats himself on the couch, spreads his legs and rolls his hips for comfort, the bulge in his pants evident and a testament to your plea. There are a few buttons of his shirt undone revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. He raises but a singular brow wondering why you're still standing idly when his legs have parted specifically for you.

"Come here"

Your feet carry you forward before your mind comprehends, and the next thing you know, Rafayel has you seated atop him. He flinches at the contact of you on his bulge but quickly wipes away any sign of discomfort when he notices your worried expression, thinking you might have hurt him.

"Wait" He suddenly blurts, "Stand up"

"One of these days I'm going to eat you out" He grins, and you struggle to resist the urge to moan.

You do with hesitancy and his fingers loop into your pants and tug you forward. "I'm going to take these off," He says, and you blush hard, feeling a surge of arousal course through your veins.

You observe as he unbuttons the top of your pants with intricate fingers, sliding them down your legs leaving you half-bare. His eyes glint mischievously as he peers up at you through his eyelashes, his face in line with your lower half as he remains seated on the couch.

Rafayel instructs you to turn around, guiding you to perch on his lap and you comply. He encourages you to relax and lean against his chest. His hands then place on your knees and part them enough for the cool air to breeze between your legs. Your panties cling uncomfortably and a wave of heat courses through your body.

"Breathe," He chuckles, sensing the tension in your body as he pulls down your panties, and you gasp as a rush of cold air greets you.

"I've never done this before, Rafayel"

His hands inch closer to your core, "Just breathe, baby" He whispers as his index finger delicately traces the contours of your pussy. "I'll go slow. It'll feel good, promise"

You inhale deeply, finding your inner courage and trusting him entirely. At first, Rafayel entered with just a single finger. You gasp, your body yielding to his touch. His finger explores delicately between your folds ensuring no harm as he starts tracing circles around your sensitive bud.

Your brows pinch in response to his movements, your back arching as your fists look for something to grab.

Rafayel grins, redirecting your hand to the nape of his neck while his fingers tease your clit, and as you grasp onto him for support he presses on your stomach to prevent your back from arching away.

There is no doubt in your fuzzy mind that Rafayel exhibits the same level of concentrated energy and finesse in propelling you to new heights as he does in his artworks. Every movement he makes is precise, mirroring the precision of his painting technique, akin to the deliberate strokes of a paintbrush caressing a canvas.

The interplay of his unpredictable movements and irrational spur of inspiration, coupled with the graceful gestures of his hand, harmonizes and forges an experience transcending the boundaries of conventional perception, leaving you with a sensation unlike any you've encountered before.

"Enjoying yourself?" He feels the need to comment when your nails dig into his neck but you're too fucked to comprehend anything he's saying which makes him chuckle into your ear and picked up his movements. You squirm in his grasp, tension building in your stomach, thighs aching, yet the impending pressure refuses to ease as he pulls back every time you think you might explode.

He will be your undoing, and all it takes is a single finger toying with your heat. You can't take the suspension any longer and shamelessly beg for more, his name leaving your lips desperately. He can't deny you like you've denied him and listens, inserting another finger but this time with less gentleness, employing his thumb to stroke small circles on your clit.

A breathy sigh escaped your lips as his fingertips tentatively yet deliberately traced your slick folds from bottom to top. He kissed your neck, feeling a surge of arousal run to his cock leaking precum beneath you.

He withdraws his fingers, admiring with pride the glistening evidence of your cum coating them while a moan is forcefully drawn from your throat at the sudden emptiness and build-up within your stomach just beginning for release. You exclaim his name as he cleans his fingers with a pop by sucking on them.

In a blurry flip of the moment, Rafayel swiftly scoops you into his arms and pivots you around, settling you onto your back as he gradually lowers himself on top of you. He kisses you hard and takes your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he settles between you. After months of resisting and denying your feelings, this is what it led to.

Rafayel hovers over you, staring down at your face and running his hands over your body. He groaned, the warmth seeping into his groin as he pulsed and ached with the need to be inside of your tight body. He positioned himself at your entrance and observed as your face twisted in pleasure. Then, he murmured soothingly as he drew closer and penetrated you, causing every muscle in your body to tense as you cried out and gripped onto his shoulders, the soles of your feet digging into his back.

"You drive me fucking insane"

He exhales sharply as your thighs tighten around him and your hands slip under his thin shirt. He's unable to bear the barriers between you any longer and kisses you one final time before breaking away to discard his pants and remove his shirt. He does the same with the remainder of your clothes, unbuttoning your shirt haphazardly and tossing it across the room where it sadly lands amidst a dissaray of paint he hasn't cleaned up.

"Rafayel! It hurts" You mutter with a headshake, stifling a sob and he nods, pausing his movements and stroking your cheek. He bends down, planting a tender kiss on your lips, muffling the gentle whimpers you emit. He remains in that position for a while before inquiring, "Does it still hurt?"With shameless selfishness, Rafayel exercised restraint throughout, feeling the tight grip of your pussy squeezing his throbbing cock and it drove him insane.

Fuck─ he wanted to ravish you.

“No─ N-Not really anymore.” You eventually responded with a gulp permitting him to continue. His earlier edging was a prelude to this, as your arousal coated your intimacy forming a natural lubricant. Rafayel proceeded to push deeper into you and your reaction remained most responsive.

Inch by inch, you took him in.

"That feels good" You moaned shamelessly and Rafayel attached his lips to your throat, bringing an otherworldly kind of ecstasy to you. Slowly, he sunk deeper into you. The initial discomfort of being stretched and filled gives way to overwhelming realms of pleasure coursing through your senses.

“It feels so good” You whine as he rolls his hips, biting his lip to contain a semblance of his sanity.

"I've had dreams of this" He admits, loving the way you're so willing to take him in even with the initial discomfort. "Dreams of you. My muse. You were right, after getting a taste I doubt I can ever be without you."

You nod your head weakly and Rafayel slides his hands into yours intertwining your fingers just as he bottoms out in you. "Shh," He quieted you with a gentle whisper, slowly commencing a gentle rhythmic thrust of his hips providing you with a moment to adjust. Yet, impatience took over and you rolled your hips, emitting a moan at the euphoric sensation that left your eyes rolling. Before long, Rafayel has undeniably picked him his pace and his actions are now characterized by a precise execution of snapping his hips against yours, his cock reaching the deepest recesses within you, and as he gains speed his thrusts delve even deeper, and your responses become increasingly animated. Your hands explored every inch of his shoulders, torso, through his hair and down his back. Your lips parted with each heaving breath he drew from your chest, while his lips fervently sucked on your neck.

The delightful singing of your moans, the way your face twisted in pain and pleasure, and when you constantly arched your back and found a rhythm in rolling your hips to meet his, Rafayel could hold himself back no longer and pumped his cock into your walls, infiltrating and memorizing every crevice. Upon seeing your breasts shake with the movement and your mouth agape, he pulled out and thrust right back in with a force that eroded any lingering shreds of dignity.

Still, you had the nerve to bite your lip and smile so seductively at him, saying, “It feels so good.”

Then and there, Rafayel knew that you weren't the demure innocent little fish ensnared in his trap from the start; you were the prey, teasing the hunter with the knowledge that escape was within your grasp, unmarred.

"Taking me all" He chuckles without mirth, a hint of the devil reflecting in the crimson hue within his amethyst eyes. "Such a good girl, aren't you little one"

The faint glint of his fangs becomes apparent when he smiles, tempting you to passionately kiss him at the mere sight.

God, you were so wet, so soaked for him.Rafayel cradled your face in the palm of his right hand, attuned to the clenching of your muscles around him and the loud explicit squelching of his cock driving into you. He sensed the imminent arrival of your climax.

"Cum for me" He demands softly and you can't refuse him, can't refuse the way he holds you as his cock pumps into you. And you cum hard and fast, your body convulsing in response.

Your head droops back listlessly as do your hands, and Rafayel's grin widens as if he's stumbled upon the perfect canvas for his artistry. Words seemingly elude your mind to articulate such an experience. It was transformative, stripping away every vestige of shyness and leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Your release trickles out, enveloping his shaft, propelling him towards his climax. Rafayel thrusts his member deeply into you, and with a groan intertwined with a whine, he climaxes inside you, filling you without mercy to the absolute brim.

"Fuck" He whines, his forehead pressing against yours as his body collapses onto you, ensconced within the comfort of your embrace. Together, you climax and ride out your high as your essence intertwines and spills out between you onto the luxurious upholstery of his couch, a touch of crimson blending with the mix.

Rafayel embraces you tightly, repositioning himself onto his back with you resting on his chest. He gently guides your head to rest above his heartbeat and keeps you securely in that position.“You okay?” He asked, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

"This wasn't how I expected my night to go" You confess sleepily, and Rafayel concurs, but neither of you is complaining.

"You need to pee" He suddenly says, though his motionless form indicates he's as reluctant to move as you are. "And we need to clean up"

"Just─ Just a minute longer, I love being like this" With your words, your head nestles into his chest, leaving Rafayel with no option but to comply. He holds you tightly, savouring the moment, believing it might be the beginning and the end of his resolve.

This night has sealed the deal for him completely. He is no longer an individual entity, and it's been that way for quite some time. Now, he unequivocally belongs to you.

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

[kiwisbell]

Boots [joel miller]

Joel doesn't like the idea of someone else gettin' all your best.

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: jealous joel giving you a lesson in who really likes you best, birthday sex, (over)protective joel, softie joel, dominant joel, oral sex (m and f receiving), face-sitting, riding, no plot just porn and some fluff because it's me, possessive sex, praise kink, squirting, established relationship

word count: ~ 4.5k

hello, all! i'm beginning to unload my fics onto tumblr for those who prefer reading in this format - and as a result, some of you lovely folks who follow me will likely see works you've already read before. i sincerely apologise for that, but many new projects are in the works as well because i love y'all and i live to please. that aside, if you're new here, welcome, and i hope you enjoy this one-shot!! <3

BOOTS

If there's anything you know about Joel, it's that he can get real angry. 

It ain't like he's always mad. He lives a lot of his life in utter silence, but you like to watch him. Sometimes, in the dark, he sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers and bringing them to his chin. He’ll sit like that for hours without moving, barely shifting to take in air, and you know never to shake him from that trance. It’s how you’ve learned to read between the lines. 

After fifteen years by his side, you can gauge his moods better than the weather. He’s got a restless spirit, but his voice is midnight water. It’s calm and dark and clear, and it rumbles: the ripples left behind by skipping stones. He never lashes out at you, never raises his voice. 

Except for that one time in New Jersey. 

“Are you goddamn fuckin’ stupid?”

This was a little while before you could patent your Joel-handling techniques, so you did what any woman would do when a man calls her stupid: you folded your arms over your chest and got just as mad. “Stupid?” you said incredulously. “I saved your ass in there. Multiple asses, actually.”

Above you, the canopy of brilliant red leaves felt like a bloody shawl, and they crackled underfoot. You sported a limp thanks to a sprained ankle and your lip was bloody, but you were fine. Truly. And yet, Joel’s anger was pulsating. You could see it: heat waves, distorting the air around him, his brows flattening over his eyes and his nostrils flaring. A bull ready to charge. He was brimming with the need to release this energy. 

Behind you, a building burned. The fire was a monstrous, lively thing, and it scorched the hairs on the back of your neck. Inside lay the bodies of the men you’d stolen the medical kits from, along with two of your own crew. It was only you and Joel left. It was autumn, and the breeze was welcome in such relentless heat. 

He’d been ambushed just as much as the rest of you, but rotten fuckin’ luck had pinned a man on top of him—armed with a knife, inches from Joel’s eye. Not trusting yourself to make a shot without hitting him, too, you had tackled the man without thinking much. It had worked well enough to send his knife clattering across the burning hut. He’d landed a punch to you before Joel had blown his head clean off. Brain matter still clung to your jeans, but you tried not to look. When you’d rolled the body off you, Joel shot him again. He was covered in blood from his greying hair to his boots.

“Your job is to look out for yourself out there,” he snapped, “not me. The fuck were you thinkin’?”

Your frown only deepened. What had you been thinking? Maybe leaving him to die would teach him a lesson or two about what it was like to fear for someone’s life. Even if it was his own. “We need to go. You can yell at me later.”

Joel didn’t say anything when he kneeled at your feet and lifted your ankle up onto his raised knee. You yelped when you almost toppled over, but he kept you steady and inspected the swollen flesh. He was achingly gentle when he prodded at you, his expression softening into something more like concern. “This hurt?” he asked.

“Of course it hurts, Miller.” You lifted a brow at him, but he wasn’t looking up. “Want me to try on a glass slipper, or can we go?”

“Still think that was stupid,” he grumbled. 

You snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one who can navigate for shit, and I don’t fancy getting lost without my own personal compass.”

When he stood, Joel surprised you some more by gently patting your leg. “Real nice,” he said under his breath, shrugging the strap of your pack farther up your shoulder. “Stay behind me.”

You grinned up at him. “Happily.”

He never gets angry for long. Not at you.

There’s a knock at his door in the rhythm only the two of you know. He still checks the peephole, but it’s you. You slip inside, practically bounding on the balls of your feet, that cute fuckin’ grin on your face as you hide something behind your back. “Guess what day it is,” you say.

Joel will never let it leave this room that he indulges in your stupid game. “Sunday,” he tries.

Your pout is extravagant, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t make him want to bite it off your pretty mouth. “Rhymes with smirthday. Y’know… the only day I ever ask you for anything.”

He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

You roll your eyes and bring your hands around from behind your back. You’re holding a cupcake. 

“Holy shit. Where the fuck did you get that?”

“The FEDRA guy who monitors my building likes me,” you tell him, honest as ever. Too honest for this world and too damned sweet to be anything but a liability. And yet, here he is, digging, indulging, sinking his claws in. “Enough to sneak this to me from the kitchen, apparently.”

That makes him feel real fuckin’ grumpy. Nobody with eyes would be enough of a fool to deny that you’re gorgeous, but it doesn’t make him sleep any better knowing other men are chasing that brilliant twinkle in your eyes. He wants to tuck it between his ribs and let it illuminate his insides. He doesn’t want anyone else to see it, not ever.

“He’s tryin’ to make a move on you,” says Joel. “That’s what that is.”

If there’s a second thing you know about Joel, it’s that he lives with his foot in his mouth. Unfailingly. 

You have long since learned the tactics of Joel-handling. You'd be offended if it were anyone else, but you just pat his cheek affectionately. “Sit down.”

To his credit, he does, but not after some grumbling. You scrape the second chair along the floor until it's right next to him. You split the cupcake in two as best you can and pass him one of the halves. Joel eyes it suspiciously. “You sure this is edible?”

You just take a bite and groan. It's been a long time since you've tasted chocolate, let alone the decadence of over-sweet frosting. Joel watches you carefully. Your lashes flutter in your trancelike enjoyment, a small speck of white frosting on the top of your nose. He's overcome with the knowledge that people in this world would try and take you from him. That people have put guns to your head, that they have harmed you, that they'll do it again and again. This world does not leave a woman like you untouched. 

It's a good thing you've got him to make sure the world goes nowhere near you. 

“Got frosting on your nose,” he says gruffly, trying to suppress his smile as he swipes it away with his thumb. “Some killer you are.”

You kick your legs up onto his lap. His thumb idly circles your ankle bone. “I don’t pretend to be a killer. I get by just fine, Miller.”

“Yeah?” He lifts a brow. “And if I wasn’t here?”

You shrug. “Dead, probably.”

Joel takes a bite of the fucking cupcake and he's a little mad when it's not bad. 

You sit at the window on his bed later, your knees drawn up to your chest and your cheek resting atop them. You like to watch the lights of the FEDRA vehicles and the occasional star that winks at you from high above the QZ. You're a pretty sight to look at all the time, but it feels somehow more delectable when you don't know he's looking. 

It's nearing midnight, and you're getting up to leave. Curfew means you have to scurry back to your apartment across the street or you'll be stuck here all night. It also means you have to walk right past the same officer who snuck you that cupcake. 

“You asked me once if I ever wanted to end it.”

Across the fire, he looked like a spectre: a thing you could not touch, sizzling tendrils of silvery air curling around crackling flame. You’d stopped for the night, and neither of you wanted to sleep. Even though you’d both seen enough fire for a lifetime, you still extended your palms toward it and let it warm you as you watched his dark brown eyes grapple for a way through the thistly wood of his past.

“I tried,” he told you. “After I lost her.”

Somehow, you felt undeserving. Like wrapping your fingers around a piece of Joel Miller’s steel-hard aorta and yanking out all the precious bits that came with it. Like licking the blood from the heart and shoving it back inside. Would he ever be the same knowing another soul in the world had this information? Would he come to regret telling you?

He watched you stand and shuffle up next to him on the piss-poor, blood-stained excuse for a sleeping bag. When your fingers lifted to the scar on his throat, he did not flinch away. Your hands were warmed by the fire. It filled the very soul of you, that flame. He did not meet your eye, but you looked into his nonetheless. 

“I’m happy you missed.” A hand, warm and kissed by a tenderness he would never deserve, settled at the nape of his neck. Fingers gently combed through the grey strands, and he leaned into your touch, not quite understanding the pull but giving in nonetheless. For the first time in years, he thought he might be able to sleep if you just kept touching him like this.

Your next words were soft, but they were not afraid. “But I’m sad I never got to meet her.”

His head turned, and at last, his eyes met yours. 

“Me, too.”

You smiled sadly. “Joel.”

“Don’t ever,” he said slowly, his hand squeezing your knee, “play fast and loose with your life again. Your life happens to fuckin’ matter to me.”

And that was that. 

At some point, this began. Neither of you attempt to define how or when. Perhaps it has always been. It isn’t like time matters anymore.

When you pass Joel on your way to the door, he grabs your wrist. 

“Does that FEDRA fucker know whose place you go to every night?”

You sigh, turning your head to meet his eyes: glimmering black beetles in the dim light. “Joel. Don’t be an asshole.”

But he’s long past trying not to be an asshole, especially when it comes to people honing in on his fucking territory. He tugs you by the waist so your back is pressed against his chest. His fingers are splayed over your belly. “You like him?” he says into your ear. 

Your lashes flutter on your cheeks. “Joel.” His name sounds like the citrus of the oranges you like from the cafeteria. It’s sweet and tangy and somewhat discrete. “You know I need to meet with Robert about the battery tomorrow. You’ll keep me up all night.”

A grunt rumbles deep in his chest. “You’re not goin’ to see Robert alone.” 

“That was part of his deal.” You gasp when he buries his face in your neck, sucking at the skin beneath your ear. He’ll make it show up angry and purple for the FEDRA officer and, fuck it, the entire QZ to see. He’ll litter your whole body with bruises and hickeys like he's a goddamn teenager if that's what it takes to keep you here. 

“Shit fuckin’ luck.” His fingers dip to the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rock subtly and he smirks against your skin. “Robert doesn't get to decide how this goes.”

“Yeah, he does. He’s the one with the battery.” 

The scratch of his beard is rough and deliberate against your neck. “If he doesn't wanna see me,” says Joel, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down, “he can tell me himself.”

“He’s terrified of you.”

Joel turns you around and presses you right up against his chest. You feel his hardness at your belly, the sear of his gaze through yours. “Good,” he says. “Get on the bed.”

It’s already midnight, which means you’ll get chewed out if you try to leave now. Joel’s plan, you guess. “You jealous of a little FEDRA officer, Miller?” Backing toward the bed, you smile up at him, coy and teasing.

