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strangerstilinski · 2 years ago

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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 ��𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

again, REBLOGS are important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save your ur fave fics.

#don't tell scotty #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles smut #teen wolf imagine #stiles fanfiction #*#teen wolf stiles #teen wolf smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #mccall!reader #stiles x mccall!reader

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ysrjune · 2 months ago

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Idk why my asks keep disappearing but..

Fuckboy Scott smutt pretty please..? Hate sex 🥹

PWEASE JUNE GRACE ME WITG A GLIMPSE OF HEAVEN

Scott plow me into the headboard please and thanks

—🫧

* THAT BOY IS A REAL PUSSY PLEASER .ᐟ

I love u Nicki🥰🤞🏻 it's not ovulation week but I'm acting like it is #needsomedick #jokebutnotajoke

"mhm, you like that?" The dirty blond calls from behind you. Your back was arched, ass meeting his hips with every thrust. "no!'' you pant, shaking your head. "Really? are you sure about that, mama? 'Cuz the way you're fuckin' me is sayin' otherwise." He smirks pulling on your head. "You know you fuckin' love this." He bends down to whisper in your ear. "'S okay to admit it. Just for right now."

"Shut the fuck up 'n just keep doing what you are." You shake your head, reaching behind yourself for him. "Aw baby, you wanna hold my hand?" Scott holds onto your hand and caresses your knuckle with his thumb. "Yeah, you love me. I know you do." With the other hand, his hand smacks your ass, leaving his handprint.

"Turn around, I wanna see that cute face." He pulls out.

Now, he was fucking you and staring right into your eyes. "I fucking h-hate you." You suck in a breath right as he pulls out to run his length right between where you wanted him. "I don't exactly like you either, baby, but this pussy's just too irresistible. maybe your face, too." his eyes shift down to your shirt. "fuck. how is it that I've fucked you almost three times already and I've never seen your titties, mm?" his hands shoves the fabric up.

"even better than I imagined." He holds onto one, caressing the hardening peak. "right back in there.." He holds the base of his dick and slides back in with ease. "Auhh yeah.." He moans. "Yeah, give it t'me." His throws his head back for a second, biting his lip. He was so fucking annoying, rude, self-centered, and overall just a red-flag.. but damn, he was so damn hot.. literally. His bangs were messed up, a few strands glued to his face by sweat. And speaking of sweat.. the way it was dripping down his chest and neck.. my God.

That drop of sweat heading all the way from his Adam's apple, down to his chest as he rolled his head back down to stare at your tits was so attractive. He watched them bounce, making him whimper. Feeling your tight cunt squeezing him and watching your bouncing titties? he was in heaven. "You stupid whore." His voice was raspy and sounded tired. "Mmn.. uh.. auh-mn," He makes sweet noises while pounding into your wet cunt.

"are you gonna cum already?" you tsk, rolling your eyes. "thought you said you could last like an hour." You try and tick him off. "Oh, I could.. I just.. fuck.. you feel too good, angel." He pants, throwing your leg over his shoulder, reaching in deeper. both of you moan, staring at each other's chests.. well, you were looking at his abs. the way they flexed and the way his chest went up and down as he moaned.. #getmepregnant

"I'm so close, don't stop." You hold your hand to his chest. "cum all over my dick, sweetheart, there's nothing I want more right now." He keeps his speed the same. "maybe except for Stacy. Fuck, you don't know how nice her tits are. big 'n squishy." Of course he had to try and ruin the moment by pissing you off. He always does. You would've stopped this right when he said that if you weren't so close to your orgasm.

"I can't wait to hook up with Vince later.. his dick is pierced, ya know? thought it would hurt, but it actually feels really good when he's fucking me." You rile him up in return. If he was allowed to talk shit so were you. "Cherry has her nipples pierced.. you should ask her to show you." He furrows his eyebrows, trying to concentrate on his and.. maybe your orgasm.

Continuing to make each other mad, he finally whined about it. "shut up! I'm the one making you feel good, not Vince." He connects your lips desperately. "please cum for me, baby, yea—mmn.. please. fuck, I wanna make you cream all over me. Wanna see it." He begs, now staring at the place where you two connect. He spits and loses his mind over how his saliva strings from his cock to your clit with every thrust.

Just a couple more stokes, and you were finished. He pulled out a second before he came, sliding himself through your folds to help him through it. "fuck.." He rolls over on the bed and whimpers into a pillow. "You always make me so tired."

"I'm not tired." You sit up and grab klinex from his bedside and clean yourself up and change back into your clothes. "Good job, I guess. I have to go. I need to meet someone." You wink and leave his dorm.

Is she fucking serious? He thinks.

stupid bitch.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far

#asks!#scott barringer x you #scott barringer drabble #scott barringer x reader #scott barringer higher ground #scotty my babe #scott barringer #scott barringer x female reader #scott barringer smut #ysrjune #hayden christensen #christensen hayden #haydenchristensen #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen smut

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buckyschair · 2 months ago

Text

✸ WHAT HE DOESN'T KNOW ✸

ILLICIT AFFAIRS ✸ PART TWO

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: After reconnecting with your old flame Azriel, you can’t get him out of your mind. Now, it’s your husband’s birthday, but who’s gonna give you a gift? After all, what he doesn't know won't kill him... AKA closet quickie with Azriel at your husband’s birthday party

Content Warnings: contains smut 18+ MINORS DNI, cheating (WITH, not ON Azriel), alcohol, female reader, shitty husband (not physically abusive), casual shadow bondage, PIV sex (no protection bc they are faeries and this is fiction, but put on your mental magic condom if you must), gross liberties taken with whatever’s going on with the Hewn City, swearing, no use of Y/N

Author's Notes / Housekeeping: 1. This is a part two to my previous fic Illicit Affairs, I would highly suggest you read that first so that the context makes sense, but not strictly necessary 2. Reader’s husband is a guy I made up, named Lustere. He works under Mor’s dad so he’s a minor political figure in the Court of Nightmares (he’s introduced more in this part, but saying it here for clarity) 3. This fic is not based on Eurovision’s plot at all I promise haha but HEAVILY inspired by that one line from Scotty Doesn’t Know: I did her on his birthday ;)

Enjoy!!