“You never answered my question.” He chases your body, stalking toward you as his hand juts out to squeeze your hip. Your legs hit the edge of the bed. “Do you like him?” 

His lips are so close you could just surge toward him and end this suffering. But he's keeping you at arm’s length, keeping you pliant under his touch because he knows—the bastard—that he’s winning. 

Still, getting a rise out of Joel Miller is your birthright. “Would you rather I fuck a Firefly?” 

A faint sneer twists his mouth, and this is his anger. This is the simmering, thrilling thing that infests your very blood. He’s jealous, and you're surprised at how deliciously it thrums in your lower spine, knowing he’s furious at the thought that someone else could even come close to the way he knows you. 

The kiss begins slowly. For the heat you can feel through the press of his chest against yours, his nose only gently nudges yours as he works his way up to claiming your mouth. When he does, it’s a bizarre and dizzying shift compared to the rage you know he feels. The desire to march out onto the street and beat that officer to near-death. He compensates with a unique tenderness, taking his time with you, his hand pressing down against the exact spot on your lower back that forces his hips to mould to yours. His other cups your face, his fingers winding into your hair and curling at the back of your neck. It forces you to look up at him. 

His beauty loops like a knot through your nerves. If you prodded any spot on your skin, the blood beneath would sing with the topography of him. You know the lines of his face better than your own. There is a patch in his beard that resembles a heart. There is a twinkle in his eye that lingers when he frowns and smiles. It’s a rare thing in such a sullen person. But you like finding those eyes in the dark. Somehow, for you, he’s hope.

When his lips finally meet yours, they're soft, and he lets you reach up to tangle your fingers in his soft, messy hair even though he’s doing everything he can to keep you under his control. Not that you mind. He knows you're his. 

He deepens the kiss with a soft groan, curving his body over yours, tongue seeking the seam of your lips. You part them willingly, gasping when he lurches forward and slides his tongue along yours, biting and sucking at your lips. Joel growls softly at the faint noises you make, your fingers tightening in his hair, the pleasing sting in his scalp sending jolts down to his hard cock. 

“MmmmmJoel.” You’re panting, desperate for air he won't give you. He likes this—making you gasp, making you weak, making you forget entirely that you’re supposed to be teasing him. 

“Careful,” you gasp, barely able to form words around his mouth on yours. “Gonna hurt your back.”

That only seems to egg him on. He may not be young and agile anymore, but that’s never stopped him from giving you what you need. He turns you around and lies on his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. Your jeans go quickly, sliding down your hips with your panties and dropping somewhere on the floor. Your shirt follows, his fingers enjoying their path along your shoulders as he slips your bra straps down: a rare moment of indulgence and appreciation in a world that does not allow either. 

For a moment, he just looks at you, brushing the pad of his thumb across your chin. Your eyes glimmer from the light through the window. “You only like me,” he says. Matter-of-fact. He knows. 

But you smile, because he decided to say it anyway. “I only like you, Joel Miller.”

A hand kneads your ass, giving it a smack. You jump in his grasp, but he just gives you that crooked smirk and whispers: “Come take a seat.”

You rear back, frowning at him. Is he—

“You waiting for a sweeter invitation, baby?” His voice is low and gruff, unused to compromise. You feel his fingers dig into your ass and pull you up onto his chest. Your cunt is slick with anticipation and the ichor of desire. 

He wants you on his face. 

“What if I—”

“Sit.” Every letter feels like a deliberate strike, bone-deep. “C’mon, now.”

Let me show you how much I like you. 

Your bottom lip between your teeth, you shuffle gingerly up his chest until you can brace your hands on the wall, your cunt hovering over his mouth. Joel doesn't like that. He wraps his hands around your upper thighs and forces you down onto his face. You gasp his name, one hand flying to his hair and locking your fingers in his locks. “Fuck.”

He grunts, squeezing your thighs up to your hips as he pulls your clit into his mouth, lathering it with his spit and your wetness. It’s white-hot: the pressure on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, the insistent bump of his nose against your clit as he teases his tongue around your tight hole. “Joel, Joel, fuck,” is all you can manage, sweet little gasps that he drinks in, his hips bucking involuntarily with the delicious pain of your fingers pulling at his scalp. You're losing grip on the real world and slipping elsewhere, and he wants to get you there. 

One of Joel’s hands slides between your legs, easing them open even more, and rests on your belly, shifting to your ribcage and helping you steady yourself atop him. His fingertips graze your breasts, reverent and gentle despite their roughness. Those hands have been split and bloodied, but they hold you like they’ve never known anything but kindness. His eyes closed, savouring the taste of you, his fingers trace a scar on your sternum from an incident at knifepoint six years ago. He cannot see it, but he knows it nonetheless. 

Joel is greedy when he has his face buried in your pussy. He doesn’t get the opportunity to take his time like this often; the both of you have only ever been acquainted with impermanence. But now, tucked comfortably between your thighs, licking between your folds like a starving fuckin’ dog, taking what he wants from you. 

The sounds are slick and obscene, mingled with your drunken sighs and words of encouragement as you curl your fingers against the wall uselessly. “Joel,” you whimper, your hips rolling against his face, moonlight bursting on your eyelids. “I… can’t… so good—”

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly. He’ll imprint the feeling of him on your skin forever—if he hasn't already. He’ll make sure you never have another man like you have him. 

It’s a selfish thing, love. He's mastered clutching it to his chest and keeping his palm closed right around it. 

“I’m… oh, fuck, I’m gonna…” Your hips buck wildly, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you steadfast and firm to his face. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and fixes his tongue to you, wiggling slightly as he feels you stiffen above him. “Oh, my—gonna come!”

He knows. You're already coming. Your hand leaves his hair and braces next to your other one on the wall, ensuring you don’t fall over as your thighs shake uncontrollably and your mouth drops open in a keening whine. Joel keeps lapping at your clit long after your orgasm fades and you cry out from the overstimulation. Gently, you reach down to tug his hair, and he reluctantly pulls away. He’s so hard he can’t conjure much mental activity besides getting his dick wet. 

Your chest is heaving as you try to pick your leg up and get off him, but your strength fails you. Instead, Joel grabs your hips and sits up, your cunt sliding down to sit on top of his erection. Experimentally, you grind down on him, watching a muscle in his jaw feather. “Are you going to let me take your pants off?” you ask him, teasing, your finger tracing the metal of his belt buckle. 

He grits his teeth, letting you take control for a moment, sliding the belt achingly slow out of each loop. Your wicked little smile is so pretty in the darkness, illuminated briefly by passing patrol vehicles through the window. Unbuttoning his shirt, you dip your body low to his chest and press gentle kisses all the way down to his soft belly and the trail of hair disappearing under his waistband. 

Joel moans brokenly when you shuck his jeans down his legs and squeeze his hard length before it can slap up against his stomach. There’s a tattoo on his inner thigh that you like to trace with your fingers, something he got with his brother when they were young. Your tongue darts out and licks up the precum pooling at his slit, making his cock twitch in your grasp. “Jesus,” he groans. “Baby, c’mon, let me—”

Your soft lips parting around the throbbing head of his cock destroy whatever end to the sentence he had planned. Squeezing his strong thighs to ground yourself, you swirl your tongue around the tip and take him deeper, your throat expanding to accommodate his thick, heavy weight in your mouth. He huffs, grumpy that he can't think straight for long enough to stop you and overcome with pleasure all the same. You squeeze his thigh again, your thumb rubbing circles over the little tattoo, and he meets your eyes. They're watery, blinking hard to expel the tears, his hand instinctively cradling the crown of your head to keep you on him, keep you choking around him. 

When your nose meets the thatch of hair above his base, he’s the one who chokes, his head tipping back. “Jesus, fuck, goddamn—” His fingers curl in your hair and gently urge you off his cock; you pout, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. His dick jumps at the sight, lying hard on his stomach. 

“Come up here,” he rasps. You do, crawling up his body until your hips are flush, his hardness slotted, thick and throbbing, between your folds. The hum that leaves your mouth is wanton, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hands move to your lower back, digging into the flesh just above your ass so you’re forced to roll your hips along his shaft. 

Your mouth drops open at the jolt of pleasure to your cunt. “Oh…”

“That’s it, baby.” 

He cannot come inside you, but he can come like this. And he will, probably faster than he likes; your pretty lips parted, your eyes lidded and boring into his even as you grind along his cock, unwavering. You look good like this. You look happy and soft and all his. 

Joel’s hands clutch you a little harder, roll you a little faster, your hands supporting your weight on his firm chest. He’s so fucking close, your wet pussy soaking his length and his tip catching on your sensitive clit with each roll of your hips, but he needs you to come again. You come first. 

“Joel,” you sigh, your thighs locking tight around his hips, nectar and frosting and citrus. 

“I know,” he says, “I know. Keep goin’, baby. C’mon. Doin’ so good. Jesus, so good.”

The first orgasm was a meticulous build-up. This one crashes down with the ceremony and courtesy of an ambush: it seizes your whole body and leaves you helpless. You moan his name—maybe you whisper it; everything is loud in your ears—and double over, your cheek pressed into the hollow of his throat. He keeps you moving, seeking his own high, bucking up against your cunt.

“That’s it.” His praises gently puff out across the top of your head, tucking your head under his chin, admiring the curve of your back and the supple taste of your skin under his fingers. His balls draw up and his core goes tight with imminent release. “Fuck, baby. Fuck—”

There’s a hot, wet splash against your belly, then another, and another. When you peel yourself away to watch his cum spurt onto his stomach, your cunt tightens with the pulsating rhythm of his shaft under you and another brief, but devastating, rush of pleasure surges through your whole body. It almost fucking knocks you over. You lift yourself off his cock in time to see a burst of wetness soak him, dribbling out around your bodies onto the mattress. Joel groans, his brows lifting, another spurt of cum landing on his belly. 

“Jesus Christ.”

You list to the side, unable to hold yourself up in any capacity. You land next to him, your arm belted across his chest, fondly nudging a pec with your nose. “Me, too,” you mumble. Your voice is hollow. 

Joel turns his head to face you, and you swipe some cum off his belly with your index and middle fingers, looking him in the eyes as you lick it up and swallow. He grabs you by the back of the neck and kisses you hard. “No fuckin’ FEDRA asshole,” he grumbles into your mouth, “is gettin’ anywhere near you. And neither is Robert.”

You forgot that was what this was about. “Joel,” you whisper, lips migrating from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, his scratchy beard, “you can’t keep me safe forever.”

He reaches around to grab your ass and then hitches your thigh up onto his hip. “Yeah, I fuckin’ can. Stay here.” 

“We aren’t related, or married.” You pin him with a stare. “They would never let us.”

Joel lifts his brows. You roll your eyes. “We aren’t married.”

He’ll pick a fight in the morning. But you already know you won’t be going to see Robert about the battery with your big guard dog standing just behind you. Robert can suck it the fuck up, for all Joel cares. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says, squeezing your thigh. “It was a shitty cupcake, though.”

You laugh, kissing him on the nose. “No, it wasn’t. For all you know, you may never have one again.”

“For the fuckin’ best,” he grumbles, chasing your mouth again. You let him kiss you, and neither of you get much sleep. 

He really didn't mind the cupcake.

[palioom]

little dove

summary: your first attendance of a huge feast is bothersome, alone and inexperienced as you are. until the eyes of a certain prince won't stop following you.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; virginity/innocence kink; implied age gap (oberyn is in his early 40s, reader early 20s); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some biting

a/n: another fic from last summer, hope you enjoy! ; headers & dividers by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

• masterlist •

Oberyn had been watching her all night already, his dark eyes following the shape of her wherever she went. Between the bustle of the people, her bright orange glowing dress like the sun, rising and settling as she appeared and disappeared, standing around like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

It was adorable, a smirk gracing his features as he watched her wring her hands, smiling sheepishly when someone approached her. 

So innocent.

He could see the nervousness on her face from where he sat, the uncertainty, clearly not used to people approaching her.

He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest, exposed by the deep cut of her garments.

Taking another sip of his wine, Oberyn stood, deciding now was his time.

The festivities had been going on for a while, and even though he had planned on celebrating with a group of people in his bedchambers later, she had thrown those plans into the wind the second he set sight on her.

Something just intrigued him, maybe it was the innocence she seemed to harbour, maybe it was her beauty.

Whatever it was, he had to know more, waiving away another woman that approached him with a polite smile, then walking over to the mysterious woman.

She looked around nervously, playing with the rings on her hands as people passed by her, some stopping to talk to her.

Feeling incredibly out of place at this feast, her first big one, she didn't quite know what to do. Her parents were somewhere, as were her siblings.

The lords trying to speak to her made her feel uneasy, knowing she was supposed to find a possible suitor at some point, but wanting nothing more than to flee this place.

In fact, she was thinking about just leaving, when she was approached again.

Tall, dark haired and handsome. The Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.

She had seen him at his table, stealing a glance every once in a while and looking away when his dark eyes caught hers.

And now he stood in front of her, flashing her a wide smile.

“My Prince.” She said, curtsying as well as she could, perhaps a little clumsily. 

Out of everything she had expected to happen today, she did not expect for him to approach her.

“Do you intend to sulk in the shadows all night, my dove?”

She blinked up at him, once again playing with the rings on her fingers.

“I have not been sulking.” A frown graced her face, a slight tremble in her voice. His presence was intimidating, but different from the other people who had approached her. “I have been observing.”

Oberyn chuckled, taking a small step closer to her, watching her step back just a little in return. So close to her, he could practically feel the nervosity radiating off of her, trying to hold eye contact before they moved away again, looking at anything but him.

“Observing by turning down all lords and ladies who approach you?” He said, watching her fingers stop for just a moment, as if she had been caught, before fiddling with her rings again. “I must admit, I have been watching you for a while - you are the only lady not dancing, not talking to anyone. Just standing in your corner, sometimes moving to follow the servants for a drink or something to eat.”

She stayed quiet. Had she been that noticeable? Just by standing around, hoping for a saving grace?

“I assume this to be your first attendance at a feast this big, am I correct, my dove?”

That nickname.

It made her feel warm, a different kind of warmth than the Dornish weather. Running through her in an unfamiliar fashion, her veins like molten metal, a strange feeling moving up her spine..

“Yes, my Prince.” She said, nodding, but not looking at him.

Oberyn noticed how she became more nervous, smirking at the display in front of him.

“My parents have kept me from them for long, I was only ever allowed to attend small ones.” She continued, sighing. “It is quite overwhelming. I am inexperienced in these kinds of things.”

Her words made him inhale sharply through his nose, still smiling.

If she was inexperienced in this, what else was she inexperienced in?

He had wanted her before, but now the desire for her burned even brighter. Oberyn wanted to show her the things her parents have undoubtedly sheltered her from.

To keep their daughter pure for a potential suitor.

“I understand, my dove. Would you perhaps allow me to accompany you to a place more quiet?”

Usually, he did not beat around the bush when it came to a potential partner for the night.

But it was different with her. If he was blunt he would simply chase her away.

She didn’t look at him, thinking about his question.

All the other men and women that had asked before had made her feel uneasy. Unsure why they wanted to whisk her away, promising a better night someplace else.

But the Prince of Dorne? He made her feel different. A heat and a pressure in her abdomen that she never felt before.

She knew of the rumours, that he took many partners, for whatever they did. Yet, as he stood in front of her, charming smile and good looks, she felt herself drawn to him.

Oberyn reached out, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I asked you a question, my dove.”

His fingers on her chin made her still, just looking up at him with her big eyes, lips slightly parted. The touch made that pressure worse, breath hitching in her throat.

“My Prince, I’m-” She stumbled over her words, unsure what to answer.

He just chuckled, a sigh leaving him. “You are quite easily flustered, my dove. Come with me, please.”

Holding out his arm for her to take, he hoped she would. Such an innocent, pretty thing. There was something so endearing about the way she was behaving.

She swallowed hard, looking from his face to his arm, hesitating for a moment. Something drew her to him, and after another moment, she hooked her arm into his with a nervous smile.

Oberyn walked her away from the feast, the noises dying down behind them as they walked the long corridors.

“What did the other lords and ladies ask of you, my dove?” 

She sighed, glad to be away from the bustle in the halls, but feeling uncertain now, a throbbing at the apex of her thighs distracting her.

“They wished to take me away for some fun. I’m unsure what they meant exactly.” She didn’t look at him, too nervous to meet his dark, piercing eyes. 

It was intimidating, she had never been in the presence of a man other than her father or her brothers alone. She knew how to behave, for the most part, but nonetheless was it a little scary.

Oberyn smirked, looking down to her, seeing how she only stared at the floor or ahead of them. 

“You did not know what they were implying?” He asked, a bit amused but genuinely curious. “My little dove, you must be younger than I thought or your parents simply were too careless with your education.”

She remained quiet, her cheeks growing hot. 

A sense of shame washed over her, that he thought she was too young. It was as if her friends were with her, giggling and whispering because of something she didn’t understand.

And when she asked, they never explained, finding it too amusing to laugh and belittle her.

There was something she was missing out on, and she hated not knowing what.

“My dove, you do not have to be ashamed.” He said, his other hand coming to gently rest on hers. “If you wish, I could show you.”

He had been right about the assumptions of her being a virgin, too innocent for her own good.

Walking next to her, he felt something else besides the desire for her, a need to protect.

As if he was the only one allowed to show her, that anyone else would simply take advantage of this fact.

Now her eyes met his, brows furrowed. 

“Show me?” She echoed his words. “How? What exactly?”

Oberyn just smiled, eyes leaving hers to look at the guards standing by the door of his chambers.

He stopped, not too far away from the door, looking back at her.

“Do you wish for me to show you, my dove?” He asked, brushing back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “If not, I understand.”

She should be wary. Despite him being the Prince of Dorne, she should think about this. But she was curious, so curious about what this thing was that she had been missing out on.

And there was still that feeling inside of her.

“Yes, my Prince.” She said with a small nod. “I am curious, please.”

He chuckled, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Please, call me Oberyn, my dove.”

Moving along, the guards allowed them to enter, the heavy door falling shut behind them. Oberyn let go of her arm, walking over to a table to pour himself some wine, then offering her a cup.

She took it with a small nod, taking in his quarters. They were richly decorated, the bed massive.

Just how she would imagine it, if she had ever spent time on that before meeting him.

Taking a sip of her wine, Oberyn laid a hand on her waist with a gentle smile, pulling her closer to him.

“Most people stare when they first come here.” He said, his hand wandering up and down her side. “Don’t be nervous, little dove.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. That was easier said than done, the heat inside her becoming unbearable at this point.

His hand on her side felt like it was burning her, even through the thin fabric of her gown. Like it was hot coals placed on her.

“Have you ever been kissed, my dove?” He asked suddenly, eyes searching hers. Pulling her just a little closer to him.

She shook her head no, slowly. Heart beating in her throat, he was so close to her. 

She could feel the warmth of him, twirling the cup of wine in her hand.

“Would you allow me to?”

There was some hesitation inside her, her hands stilling. Should she allow him to? She wanted to, somehow.

Often had she imagined what it felt like, kissing someone.

Her answer came in the form of a nod, her head barely moving.

Oberyn smiled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“Oh, my little dove.”

Despite his growing desire, he moved gently, bending down to place his lips onto hers. The small gasp that left her made him chuckle, his other hand coming to rest on her hip and pull her hips flush against his.

She stiffened beneath his touch, liking the way his lips felt on hers, surprisingly soft, while his beard and moustache tickled her skin. Holding onto her cup tightly, she closed her eyes, humming when he deepened the kiss and she tried to match his movements, clumsy and inexperienced.

When he parted from her, she chased after him, opening her eyes when she couldn’t. Oberyn laughed at that, staying close to her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

She looked adorable, the way she greedily breathed in air, lips slightly parted. Still too nervous, too stiff.

“What do you think, my dove?” He asked, leaning closer again so their noses were almost touching. “Would you like for me to show you more? There is quite an array of things I could assist you with.”

His fingers curled into her hip, and when she nodded, he only smiled wider.

“I promise to be gentle, my dove. A beauty such as you needs to be handled with care.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as he kissed her again, more eager this time, her mind went blank.

His hand briefly left her hip to take the cup from her hands, placing it on the table next to them, before it was back, pulling her against his chest and making her gasp.

Letting his tongue glide against hers at the opportunity, Oberyn heard her muffled moan, relishing in the sweet sound.

The way she tried to kiss him back was delightful, so tender and new, trying to keep up with him.

Slowly he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, having to hold onto her waist as her steps became unsure, stumbling backwards once, her cheeks glowing even hotter.

The throbbing only became more intense, and when they reached the bed and he gently pushed her to sit at the foot of it, she squeezed her thighs together, looking for relief.

There was a wetness now that felt foreign to her.

Oberyn noticed, amused at the display.

“Are you aching, my dove?” He asked, his hands coming to the belt tied around his waist.

Aching.

It did hurt, but in a different way. Not like a bruise or a cut.

She nodded. “A little. My Prince- Oberyn, what- I don’t understand what is happening.”

Poor thing. Her parents had done a horrible job to prepare their daughter.

To leave her in the dark at such an age.

She watched him undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor before motioning for her to move further back to the middle of the bed.

“You’re aroused, my dove. You feel the need for cock.” He explained, shedding his robe, then crawling over her. “Have you seen a cock before, little dove?”

Her mouth went dry as she watched him undress, now only clad in a dark orange tunic and his breeches. 

Aroused.

Of course. But was she really aroused by him? In need of his cock?

She nodded, and she could see a flash of surprise grace his features. 

“In the bathhouses, yes.” She tried to hold his gaze, now hovering over her and letting his hand glide down her side. “From afar.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then her neck, hearing the breathy moan spill from her lips, feeling her back arch slightly.

“In the bathhouses…” He repeated in a whisper, still some amusement in his voice. “Yet you don’t know a thing about this… about desire and fucking.”

The word felt vulgar, so close to her ear.

And she felt embarrassed again. That she didn’t know more, that she didn’t understand she was aroused just by him being near her, by him kissing her, by him hovering over her.

“Do you want me to show you, my dove? The thrill of desire?” He asked, still mouthing along her neck, gently, just feeling her as she squirmed, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “How to fuck?”

Her breath hitched in her throat when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a throaty moan leaving her.

“I- I do not know, Oberyn.” She stammered, fingers digging into his shoulders. The throbbing and the pressure were distracting her, just needing relief. “It hurts, it really hurts.”

His hand moved lower, down her side and to her thigh, gathering her skirts before it dipped below them.

“I can help you, my dove.” His hand wandered between her thighs, finding her dripping already, a soft sound escaping him at the feeling. “Oh, my dove. Wet and gushing like a waterfall and I have barely touched you.”

He sounded pitying almost, his fingers slipping between her folds, raising his head to watch her face when he found her clit.

A hiss left her, looking at him with wide eyes at the foreign feeling. It felt good, strange but good.

“Have you never touched yourself before? Brought yourself to the peak of pleasure?” He asked, drawing slow circles into her clit, with featherlight touches. 

She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open, her legs opening further.

“Never, I didn’t know-”

“You poor thing.” He cooed, kissing her. 

When his fingers left her again, she whined in protest, one of her hands reaching out to grab his wrist. 

She didn’t even really know what was happening, simply that his touch felt good and that she wanted more.

Needed more.

The burning sensation inside her was so consuming and overwhelming while also hurting her.

“Oberyn, please, continue.” She said, guiding his hand back down but he escaped her grasp. 

“Do you know anything about this, my dove? About fucking, the feeling of something stretching you open? Feeling somebody’s naked skin against yours?”

Stretching her open? It sounded painful, she couldn’t imagine how anything could do that, and where.

But she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to embarrass herself further.

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled, his hand coming up to tug one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder, then further down her arm, exposing her breast.

“My little dove, so innocent, so pure.” A sigh left him, watching her face as he touched her breast, just lightly brushing over the hardened nipple. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much her innocence spurred him on. “I will take care of you, just allow me to do so.”

“Please, please, Oberyn.” She whined, desperate. His hand felt good on her, back arching off the bed and into his touch, her head thrown back as she closed her eyes.

This was what she had missed out on, something so good and intense. If only he could touch her again.

Slowly Oberyn undressed her, slipping the garment down her body and kissing each inch of newly uncovered skin. Taking in how she whined and moaned, took in a sharp breath or hissed at the sensation.

She felt exposed, once he sat back and pulled the gown down her legs, his dark eyes raking over her naked form as she laid before him, resisting the urge to cover herself.

So sweet and pure. And he would be the one to ruin her, to taint her beautiful body.

Thank the Gods it was him and not someone else.

“So pretty.” He said, a hand gliding up and down her thigh, the other working open his tunic. “My little dove, all for me to enjoy. I shall show you the heights of pleasure.”

She watched as he shed the garment, exposing his toned torso, the muscles under his skin moving. She was mesmerized, despite having seen this so many times at the bathhouses, when she came to find her siblings or her parents.

His hands moved down to his breeches, opening them just as slowly as he had done with the rest of his clothing.

“It seems as if my little dove has found something she likes.” He chuckled, shedding the last piece of clothing, kneeling between her spread legs, just as exposed as she was.

Cock heavy and throbbing, her eyes were fixed on it.

It was bigger than what she had seen before. But she didn’t know if she should mind that.

“Don’t be scared, my dove.” Oberyn said, moving to hover over her again, one hand on her thigh, his cock brushing against her stomach. “I’ll prepare you to take me.”

“Take me?” She asked, gasping when his hand found that sweet spot again, applying more pressure this time and leaving her breathless.

He hummed against her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin, taking in her sweet sounds.

So adorable, needing to be taught. Not knowing what pleasures awaited her.

His hand moved lower and he felt how she stiffened when one finger pressed against her hole.

“Don’t be scared…” He repeated, slowly pushing a single digit in, groaning when he felt her squeeze around him, her nails digging into his shoulders with a whine.

It felt strange, his thick finger inside of her, moving in and out slowly. Yet it also felt good, her hips rolling on their own, legs opening wider.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, voice breaking, the pressure inside her easing just a little. 

His mouth found hers again, continuing to move his finger slowly, his cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her soon.

“Tell me how it feels, little dove. You might be ready for another finger soon.”

She whined, concentrating on the foreign feeling, the stretch when he pushed a second finger in.

“It feels good, my Prince- Oberyn.” She breathed, her mind feeling as if it was floating on a cloud, hissing when he scissored his fingers inside of her. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek and down to her jaw, then down her neck again.

“My dove, you feel splendid, gripping my fingers so tight with your sweet cunt.”

Something inside her built, blood hot like molten metal as it rushed through her, building her higher and higher until he took his fingers from her again.

A noise of protest died in her throat, his teeth softly sinking into her shoulder.

He grinned at that, lifting his head to look at her, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deep hum.

“Finer than any wine.” Oberyn said, positioning himself so his cock was lined up with her. “My dove, I promise to be gentle. It may sting nonetheless.”

She nodded, drowsy and wanting nothing more than this ache to end. He said his cock would help, and so she wished for nothing more than him to enter her where his fingers just had been.

“Please, help me relieve this ache.” She said, feeling him against her, so much thicker than his fingers.

Oberyn watched as he entered her, grunting at how tight she still was, seeing her eyes squeeze shut and take a sharp breath.

It stung, he hadn’t lied about that, his lips finding hers as he pushed in further, muffling her whimpers while he buried inch after inch inside of her.

All the way until he was fully sheathed inside of her, hips flush against hers, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“It hurts, Oberyn.” She breathed when he broke from her, looking back at him, his lips on her cheek again.

“I know, my dove. You will feel better soon, don’t you worry.”

It was so new, the sensation of being filled, of him inside of her and stretching her out just as he had said.

Overwhelming, someone being so close to her, inside of her, his hot skin against hers, his soft lips on her cheeks.

The pain slowly fading into a need, the throbbing returning, as did the pressure.

Her hips moving on their own, making him chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest. 

“Are you sure you wish to continue already, my dove?” He asked, kissing a spot just below her ear that sent a shiver through her. “I cannot stop myself if we do, your cunt is simply too tight and inviting.”

She nodded, whispering a silent please.

So he slowly pulled back, setting a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts, her dragged out moans like music to his ears, a little symphony written just for him as he drove back into her over and over again.

“You feel perfect, my dove, what an honour to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh.” Oberyn groaned, his hands grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his hips, making her whimper loudly. “You won’t find a nicer cunt than that of this little virgin dove.”

She let him move, rolling her hips, trying to meet his thrusts, that something inside her building again, becoming stronger this time.

If this really was what she had been missing out on, what she had been ridiculed for, she never wanted it to stop now that she had it.

The feeling pleasant as the ache became less and less present.

Oberyn had to hold back to not just drive into her with his entire force, losing himself in how good she felt, but still wanting this to be something good for her, as much as he desired her.

Already knowing he would seek her out again and again, her innocence far from gone, her sounds so sweet in his ears, her hands so soft as they grabbed at him, trying to find purchase on his body.

“My dove, you are close, I can feel you.” He rasped, his movements becoming sloppier, lips dancing over her skin. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Close to what?” She asked, words catching on her breath, feeling something but unsure if it was what he meant.

Gods, she was so adorable.

“Oh, you will see, my dove.”

His hand moved between them, finding her clit.

And with just a few movements, something snapped inside of her so suddenly and with such force that all breath left her, a strangled noise catching in her chest as her veins burned, the pressure in her abdomen released. 

She was trembling, holding him against her tightly as he kept moving, thrusts harsher now.

“There you are, my little dove, isn’t that wonderful? The heights, the peak?”

It was a pretty sight, her face contorted in bliss and pleasure but also so shocked by what was happening to her, by these new feelings.

She could only whine, falling silent when she heard him grunt deeply into her ear, stilling above her.

Spilling himself deep inside of her before rolling off of her, not separating but rolling her with him so she came to rest on top of him.

She felt exhausted suddenly, the euphoric feelings still coursing through her veins.

And he felt solid beneath her body, catching his breath just as she did, his hands carding through her hair.

“Now, my dove, how do you feel?” He asked, watching her face as she rested on him. “Are you satisfied?”

If anyone had told her just a few hours ago that she would land in the bed of the Prince of Dorne, she would have laughed at them.

But now, it seemed quite nice.

She nodded. “I feel exhausted, but I am very grateful for what you showed me.”

A smile stretched her lips wide, he liked it. She seemed to be less nervous.

He chuckled, one hand wandering down to smooth over her back. Normally he would be far from done, already planning another round of pleasure.

But she truly seemed too exhausted by this. After all, she hadn’t even known about any of this until now.

Her eyes drifted shut, but she was still awake, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh, my dove.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There is so much more to show you, I am far from done with you.”

She felt warm at the idea, curious what else there was to discover. Her eyes felt too heavy to open them again, slowly drifting off into sleep on top of him.

Oberyn simply smiled, sighing deeply.

Yes, he was far from done. 

There was so much to learn, so much to discover.

And he couldn’t wait to see her face once he began to truly teach his little dove.

[downbadf0rficppl]

exposure therapy

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky tends to avoid crowded spaces. He's afraid of something - either being recognised or being trapped or something else. He doesn't know. When you offer to help him get out of his comfort zone. He can't resist.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Creepy weirdo men (not Bucky), therapy, smut

Repost

You dipped into the subway, dodging in between passengers - it was rush hour and the subway was disturbingly crowded. You scrambled onto the platform, praying that your train was slightly delayed so you could get on in time. It wasn't.

You stood on the platform as more and more peopled filtered, the noise building to a cacophony of miserable voices. You took a step back, trying to back away from the edge, when a man shoved you through the crowd. You stumbled forward.

A gloved hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back towards the middle of the platform and into a warm chest. You start to pull away, not keen to be leaning into a stranger. A familiar cologne hit you. You’d bought him that cologne. You looked up to see a welcome face.

Bucky.

A vicious scowl was etched into his face, his arm now firmly around your waist. You smile up at him, and he catches your smile, returning it with a soft one of his own. You reach to hold onto his hand as the train pulls up to the platform. You both step on, grabbing onto the bar and jolting as the train gets going.

Bucky leans down to your ear, “You okay, doll?”

His hot breaths elicit shivers all down your spine. You nod at him, unable to push any words out and he looks at your peculiarly. He’s never known you to be lost for words.

You met Bucky once he started his court-mandated therapy sessions. You were the receptionist at the clinic, and you knew Dr Raynor’s reputation for being thorough – although it was your personal opinion that maybe, sometimes, she could take it easy on some of her patients. Bucky was one of them.

You’d gathered a lot from the months that he had been going to therapy. The major thing was that therapy was the reason he was usually in such a poor mood. If he walked in in a bad mood, his mood when he left was positively foul. He didn’t like how Dr Raynor pried – even if that was, in fact, part of the point of his therapy.

You’d gathered that he was quite a lonely man. In fact, when he first started coming to therapy, the fact you smiled at him surprised him. He’d warmed up to it over it, and nowadays, when he came to the office, he greeted you before you greeted him.

You started finding jokes to tell, or little interesting facts – anything to make him smile. You offered sweets to the kids, words of warmth to the adults, and jokes to Bucky. It all worked out. He laughed at your jokes, in the same way the kids enjoyed their sweets and the adults appreciated to the adults.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky looked forward to seeing you. He was surprised by your smile – but only how beautiful it was. He’d never seen pure sunshine until he saw your face break into a smile. In fact, the sun could go dark, but he knew that the world would only adapt to revolve around you. He knew that his already did.

On his birthday, you were the only person who gave him a present – a rather expensive cologne that you had splurged on. You wanted him to feel special. Turns out you didn’t need to go to those lengths. You were one of very few people who even knew it was his birthday.

Bucky made a point of buying you flowers from time to time after that – and you made a point of hiding them from Raynor. You didn’t want your budding friendship to be another thing she digs deep into. He also wore the cologne every time you saw him, which made you smile. At least he liked the gift.

He got off at your stop with you, even though you insisted he didn’t need to. Something about, ‘it’s on my way,’ and ‘I’d feel better if I knew you got home safe, doll.’ You smiled as he walked next to you, hands tucked into his pockets, leading the way to your apartment. You walked in a comfortable silence, the noise of Brooklyn blaring all around you

“How was it?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Hmm?”

“The subway. How was it?” You knew that Bucky generally got quite claustrophobic. He’d avoided the subway for the first few months of living in Brooklyn and, even now, only took it when he absolutely needed to.

He looked at you, his eyes full of amused frustration, “Could be worse.” He lowered his voice, hoping you wouldn’t hear him, “Was better ‘cause it was with you.”

You smiled, “Call it exposure therapy.”

“Exposure therapy? What’s that?”

“It’s where you face your fears by confronting them head on.” He looked at you, still confused, “You know how you’re scared of enclosed spaces?” He nodded his head, “Well, exposure therapy would put you in an enclosed space – like the subway – to confront your fear.”

Bucky nodded his head, mulling over your words in his head. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

You came to your apartment lobby, Bucky following you inside. You told him that this is where you left him, and that you’d see him next week, same place, same time.

You were heading toward your apartment when he stopped you, “You know the exposure therapy thing you mentioned?”

You turned back around, “Yeah?”

“Is that a real thing?”

You nodded your head. Bucky swallowed nervously, not sure how to ask the question. You read his mind, “You wanna give it a go?”

He nodded. You grabbed his hand gently, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“You should probably talk to the professional about how to actually go about it,” you chuckled at how his face darkened at the mention of Raynor, “but I’d love to help you out. Whatever you need.”

Bucky watched you as you disappeared into the stairwell, smiling all the way.

Just like you said, Bucky brought the idea of exposure therapy up with Dr Raynor in his next session. Surprisingly, she was almost immediately on board. She figured that it would be a good way for Bucky to get out of his comfort zone and confront some of his more irrational fears.

He immediately told you. You squealed – a sound that definitely shocked Bucky – grabbing his phone from his hand and adding your number as a contact.

He changed your contact to 'Doll' – not that it was necessary seeing that the only people that ever texted or called were Sam and Raynor. Guess you were another person to add the extremely exclusive club.

The next morning you dragged him to a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop. The local Starbucks. You drag him in during the rush hour, holding his hand as he grumbles in the line.

"Did we really have to start this extreme?" He says, gazing behind and in front of him. You squeeze his hand, reassuringly.

"You'll be fine. Know what you want?"

You shuffled forward as another person moved out of the line.

The Starbucks worker sighed as you and Bucky walked up to the front of the line. You smiled at Bucky as he gripped your hand, unassuredly.

"Hi - um - can I - uh - get - uh... -" Bucky stumbled over his words. You ran your fingers over his knuckles soothingly, "cold brew - the smallest size."

The worker nodded his head, "that'll be...-" You drowned out his words as you stared up at Bucky's face. His face was still contorted in a grimace, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. You gave yourself a mental high five.

Bucky paid for his drink and waited as you ordered an iced caramel macchiato with oat milk. Bucky wasn't sure he knew what any of that meant but he looked in awe as you complimented the cashier and made him blush. You had that kind of effect on people.

You grabbed your drinks and went to sit in Central Park, the sun streaming through the trees as you found a bench. You rested your arm next to his, keeping the contact between the two of you minimal.

"You like it?" You asked, staring him in the face. He took a sip and pulled a face.

"Too bitter." He said, sticking his tongue in disgust. You laughed. He celebrated internally, desperate to hear that sound directed toward him again.

"Really?" I thought you would have liked it. You know, given the dark and brooding look you've got going on." You deadpanned. He shoved you gently and you laughed again.

"Try mine," you said, handing over your drink and grabbing his. Yours was much nicer than his, sweeter and more milk too. He smiled in response and took another sip, "Keep it. I like cold brew." He tried to change your mind and hand you back your drink, but you were adamant.

"Let's play a game."

He looked at you, questioningly.

"20 questions."

He turned to face you.

"Rules are: one person asks a question both answer it...-"

"That's not how '20 questions' usually works."

"Well, that's how it works now. Also rapid-fire: you have to say the first thing that comes to mind."

"Ok, shoot." He leaned back, resting on his arm, occasionally taking sips from the macchiato.

"Favourite colour?" You went first, starting simple.

"Yellow," He said, not really thinking. His face blushed when his mind caught up to him though. You noted that for later.

"Mine's blue, like the sea." You responded, staring intently into his eyes. Bucky's eyes were blue, just like the sea on a stormy day. Easy to get lost in. Easy to get found in. Those eyes told you where home was. "Your turn."

"Ok, umm- favourite hobby?"

"Umm, I like painting. Helps me relax. Used to paint a lot as a kid, probably need to do it more often." Bucky stared at your lips as you talked, mesmerised by the way they move. "What about you, Buck?

"Me? Oh, I like reading."

"Oh yeah? What kind of books?"

"The Hobbit. Was my favourite back in the day. Read it with Steve all the time." He became quiet at the mention of his best friend, and you reached out to rest a hand on his.