Word Count: 6.8k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Despite the world shifting force of your collision with Azriel, not much changed afterwards.

The days slipped by, transient and thin as ever.

Although admittedly, after your late night rendezvous, your games died down. You still lit a fire on occasion out of habit, but the fantasies had lost their power to distract you.

Without the ability to make your thoughts a refuge, your thoughts began to bite back, and they played dirty. They consumed you.

It was not the gentle kiss of fantasy but the harsh swallow of reality that haunted your days and your nights, your psyche irrevocably tied to the painful present. You were shocked to find it so mind numbing.

Nothing in your life was your own. How have you put up with it all these years? As a female in a court of males and fuckery, nothing was yours. Every piece of food that passed your lips, every sip of wine, every fancy dress, bought with your husband’s credit.

So what could be yours?

Even as your heart despaired, some small part of you whispered, and your soul curled involuntarily around a persistent, subtle flicker. Your eyes had begun to catch shadows everywhere. Wherever they lurked, you wondered, were they his?

You hoped the answer was yes.

Regardless, their presence soothed you. They were a reminder.

Azriel.

What you had with him, however gossamer thin, was yours. No one else’s.

One night had been enough; the secret fueled you.

The parties were easier to organize, the house more orderly than ever. When the dullness threatened to deaden every nerve, your memory was quick to recall the thrill. It kept you back from that brink.

However, it was a pity that the fresh fuel was poured into such futile efforts, the most interesting of which was planning boring events for your and your husband’s social world. You were certain your eyes would soon dry out from a lack of entertainment.

One of these events was a celebration.

Your husband’s day of birth.

When Lustere had first entered your life, now centuries ago, you had honestly been relieved. He had represented a chance at a new life, maybe even at love. Mostly, he had promised an escape from your father’s home. In that, at least, he had proved useful. Not so much for the rest.

If you heard the voice of hope now, you would hardly recognize her. Her gentle song had died centuries ago, along with a part of your soul.

As his day approached, you thought you ought to feel something, some joy, some excitement, perhaps some pride in the male he had become. All you could muster was a temporary damper for the decades of resentment.

Luckily for you, you were in charge of the whole event, including the guest list.

“Who do you want me to invite?” you asked him casually after dinner one night, well in advance of the event.

Lustere sighed condescendingly, the sound score of your life. “Aren’t you supposed to be handling this? I’m so very busy these days.”

Your eyes crossed from your stacks of papers to where he was pouring his third drink of the evening. Busy indeed.

“Of course, dear. I’ve got it covered, I just want to make sure I don’t leave anyone out.” Your tone was as sweet as the smile plastered to your face.

“Don’t leave anyone out!” he urged you with your own words, as if it were a new thought for you to try out. “Invite everyone important.”

You bit back a bubbling retort, your sweet smile tasting sour. “I’ll see to it.”

“Good, good,” he mumbled dismissively.

“It will be a lovely event; and, more importantly, no one who matters will be snubbed.” As you spoke the words, Lustere turned to you slightly– almost even looking at you.

His face was set in a scheme, so he looked pained. “On second thought, maybe we could uninvite that one guy. You know, the courtier with the annoying wife?”

“We can’t uninvite them, not when they haven’t been invited yet.”

“Maybe their invite could get lost in the mail.”

Your eye roll was internal, but you wished you could slap it into his mind. He never listened.

“Consider it done,” you agreed.

At least he was predictable.

In his self importance, Lustere had asked you to ‘invite everyone important’.

How convenient, you smiled to yourself as you penned another name on the provisional guest list. Azriel could easily be considered a most important guest.

One gift for yourself on your husband’s birthday. You’d earned it.

✸✸✸

“What are they doing here?!”

For a second, your heart leapt to your throat. With a cordial smile, you turned away from the guests you’d been chatting to, only to face your husband’s hushed accusation.

Lustere’s anger was rare, thank the Mother, so when it reared, you never knew what to expect.

“Who?”

You scanned the room; it was full of your husband’s acquaintances, colleagues, and enemies alike.

“Her! And that shadowsinger!” his words were a flustered whisper.

It was a different emotion that caused your heart to jump then. You followed his glance to find the male in question, linked arm in arm with the Morrigan.

You swallowed a smug smile at your husband’s discomfort at her presence.

Not that you could have known that he found her unsettling… but you’d certainly hoped. He nervously eyed the side of the room where she and the Illyrian made a frightening pair. Oh, that damned Illyrian.

Your pulse quieted as you drank him in.

If he would be the death of you, you’d only be grateful.

Azriel looked devastating. His usual leathers had been exchanged for slightly more formal slacks. His siphons still gleamed, but his powers were reserved in accordance with the casual setting. He still looked intimidating as ever, while the blonde on his arm was just as fearsome in her gorgeous get up.

“Oh!” you fumbled momentarily; your vision stuck across the room, your mind caught up in a particular tangle of sheets. “I saw you speak with him at that event last month, so I thought it might be a nice gesture to invite them. I didn’t honestly expect them to show up.”

“Well,” he smoothed his panic into a self-satisfied smile. Your palms itched. “It was a good thing I talked to them, then. Clever.”

You knew the compliment was addressed to himself, not you.

For an insufferable bastard, you sure suffered.

“Have you greeted them yet?” his question grated you.

“Not yet, I hadn't been made aware of their arrival–”

“–Well, don’t wait too long, dear. You wouldn’t want to be rude, hm?”

With that, Lustere moved away to greet some other guests, but you only dimly registered the movement, his critique.

Your eyes were focused on the shadowsinger.

Azriel was here.

And Mor was with him.

Among your husband’s upper court colleagues, you’d gotten creative with who could reasonably be considered a part of his circles. If you could invite the Steward, surely the Overseer and her friends were fair game as well. You’d invited the lot of them, on that whim. As you approached them, you cursed yourself for your liberties with the guest list.

You hadn’t seen Azriel since that fateful evening. The male rarely visited the city, and here he was, twice in as many months. Your gut roiled, you wished you’d had time to prepare.

But you had prepared, you told yourself. You knew how to play this role, the hostess. It was one you’d mastered over the years.

It was easy to slip into now, thanks to centuries of playing the part.

Azriel and the Morrigan’s diffident eyes piqued with interest as you glided to stand before them with open palms.

“Greetings to you both!” You presented yourself with a subtle bow, and they in turn introduced themselves. It was the picture of sophistication.

“It’s a pleasure to be officially introduced,” Azriel said, and his voice flowed like honey.

His words were perfectly cordial, yet they sent a rush through you.

You didn’t need to remind yourself; you were hyperaware of the fact that this was the first time you were formally meeting him, at least to the public.

Before you could answer him, Mor was sweeping in with artful compliments about the event, finishing with a resounding “-and you look divine.”

Kindness suddenly made the daunting warrior glow, her face open and shining as her armor fell away to acknowledge your work. It was wonderful. You hoped your husband was watching.

“Why, thank you. This old thing?”

You twisted to show off your garment, and your heart swelled to match her radiance.

It was actually an old gown, pulled from the back of your closet. It was the dress you’d worn centuries ago, on your first anniversary with your husband.

As you’d primped for tonight, he had even complimented it: “I like the new dress,” he had said. “You should wear things like that more often, it's far better than the usual sort you wear.”

You had bitten your tongue, but his words still stung. You should have known better than to have expected him to remember the dress. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen it for tonight. For some reason, it had felt auspicious when you’d seen it twinkling at the back of the wardrobe.

“Oh, they don’t make them like they used to,” Mor said wistfully, eying the fine material. She was oblivious to how she had soothed the sore subject with her simple compliment.

“They certainly don’t,” you agreed, and your eyes drifted to the shadowsinger.

Through your daze, you gave them the welcome spiel, and pointed out some familiar faces that they could chat with.

“We’re honored to have you here, enjoy the evening,” you admonished with a genuine smile. You turned to continue your cycle through the room of guests, already spotting your next mark.

“Where could we find a drink?”

Azriel’s words froze you in your tracks. Mor was agreeing with him, firing off her order for him to fetch. His eyes were on you.

“I’ll show you.”

The words escaped before you could think.

He nodded and stepped towards you to follow your way.

You didn’t move.

He looked stunning up close.

Several tendrils of dark hair had escaped the hold of his gel. His shadows were relegated to his wings, camping out like bats in a cave. You swallowed thickly, remembering how they had felt on your own flesh, how sensitive his wings had been to the slightest touch.

During your welcome and introduction facade, his amber eyes had been stoic, an unreadable mask. Now, they flared briefly with confusion as you stayed paused.

It rocked you back into your body, your mind addled but present.

“Yes, of course– this– this way.”

Luckily, no one was paying attention to you, next to a presence so commanding as the spymaster’s. No one noticed your momentary lapse– no one except him.

Azriel fought a smirk as you wove through the room together.

His rough hand came to hover at your lower back, and you bit your tongue at the soft contact.

“Here we are.”

All too soon, you’d arrived at the bar. It was centrally located in the room, which was crowded, but not so crowded as to obscure the main attraction, especially not from eyes as keen as those of the spymaster...

Azriel was casual as he ordered his and Mor’s drinks.

“And a whiskey, neat.”

Your eyes snapped to him, and he had long been looking at you.

“For the generous hostess,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks heat, and you hoped no one would notice your blush.

“Thank you.” You belatedly remembered your manners as he pressed the glass to you.

“I owed you one.”

Your mouth went dry.

He was being bold. Anyone could have heard his little comment.

The imposing Illyrian took a long drink out of the elegant vessel. Your mind flashed back to a different night, when his lips had been on another glass. Your pulse fluttered as you recalled the last time he had drunk from your husband’s collection, and the things he’d done to you after. Foggily, you wondered if this would prove a similar potion.

He frowned at the dark liquid suddenly, before grunting, “Except technically, I suppose you’re funding this one, too.”

“Guess you owe me another one.” Your words were light, flirtatious, even as your lungs stuttered.

“I’ll get my best people on it.”

At his wry humor, your laughter was breathless, hardly a wheeze

“Actually,” you winced, “this would be on my husband’s credit. As was the last bottle…”

“Ahh. And where is the male of the hour?”

You gestured broadly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes with impressive coordination as you took a gulp. Damn, the male knew how to order a drink.

“Around. It’s his party.”

When you caught his eyes again, it was clear he didn’t give a damn about the male of the hour.