"You wanna know my other favourite hobby?" Bucky nodded, meeting your eyes, "Helping my favourite super soldier get out of his comfort zone." Bucky's eyes lit up at that.

You stood up, offering Bucky your hand. He grabbed, faking back pain as he stood up. "Where to next, doll?"

"We're going grocery shopping." The groan that left him made you laugh out loud.

You walked into the Target near the compound. Neither of you actually lived in the compound, but this Target was bigger than any of the Targets in the city. You figured the bigger the Target, the more likely it was that Bucky would get out of his comfort zone.

He grabbed your hand and squeezes it tightly. You smiled up at him as you pulled out a trolley. Bucky grabbed it from you, hands tightening around the bar. You linked your arm with his.

"Ready?"

"No."

You smirked, patting his arm, "You'll be fine."

You perused through the aisles, occasionally handing Bucky an item. If you were too short to grab something, he'd reach up over your head and grab it for you. You flushed at that - the feeling of being caged between Bucky made you feel safe. Like nothing could ever touch you.

You walked ahead of Bucky, leaning on your tiptoes to grab some eggs from the shelf. You grab the carton, placing it in the trolley. He looks at you lovingly, your cheeks blushing under his gaze.

"Excuse me, could you move?" An old man shoves past the both of you. Bucky's gaze immediately hardens. The old man continues to grumble under his breath.

He moves to say something, but you grab his hand, shaking your head. Bucky pulls you into his chest, leaning to press his lips to your forehead. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as surprise washes over you. Clearly, his actions caught up to him as he froze up, muscles tightening under your hands. He tried to pull away but you keep your face nuzzled in his chest, arms wrapping tighter around him. You smiled as he relaxed into your hug.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Should we get going, doll? More things to buy."

You nodded but kept your hand in his. He smiled as you leaned into him. This was nice. He could get used to this.

You finished shopping, scanning your things through in the self-service. You didn't have that many items, but Bucky refused to let you pay, whipping out the card that Stark gave him, with the excuse that he didn't use it enough - especially, given the amount of money that Stark had put on it.

You were giddy. Your shopping trip was a success - Bucky now knew that supermarkets weren't even half as scary as he thought. In fact, he even smiled at a worker on his way out.

Bucky helped you load the two shopping bags onto his bike, before strapping the helmet onto your head. You could get used to this.

After that day, you guys went out regularly. You tried restaurants and diners (Bucky preferred diners because it was less fancy and he felt more at home - "haven't changed much from the 40s", he'd said), you tried the gym (or rather, you dragged him to the gym with you on a random Tuesday morning when you had a spin cycle class - it wasn't that bad but Bucky stuck to training at the compound), you even took him to the cinema when they were showing a 'Lord of the Rings' rerun (Bucky almost kissed you when he heard the plan, but restrained himself - there was no way he was scaring you away now).

Therapy with Dr. Raynor became more bearable because it was just another excuse to see you. He'd put more effort into how he looked - combing his hair, keeping his beard trimmed how he knew you liked it.

Raynor picked up on it.

"I see your exposure therapy experiment is going well. What kinds of things have you been up to?"

Bucky stared out the window.

"James?"

He looked Raynor in the eye, before glancing at you through the window in the door. It was barely a shape, due to the frosted treatment on the window, but he knew it was you. He always knew.

"Shopping. She took me to the mall yesterday."

"That's a big step." Raynor said, noting that down with her pen, "How was it?"

"Wasn't that bad. We went into a shop she likes, then she asked me to pick a shop." Bucky looked down at his hands.

You had taken him into Sephora, promising him you only needed to get one thing. You run out of your favourite mascara and just needed to grab a tube. Bucky didn't know what mascara was, nor did he particularly care, but he followed you into the store nevertheless. You picked up the mascara you were looking for but kept milling around, looking to see if anything caught your fancy.

Bucky's hand found yours with relative familiarity, and you pulled him around as you explored. A man from across the shop gave him a sympathetic look.

You left Bucky for a moment to pick up a couple of face masks when the man from across the store made his way over. He patted Bucky on the shoulder amicably.

"Feel for you brother," he chuckled, moving past him. Bucky was confused.

You lined up behind him, mascara, face masks, and some liquid blush that you'd been meaning to get for a while in hand. You paid for the items, wishing the cashiers a good day. When you walked out, you asked Bucky where he wanted to go. It wasn't until you got to the clothes shop that he realised what the man meant.

He'd thought you guys were dating. The thought alone made Bucky want to smile. He gripped your hand tighter and didn't go for the rest of the trip.

Bucky looked up at Raynor and continued, "Then we got food and I dropped her home. Same as usual."

Raynor nodded, "Did it help?"

He shrugged, "I probably wouldn't go again. The mall isn't my kinda place."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Too many teenagers."

Raynor smirked at that, "Any plans for this weekend?"

"Sam's taking me to a bar. Says we need a post-mission stress reliever."

Raynor nodded, "That'll be good for you, James. Enjoy it."

She stood up to open the door and Bucky followed closely behind. He left, wishing Raynor a good evening, before walking up to you with a smile.

"What can I do for my favourite super soldier today?" You asked, placing the sign-in/sign-out sheet in front of him.

"Maybe consider spending your Friday night at a bar with me?" He asked, nervousness hidden behind his confident facade. This was the first time he'd ever asked you on something resembling a date.

You saw through his front, "Is this just because you don't want Sam to spend the entire night trying to set you up with someone?"

"Maybe?"

You laughed.

"Is that a yes?"

"Sure, Buck. I'll go to the bar with you. Pick me up at 7? I'll send you the address."

When you opened the door to your apartment, Bucky's jaw dropped. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven and you were the angel waiting to ring him in.

You smiled at his awestruck expression, patting his cheek before grabbing your hand and leading him to the stairwell he had just walked up. He followed you like a puppy.

He fastened the helmet tightly on your head, before speeding down the road, going as fast as you like it. You rest your head on his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

You waltzed into the bar together, Sam's status as the new Captain America making it easy to skip the queue. You grabbed drinks - a cosmopolitan for you and an old fashioned for him. You teased him for his choice but Bucky just smiled.

You looked around for Sam, but he was nowhere to be found "Probably caught up doing Captain America stuff," you tell Bucky, whose eyebrows had been furrowed almost since you arrived.

You drag Bucky to the dance floor after two drinks, and you stay there for half the night, waiting for Sam to show up. You dance and dance and dance, teaching Bucky some new moves that wouldn't have been legal the last time that Bucky came out dancing with a girl. Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Sam's calling, I'll be back in a second." You smile up at him, continuing to dance once he'd left.

Not minutes had passed, when you feel a presence behind you. Thinking it was Bucky, you turn around to smile at him, only to come face to face with a greasy smile. He placed his hands on your ass, and you shoved him away, walking towards the bartender.

"Come on, sweetcheeks. Let us have some fun." You walked through the crowd faster, not looking back. He was still following you.

Bucky. He was outside, he could help you.

You made a beeline for the exit, hoping that the creep was far enough behind you, you could get away unseen. You weren't so lucky. He grabbed your hand and pushed you up against the door, arm pressing against your breasts. The door gave way as you pushed against the release latch, causing you to both go stumbling outside.

Bucky was right outside the door, trying to call Sam back, when you came flying through the door. He instantly pocketed his phone, striding towards you as you backed away from your pursuer.

You bumped into his chest, immediately pulling away to face him. You relaxed when you saw it was Bucky, grabbing his shirt and moving behind him.

"You can't hide from me, you little slut." Bucky saw red.

He grabbed the guy by his shirt and pushed him up against the wall, flesh hand coming up to slap his face. "Don't ever call my girl anything again, you hear me?"

You preened at 'my girl', hoping that it was true, that you were truly and honestly his girl.

Bucky let the man go as a bouncer came around the side of the building. He nodded towards Bucky, who explained that "he tried to grab my girl, chased her out the building."

There it was again. 'My girl.'

The bouncer grabbed the man by the scuff of his neck and threw him out onto the curb. Bucky turned to face you, hands stroking the side of his face. He looked intently into your eyes, searching for a hint of pain or fear. There was nothing. All he could see was love, radiating from your gaze and warming him from top to toe.

You grabbed his face and pulled him down, your lips pressing onto his. He melted into the kiss, eyes closing as he took over, tongue slipping between your lips as you gasped. A small whimper escaped you.

"Doll, you're driving me crazy."

"Take me home, Barnes."

He practically raced from the bar to his bedroom, carrying you up every flight of stairs. He gently rested you on the bed, ripping his shirt and jacket off in eagerness. He crawled on top of you as you reach to attach your lips to his. The kiss is long, messier than before, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance. You pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his.

He kissed you again, excitement pouring off of him, before moving to kiss down your jaw and in between your breasts. He eased your top off, leaving you in your bra, and kissed down your belly button to the top of your trousers. He asked for your consent with your eyes, hooking his fingers in your waistband. You nodded vigorously. He pulled your trousers down, discarding them against the floor. You took off your own bra, throwing it into the pile of your clothes. His eyes were fixed on your breasts for a few moments before he turned back to your cunt.

He buried his face in your clothed cunt, his hyper-sensitive smell craving the scent of your arousal. He teased you with his metal finger, rubbing circles around your clit. You arched up against him, whines slipping out of your mouth.

Those sounds made the blood rush straight to his cock.

He swiftly pulls your panties away, throwing them nearby your trousers. He buried his face between your thighs, nosing at your clit as he licked stripes up and down your lips. You whined, begging for more stimulation, and Bucky happily obliged. He moved to licking and sucking your swollen clit, the ministrations making you shiver and shake as you call his name, moaning loud enough for his neighbours to hear. Your thighs clenched around his head, trapping his face in your cunt. He watched as your squirmed, eyes trained on your pleasure-ridden face. He grabbed your thighs, massaging them under his hands, liking the feel of the flesh of your ass in his hand. He felt more possessive of you than ever. This was his.

His fingers moved to work their way into your pussy, it clenching tightly at the intrusion and overload of pleasure. He moved his fingers in and out slowly, picking up the pace of his tongue on your clit. You arched your back again. He smacked your thigh, wanting to gauge your reaction - you moaned loudly and your cunt clenched around his fingers. He growled out how fucking good you taste and how good you are for him. Your cunt clenched again at his praise.

"Oh, you like that? You like being my good little girl?" You moaned in response, "Oh sweetheart, I could eat you out for hours. Look at how pretty you are shaking and shivering for me."

His fingers sped up inside you, pounding into you. You came with a loud moan of his name and a shudder, collapsing against the bed in exhaustion.

The flush on your face and your fucked out expression made Bucky's cock impossibly harder.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, and pulled off his trousers and his boxers, discarding them somewhere. His dick was hard against his abs, tip red and leaking. He rolled the condom down his dick.

He pulled you down to the edge of the bed, flipping you over. "Ready for round 2?"

You nod enthusiastically.

"That's my good little girl."

He slid into you easily, giving you a minute to adjust to the stretch. He started off slow, but quickly lost control, yanking your hips up to meet his relentless thrusts. The super-soldier stamina mixed with the way you made him feel, made him all the more driven to push you over the edge again. The sound of your pussy when he drove back into you made him groan, your tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts. He reached forward to play with them, flicking and pulling the nubs as he pounded into you. You moaned, your face buried into a pillow as he pulled your hips back against his.

Bucky lifted your back up to his chest, rubbing at your clit with his metal hand, the flesh one remaining on your tits. You pulled it up, curling the fingers around your throat.

"Oh, you're a dirty girl." He squeezed a little, loving how your pussy clenched at the oxygen deprivation. You came seconds later, shaking as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, telling you how you’re gonna give him another one.

He spilled his own load into the condom moments later, pulling out and pulling you into his chest, both of your hearts beating impossibly fast.

He helped you clean up, wiping your body with a wet cloth after disposing of the used condom, helping you into a pair of his boxers, and giving you a t-shirt to cover everything else.

"Not that you need to. I appreciate having some eye candy to look at," he said cockily, holding the shirt over your head, just out of your reach

You looked up at him, hands covering your naked tits, "Where's this cocky energy when we're out in shops, huh? Would've made exposure therapy so much easier."

He dumped the t-shirt on your head and shoved you lightly as you burst into laughter, pulling on the t-shirt before throwing your arms around his neck.

"S'only for you. All for you." He said, carrying you back into bed and wrapping his arms around you, "Always for you."

"Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, Doll."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[bachibabe]

— 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡

synopsis: oh no! what is a cursed spirit supposed to do when he gains interest in a mortal girl? probably not make sex dolls of her, kidnap her, then fuck her until she breaks. but no one told him that!

𖦹₊┆ mahito x fem! reader

𖦹₊┆ wc: 4.5k

𖦹₊┆ warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, mahito is gross, referring to the sex doll as if it was a real person

𖦹₊┆ notes: the fic ive been writing on and off for a month… she is my baby… i have birthed her. please please please read the warnings and enjoy <33 kms if this doesn’t show up in tags

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

Creak.

Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your safe haven.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.

Bang.

His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.

“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.

You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. Practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was slurred, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. So. . . so crazy.

You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself even though your hands were shaking.

You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.

How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.

It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.

You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.

He said you taste delicious.

It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.

The way you could tell that he craved more.

Craved everything you had to give.

You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.

Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.

Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.

You learned that that night.

He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.

His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monser that just got his kill.

He had.

He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanor changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.

“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.

You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.

Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.

But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.

He loves that smell.

If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.

He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.

Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.

You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.

Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Kenjaku told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!

You are already better than he ever imagined!

Bang.

The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!

He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.

The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.

“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defense but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.

You want to scream.

He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.

He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you.

“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.

Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.

How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.

“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are hard to understand…And I really just can’t wait for you any longer.”

You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.

How deep whatever he feels for you runs.

You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it color. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.

You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.

You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.

You can do this. You can do this.

The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.

Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.

Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.

Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.

You land flat on your face.

Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.

A stitched hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks disheveled. Crazed.

He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.

“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”

You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.

“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”

He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”

The simple statement makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”

You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.

Exactly how he wants it– wants you.

You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”

His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~ ♡”

All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.

He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.

“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.

Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to scilence.

“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”

The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.

“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”

His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just!

“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.

His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—

Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?

He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.

Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savor this… who knows when you might come around again?

Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.

Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.

You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when you’re head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.

He likes you.

He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.

Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.

He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.

The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.

“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.

He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.

You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.

You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.

“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, loosing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.

You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.

He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.

“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary. Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.

Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”

He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.

Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.

Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.

Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.

A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.

Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re full. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.

He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.

He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”

He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your hole before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.

He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.

He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.

“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”

Right. Cause this is forever. ♡

[wonwoonlight]

just one day / yoon jeonghan

⇢ Jeonghan x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ fluff // angst // nonidol!au // brother's best friend // fake dating!au // they're idiots lmao // not edited nor proofread so pls bear w me lol // cursing and. two? kissing scenes.

⇢ A/N: this has been sitting unfinished in my google drive since... either last year or the beginning of this year lmao. i have always wanted to write brother's best friend and i had this sudden urge to finish it earlier so i did. been some time since i posted a proper fic so, enjoy~

He must be dreaming.

He must be.

“What?” Jeonghan says just for the sake of saying it.

“I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You blink at his firm voice, wondering what kind of situation this is. Sure, you shouldn’t be confessing to your brother’s best friend, but you feel like you’ve been obvious enough and you don’t see why you shouldn’t confess when it’s been eating you inside out.

And, yeah, you didn’t expect him to do anything about your confession (or even say that he likes you back), but you didn’t expect this either.

“What do you mean I don’t?” you frown, looking at him accusingly. “I like you.”

“You don’t, kid.” He sighs, already feeling a headache coming. He’s not stupid, alright, he has enough sense to gather that his best friend’s little sister probably has something on him–a crush, perhaps, but he’s never thought it was real enough for you to feel the need to confess.

It doesn’t help that he is attracted to you, has always been since you’ve gone back from Sydney after finishing university a year ago. He admits he’s always thought you’re attractive, and if he’s being honest, he would’ve asked you out first if not for the fact that you’re literally Joshua Hong’s little sister.

As if it’s not enough that not dating his best friend’s little sister has always been a code he follows, Shua has always been a little too protective as a brother. He’s seen firsthand how the guy scared off some who had the guts to flirt with you, seen how for two decades only two guys had ever been declared good enough to date you (he couldn’t do anything about the flings you had when you were abroad, but at least you’ve always been appreciative of his protectiveness and you never missed to inform him of some guys who were actually trying to get it on with you).

Long story short, Jeonghan does not wish to be on the receiving end of Shua’s scrutinizing eyes regardless of how much he’s actually into you.

“Look, you know me,” he starts when he realizes you’re not backing down. He looks away, pretending to be frustrated, though it’s really just because he thinks he’ll relent if he looks into your eyes a second longer. “I’m not gonna make a good boyfriend and I’m literally your brother’s best friend.”

You don’t seem to care about the first part of his sentence, irked by the fact that him being best friend with Shua would be an obstacle in your way. Shouldn’t it be easier for him to get a seal of approval if he’s already close with your brother? But, then again, Shua probably knows Jeonghan inside out and knowing too much is never a good thing.

“So what?” you say anyway, because if there’s any word that would describe you perfectly, it’s ‘stubborn’. “Why does it matter that you’re his best friend?”

Jeonghan sends you a look, and you pout because you actually get what he means. You know Shua, after all, and as much as you want to condition yourself to believe that Jeonghan would be the person Shua approves of with all his heart, you also know that even if your brother actually approves, he would put him through hell just for the fun of it.

Anyway, this doesn’t tell you at all where Jeonghan actually stands about you.

“So, you don’t like me?” you shoot straight to it, as if Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to hear your heart beating like there’s no tomorrow if he takes even one step closer–as if your ears aren’t hot from saying it out loud. Jeonghan does not need to know how flustered you actually are.

And it works, because he seems to be taken aback by your boldness and you try your best to hide a victory grin at that. You should probably be more grateful that he can’t stand to look at you for more than three seconds; if he had, he would’ve seen the tip of your ears turning red and the speck of blush on your face, which means he could’ve easily taken control of the situation and turned it against you.

His silence encourages you, because if he really doesn’t like you then he would tell you so. As much as Jeonghan is a master of tricks and he’s great at acting, he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.

Jeonghan bites his lip, trying to get a way out of this. Why can’t he just say no and be done with it? Sure, he’s not in love with you or anything (yet?), but it’s a straight out lie to say he’s never seen you that way.

After all, there’s a reason why he’s been avoiding you the past few months. 

You just have to be more daring these days, and as much as he wills himself to behave, there are times when he’s already flirting with you before he knows it. He’s just lucky Shua has never caught you two.

Plus, you’ve taken a liking to wearing a crop top and it’s the absolute death of him.

“Tell you what,” you say before he does. “Date me.”

Jeonghan chokes on nothing, violently coughs that his shoulders are shaking and you actually need to pat his back so he’ll calm down.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, and he’s terribly conscious of your hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm, of the way your brows furrow in concern, of the way your lips are a little ajar and if he moves forward just a little–

“Yeah.” He shakes his head despite the word, then clears his throat and squares his shoulders before he looks the other way around. He doesn’t step away though, and it’s so fucking stupid that he frowns when you do. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Date me.” You repeat anyway, though you know this is Jeonghan’s way of  giving you an out in case you want to pretend like you didn’t just say that earlier. He opens his mouth, and you can hear what he’s going to say even if he hasn’t said anything so you cut him yet again. “Just for one day.”

“Kid–”

“Stop,” you say firmly, something akin to determination flashes through your eyes that he’s actually taken aback. “Stop calling me that.”

He sighs out your name, but you’re not hearing it because if you back down now you know you won’t have it in you to say this out loud again. You’re fueled by nothing but impulse and you’re not going to let Yoon Jeonghan himself slow you down.

“Han, I see the way you look at me–you’ve gone past seeing me as a kid since I came back from Sydney and it’s been a year since then. I’m not stupid.”

It’s hard to describe the way he looks at you, and he’s not blaming you because he is confused. The mixed feelings bursting in his chest is much too complicated for him to explain. Let alone through words, even his consciousness does not know how to register what he’s feeling.

Your face falls at his silence, and whatever courage that drives you up to this point is starting to ebb little by little. You’re so goddamn stupid–did you really think confessing to him would lift the weight off your shoulders? What made you think Jeonghan would be able to treat you as usual after you confessed?

Didn’t you confess only because it’s heaving you down? Because you thought you’d regret it if you stayed silent?

Then what is this weight on your chest? 

What is this disappointment looming all over your body?

Why the fuck are your eyes pricking with tears?

Still, you stand your ground and square yourself up in front of him. You’ve gone this far. If you’re going to be embarrassing, might as well do it for a reason. 

“Okay,” he breaks his silence, his tone defeated for whatever reason. It’s not discouraging though, more like unsure and maybe a little hopeful, and when you look up, he’s biting his lip in contemplation. “Just one day, right?”

“But you have to actually treat me like I’m your girlfriend.” You push, heart beating both in excitement and fear. Because what if he backs out of nowhere? He’s not that kind of person, but this situation is nothing sort of normal and his consciousness just might get to him if you don’t push him already.

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking at you like you’re a bad idea that he’s caving into. And he’s starting to think that it’s true. But if he’s being honest, he’s not against this at all. He also wants to know how it’d feel like to hold your hands and just listen to you talk without thinking about Shua and whatever that will follow if he ever finds out.

Frankly, one day wouldn’t be enough, but that’s better than nothing, right? And he would never have the guts to propose it himself, he admits, so this is a chance that he knows he wouldn’t get his hands on ever again.

He sighs, praying to every god up there that this won’t backfire on him.

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to you, and then repeats it once again, this time firmer, looking at you straight in the eyes. “Shua’s going on a business trip next week, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll see you next Saturday?”

You bite down your lip so hard that you taste blood to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot.

Tuesday, 26 July

[14:32] Yoon Jeonghan😠: beach or amusement park

[14:50] ?????

[14:50] its not a surprise?

[14:54] Yoon Jeonghan😠: just pick one, kid

[14:55] 🙄 beach ig

Thursday, 28 July

[01:11] Yoon Jeonghan😠: festival or night market

[01:12] ?????? sir?? go to sleep??

[01:12] didnt you choose a place alrd???

[01:12] but night market

[01:13] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you go to sleep

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

…

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

[01:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: good night, kid

[01:18] nightttttt

Friday, 29 July

[22:20] Yoon Jeonghan😠: wear something light tomorrow, but bring a jacket just in case it gets cold at night

Saturday, 30 July

[00:03] k, boyfriend 😌

[00:03] sorry, i was on the phone with chaeyoung earlier

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: i really cant with you

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: and chaeyoung as in vernon’s cousin? your friend from high school?

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you still talk to her?

[00:08] yes!! surprised that u rmb her :0

[00:08] and i actually just met her by accident earlier today and we decided to catch up thru the phone bc i had to go somewhere

[00:09] apparently, she’s dating choi seungcheol or smth 👀

Incoming call from Yoon Jeonghan😠 - 00:11

Call ended - 02:27

[02:27] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you fell asleep. night, babe 🤪 see you

You bite your lip in giddiness as you keep on rereading Jeonghan’s text, like you’re not giddy enough already at the prospect of today.

You fell asleep last night while on the phone with Jeonghan, but whatever curse you were about to dump into yourself for falling asleep during what might be your only chance to be on the phone with Jeonghan during ungodly hours was immediately wiped out when you saw his text.

Yes, you’d flirt with each other from time to time–but never through texts, and the prospect of having a message from him that you can read over and over again some time in the future is both delightful and… sad.

The sudden tug on your heart and consciousness is a little heavy, a reminder that he’s doing that because you asked him to. That whatever’s happening in the span of today is an illusion, one that Jeonghan agrees on creating.

Why, you don’t want to dwell on it too much.

That should be your motto for the day: fuck it.

So what if it was an illusion? Jeonghan agreed and you’re going to make the best out of it. If you’re never going to be Jeonghan’s girlfriend, might as well be shameless and live your teenage (and adult, if you’re being honest) dream and be his girlfriend for the day now so you can stamp it in your memory. You only have today and you’re not going to spend any second thinking about the technicality of it.

As far as you know, Jeonghan is your boyfriend and he’s taking you out for the day.

You jump when your phone pings, the notification on your lockscreen rids you of whatever negativity that was in your mind literally seconds ago as you grin and make your way out of your apartment.

[09:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: am in the lobby. get ur pretty self here, angel.

For all you know, the world is plenty unfair. But seeing Jeonghan looking like that with a simple white tee and a faded pair of jeans reminds you just how unfair the world actually is. Like it’s not unfair enough already because he’s not your actual boyfriend.

“Come on, let me take a picture of you,” he says as he softly takes your hand, pulling you up from the mat. “The wind isn’t too strong and you’re looking particularly pretty today.”

You scrunch your nose as you mock annoyance, a failed attempt to mask your blush. Hopefully, Jeonghan would think you’re simply flushed because of the sun and not because of him.

“I don’t like taking pictures.”

“How dare you lie to me.” Jeonghan says without missing a beat. “I know you make Shua take a ton shit pictures of you when you’re out somewhere.”

You pout at this, and as much as you know Jeonghan doesn’t mean anything by it, the mention of your brother isn’t exactly welcome today because his name just reminds you that this isn’t real and he’s a big part of the reason why.

“Can you not talk about my brother?” You say softly, which Jeonghan easily catches even if he’s not sure you mean for him to hear or not. The sadness in your voice is genuine though, and he makes a mental note to stop mentioning Joshua for the rest of the day. He’s starting to question once again if this is the right thing to do even for a day–after all, Joshua is his best friend, and this particular conversation is the exact reason why he’s not supposed to do this.

But he’s promised you he’ll treat you like his girlfriend–perhaps another personal agenda of his because he does want to experience being able to be your boyfriend even for a day. He should’ve thought more before okay-ing your proposal instead of thinking about it right now when you’re in front of him, in a simple white shirt and a black skirt that stops just below the middle of your thigh but somehow still the prettiest he’s ever seen. 

He wonders if this is how you usually dress up for your dates, and something bitter makes it to the tip of his tongue as he thinks about someone else taking you on a date. 

“Sorry. Come on, let’s take a picture together.” His fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer before eventually linking them with yours. “You’re very pretty today, have I told you?”

“You have.” You scrunch your nose and pretend to roll your eyes at the sudden sweetness he basks you in even though you’re liking every second of it. “Literally one minute ago.”

“Well, you really do look very beautiful and I want you to know.” He lowers his voice an octave and stares right into your eyes before he eventually bursts out laughing.

“Stop!” You giggle, knowing that he’s doing this on purpose to annoy you. “That’s too fucking cheesy and you know it.”

He laughs along with you, then tightens his fingers in yours like they’re not interlocked already.

“I mean it though.” He whispers one last time, not looking at you this time around because his heart might fucking burst to say it to your face without the faux of messing with you. “You do look beautiful.”

At least you share the sentiment, as you quietly duck your head to hide your smile, whispering a thanks that’s only meant for the two of you.

Jeonghan keeps his end of the bargain, you’re happy to know, as you don’t even think about your brother and the pretense that is your relationship for the rest of the day. You freely flirt with each other, cheeky smile and winks being thrown here and there. His hands never seem to leave you, and you gladly cling on to him even if you don’t need to.

You get ice cream, insist that you want the plain strawberry one only to eventually switch with Jeonghan’s cookies and creams because his looks better. He plays hard to get before giving in to you, but not before swiping ice cream from the side of your lips and licks his thumb like that shit isn’t going to give you a heart attack.

It’s around seven when you both get to the night market not too far from the beach, and you’re both even gigglier than earlier which you didn’t think was possible. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you’re the furthest thing from complaining as you continue at whatever dumb jokes Jeonghan throws your way.

The night market isn’t as crowded as you think it would be, but it still is crowded and Jeonghan makes a show of throwing his arm around your shoulder because he ‘doesn’t want to lose you’ and you seem a little cold (which you kinda are).

You elbow him at this, shake your head and pretend like you’re not internally dying from the closeness between the two of you.

“That’s so lame.” You snicker. “Just say you want me close and go.”

“I do want you close.” He whispers unexpectedly, catching you entirely off guard that you trip on your own foot you almost fall on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize you tripped because you’re flustered, which works good for you, and he flicks your forehead as he scolds you to be more careful and goes back to holding your hand.

“Seriously. How are you still so clumsy?”

You don’t like being reprimanded by Jeonghan, because it awfully reminds you that you’re younger than him–that you’re his best friend’s little sister. And as much as you know Jeonghan definitely does not see you as a sister, the implication that he has to see you as one because of the association is very disheartening. 

“Why are you frowning?” He copies the gesture, and you shake your head, telling him it’s nothing. The night is ending, and you don’t want to waste more time thinking about stuff that you can think of tomorrow when you’re not in a time limited relationship with Yoon Jeonghan. “No, tell me–”

“Jeonghan?”

The both of you turn at the call of his name, and your frown deepens as you see Jisoo in front of you, Jeonghan’s ex that he amicably broke up with. The one ex that has always made you feel like shit because she’s everything you’re not and they were such a picture perfect couple that you’re sure they’d go back together someday.

It does not feel good to see her today of all days.

“Oh, hi!” She kindly greets you, her smile way too genuine for you to think she’s just being polite and secretly hates you inside. Gosh. You need to stop watching too many TV dramas. “Joshua’s sister… right?”

There it is again. The reminder that you’re his sister–something you really don’t need to hear today.

“Hi.” You smile awkwardly, and only then remember your hand is still pretty much joined with Jeonghan’s. You don't know how to feel about the fact that his reflex is not to let go of your hand in front of his ex who obviously knows your brother. You try to let go of his hand, but Jeonghan holds on tighter, as if telling you it’s okay and there’s no need to worry about Jisoo.

They share a small chat for a bit before eventually parting, and Jisoo wishes you both a good night, which makes you hate yourself so much for being jealous of the girl when she doesn’t even have an ounce of bad energy towards you.

You try to enjoy the rest of the night, but Jisoo’s appearance just reminds you that this whole thing is pretty much fake. That someone out there is going to be in your place for real–able to hold his hand and just be with him all the time without having to wait for your brother to go on a business trip to even hang out with each other. Without some stupid request and guilt eating them inside out because they’re not supposed to do this.

Trying to be subtle, you put on an act of wanting to visit every stall in the festival and pretend to be tired after about thirty minutes or so. You’re surprised Jeonghan isn’t already tired to begin with, this guy has the battery of a five-years-old phone, you didn’t expect him to actually bring you around until night if you’re being completely honest.

Jeonghan complies when you tell him you’re ready to go home, and you don’t even realize he’s also being weirdly quiet because you’re too deep in your thoughts. And it’s once his car is parked on the parking lot of your apartment building that you finally open your mouth trying to say something–anything.

You want to thank him for today. To thank him for making a memory that you’ll dearly hold on to, for giving you a standard of what a boyfriend is supposed to be even for a day. For fulfilling your dumb request when he doesn’t even have to.

But what comes out of your mouth is something entirely different and you almost want to bash your head against the door of his car right after.

“Whoever’s going to be your girlfriend is very lucky.”

You can hear Jeonghan takes a sharp breath, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying because you’re just so fucking stupid like that.

You try to remind yourself that you asked for this. That Jeonghan is doing you a favour and owes you nothing. That you should be thankful you’ve even gotten the chance to play girlfriend with him when he could’ve just embarrassed you and walked away after your proposal.

The deafening silence inside the car is very loud, and you feel like you’re suffocated by things unseen that you just want to get out of the car and take a very deep breath. So you do just that: reach for the door of his car because you can’t take being so close to him anymore.

It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have asked for this. Shouldn’t have asked for a taste of heaven because surely you would want more and you’ll die of thirst right after. Now you’re just going to be awkward with him until god knows when and you’re regretting it already. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You should’ve been satisfied with your close friendship with him, with loving him from afar. Now you’ve ruined things between you and him and who knows when things will get back to normal? He’ll fucking think of you as pathetic and it’s just going to be pity in his eyes everytime he looks at you now.

“Hey!” Jeonghan jumps in alert the moment you step out of his car, quickly follows through and catches you before you take another step away from him. “What–why are you in such a hurry?”

You look down to your shoes, because you can’t stomach looking at him right now just in case you’ll see what you fear will be reflected in his eyes.

“Hey… Look at me?” He tries once again, tone getting a little helpless. But you shake your head, because you’re sure you’ll start crying if you do and you want to preserve the little dignity you still have in front of him. But Jeonghan doesn’t stop there, he whispers a ‘please?’ and lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him, his heart breaking when he sees how close you are to tears and his throat closing at how he’s the reason behind all this.

“Thank you.” You brave yourself. It’s the least you can do, because as much as you’re going to grovel for the next few months, you know that this particular memory with Jeonghan will always be dear to your heart and you’ll treasure it forever. “I’m sorry for taking your time and–”

“Ah, fuck it.” You hear him say before he dives into your lips, not minding the way you’re frozen in place out of shock. He hums against your lips, and it’s then that you finally kiss him back, your hands settle over his shoulders and your whole body relaxed under his touch.

When the both of you pull away, you’re a little out of breath and your thoughts all over the place. But there’s a small smile in Jeonghan’s face that gets you mirroring the gesture. He closes his eyes as he places his forehead on yours, and you follow suit, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face.

“It’s… okay for me to do that, right?” He asks, albeit a little too late. You still don’t know what the whole things mean, but you find yourself chuckling, because you honestly would let him do anything to you. But he doesn’t need to know the kind of power he has over you, so you simply nod and let him have his peace.

“Han?” You say after a while. “What does this mean for us?”

Jeonghan stares into your eyes, deep in his own thoughts as if he’s trying to rearrange his words so they don’t stumble out of his mouth like a trainwreck.

“Let’s see where this takes us?”

“But Shua…?”

He presses his lips together and wraps his arms around you, pushing you into his neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Whatever happens, happens.” He decides, already resigning that he can’t possibly let you go now that he knows how it feels like to have you like this. He’ll make your brother understand somehow, but right now, he wants to be with you and savors the little time he has with you before your brother comes back, not even minding the way his phone has been vibrating in his pocket.

[Joshua sent a picture.]

Joshua: heard from Jisoo you’re on a date w my sister??????????????????

Joshua: did you finally get out of your ass and stop being in denial lmaoooooooooooooo

Joshua: just pls be safe

Joshua: she’s still my sister

Joshua: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

[hongthoven]

「✦Mist ✦」 ʰᵒⁿᵍʲᵒᵒⁿᵍ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁽ˢᵐᵘᵗ⁾

one-shot 𖹭 4.5k w

pairing 𖹭 kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader

tags 𖹭 smut; established relationship; rough sex; car sex; jealousy; possessiveness; bit of dirty talk if you squint

✏️ Hongjoong is the jealous kind - you know it, everyone around you knows it, but what was supposed to be a chill night out with your friends takes an unexpected turn when your boyfriend accidentally hears about a past fling including one of the boys sitting at the table next to you.

pls reblog & comment if you like it 𖹭

© hongthoven

“He’s gonna blow this off. You just watch”

An uneventful, typical Friday night at your local bar with your usual gang, dusting off the reminiscence of a neverending busy week of work and pretending to enjoy the company of people you wish you didn’t even have to interact with daily. With his elbows pressed against the table as he lifts himself to get a perfect view over the bar where one of your friends disappeared merely a minute ago, Seonghwa can’t contain the hysterical laughter shaking him to the bones as you all sit there watching another chaotic cry for attention from the man who’s about to use another infamous cringy pick-up line to get into the bartender’s pants. 

While you’re not always proud to introduce him as such, Wooyoung has been granted with the best-friend status ever since you were still crawling in your nappies and struggling with the concept of syllables; and even though there was a time he used to be cute enough to get out of an awkward situation, watching him make an absolute fool of himself sits inevitably at the top three things you like to do on a Friday night– having Hongjoong there by your side only sprinkles an ounce of perfection to this moment, your boyfriend primarily acting like the cherry on top of every mundane situation. And right now, with his palm tucked between your closed thighs and his forehead occasionally resting against your shoulder every time he starts to laugh a little bit too loud at your friend’s misery, Hongjoong definitely looks like the tastiest dessert to the three-courses-meal you could have used upon heading to the bar. 

Red at the cheeks, you can already feel the sheer mix of alcohol and excitement as everyone starts to chant some improvised loser anthem to welcome back Wooyoung at your table, his cocky smirk untouchable as he finds his spot right next to you with the confidence of a sore loser facing the tragic ‘game over’ screen of a video game. Looking for the support he can’t find in any of you, Wooyoung immediately reaches for the first glass in front of him — yours —  and chugs it down his throat in what you count as two painfully slow gulps. Within a second, the glass hits the table back with a loud thump.

“Can’t even get your own drink?”

“Hhhhh— chill, babe, what’s yours is mine, remember? and yes, that includes YOU, Joong!” Wooyoung smirks a little bit too proudly, your cheek pinched between two of his fingers as he manages to equally piss you and your boyfriend off with his typical provocative tone. 

Lucky for you, Hongjoong is quick to let him know he wouldn’t go near his dick even if he was about to die and the only remedy was laying in his cum– and as the topic eventually dies with Wooyoung quietly chuckling to himself, the back of his head hitting the leather of the booth you had claimed as yours over an hour ago, Seonghwa calls for another round, ready to keep the night going. 

It’s nothing close to unusual, having a bunch of friends in their twenties naturally leading the conversation towards their favorite topic: sex. More specifically, a heated debate over who’s getting some and who gets to take the “no bitches” status home for the week. Seonghwa usually gets the party started– as a photographer, the man never fails to share the crudest anecdotes about a photoshoot turned into some sort of orgy, sparing no details even though being asked to ‘get to the point’ about a thousand times throughout his stories. Then, Wooyoung would usually make his contribution by sharing some of his latest Tinder encounters, using this moment to be his favorite version – the center of attention – and turning a random story about a date in a coffee shop into a Shakespearian drama, tone and everything, to entertain the crowd. 

By the time the two single pieces of your gang are done, they typically enjoy teasing you – the happy couple – asking if sex hasn’t turned too boring yet, as you’re soon to be entering your third year as an item. But tonight, for some reason, shit unexpectedly hits the fan when a silly comment makes your boyfriend flinch into his seat, eyebrows knitted together as Wooyoung’s voice – always too loud and high-pitched – comes out with a secret you thought would be kept forever, merely a piece of information, a glitch from the past, nothing to even discuss— unless Hongjoong decides to make it an issue. 

“You two slept together?” you only realize he’s been quiet for a while when his voice surprisingly cracks under the utter shock of picturing his girlfriend hooking up with the womanizer sitting by her side. Until then, never considered a threat but now standing awfully close to the woman Hongjoong liked to claim as his, brand new information instantly breaking the perfect balance between a long-time friend and an ex-lover he didn’t see coming. 