Heat flared in your chest as he pinned you with his gaze. Azriel’s eyes were heavy lidded as he watched you watch the room. He took another delicate sip of his wine. It was indecent, how perfectly his lips perched on the edge of the glass, how his tongue darted out to swipe at the liquid that stained them.

“Speaking of which,” you said, and shook yourself out of reverie, “I’ve got to make the rounds. Enjoy the party.”

He took his time watching you go before returning to lurk by Mor’s side.

For you, the evening passed in a blur of greetings and introductions, false laughter and sparkling beverages. Desserts were passed around right on cue, just as the toasts were begun. You kicked them off, your toast to Lustere short in contrast to the tall tale it told. Just your style: brief and full of lies.

Lustere’s grateful smile and kiss at its conclusion was just the same, an empty facade. At best, it was a convincing performance; at worst, it was still the best you could expect from your lifelong consolation prize.

Once upon a time, if you’d tried, you could almost fool yourself into thinking it was real. But you'd since stopped fooling yourself; the trick had only worked the first few hundred years.

Reality was the only vow you honored now.

As Lustere’s friends and associates began to serenade him with vacuous praises, you slipped away from the crowd. It was a moment to check on the staff, see about how things were flowing and if they needed anything.

Without looking, you felt someone’s eyes on you, as if in a concentrated beam. The intensity felt palpable. It was like a spotlight, even as you wove unnoticed through your own guests.

Tonight wasn’t about you. You’d made sure it wouldn’t be.

You grabbed a nearly empty tray of desserts from an attendant, directing them to pick up a full one from a table. You gestured towards the other side of the room with your free hand and a kind word as you moved towards the back rooms.

“The room’s unbalanced, we need more trays over there– oh, shit.”

You swore as you crashed into something. Firm hands steadied you reflexively before you could drop the dish.

Your gut swooped as you turned to see what you’d wandered into. The platter was pressed between you and none other than the shadowsinger himself. If you didn’t know better, you’d say Azriel looked amused.

“Careful there.”

“Sorry,” you gasped out. He waited a moment longer than necessary to release your arms. Slowly, you peeled away, angling the tray horizontal again.

With horror, you noted the crushed pastries smashed into his elegant vest.

“Cauldron boil me.” You were sure everyone could see your blush now. Luckily, the platter hadn’t dropped, so the accident hadn’t drawn much attention.

“It’s fine–”

“–no, it’s not. Come with me. Quickly.”

You gripped his wrist. A quick glance told you that no one was looking.

Only Mor had witnessed it, and she just snorted. At your clumsiness, or the droning speech being given at your backs for your ass of a husband, you didn’t know.

You didn’t care. You had more pressing concerns at the moment, as you led the important guest from the main room to the small prep kitchen at the back of the venue.

“I’m really so sorry about this, sir,” you blustered as you swept into the tight space. Several attendants looked up from where they’d been arranging desserts on trays.

“Hey guys, we need more hands out there,” you addressed them. “The far side of the room is starving.”

Dutifully, they picked up their trays while you ushered them along.

“You should look where you’re going,” he commented, tentatively, as they all filed out of the kitchen, leaving you and Azriel alone. You wetted a rag, wringing it out before handing it to him to clean himself up.

“Clumsy me,” you hummed. His jaw was tense as he swiped at the crumbs on his torso. It was kind of distracting.

“How have you been?” he asked without preamble, now that you were alone.

You relaxed instantly at his casual tone. “Good.” It was hardly a lie. “Busy,” you amended. That was the full truth.

“Nice event.”

“Thanks.”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Azriel cut abruptly.

You snorted.

“No one deserves this much pomp. It makes me sick.” Your eyes widened as you heard yourself.

You’d been alone with Azriel for less than a minute, and here you were voicing your innermost, honest opinions. You had never shared anything like that with anyone, not even your husband, let alone this practical stranger. Yet the words were true, and you could hardly take them back.

“Have you ever had a party like this?”

You cocked your head at his question before answering slowly. “Yes. Right now in fact.”

“No, I mean, something like this, but for you.” He said it so casually, focused still on wiping a smear of frosting from his clothes.

“Oh.”

Who would plan something like this for you?

The answer was hollow, but definite. Nobody.

Some of the society’s husbands did big parties for their anniversaries, their birthdays, whatever excuse they could find to buy liquor by the barrel.

You’d had a lovely ceremony to officiate your relationship with Lustere, but that was it. How long ago had that been? Through a blur of centuries, you pictured the party. You’d planned it alone, and it had honestly been breathtaking. What a waste.

“Um, no. Never,” you laughed, too loud. You didn’t need his pity.

Azriel hummed, undeterred from creating a quiet moment with you. “Me neither. Every year though, my family insists on doing a special dinner. I wish they’d forget it, but since I refuse to do a whole thing like this,” he gestured around and widened his eyes in emphasis, ”I bear it annually.”

His words struck you funny. Your mouth continued ahead of your senses as you urged him, “You should let them.”

“What?”

He looked up at you in confusion, but you didn’t relax your knit brows.

“You should let them throw you a party.” Your conviction was sudden, but swift, and final. “You deserve to be celebrated, you should give them the chance.”

He dismissed your suggestion with a firm shake of his gorgeous head. “I’d hate it.”

“How do you know that?” you pressed. His face twisted in regret as his confession launched from his tongue.

“‘Cause I hate this.”

“Yeah well, that makes two of us,” you admitted.

His brows rose at that. If he’d expected you to sink any personal pride into the event, he was sorely mistaken.

Then his eyes dipped to your toes before lazily arcing back up your figure, and his expression shifted from surprise to something less innocent.

“Surely you didn’t mind the excuse to pull out that damned dress.”

You jumped on his playful tone. “Careful there, mister, I have a husband.”

Azriel’s laugh was just as irreverent as his next words, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

His eyes crinkled as his lip curled in humor, and you liked the look of it on him. He wore all his faces so handsomely; menace, humor, lust.

The latter of which was gradually blooming now, as if called into being by your imagination. His gaze still held a speck of humor, though at a lower pitch. There was mischief dancing in those hazel pools, dark and unmistakable as his eyes devoured you.

The male slowly stroked the damp towel against his abdomen in a deliberate show. The cloth was as dirty as his vest now, covered in sugary smears. You couldn’t help but picture what you knew was under his shirt, the ink that whorled its way down his front, dipping below his waist.

The silence was charged, the only sounds were the wet rustle of the towel and your own shallow, erratic breaths.

His vest was as clean as it was going to get with such sloppy motions. Now he was just rubbing the stain in, so you grabbed it and took over, helping him brush away the last of the frosting.

“This venue has a cloakroom, isn’t that ridiculous?” you feigned casual conversation as your heart raced, your fingers twitching at his stomach. “This whole city is under a mountain, there’s no weather. And no one has bothered with the custom of overcoats in centuries.”

The words weren’t subtle, the hint bold faced and loaded.

“You’re unbelievable,” he accused. Azriel shook his head even as a coy grin melted his hard features.

“Who, me?” you said innocently. He grabbed your wrist that was still swiping at his lower stomach. The frosting was long gone.

“You planned this.” His words were definitive.

It wasn’t a question, but your chin dipped in confirmation anyways.

“Why?” he pushed.

“Why do you think?”

The venue had been a choice, as had the single perfumed invitation, as had the short staffing; all manufactured by you. It was all perfectly calculated, down to the timing of the toasts and the spill of the dessert tray. It had all been a part of the plan: your master plan to get him here, alone, in this very moment.

Azriel swore as comprehension hit him, his mind wrapping around the totality of your little plot. Anxiety built in your gut.

Was this foolish? Well, of course it was, but it really would be if he didn’t–

“Think you can keep quiet for me?”

The swelling panic in your chest melted instantly at his suggestive words, his voice a wicked rasp that set your skin on edge. Something bubbled in your chest, like an overeager gulp of champagne that wouldn’t settle.

You arched your brow, “Can you?”

A shit eating grin broke on his face at the challenge, and he growled.

“Do your worst.”

You matched his expression as something snapped between you.

He used his free hand to angle you up to meet his lips in a hungry kiss. Every list, plan, plot, and scheme crumbled at the warmth of him, dissolving it all into sweetness.

Every late night hour spent scheming had been worth it, just for this moment. His hot mouth on yours, your hands tangling in his hair.

He shifted against you, and you gasped as you felt him hardening at your lower stomach.

“Fuck, baby. This is all I could think about the second I walked in. You in this outfit… fuck,” he panted as your mouth shifted to taste his jaw. You whined into his skin as he ground against you, demanding some real friction.

“You need me too? Or do you want to suck me off right here?” he growled.

Arousal flooded your core at his dominant tone. You pulled back to look him in the eye. His pupils were blown out, his lips swollen.

“Not here,” you pleaded.

His look was wicked as he saw your reaction, but he didn’t push you.

Instead, he allowed you to lead him through a different door, a few steps down a hallway, and into a small room. You sent a silent blessing to whatever architect included a much disused cloakroom in the venue’s design. Well, much disused until now.

The instant the door closed, his lips were locked on yours.

“Eager?” he teased hypocritically between rapid kisses as you fumbled blindly for his belt.

“I’m sort of multitasking,” you panted.

His brow arched.

“I’m running this show!” you explained hurriedly. “The toasts just started, but they won’t go on forever. Eventually someone might come looking for us, or me at least.”

His mouth fell open, but you cut him off.

“Don’t look so worried, Azriel, we’re right on schedule.”

The male huffed out a laugh, and shook his head. By the light in his eyes, he was impressed.

“You’re killing me, baby. You’ve been killing me all night.” His words were a groan.

He said it like an accusation, so you retorted in kind, “Yes, and I’ve been planning for a month to get twenty damn minutes alone with you because I’ve been totally balanced and not at all because you’ve been killing me just the same.”

That shut him up.

He sucked in a breath, and his face set with determination.

“Well, then,” he said. “I guess I’m going to have to show you a good time.”

He wasted no time reattaching his lips to yours, this time with renewed fervor, before he pressed you against the wall. One of his rough hands came to grip your neck, angling your head perfectly for his strong jaw to set to work. Between his hard body and his looming wings, you were caged. His palpable power sent a thrill through you, rattling to your gums and winding right to your center.

Deftly, he undid his belt in one swift movement with his other hand. You whined as you felt the leather smack briefly across your thighs as it fell to the floor.

You felt his hum through his tongue on your teeth.

“Another time, maybe we’ll use that.”

“Oh gods,” you whined.

His grip on your hips was like a vice, and your pulse was a riot under his rough fingers on your throat.

“Maybe I’ll have Rhys throw a fête here instead of the main hall for my birthday this year,” he murmured darkly against your lips.

You gasped and his tongue swept in again, muffling your pleas. His taste was as intoxicating as you recalled, the flavor of wine and salt heavy on his thick tongue.

“Would you like that?” Azriel pressed. “Maybe you’d even let me taste you, hmm?”