“I wouldn’t technically call it ‘sleeping’ — I mean, there was no bed involv—”

“Shut up, Wooyoung” you cut him off immediately, rolling your eyes at the way he simply NEEDS to add useless details to his statement.

“That was ages ago” While you feel the urge to add context, the way Hongjoong’s hand immediately stills between your thighs, matching the one holding his glass close to his lips as he tilts his head with a quick, unimpressed chuckle, says it all. He is pissed.

The rest of the evening is quite a blur as you fail to focus on any of the ongoing conversations, your attention entirely drawn to Hongjoong who's gone quiet ever since he heard about a whole section of your life you had managed to keep undercover to this day. And though you try to make eye contact every now and then, you’re a bit concerned to face his clenched jaw and a stone-cold silence, his body only reacting from primal instinct whenever Wooyoung wraps an arm around your shoulders to joke around, your boyfriend’s eyes following his every move like a predator ready to jump if he dares coming closer.

The silence between you two occurs for the rest of the night and follows you through the streets as you struggle to match your boyfriend’s pace, alcohol and stilettos as the worst combination with wet concrete from a drizzly evening. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?” You eventually dare to ask, your hand reaching for his arm to stop him in his tracks – quite honestly you’ve grown tired of staring at his back and strolling behind like a puppy who’s just wet the new carpet. 

“Take a wild guess” Hongjoong almost hisses as he finally turns to face you, one of his hands collecting a fistful of his black hair to push it back and in this moment, you hate the fact he looks so divine, droplets sparkling all over his face like skin made of a billion diamonds, thick lashes battling against a storm as he locks your gaze, trying desperately to read through your puzzled expression.

“For Christ’s sake Hongjoong, that was YEARS ago— a whole different life!”

“It’s not about ‘when’ it happened, Y/N, I’m just wondering why it never came up before. God knows he likes to talk about the places his dick has been before, we had a complete walk through a world tour— Wish I knew you were one of the stops.” 

“It never came up because it means nothing– doesn’t it prove anything at all? We were just horny college students! It was over before it was even a thing!”

“Seems like you left quite the impression” Hongjoong snaps back, his fingers fiddling with his pocket, looking for a lighter and what seems to be the only cigarette left in the packet he immediately crushes and tosses into the nearest bin – baffled. You try and recall Wooyoung’s words and the way he carelessly exposed one of your flings, letting the entire table know about how you had dragged him into the corner of a busy street following a night out in a club, begging to be fucked. Like you said, a whole different life— a life when you didn’t care much about settling with anyone, sick of the dating scene and more importantly, a life when you could still perceive Wooyoung’s sex appeal. Back then, it was easy to be charmed whenever he smiled at you, tongue poking into his gummy cheek like he was a second away from bending you over the sketchy couch of his pocket-sized student bedroom. Back then, mindless sex with your best friend seemed like a perfect compromise, especially when you two ended up too horny yet too lazy to go out and seek for a Player 2. 

Now, though? Wooyoung remained your best friend, a comfort place always willing to make you laugh through darker times— but when it came to sex? You couldn’t even recall the last time you had felt attracted to the man. How could you, when the one staring at you right now, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched together and quite obviously dismantled by the whole situation was still, inevitably, profoundly, everything you wanted and needed from a partner?

“You know he can’t compete…” you feel the urge to insist although you can’t recall a time when you haven’t praised your boyfriend’s skills in the bedroom— or wherever he feels like having you. Truth be told, no one could ever make you drift away from Hongjoong. Even after years of dating, the man still managed to take your breath away. But you would also lie if you said you didn’t like his jealous side just a little. The way his lips turn into a natural pout as he sucks onto his cigarette, his eyes obviously avoiding yours as he frowns towards a random scene happening on the other side of the road between another couple whose fight seems way ahead of yours. You can’t help but notice the irony. Maybe something in the air?

“It’s not a competition, Y/N” Hongjoong rarely uses your name— typically prefers to give you his favorite pet names instead of some boring formality, and tonight is one of those rare exceptions when he is too mad to act like your usual caring boyfriend. You know he is probably rummaging through the most haunting thoughts— thoughts of you pinned up against the wall, clinging onto Wooyoung, both of you still half clothed as he rockets himself into you, making you call his name in the middle of the streets and for everyone to see. 

Rain has gotten you drenched by now, the fabric of your dress sticking to your shivering skin as you curse yourself for ditching a coat just because none of your warmest jackets would fit your vibe that night. Your impeccable fashion taste was actually one of the many things that had caught Hongjoong’s eye when you had first met and to this day, your boyfriend never missed a chance to praise your looks— every morning he would stare at you with a loving smile, a second before pressing his lips to your neck as you both stood in front of your bedroom’s mirror, his sweet voice whispering the most devastating compliments only to conclude with a daily “I love you”. 

“Let’s get you home, you’re gonna catch a fucking cold” Hongjoong adds, taking off his own coat to let it rest like a cape upon your shoulders. Though the fabric is just as drenched as you are, it feels comforting to smell the familiar scent of his signature fragrance, the one that never fails to get you hot and bothered, only because it is particularly crafted for your boyfriend. Rich, fancy with just enough masculinity in the undertone to make you feel like he owns you entirely. 

Although you hear him curse for parking the car so far from the bar, his hand still finds yours as you lock your fingers together, his pace now matching yours — and while you know he isn’t ready to calm down just yet, there’s a sense of comfort in the way he still manages to make you feel loved and cared about. 

The warmth of the car hits you like lava as Hongjoong immediately sets the heat above normal in hope it’ll dry your clothes faster. Though he has started the ignition, he seems to be frozen still, his eyes staring upfront, hands on the wheel as you notice just how tensed he actually is, from the sharpness of his jaw to the way his skin turns white around his knuckles from holding the wheel a little too hard. 

“I don’t want to picture you two together everytime we hang out, Y/N… Actually, I never want to picture anyone else with you, but me — do you understand? or do I sound crazy to you right now?” 

Hongjoong’s possessiveness is no news to you. Not after years of dating the man and witnessing his sudden change of mood whenever he sees a man standing a little too close, let alone having a conversation with you. It’s not a fight you never had before and you know, deep down, it won’t be the last. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you” he adds, almost apologetic as his eyes finally find yours “but now all I can see is his hands all over you… It’s fucking killing me” you watch as he closes his eyes, growling at his own tormented thoughts while the back of his head hits the leather of his seat. By now the windows are covered with a thick, steamy layer, making it impossible for you to see the road ahead. Or to be seen. 

Taking on the opportunity of having your boyfriend still processing his own demons, you decide to let your intrusive thoughts win this round as you peel yourself off Hongjoong’s coat, letting it pool on the seat 

“How about I give you something else to think about?” you smile, wasting no time in straddling your boyfriend whose eyes suddenly open wide at the unexpected intrusion. There’s a little space for you to maneuver between the wheel and his chest but you somehow manage to make it work, your thighs pressed on each side of his while your arms lock around his neck like two pieces of a magnet smacking together at last. 

“Babe— I don’t think you should play this game right now” Hongjoong’s voice is full of warning, his tone a little deeper than it usually is, but you’re not typically the one to give up on a plan, especially when it involves fucking the anger out of your boyfriend. 

“Give me one good reason to stop” brushing your lips against his, your hips naturally start to grind over his lap, putting on an obvious show while his hands travel up your thighs, creasing the wet fabric of your dress until it crumples at the wake of your hips. 

“I could hurt you” the words vanish against your tongue as you deepen the kiss, dying for a taste of him while the sour mix of whisky and cigarette invades the back of your mouth like a drug you can’t ever get enough of.  Caged into his arms, you feel a little boneless, your own body going limp against the stiffness of his muscles as his fingers dig into your flesh, lacing your skins with thin little red ribbons as he carries your pace by pushing your pelvis back and forth against his growing bulge. 

“When did I ever ask you to go soft on me?” you tease, the tip of your tongue tracing the outline of his lips as you chuckle at the sight of him crumpling in front of your eyes. One of his hands eventually detaches from your thigh, traveling up your stomach, between your breast, palming your chest until it rests against your throat in the shape of a fist ready to choke the air out of you. 

“Want me to go rough on you, love?” Hongjoong smirks, his white pearls as a permanent threat while his grip tightens around your neck, a slight change of shade showing a bruise from a couple nights before, now a little too faded for his liking. 

“Fuck I like to see my prints all over your body— show the world you’re fucking mine.” The daunting mix of his filthy words with the growing stiffness between your thighs is enough to have you mewling like a kitten as you tilt your head back, arching perfectly against the wheel while giving your man the most breathtaking view over your breast as it escapes the thin fabric of your dress — and though it’s been a while since you gave up on wearing a bra, the sight never fails to make Hongjoong go completely feral, his lips attacking your tits like a starved animal. 

“Joongie— fuck” you almost squeal as soon as his teeth graze the sensitiveness of your erected nub, pulling at it just enough to have you lost in limbo. Halfway between excruciating pain and absolute bliss. By now, your hips are jolting at the most crazy pace, your entire body craving for his touch as you no longer fear for him to witness your utter desperation for his cock. With his mouth still tightly wrapped around your tit, Hongjoong reaches for your chin with one hand, his fingers pressed to your jaw, his thumb finding your mouth already agape as it lands flat against your tongue like a priest feeding you a wafer on Sunday Mass. 

While his finger never comes close to the absolute treat of having his junk at the very back of your throat, you still make sure to put on a show as you suck the flesh out of his thumb, taking off his silver ring only to spit it out over his lap with a content smile. Eyes filled with a darkness you know too well, Hongjoong wastes no time fumbling between your thighs, pushing your lacy panties roughly to the side and almost tearing the fabric open from lacking patience as his thumb finally finds your slit, your own saliva melting with the abundant wetness of your cunt. 

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of this” he almost growls, his mouth attacking your neck, chest and every piece of skin coming close enough to his starving lips, devouring your flesh entirely as you instantly clench around two more of his fingers while yet not full enough. 

“Joongie please” you don’t care how begging you sound right now with your hand smashed against the window, leaving its print behind while bouncing against his palm like you’ve been cock deprived for months. There’s just something about this man that simply leaves you putty into his hands, desperate for more and constantly craving his touch. Whether you’re standing in a crowded room or alone at home, you can’t recall a moment when you don't feel the instant urge to jump his bones. 

You’re lucky the steam is covering up for the mess happening inside your car right now as if anything, everything looks absolutely obscene right now. From the way your dress isn’t doing its job at covering your dignity, all tits out and dripping inside your boyfriend’s palm as he hooks his fingers into you, hitting your special spot just right with every snap of his knuckles, to the increasing sound of your voice as you moan his name like a broken record, brain fuzzy from the upcoming orgasm taking over — yet the thought of being caught isn’t that terrible. You’ve had this conversation with Hongjoong before. When mentioning your kinks and wildest fantasies, you can perfectly recall the time you had told him about how you wouldn’t mind doing it somewhere people could see— while not entirely into the exhibitionism scene, you didn’t hate the idea of having an audience. 

Hongjoong’s hand — the one clenching around your throat until now — finds its way between your bodies, fiddling with his belt as you lift yourself up slightly to give him just enough room to unpack your favorite treat in all its veiny glory. Any other day, you would take your sweet time to give him head and have him fuck your throat until you’re sore but there’s some sort of emergency in the air as you grab his wrist, breaking contact as his fingers slip out of your gaping hole so his hand finds a new nest over your chest, covering your skin with a messy coat of arousal as you finally slide down his pole until it empales you entirely. 

Nothing ever comes close to that first stretch. No matter how many times you have fucked, Hongjoong still feels like a first everytime he pushes himself into you, tearing you apart with the girth of a cock who has definitely made you cry before. Both from pain and pleasure. But today there’s no time for adjustment as you use the car door and headboard as a lever to bounce over Hongjoong’s lap restlessly. The whole scene is messy, almost crude as you pour over his slacks, the buckle of his belt bruising your skin with every hard thrust of his hips as soon as he starts to pound himself back into you, wrecking the pace and your insides all at the same time. 

“Should have invited your little friend to watch” Hongjoong growls, eyes half shut with the veins of his neck growing twice its size from using all of his strength to pistol his hips into your groin from under. “Show him how it’s done” he adds, using both his hands as a belt around your hips to keep you still as he keeps pounding harder with each thrust. By now your brain has turned into mush as you bite into the back of your hand not to scream, completely unable to think about anything else but the insane amount of pleasure piling up into your guts as you feel yourself reaching your high at a rocket speed. 

“What happened to you, baby? Lost your tongue?” he smirks, slowing down for a bit only to go harder a second after, forcing your back against the wheel so hard the car starts to honk with each thrust, making you nervous while Hongjoong doesn’t seem to bother about the sudden attention. 

“H—hongjoong— backseat— please” you barely manage to moan, almost gasping for air with each word as your boyfriend eventually slows down until he comes to a stop, blessing you with the delightful sight of his dismantled face, sweaty and red with his black hair plastered all over his forehead, thick veins pulsating on each side of his throat, chest glowing with dampness. He couldn’t look hotter if he tried. Peeking at his underarm as he pulls you into a kiss, you refrain a moan at the sight of his tattoo as your tongue instantly melts with it, saltiness of sweat melting with your saliva as you come down from your high slightly while enjoying the complete bliss of cockwarming him for a while. 

Breaking the kiss, Hongjoong simply tilts his head to the side, motioning for the backseat, commanding as ever without actually saying the words. Obedient and climax deprived, you lift yourself up and off his lap, trying your best to crawl in the backseat with as much grace as possible while Hongjoong wiggles out of his pants just enough to give himself more room as he follows you there, visibly unpleased to find you with your back against the seat, facing him. Again, without a word, Hongjoong gives you a little twirl of his finger, ordering for you to turn around and get on all fours for him, smacking your ass as soon as it rises upfront in all its glory. 

Pushing a knee between your legs to spread them apart, Hongjoong spits into his palm, coating it with saliva as you squirms with impatience, picturing his fist around his cock as soon as the familiar sound of your boyfriend jerking himself off hits you, making you clench over nothing — luckily not for long as the comforting stretch of his cock tearing you apart steals the air out of your lungs merely a few seconds later. 

“Fuck I’ve been dying to have you like this since you put on that dress, tonight” Hongjoong grunts, one of his hands wrapping your hair into a tight ponytail while the other rests firmly at the small of your back. Although his thrusts are definitely slower this time, you can’t help but cry out everytime he bottoms out, filling you up to the brim with each snap of his vicious hips.

“What took you so long?” you moan, hands clenched around the head-rest as Hongjoong tugs at your hair a little harder, probably as a punishment for provoking him again. 

“Couldn’t wait to get you alone— although maybe I should’ve fucked you right accross the table for everyone to see? I know you’re desperate for an audience…” The filth of his words match the brutality of his hips as Hongjoong pulls out entirely, smacking his throbbing head against your clit until you whine with desperation. By now, that dress is completely ruined, crumbled around your hips like a vulgar rag and definitely covered with sweat and cum but you can definitely recall the way Hongjoong’s eyes had twinkled when giving him a little spin earlier in the privacy of your bedroom. You knew he was a goner every time you wore a dress so thin he could catch a glimpse of your tits hardening under the fabric and today wasn’t any different. If it wasn’t for the unexpected Wooyoung-gate, you knew Hongjoong would have fucked you braindead in the sketchy bathroom of the bar. Not that it would be a first. 

“H— joongie— i’m— close” you almost sob, already overstimulated as your guts suddenly tighten into a knot, your body almost collapsing under Hongjoong’s last efforts to get you exactly where he needs you. Lifting you up with one arm snaked around your chest, fist locking your throat, Hongjoong quickens the pace, the abundance of skin-on-skin mixed with the brutality of his thrusts making the car shake under your knees as you suddenly stiffens under his touch, your screams muffled into his palm as your boyfriend is quick to follow, thick white ropes filling you up to the brim as you both collapse against the seat, exhausted.

It takes you a while to come down from your high as Hongjoong helps you settle back into the seat, cradling you. Your hands filled with strands of his wet hair, pushing it back to unveil his blissful face, you cannot help but sigh with the most sincere happiness when his lips find your neck, pecking it slightly, his tongue darting against a bruise left from his fingers tightly wrapped around your throat earlier. In this moment, nothing much matters except for the two of you and the unconditional love you two share.

No more jealousy. No more fighting. 

[livingemkayde]

waterfront

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual). 

a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always. 

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i part ii

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.  “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?” 

“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room. 

It’s honestly unbelievable. 

Packing. 

You’re packing. 

For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.

Joel’s client. 

Joel Miller.

Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you. 

Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you. 

He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town. 

Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend. 

You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours. 

You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first. 

You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop. 

Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe. 

You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come. 

You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother. 

That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you. 

You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought. 

A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either. 

“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story. 

She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look. 

“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue. 

“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.

“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it. 

You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—

“Tell me ‘bout it.” 

You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. 

You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—

“Are we almost there yet?” 

Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks. 

“You alright?” 

It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising. 

“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.

“Do you wanna talk?” 

Another surprise. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do. 

He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things. 

He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame. 

“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.

“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.

“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”

“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.” 

You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.

“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated. 

“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck. 

“He make you laugh?” 

You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms. 

“He doesn’t make me cry.” 

He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated. 

“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you. 

You roll your eyes. 

“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.

“I have no fucking idea what you want.�� 

“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up. 

“Insane,” he grunts.

“Sorry?” 

“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel. 

“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret. 

You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle. 

“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself. 

But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button. 

He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin. 

You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. 

He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs. 

You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest. 

He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head. 

“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine. 

You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours. 

“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words. 

“Everythin’.” 

Your eyes urge him to continue. 

“Thought I could stay away f’m you.” 

He gets closer. 

“Thought it was the right thing.” 

You shake your head. 

“But I don’t think I can stay away.” 

“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked. 

“'M here.” 

You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone. 

“Look at me.” In a blink, you do. 

He’s closer, if possible. 

And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.

This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth. 

He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again. 

It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good. 

His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him. 

His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.

You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.

“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” 

You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge. 

You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe. 

You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation. 

This is nice.  

Joel is being way too…nice. 

You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing. 

“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door. 

“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend. 

Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t. 

You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water. 

You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day. 

When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes. 

“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair. 

“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body. 

“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him. 

“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”

You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door. 

Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach. 

When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom. 

You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream. 

You huff. This is not what you need right now. 

“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel. 

You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door. 

“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads. 

You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.

“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take. 

“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own. 

“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom. 

“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes. 

Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower. 

“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone. 

You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already. 

“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated. 

“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care. 

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”  

“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.” 

“‘S’okay.” 

He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem. 

The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t. 

Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth. 

Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.

“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.

He only hums at that sentiment. 

“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him. 

“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold. 

“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton. 

“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you. 

You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment. 

“Nicer.” 

You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.

“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath. 

He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone. 

“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy. 

“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance. 

He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat. 

Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home. 

“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. 

He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible. 

“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.” 

You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,” 

He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. 

“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything. 

He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck. 

“Feel so good baby,” he groans. 

“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse. 

You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge. 

He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb. 

“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him. 

“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth. 

“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.” 

He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down. 

“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder. 

“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm. 

“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck. 

“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes. 

He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever. 

But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry. 

When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered. 

“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes. 

You kiss him instead of responding.

You know Joel's right—this is dangerous. 

But it feels way too good to stop. 

_

part iv

taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:

@nostalxgic @iluvurfather

[corroded-hellfire]

hello!! i have seen so many eddie x fem reader but never a chubby fem reader so? can u do one and plz take as much time

(can it also be smut???)

- suki

This honestly felt cathartic to write. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy 🩵

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f!receiving, body image issues

Words: 4.5k

"Ugh, it’s so cheesy.”

Eddie groans and drops his head back against the couch dramatically. You scoff as you watch him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to keep most of your attention on the flickering television screen in front of you. The end of An Officer and a Gentleman plays, where Richard Gere picks up Debra Winger and carries her off bridal style.

“I think it’s romantic,” you say, lazily flicking your hand at your boyfriend’s chest. 

His dark eyebrows raise up to meet his bangs as he kicks his socked feet up on the cluttered coffee table. 

“Really?” he asks. “So, you’re saying you want me to just scoop you up like that and carry you?”

The snort that comes out of you isn’t intentional, but Eddie’s words force it to come out. 

“Hell no,” you tell him. “You’d break your back.”

Eddie’s previously raised eyebrows furrow as he stares at you. His spine straightens and he crosses his arms across his chest, offense leaking into his posture. 

“What do you mean?”

Surely, he must be joking, you think. But the way his gaze is focused on you makes you realize he’s serious.

“Eddie.” You brandish your hand towards your larger body before gesturing to his own svelte frame. 

Unsure how to feel about your insinuation, Eddie shifts in his seat to face you better. He eyes your body, something that always makes you feel a little self-conscious even if it’s in an admiring fashion.

“You think I can’t carry you?” he asks.

“Not without blowing out your back.” 

That has Eddie pushing himself up off the couch and rubbing his hands together. He nods to you as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Let me try,” he says.

“No.” You don’t move an inch. 

Eddie’s shoulders slump, reminding you of a deflating beach ball as he begins to pout.

“Babe,” he whines. “Come on.” 

“No, Eddie,” you reply, tone more definitive this time. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He waves off your concern as if it’s the last thing on his mind. But you’re aware that it’s very real and know it would only make you feel more uncomfortable in your own skin if your weight hurt your boyfriend. 

“Just drop it,” you try. 

As persistent and stubborn as Eddie is about something once it’s entered his mind, he can see your demeanor changing bit by bit, moving closer to upset. It doesn’t mean he’s going to let it go entirely, though. He’ll let you think he’s forgotten about it for now, just continuing on with the nice evening you’re having. But there’s already an idea turning the gears in the back of Eddie’s mind. 

The next week, you waltz into the Munson’s trailer–having learned long ago that you can just let yourself in–and your brow furrows as you slip off your shoes. Eddie is standing between the couch and the television, doing arm curls with a pair of smaller but heavy-looking weights. Not once have you seen Eddie lifting weights before, so you’re confused, unsure of what’s going on. 

Eddie’s eyes glance over to you, away from the rerun of Who’s the Boss playing on the television and gives you a smile.

“Hey, baby,” he says as naturally as always. “Be done in a minute.”

You finally find your voice as you track his arms moving up and down. “What’re you doing?”

“Knitting a sweater,” he answers without missing a beat. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You roll your eyes even though he isn’t looking your way and plop down on the couch behind him.

Eddie lets out a small, breathy laugh and turns his head to the side so you know he’s talking to you.

“What’s it look like? I’m lifting weights.”

“But why?” you ask, tucking your legs up beneath you.

When Eddie turns face forward again, you catch a glimpse of his smirk in the reflection on the TV.

“So you’ll have no more excuses about why I shouldn’t pick you up,” he says. 

Letting out a dramatic groan to rival one of Eddie’s own, you flop down on your side and bury your face into one of the couch cushions. Irritated, you pick your head up and glare at the back of your boyfriend’s head.

“This again?” you ask.

“I’m gonna sweep you off your feet,” he says as he begins his last set. “Wait and see.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whines, leaning back in his seat. He swipes at one of the D20s on the table out of frustration. “Where the hell is he? Eddie’s never been late for a campaign in his life.”

“Are you sure your boyfriend didn’t mention anything about being late?” Mike snaps at you from the opposite side of the table.

“For the third time, Michael,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, “no.”

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but the drama room door bangs open to reveal their Dungeon Master, his soaking wet hair turning the white portion of the Hellfire shirt see-through. There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in his appearance. Leave it to Dustin to break the seal.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Is it raining out?” Lucas asks no one in particular, eyes trailing Eddie’s weighed-down curls.

He doesn’t receive a response as Eddie saunters into the room, acting as if he didn’t just break one of his own most important rules. Your boyfriend throws a wink your way and presses a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you to get to his throne. Once he’s plopped down in the seat and made himself comfortable, he takes in all the eyes staring at him from around the table.

“I was in the gym. Weight room, more specifically,” Eddie says, as if they should have known this all along. 

“Like…where the athletes train?” Gareth asks, nose wrinkling up in confusion. You can taste Eddie’s snarky reply in the air before he even parts his lips.

“Congratulations on knowing what the weight room is, Gareth the Great.”

When Eddie’s eyes don’t meet yours, you wonder if he’s avoiding your gaze or not. He has to know that the fact that he was lifting weights again would grate on your nerves. Either he’s oblivious–which is entirely possible–or he’s being smart and not meeting your glare. Eddie is quiet for a moment, which is so unlike him that you’re wondering if maybe he’s waiting for you to say something. If that’s what he wants he’ll be sorely disappointed though because you’re biting your tongue for now. Even though he’ll definitely hear about it later when there are no witnesses around. 

“All right,” Eddie finally says, clapping his ringed hands together. “Shall we get started?”

Whenever you want to vent about Eddie or something he did, you never have a shortage of friends to go to. Most are glad to lend an ear and a few even look forward to hearing what crazy thing he did this time. But when it comes to how you’re currently feeling in regards to your boyfriend, none of your friends could truly understand because they’re all, well…thin. They might be sympathetic to your situation or even relate in some different way, but none of them would wholly understand because they’ve never been viewed in the same light that you are by society. It’s not their fault they don’t understand, it’s just how it is. 

Unfortunately, you’re not as good at keeping your emotions hidden as you thought you were. It’s only a few days before Nancy corners you at your locker.

“Are you okay?” she asks, narrowing her usually wide eyes at you. 

“Fine,” you say with as much forced enthusiasm as possible while you dig around the locker for your biology textbook. 

“For argument's sake, let’s say I believe you,” Nancy says. “Why have you been so quiet lately, then? You seem distracted, like your mind is somewhere else.”

“It’s stupid,” you say to her as you find the book you were searching for.

“Hey,” Nancy says, voice taking on a more serious tone, “no it’s not. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”

You’ve known Nancy long enough to know she’s truly trying to help you and is determined to find out what’s wrong. You also know that if you tell her that you’re not ready to talk about it, she’ll drop it and respect your wishes. But you have been itching to talk to someone about everything that’s been going on, and the opportunity presented itself to you on a silver platter. 

“After school?” you ask softly. 

Nancy nods. “I’m putting the finishing touches on a story for the paper. I’ll be in there alone.”

When the bell rings signaling the end of school you find her right where she said she’d be. Bent over a few papers, shuffling them back and forth and inspecting them with a small furrow to her brow. As soon as she sees you, though, she moves her work to the side and gives you her undivided attention.

“What’s up?” she asks. 

Trying to buy every second you have before you open your mouth and start to explain your predicament, you make yourself comfortable on the stool across from your friend and situate your bag between your feet on the floor. There’s no more stalling, you realize, as you continue to shift in your seat though. Deep down you know Nancy will be sympathetic and would never intentionally steer you wrong, it’s just the fact that she won’t get it that’s keeping you from spilling your guts. 

“I’m not interviewing you, you know,” Nancy says, the ghost of a smile dancing on her lips. “You can start whenever.”

“Eddie keeps saying he wants to lift me up.”

The admission just tumbles from your mouth, no preamble, no build-up, just straight to the problem that’s been lying heavy on your heart. 

“Okay…” Nancy drags out the word and she leans in towards you. Clearly, she was expecting more to the story than this. 

“And I told him that he’ll hurt himself and now he’s working out and lifting all these weights to prove that he’s strong enough for it.” For someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted to talk about this to begin with, you’re now word vomiting everywhere. Between the speed of your words and the way they seem to come out before being processed in your mind, you’re strangely reminded of how it is to talk with Robin when she’s flustered over something. The thought has you biting back a smile; maybe now you’d give Robin less grief about talking so fast. 

“Why don’t you just let him try then?” Nancy asks.

An internal scream sounds in your head at her question. Of course she doesn’t understand what the big deal is. It’s not her fault, but you also know there are no words you could use to explain it to her to convey how you feel deep down about it. It’s something you either know from experience or not. 

“You’ve seen the two of us together,” you finally respond, voice measured and quiet. “He’s so slender and has some lean muscle, but not enough to lift my fat ass.”

It’s obvious from the way Nancy does her cute little pout that she doesn’t like your comment.

“You are–”

Here it comes, you think. She’s going to say how pretty I am, even though I didn’t say I was ugly–just fat. 

“–stressing yourself out by thinking about this too much. Let Eddie lift his weights. If you still don’t want him to pick you up, tell him. You know he respects your boundaries.”

It’s not what you expected her to say at all, and you admonish yourself for thinking Nancy would be anything less than logical about this. And her logic is sound. You know she’s right, but the emotional part of your brain still isn’t completely satisfied.  

On your way out of the school after talking with Nancy, you pass the weight room and hear someone inside. You peek in the small window cut into the door and spot your boyfriend’s mass of messy curls. He has a barbell over his hips, thrusting them up and down. The sight alone has your knees feeling weak. The motion of Eddie’s hips has you hypnotized for a few moments before you decide to go in.

Eddie isn’t facing the door and he’s wearing headphones, so he doesn’t hear you as you slip in and close the door behind you. Now you can hear the soft grunts that leave his lips with every thrust, and it has you biting down on your lower lip. When you take a step closer, you can hear the music Eddie’s listening to, the song pounding out past the headphones. Even though Eddie doesn’t know you’re there it’s almost as if he’s trying to seduce you. The hips, the grunts, now he’s listening to Burnin’ Up by Judas Priest? That’s the most often played song while the two of you are having sex. 

Deciding it’s fine if you’re perving a bit on your own boyfriend, you watch him while he does a few more reps. As he begins to slow down and finish up, you move to take a seat on the piece of equipment next to him. Eddie grins when he notices you sitting there and tugs the headphones down so they’re hanging around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he says. “I’d hug you but I’m all sweaty.”

“It’s sexy.”

Eddie laughs at the blunt way you say it. 

“Really?” he asks.

You nod your head and Eddie takes it as an invitation to come over and sit next to you. He wraps you up in his sweaty arms, teasingly wiping his forehead against the shoulder of your shirt. It makes you laugh and you wrap your arms around his damp middle. The black material of his Ozzy shirt is sticking to his skin–and now yours too.

“Gonna go take a shower,” Eddie says and presses a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll go get some food, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The next week you’re over at Eddie’s house, on your back with Eddie on top of you as you make out. There’s a long-forgotten shitty horror movie playing in the background, but the cheesy, shrill screams of the victims don’t even register to either of you. 

Rough calloused hands slide down your shirt, moving from your breasts to the hem of your tee, where it’s riding up. Eddie’s skin on yours has you arching your back as his hands travel upwards again. It’s clear that he wants your shirt off and who are you to deny him?

“Bedroom,” you mumble as you break apart just long enough for you to yank your shirt off. Eddie takes advantage of your quick preoccupation with your clothing to scoop you up in his arms, bridal style. “Eddie!” you squeak.

He just chuckles and squeezes you tighter against his body. 

“Maybe now you’ll let me throw you around when I have to punish you for being a bad girl,” he says, a cocky smirk quirking his kiss-bruised lips. 

“A-Are you okay?” you ask, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. “You won’t offend me if you have to put me down.” You’re very aware of his lithe body and how it’s supporting your larger one. This has to be hurting him–right?

“Babe.” Eddie chuckles again and shakes his head. “I’ve been lifting weights that weigh at least double what you do. It feels like I’m holding a feather right now.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you try to determine if he’s lying or not. But the way he holds steady, not seeming to strain or struggle with you in his arms calms your worries. Eddie heads down the hall and carries you into his room and tosses you down on his bed. You land with a bounce and a giggle as he climbs up on top of you. 

His lips attach to your neck as his fingers reach down and fiddle with the button of your jeans. Once it’s popped open and he drags the zipper down, Eddie starts to kiss his way down your body, making sure to press his lips against every part of you that he can. Your chest, your tummy, your hips. When he gets to your jeans, Eddie slides himself off the bed to kneel before you. He makes quick work of getting your pants off and lets out a sinful groan when he sees the wet patch forming on your pale green cotton panties. It encourages Eddie to move even faster as he yanks your underwear off so quickly that you blink and you miss it. 

Eddie dives right in, wasting no time to run his long, talented tongue through your folds. You grip the off-white sheets below you in your fists at his ministrations. The laugh that rumbles through Eddie at your drawn-out groan sends vibrations up your body, only adding to the pleasure. Strong hands wrap around your thighs and pull you even further down the bed so Eddie can get better access to your pussy. His tongue repeatedly flicks over your clit and your eyes practically roll back in your head. Your boyfriend knows exactly how to work you up and bring you to the brink of–

“Hey,” you pout when Eddie pulls back and sits on his heels. “Fuck, Eddie, I was close.”

“I know, angel.” His words are soft and kind despite the mischievous glint in his eye. “But there’s something I need you to do first.”

“What?”

Eddie climbs on the bed and crawls up towards his pillows. He plops flat on his back as he says, “Sit on my face.”

“Eddie,” you say with a breathless laugh. “I’ll crush you.”

“Then I go out doing what I love,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I always told you that you’d be the death of me.” Eddie looks over you with those brown doe eyes and you feel the resolve melting away in your chest. “But seriously, please come here. I already miss how you taste.”

Lifting you was one thing, but this seems like something he couldn’t prepare for by going to the gym. The sincere, pleading look in his eyes tells you that he really wants this, though.

“Are you sure?” you double-check.

“God, yes, please.”

Hesitantly, you shuffle up closer to him and lift yourself up to straddle his face. Bracing your hands on Eddie’s headboard, you still can’t bring yourself to lower your body. Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something to Eddie, your boyfriend wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you flush down against his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you groan. You can practically feel Eddie grinning against your dripping pussy as he gets back to work. After a few moments of making sure Eddie isn’t suffocating below you, you start to relax into it and are able to enjoy the sensations of his tongue leisurely licking up and down your heat. A particularly hard lick to your hole has you letting out a gasp and clutching onto the wooden bedframe hard enough to snap it in half.

“Shit, Eddie. A-Almost there.”

He hums in acknowledgment, even though you didn’t need to tell him. Your body was something Eddie was a quick study in; it didn’t take him long to learn all the little quirks and tells your body gives him when you’re getting close to orgasm. 

“Fuck,” you moan between pants as your breaths become shallower. Sweat slicks your skin as you hurdle towards your peak, body a live wire as Eddie works your body just as flawlessly as he does his guitar. “I-I’m coming, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming.”

Eddie tightens his grip on your thighs as your hips rock against his face. His nose brushes against your clit and it shoots a spark through your body, only heightening your pleasure. 

As the high wears off, you feel boneless and collapse down on the bed next to Eddie. He huffs a breath of laughter and raises himself up on an elbow to watch you recover. Satisfied smirk on his face, Eddie wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand. He only gives you a moment longer to catch your breath before he gives you a smack on the ass.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he says. 

Energy not fully recuperated yet, you give him a nod but otherwise don’t move. Eddie’s not having that, though. A strong arm wraps around your waist and yanks you up, causing you to yelp in surprise. As you settle onto your hands and knees like you were told, you peek over your shoulder to see a cocky smirk adorning your boyfriend’s face. He ghosts a feather-light hand up your spine as he leans in to murmur in your ear.

“Told you I’d manhandle you if I needed to.”

There’s hardly enough time for your brain to process his words before he’s yanking your hips backward towards him. The sudden motion has your arms giving out and you drop face-first into his pillow, filling your senses with the citrus-scented shampoo he uses. The husky chuckle that comes from above you lets you know that this is the exact position he wanted you in any way. You let your eyes flutter closed as you revel in the sensation of him dragging his cock up and down your soaked folds. It’s meant to be teasing you–and it is–but you’d be lying if you said the motions didn’t feel amazing.

Eventually, Eddie can’t take his own teasing anymore–he’s so damn hard in his hand now. He lets his cock drag against your clit one last time before he pushes himself into you. A moan gets muffled into Eddie’s pillow as your fingers involuntarily claw at his sheets. If you were facing him, you know you’d see him smirking. The bed begins to squeak as Eddie moves his hips, his own groans tumbling out as he slides further into you with each thrust until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, head falling forward. His hands grip the soft plush skin of your hips hard enough to leave fingerprint-sized marks. You turn your head to keep from suffocating against the pillow, but you know you’d willingly starve yourself of oxygen if it meant Eddie would keep pounding into you like this. “Shit, baby. I’ll never get over how tight you are. God damn, I love your body so fucking much.”

The only response you can manage is a groan, thoughts fleeing from your head with every snap of his hips against yours. His pace begins to pick up and you know he’s getting closer to the edge. But suddenly he pulls completely out of you, leaving you achingly empty. The loss makes you whine as you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend. Words still haven’t come back into your brain yet, so you just questioningly grunt at him, which makes him laugh.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. Your eyes track him as he shuffles up the bed until he’s sitting with his back against his headboard. He pats his thigh and winks at you. “Get over here.”

He doesn’t need to ask you twice. Throwing your left leg over his lap, you whimper as you lower yourself slowly onto his angry and leaking cock. The moment you’ve seated yourself on him, he thrusts his hips up into you, causing you to gasp and clutch onto his pale, freckled shoulders to steady yourself. 

“Fuck!” you cry. “Yes, Eddie!”

The smirk that graces Eddie’s beautiful features is so self-satisfied. Normally, you’d come up with a witty quip or bratty action to wipe that look off his face, but the pleasure coursing through your veins leaves you incapable of coherent thought. 

Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and starts bucking his hips wildly up into yours. 

“Shit,” you all but scream as you drop your forehead down to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “God, Eddie.”

“Think my lifting paid off now, baby?” Eddie asks, smugness dripping in his tone. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your collarbone as you nod and bury your face into his neck.

“Yes,” you mumble against his skin before pulling back so he can understand you. “Yes, shit, your hips are magical.”

A chuckle rumbles through Eddie’s body and he tightens his grip around your waist, holding your body flush up against his. As you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, your fingernails dig into the delicate skin on Eddie’s back.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby,” Eddie says. When you don’t acknowledge his statement, he tugs on your hair and forces you to look him in the eye. “Jesus Christ, I love your curves. Every single inch of your body. It’s fucking mine. So perfect, holy shit. How’d I get so lucky?”

“All yours,” you confirm, nodding as much as you can with his hand in your hair. “My body is all yours. Every curve, every i-inch. Fuck, I’m close, Eddie.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” Eddie says between labored breaths. “Come with me.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter out in a whisper.

Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure washes over you as you cling to your boyfriend. The way your walls clench around Eddie’s cock has him coming immediately after you, his hair tickling the skin of your cheek as he drops his head forward to rest against your body. 

“Baby, yes,” Eddie moans as he spills inside of you, hips rutting against yours as he fucks his spend into you. 