“Anything,” you moaned as his wet mouth replaced his hand along the column of your throat. “I’d plan the damn party just to get you alone for five minutes.”

His teeth scraped bluntly at your jugular as he grinned.

“I thought party planning was a special privilege, only to be enjoyed by a female’s husband,” he teased.

“You’re right, that would be downright improper. I’m not that kind of girl.”

His chuckle at your collarbone was sinful, the sound of it echoing down to your core.

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to taint your honor.”

“No,” you echoed absently as he placed open mouthed kisses along the neckline of your dress. It was a light fabric, but it was suddenly smothering. Your skin burned; you were desperate for more contact. His heavy hands and scalding mouth weren’t enough.

“Please, Az,” you urged.

His belt was undone, as were the top buttons of his vest, but the two of you were decidedly too decent. It would hardly even make a scandal at this point, to be caught fully clothed.

“You want it?” he glanced up from your chest, spit straying along his sharp jaw. He growled, “You can have it, baby. I’ll be generous, after all I didn’t bring a gift.”

You only whined as his hands smoothed down your form.

With a final kiss to the exposed tops of your breasts, the Illyrian knelt to the floor.

Azriel looked debauched; his carefully groomed hair a mess from your hands, his vest askew, and his eyes blown with lust. His powerful chest was heaving as his hands carefully skimmed up your calves. He pushed the bottom of your dress over your knees, kissing the soft spot inside there. He continued to mouth at your thighs as he hiked your skirt up.

For all your careful planning, you had no remaining nerve to urge him to hurry. His tender handling was addicting, the closest thing to appreciation you’d felt in decades. And to feel it so intensely, so viscerally, so physically? It hardly felt fair to call it a vice.

What others took for granted, you could only indulge in the dark closets of your own life. If you’d be damned to be blamed, then so be it.

Because Azriel looked like a statue on his knees for you. His composition was darkness and light, pleasure and pain, right and wrong. In this moment, he was a blissful concoction of it all, and you wanted to drink every last drop.

“You look lovely tonight," he praised with a kiss to your inner thigh. The compliment was almost jarringly polite paired with his next move, as he lewdly brought a finger to press over your clothed core. The fire that had burned low in your belly was stoked at the contact, flaring to a throbbing need.

With swift fingers, he pulled your undergarment down your legs before slyly stuffing them into his pocket.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he dragged two digit through your soaked folds. “Even prettier than I remembered.”

You choked back a moan as he drew circles over your clit. It was torturous, and as his large wings blocked the rest of the dim room from your vision, you felt the thrill of his overwhelming power, his meticulous skill.

One of your hands wove into his hair, the grip both imploring and terrorized as he sparked wave after wave of pleasure until he was satisfied with your near broken state. Your other hand skimmed down his chest when he eventually stood before you.

At the scrape of your nails towards his need, he groaned, “That’s right, baby. You want to take it out for me?”

With shaking hands, you undid his slacks. He hissed as you freed his aching member, his tip angry and swollen already.

He dragged himself over your glistening folds torturously for a brief moment. You whimpered and he laughed darkly before he lined himself up, teasing you with the barest pressure of his tip.

You clawed at his shoulders, his hips, trying to urge him to get to it. With one of his hands holding your hip, and the other balanced on the wall beside your head, Azriel was the picture of leisure.

He had no sense of urgency about these things, you were learning.

“Gonna let me have my way with you, huh? That’s a good girl.”

Slowly, he pushed himself inside, bottoming out in one brutal stroke. You cried out and he slapped a rough hand over your mouth. Your eyes flashed wildly as he began to fuck you in earnest.

“That’s it. Take my cock like a good girl.” he growled.

He set a punishing pace, finding his own sense of urgency at last. He filled you so perfectly, the stretch just right. The scrape over your spongy walls was agonizing as he pummeled you. One particular harsh thrust had you crying out again, muffled against his fingers.

“Gotta be quiet, baby, can’t have anyone finding us like this.”

His expectation was impossible when he abruptly yanked your top down so your breasts spilled out.

“Happy birthday Lustere, alright,” he groaned sarcastically before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

You dissolved into another whimper at his wicked words and the warmth of his mouth on your tender flesh.

“You’re bad,” you moaned as the sick sound of your sex filled the tight room.

If this was bad, maybe the world had it backwards, because why did it feel so good? Why did you feel so complete, falling apart shoved against a wall in a closet at your husband’s party? Especially with a male you should hardly be on a first name basis with, let alone close enough to moan his so unabashedly.

That was all it was, you elected to believe. The secrecy, the illicit nature of the connection. That was the basis of its appeal.

Not the particular partner, though he was rugged…

And he was charming…

And his teeth were ghosting your neck in a way that made you want to scream…

But of course, you could hardly whimper at full volume. It only made you want to yell more. The resulting noise was a breathy strangulation, more vibration than real exhalation.

“Azriel,” you cried, and you felt him twitch inside you.

His hips snapped faster and the light in his eyes was wild.

“Are you close, angel? Fuck, we’ve gotta be fast.” He made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “It’s so twisted. All I want is to take my time with you. Look at you, doing so well for me.”

His praise was as invigorating as his thrusts, which were growing sloppier with each breath. His stamina wasn’t the issue, it was the waves of pleasure numbing his body that caused him to tremble before you.

You clenched around him and he swore, gasping as his body stilled. Azriel pressed his forehead to yours as he came, and somehow it was more intimate than you were prepared for, your fingers threading through his damp hair.

His lashes fluttered shut and his mouth parted, gone wretched with bliss. The feeling of his hot breath and sticky skin on your face made you want to kiss every inch of his flesh.