When he’s finished, Eddie lifts his head up before dropping it back against his headboard. A satisfied smile is on his lips as he looks at you, rosy cheeks and coated in a sheen of sweat as he tries to catch his breath. Your body collapses against his, breathing just as heavily, and Eddie wastes no time in wrapping both of his arms around you. It’s quiet as the two of you bask in the feelings, both physical and emotional. Eventually, Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss into your hair.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, handsome.”

“So,” he starts, dotting soft kisses down the length of your neck, “you gonna let me pick you up now?”

It’s not something you even need to think about. “You can do whatever you want if you fuck me like that again.”

The laugh that Eddie lets out has you smiling against his skin. He brings his hand up and lightly trails his fingers up and down your spine. 

“Glad to hear that,” he says. “I think next I want to try lifting you over my shoulder. You know, like firemen do. How’s that sound?”

The question makes you lift your head up to look your boyfriend in the eye. 

“Only if you wear the uniform, too.”

[mrsmandalorian]

Nonsense

-- pedro x singer!f!reader

a/n: howdy everyone! was inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Coachella performance to write this. let me know if you guys want a second story to Espresso lol. much love to everyone!! -maddie

Summary: A surprise visitor at your first-ever Coachella performance!

main masterlist

Word Count: 4.5k

Song: Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter!!!!!!

Warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, drinking, drug use (edibles and smoking), switch sex, p in v, fingering, sexual teasing, pet names (mi amor, princesa, daddy, baby, baby girl, puppy, angel)

Coachella was one of the most famous music festivals a musician could play at. It was such an honor to be on the setlist. It is incredible to perform a night each weekend in a row. This might be the most significant break in your career. Something felt missing.

The crowd started to get excited as the set time grew nearer. The nerves shot through you as you took deep breaths. You were trying to get over the feelings going through your mind.

“Are you alright?” one of the backup dancers asks as they help you with the earpiece. As you look yourself over in the mirror, you see the beautiful outfit that was personalized to fit you wonderfully, with your hair done beautifully. 

You were ready. 

“Yes, I am ready!” You smiled at your team as you took hold of your microphone. The band starts playing one of your most famous songs. The lights went dark as the band played the first cords of the song. The crowd roared in anticipation. You slowly stepped out into the darkness and started the melody. 

The lights pour onto the stage, and the crowd goes wild. They get the first glance at you with your sexy and luxurious outfit.  You smirk to yourself at the attention as you scan through the crowd. All the exciting and loyal fans in the crowd as they sing every verse with you. You follow the dance choreography you have practiced and performed many times. Once the music was going, it was hard not to get stuck into it and forget about the hundreds of people in front of you. The crowd was going wild as they sang along to your new song. 

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him. 

As you go through the song and move around more, you look into the VIP areas and see many familiar faces. You don’t pay much attention as you have to end the song. You were so busy entertaining your fans that you did not notice who had slipped into the VIP section alongside both of your mutual friends. You were so focused on the choreography and in your element. The show was a big deal and a performance with dances and graphics for all the songs on the giant screens. You were singing your last song of the night, which was Nonsense. It was one of your favorite songs to perform, as it gave the audience the mood for the evening. The song represented something personal to you: your secret relationship with your new lover, Pedro Pascal, the whole internet’s boyfriend. It was interesting to see social media go crazy over who the song might be for. Some had the correct answers, but it was still a new and private relationship. 

The lights fall as the melody starts. “I think that you guys will enjoy this next song! I have seen all the tiktoks, by the way.” You joke into the darkness and receive a wild response from the crowd. You take a few breaths and get into position in a very sexy pose, along with the dancers, waving at the sweet fans who can see you. 

“No (La-la, la-la) da-ah-ah, ah (Ah-ah, uh, uh, uh, yeah)”

As the song begins, the spotlight shines only on you. You scan over the crowd with a smirk. It was one of the sexy, edgy songs you wrote because of your lover. There are butterflies in your stomach from nerves to play something as personal as this song, especially for such a big and reactive crowd. 

“Think I only want one number on my phone I might change your contact to "Don't leave me alone." You said you like my eyes, and you like to make them roll Treat me like a queen; now you got me feelin' thrown, oh.”

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him. 

The stage lights illuminate the whole stage as you walk around and sway your hips to the music. During the lyrics, you stop and try to sing with your fans as you make your way to the side of your VIP area to see those familiar faces. 

“But I can't help myself When you get close to me Baby, my tongue goes numb Sounds like blah, blah, blee”

As you sing towards the area, your eyes linger over your friend group of non-famous friends to Sarah Paulson, which causes you to smile at them. You continue to scan the section until they land on HIM. The person that this song was written about. He was being his goofy and adorable self as he sang along with you. This causes you to mess up with a blush but quickly recover as the next verse comes. 

“I don't want no one else (don't want) Baby, I'm in too deep Here's a lil' song I wrote (a song I wrote) It's about you and me (me)”

The eye contact that he held with you as you sang your filthy thoughts of him directly to him with a huge smirk. You continued to perform as you moved your hips a little more to the choreography because of him. In the following verses, you look away as you sing to your fans.

“I'll be honest Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in And when you got your arms around me Ooh, it feels so good. I had to jump the octave I think I got an ex but I forgot him And I can't find my chill, I must have lost it I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah)”

You twirl your hair and sway your hips back to his side of the stage as your dancers follow close behind you. Make eye contact with him to ensure he is focused on you now. 

“I'm talkin' all around clock I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks I'm talkin' opposite of soft I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts You gotta keep up with me I got some young energy I caught the L-O-V-E How do you do this to me?”

You follow the choreography correctly as you hold flirty eye contact with him. Once you go over the chorus again and start to finish the song, you stand in your final position in the middle of the stage. You send him a wink and blow a kiss, then turn your attention to your fans. 

“You guys have been absolutely the best! I hope you all enjoyed it and hope to see you again next weekend! I love you, and please stay safe!” You say after you show appreciation to your band and dancers. You wave and bow as the crowd goes wild and chant your name as the lights go down. 

As you run backstage with your crew, laughing and smiling, you give all of them well-deserved love and appreciation. Your manager is there with water and a hug.” You did amazing! They loved you!” they say as you drink your water and wipe the sweat. Now celebrate! Not too hard!”

You follow their instructions as you see your friends run up as you exit the backstage towards your tent. They all sang praises and love and hugged you. After a while, you finally met the handsome brown eyes again, but closer this time. You jog up to him in your tight-fitting outfit with a big smile as the two collide in a hug, throwing your arms around his neck. He was wearing a button-up shirt with the first set of buttons undone, dark jeans, and his oversized glasses and baseball cap. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You say with a smile as you look up to him. He smirked as he got ready to say something witty back to you. You interrupt it with a short but passionate kiss on his lips. “I’m happy you’re here! How long have you been here?” Your hands land on his exposed chest, which makes him pull you closer. 

He chuckles at you as he sees the adrenaline still pumping through you as you chatter to him. “I just decided to come to see my favorite person perform at Coachella. My schedule can wait two days. I’ve been here the whole time. You were great, beautiful.” He keeps his voice so no one else can hear your conversation. You feel his hands slide down your hips a little bit. “Also, where did you get this little number, and why haven’t I ever seen it?” Letting his thick fingers run over the design against your lower sides. 

The compliments give you a confidence boost on top of your adrenaline rush. You bite your lip as his hands wander slightly until they settle on your lower back. “I planned on changing before we celebrate, but if you like it, I can keep it on.” You whisper into his ear, then look back at his expression. 

His eyes darkened from your comment, causing him to pull you a little closer. “I like that idea,” He whispers in your ear as his lips graze your neck with a few pecks. Before you both could continue, your friends gathered you into other event areas. The group stayed together as they went to different stages to watch other artists, including Doja Cat and Lana Del Rey. 

Pedro and you both socialized and drank with all your friends as you celebrated your incredible performance. There were edibles taken sometime in all the fun. He would occasionally hold onto you as you both danced closely. You both let loose, and as you can see, everyone was far from wasted. You were letting your bodies get as close as possible, hips grinding onto his. His hands would run down your sides and tease you. Stealing kisses from each other, and the sexual tension was through the roof. 

The feeling of being watched makes you look around every once in a while. The camera flashes and excited screams from people around you made you realize that your relationship might not be that much of a secret now. Pedro and you interacted with lovely, chill fans who casually recognized you. You had some groups that would call over to Pedro as “daddy” as he played it off like a champ.

“Vamos, mi amor,” Pedro whispers in your ear as he grips his gentle hands around your waist. You meet his erotic brown eyes that make your cheeks burn hard as you squeeze your thighs together. Pedro was very facially expressive because you could read his thoughts whenever you looked into him. His thoughts were highly naughty, and it was time to go home.  “I wondered how you felt about calling it for a night and heading back to your room for a nice bath.” 

You look around at everyone in the crew and see your friends slowing their nights down, which doesn’t make you worried about causing another upset. Meeting the brown eyes again, you give him an arguing grin as you throw back your head with a laugh. 

“I thought you might like that idea, Hermosa. Let’s tell them all good night and get going,” he whispers again in your ear as he gently pulls you towards your group of friends. Both of you take the time to say goodbye to your friends and thank them for supporting you. Pedro’s loud laugh pulls you away from your friends as you meet his warm eyes. He hugs everyone and draws you into his hip with an arm around your waist. “Goodnight, everyone. Safe travels!” 

There were plenty of farewells, naughty things, and cat calls as you leaned against Pedro, who turned around with a silly face and middle finger gesture. He helps guide you to the Uber you take to your hotel room for the night. As you lay your head in his lap, the car ride was full of stolen kisses and laughter.

“You were an absolute star tonight, mi amor,” Pedro says as he traces his fingers along the straps of his outfit, letting his fingers run down to his cleavage. That last song was very cheeky. I wonder who that could be about.” 

“Thank you. It was about one of my lovers. You might know him,” You joke with him, trying not to moan. His wandering fingers turn into wandering palms as they slowly paw at your breast. 

“Oh, you are playing hard to get whenever I already have you smitten,” he mumbles, only where you could hear him. The car comes to a stop as you arrive at your hotel. You quickly get out of the vehicle as Pedro follows closely behind you. You couldn’t keep your hands off one another as you walked through the empty hotel halls. Acting as strangers whenever you encounter a person, you giggle with each other once you come back together. 

Once you find your room, Pedro checks to see if the hallway is clear. He uses a little force with his grip as he leans you against your shut door. Letting his hands explore before they landed on your bottom, kneading your ass. One of his hands comes up to cup your jaw as he lines his lips up with yours, passionately kissing yours. His body closes into yours as you let him control the situation as you follow his lead. After grinding bodies and long, passionate kisses, you pull away, trying to catch your breath as you stare up at him with your cheeks burning. “We should get inside,” you say as you turn around the door, fumbling with the door. Pedro stepped back a little and watched as you struggled a bit. 

“Why are you so frizzled, mi amor?” He whispers against your neck and presses the front of his body to your back. Feeling his stiff member against your backside along with his hot breath, almost making you moan out at contact. “Let me help you.” He helps you inside as you giggle and follow him. 

Pedro and you have been messing around for a while now. You have not discussed a relationship status or anything, but neither of you hooked up with others. He treats you like a significant other the way he respects your boundaries and doesn’t hide his affection towards you. 

“Let’s go put that beautiful bathtub you sent me a picture of yesterday to good use,” he teases you as he takes off his baseball cap, which makes his hair go all over the place. He starts unbuttoning more of his shirt as his chest becomes bare. You can’t resist running your hands down his chest as he looks at you with a smirk. 

He spanks your ass hard with a groan because of your hands on him. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says as he pats your ass to get you to start moving. Once in the bathroom, turn on the large white tub to create a perfect mix of hot and cold. He grips your hips as he runs his hands to the back of your outfit. “Whoever designed this little piece is a fucking genius. It is beautiful and flatters you greatly.” 

“Well, thank you, Pedro. I might have had you in mind when I got it designed. I was going to send you some pictures tonight whenever I came back here,” you smirked and winked at him in the mirror as he helped you undo the outfit. He kissed down your body as the fabric went off, making chills run across your body. The time apart doesn’t affect you emotionally, but how your body reacts tells the absolute truth. The way your heart rate skyrockets as his lips make their way to your mound. 

You leaned against the counter for support as your outfit fell onto the floor, leaving you only in underwear. You make eye contact with Pedro as he continues to kiss and lick down your lower half. He hooks his large fingers under the top band of your panties as he meets your eyes for approval. You give him a slight nod and grin as his feather-like kisses follow the material as he pulls them down your legs. Throwing your head back as you try not to make a noise as he runs his tongue just above your clit. You make a frustrated groan as his tongue suddenly leaves your skin, leaving goosebumps. 

Pedro chuckles softly as he sees how your body reacts to him, pulling away with a smirk on his lips. He stands up as he pushes his body against yours, pulling your hips into his. “You are such a good girl for me. Your body is always ready for me,” he whispers as he ducks his head to kiss your neck. “Let’s go in, mi amor.”  He gets in first so you can sit in between his thick thighs. He helps you as you slide in between his legs, back against his chest. His rigid member pressed against your lower back, his hands tease your nipples after you get settled. He couldn’t help but let his hands wander as he settled comfortably behind you. He rubs out your sore body but lets his hands focus on your most sensitive spots.

His gentle but firm hands run on either side of your hips as his kisses lay on your shoulders. He inhaled deeply against your skin, causing you to tense up your back as it chills down your spine. He moves his hands from your hips towards your mound. You used one hand to spread your left leg apart, holding it still with just one large hand. His right hand found its way down to tease your slit, playing with your sweet lips. You felt the member on your back begin to throb as he slightly rubbed himself against you. You let out your needy moans and sounds continuous as he worked his fingers against you. 

He kept teasing you and kissing your shoulder and neck with his scruffy face. You had enough of his teasing and rigid member. It was rare that you switched roles, but you were both switches. (You can’t tell me that Pedro is not a switch.)  You slide out of his grip as you meet his eyes once you are turned around to face him. 

You grasp onto his rigid member, holding yourself up on the sides of the tub. He squirms and lets out a moan as you hold yourself over him. “I’m tired of the teasing, Pascal. It’s my turn,” you say as you ease your entrance slowly onto his throbbing tip. You find a comfortable position for your legs as you keep going up and down on his tip. He lets out a loud ‘fuck’ and moans as he squeezes his eyes close. His hands move to your hips, letting you take control. You start to ride him as you push your breast into his face. 

One of his hands moved from your hips to grip your tit, “who gave you permission to touch me?” You whisper almost into his ear as he looks up at you with big brown eyes. 

“Sorry, miss,” he whimpers back as your speed of volatile movements onto his cock increases. He leans back and rests his arms on the back of the tub as he lets you ride the hell out of him. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes as he groans out in pleasure. “Fuck, mi amor.” 

“You like this, don’t you?” You firmly ask him as you force his face into the middle of your tits. He starts to motorboat your breast as you suffocate him gently. The scruff from his face makes you more sensitive than you thought, riding his member harder. “You start fucking me hard, baby. Thrust your big cock into me.”

He meets your eyes with pleasing brown eyes to satisfy your needs. His pleas make you smirk as you nod. Pedro begins to slam his hips into you, moaning as he does. “Thank you, thank you for letting me fuck you.” He pants as he thrusts deep inside of you, feeling his throbbing member hitting every spot. 

He grips your body, and his thrust begins to become more rapid as you continue to ride his giant member. Every thrust has the purpose of pleasing you; his hand works its way back up to your breast. He plays aggressively with your nipple, pinching and sucking on it. His other hand gripped onto your ass as his rhythm stayed deep and hard. The overstimulation of his hands and the member inside of you causes you to scream out in pleasure, “Good puppy.” You whimper as you feel your orgasm coming sooner as he leans up and thrusts into you. Pedro chose the pet name on one of the first nights you had taken control of the action.

Eventually, with his rapid thrust and wandering hands,  your body starts to shake as you are overcome with pleasure. “Keep going, puppy,” you whimper as he continues to work out your orgasm. “Such a good puppy.” You whisper as you run your hands over his chest. Your body falls into his as you overcome your orgasm, gripping onto his as he continues to pleasure you. He pulls out and fingers your wet pussy, licking his fingers after you finish.  

You both lay in the tub for a while as you overcome your orgasm. He held you as you came down from your high, kissing your head. “Was that good for you, mi amor?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his chest. He moved the hair from your face, rubbing his hands down your waist. 

You gently nod against him as the day catches up with you. After a few minutes, you get tired of the cramped space of the tub. “Let’s get out, baby,” you mumble to him as you lean up, earning a grunt in return. The guilt of not pleasuring Pedro silently overcame you as you exited the bathtub. 

The sound of a low grunt makes you return to the tub as the broad man emerges. You smile mischievously at him as he glances up to meet your grin. His member is still very much erect as he steps in front of you. The fun part of being switch partners was that it could change in a flash. You give Pedro a knowing look as he meets your eyes and stands before you. His eyes and grin light up on his face as he gently guides you onto the counter behind you. “My turn, princesa,” he mumbles and spreads your legs apart as he pushes himself in between them. He pulls your body towards the edge of the counter so your legs wrap around him.

You lean your back against the counter as he holds your lower half, rubbing his throbbing cock against your slick entrance. He leans over your body, sucking on one of your nipples to get a reaction out of you, which it did as you let out a loud moan. Your body reacted as well as it pushed farther onto his member. You both let out a pleasurable sound as his tongue runs down your chest to your stomach. Your hips start to tease him as they grind against him, which causes him to spank the side of your ass.  “No, ma’am, it’s daddy’s turn,” he smirks up at you as he moves one of his hands to your nipple. His fingers quickly fondle your right nipple as you moan loudly. “You let daddy fuck your sweet, sweet pussy?” 

You let out a satisfied groan as his hand moved down your entrance, gently rubbing you as his thumb ran over your sensitive clit. After gently teasing your pussy with his fingers, he lubed himself up with his fingers from your wetness. His large member enters you again as he holds onto your hips. He pushes inside slowly as you both let out moans. 

“You’re so fucking wet, angel. Did ya miss daddy?” He asks as he grips your hips harder, thrusting inside of you. You give a desperate nod as your hands grip onto the edge of the counter. Pedro takes his time as he edges himself in and out of you, giving you all the praises. He pulls up your upper body so your bodies grind against one another, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding your back. “Good girl.”

The friction from the position on your mound makes it hard not to moan and squirm in pleasure. His thrust becomes more rigid and repetitive as his grip holds you gently but firmly. You could feel your orgasm approaching as well from the position. “I’m about to cum, Daddy,” you whimpered as you gripped his firm broad shoulders. 

His mouth meets your ear as he groans into your ear. His heavy breathing makes your back arch and push into his thrust more. “Wait for me, baby girl,” he mumbles into your ear as his thrust becomes more sloppy. “Come for me, angel.” He sets you down on the counter as his hands grip your breast, twiddling your nipples with his thick fingers.

Before long, both of you came together with your bodies grinding against one another, along with satisfied noises. 

Pedro’s warm brown eyes meet yours before he kisses you. The two of you might not have a title, but the sparks were there every touch. “Such a good girl, angel,” he says as he gently pulls out of you. “Let’s take a quick shower.” He helps you into the shower, where the two of you help wash one another and joke around with stolen kisses in between. After getting ready, Pedro carries you into bed as the two of you order dessert from room service. The rest of the night was full of laughter and heavy makeout. The two of you cuddle up to some cheesy movie and fall asleep midway through it. 

These were the perfect nights for you to write a whole album about your feelings for this cheeky, handsome man.