Even as he pulsed inside you, he brought his thumb to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. In moments, he had you coming undone as well. He quickly regained enough function to fuck you through it, his thrusts shaking. When you cried his name, he caught it with his mouth, stifling your crude noises as you convulsed around him.

The sensation had him half hard again, but he pressed a kiss to your throat and held you still as you both came down from your highs.

“Happy birthday to me,” you muttered into his cheek.

Azriel wheezed at that, an arrogant smirk winning out through his fatigue. “Was that worth it?”

“Definitely,” you breathed, your fingers brushing his hair back into some semi respectable waves.

Ignoring your efforts to put the two of you back together, he captured your face in his hands and planted a buzzing kiss on your mouth. He lingered longer than you expected, tasting you and savoring your warmth.

“Okay, Azriel, time’s up,” you sighed after an indulgently long moment.

He nodded, but held your face a moment longer before tapping your hips twice and sliding himself out. You both groaned at the absence, bodies still slick and buzzing.

As he tucked himself away, he looked oddly contemplative for someone who had just had a quickie in a closet while on the job.

You smoothed down your dress, disregarding your missing underwear. It’s not like anyone would notice, least of all your husband, who hadn’t approached you like that for decades.

While you did your best to tame your wild hair, Azriel looked like he was far away. You tried to hurry, mistaking his distance for discomfort in the aftershock of the interaction. In moments, you were fully decent, and at least mostly presentable.

Azriel paused you with a silent gesture as your hand met the door. A shadow slipped back in and around his ear, and he nodded.

The pair of you slunk back down the hall to the still empty kitchen, and you tried not to think about the slick still mixing on your upper thighs under your dress.

Before you could push on to reenter the party, the shadowsinger grabbed your arm. His expression was serious when you faced him

“I want to hire you.”

You laughed at his bizarre words. What was he implying? “What, you want me to plan your birthday party? I’m not sure if you can afford me.”

He joined your laughter, and you threw away your whole schedule at the sound. Surely you could allow yourself an extra moment here with him. All that was waiting was worthless, anyways.

“You know, I'd actually love to see that,” he smiled. The simple gesture made your insides heave, which you attributed to the recent intrusion on your guts.

You wiped your eyes, attempting to tame your doubtlessly ruined cosmetics as you joked with him. You weren’t sure why, but you needed to hear that laugh again. “It’ll be a hit. We’ll only serve whiskey and there will be no food so everyone gets blasted way too hard– ooh, and the servers will be in their undershorts–”

“–I can't wait,” he cut you off. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Okay,” you sobered up at his tone. “What then?”

“Well, you obviously have some covert skills…”

Well, you think, that’s one way to describe centuries of spying on your cheating piece of shit husband, and more recently, coordinating this… whatever this was.

“...And you can arrange a seamless rendezvous,” he continued, now listing your achievements on his roughened fingers.

You blushed at the innuendo, still lost to his meaning.

“...And your husband works under the least trustworthy son of a bitch I've ever met,” he finished.

“So?”

“You're in a unique position,” Azriel explained cryptically.

Your brows scrunched. You hadn’t had anything but a sip of champagne since the sip of whiskey earlier, yet you were thinking through a thick haze. All you could think of were innuendos about unique positions…

“A unique position for what?” you asked.

“As an informant, of course. You could be very useful.” The words were casual, but you saw how his amber eyes were set with strange emotion as he extended the offer in a deep tone.

Azriel’s words echoed in your mind, hollow to anything else. You could be very useful.

Something surged through you at the word.

Useful.

You could be useful.

Very useful.

How long had you grieved of the uselessness of your work, the incessant, all encompassing meaninglessness of your labors? How empty it all was, how vacant each day left you. How fruitless too; all these years, giving yourself over to nothing, and winning nothing in return.

You swallowed the emotion rising at your throat, and a grin bloomed on your face in its wake.

“What do you need me to do?”

✸✸✸

“Where have you been?”

For all your scheming, your husband’s voice wiped your mind blank. Voices whirled around you, echoing happy and careless in the large room.

“Lustere, I–”

“–There’s empty platters out here, it looks cheap.” You blinked as he looked around in annoyance. “Aren’t you going to do anything about that?”

Leave it to him to interrupt you. You needn’t have prepared such an elaborate excuse for your absence when you couldn’t even get a word in.

And sure enough, just as you’d planned and predicted, you hadn’t been missed.

“Of course, dear.”

He only gave you a curt nod. Before he could turn away completely, you found yourself reaching out with a gentle hand, and something akin to affection slipped into your tone. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lustere?”

There was no tenderness as he looked in shock at your hand on his arm, only confusion.

“Of course,” he said in a self-evident tone. Your husband looked around the room, cataloguing the faces of his guests. “Everyone important is here.”

Your fingers on his arm went numb. Everyone important had been there.

Only you hadn’t been there.

You had been three doors away, wrapped up in darkness with another man.

Despite his ignorance, what Lustere said was true: everyone important to him had been there, everyone who mattered.

Just not you.

The tenderness curdled in your chest. Whatever short candle you held for Lustere, died in that moment. And yet, ever the good wife, you dutifully nodded at the side of his head.

“Good. I'll go fix the attendants.” And see if they haven’t picked up any good gossip from this high profile crowd…

Something warmed inside your chest as you felt the ghost of your promise to Azriel still fresh on your lips. Your game with him had expanded, in one breath.

No longer were you nothing to him, to anyone.

You were to be the spymaster’s eyes and ears on the corrupt inner workings of the Court of Nightmares.

And you had nothing to lose.

✸✸✸

ENDNOTES

Thank you for reading!! Please comment if you enjoyed it, I actually spend quite a bit of time on these haha so I love to hear from youuu. I also love to chat in my inbox or dms so don’t be shy!! I’d love to hear what you think is gonna happen next.. ;)

I fear I have made this plot far FAR too elaborate than cheating smut would sensibly demand. So! Stay tuned for at least two or three more parts of angst and smut and fluff!! HAHA!!

Oh and Lustere should fuckin’ watch himself… lest a terrible accident befall him… sooo whose knife should it be team?? >:))

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velvetdolor · 23 days ago

Text

Be quiet and drive | P. SH

🎤✩♬ ₊˚. genre: cheating, drabble series, smut, toxic relationships, angst. this chapter starts with hwa’s pov and shifts to readers pov. (pt.ii of the scotty doesn’t know drabble series.)

🎤✩♬ ₊˚. pairings: vocalist! seonghwa x guitarist! reader x drummer! wooyoung

🎤✩♬ ₊˚. summary: seonghwa wants bigger things but he can’t bring himself to let go of you just yet. (based on the song be quiet and drive by the deftones.)

wc: 3.2k

warnings: severely toxic relationships, mutual cheating, alcohol use, things get violent during an argument, gagging, deep throating, face fucking, smoking, ashing…, unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, oral (m receiving), marking, cigarette burns, choking, knife play, hate sex, stomach bulge, brief anal play, cum fucking? it’s complicated—just never date a really fucked up musician. 🚬😀 again, hope this ain’t ass

masterlist

previous: [scotty doesn’t know]. next: cherry boy—boy toy!

Seonghwa can’t remember the name of the chick he’s spent the last two hours dicking down in his studio apartment for the life of him. He shrugs the sluggish arm lying on his chest off to reach for a lighter, a slight hiss echoing off the wall. His obsidian eyes brood at the old clock straight ahead—the one you’d bought for a buck fifty at a run down thrift store when purple tagged items were 75% off, and he recalls the moment you raised it up towards the flickering fluorescent lights like you’d struck gold. A cynical chuckle leaves his lips with a snort before eying the body next to him.

She wasn’t supposed to fall asleep here but he didn’t want to be even more of an asshole than he already was.

Not tonight at least.

Not after how bad the fight got with you.

You weren’t coming to see him tonight and he hates the fact that he still gets queasy on the hard nights that are more often than he’d care to acknowledge.

With a sigh, Seonghwa pushes the girl to the other side of the bed before facing his bedroom door—somehow hoping to see your silhouette even if he wouldn’t know what to say if you found another woman in his bed again.

It’s been days since Hwa’s last heard from you. He doesn’t think you’ve ever iced him out this bad—not since the very first time he’s fucked up, sometime during Junior year of high school when he’d unintentionally skipped out on a date with you for an impromptu show he’d scored at an old piercing shop.

All of his calls, messages, and voicemails—and not a ghost of a reply.

Like clockwork he’s knocked at your apartment door everyday and he could tell from the pile of mail stacking outside on your archaic welcome mat that you haven’t been home in days.

If you weren’t—then where the fuck were you?

A week stretches passed and on a random Thursday night Seonghwa finds himself making his way to Lucky’s, an old dive bar he and the band’s been going to for the last five years, when he greets the sight of you in your favorite pair of Mary Jane platforms: all leather and lace in your mini dress with a leather corset suctioned tight and layered over it.

You don’t bother to glance at him, choosing to not acknowledge his presence before you’ve gotten at least two shots of Jose Cuervo in your system else you’d fucking break his nose. It was common knowledge that Hwa was “occasionally” a total sleaze so if he made no effort to hide that he was cheating on you, neither would you.

You couldn’t risk Wooyoung’s face, aka his only redeeming attribute (other than his dick), getting beaten into a pulp, despite the man being more than willing to flaunt you around for the adrenaline high.

This is precisely why you’re leaning into the silver knuckled palms of another regular, San, when he palms your ass and purrs into your ear to ask if you wanted to go on a joyride with him.

You were a live wire, all crooked grins and bordering on maniacal glee at the mere thought of riding the man you’ve been eying for weeks. Seonghwa, however, like the killjoy he was—abruptly cuts into your wet reverie by socking San on the right side of his temple. Your first reaction was to groan in annoyance, grabbing at strands of your hair to tug with a roll of your eyes

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Hwa—fuck off dude.”

You find some reprieve in watching San smack him silly and throw him towards a jukebox with a bang before walking off, catching your eye and licking at a stitch of blood on his lips you’re unsure was his or Hwa’s

“Call me whenever you blow that guy off—“ he nods his head towards Seonghwa’s figure as he spits out a blob of blood

“—and I’ll gladly take you on that joyride, sweetie.” San saunters away after dabbing up the bartender and you immediately feel yourself being pulled out of the bar by a strong grip around your wrist.

“Fucking let go of me, Hwa” You tug at your wrist but he’s holding onto you with pale knuckles, and in his silence you felt the extent of his anger.

“Care to explain why my girl is practically getting finger fucked by some rando on a barstool?” He whips his head around to gaze at you with unbridled fury, the red and buzzing neon sign contouring his features under the dimness of the fall drizzle.

For a moment, all you hear is the pattering of rain hit the thin metal pan of the small roofing that hung over the back alley exit of the bar, before you feel your blood rush to your throat.

“Your girl? When was the last time you even treated me like I was your girl? You say it as if I’m the only one—like you aren’t fucking off to god knows where every other day, and drowning yourself in some other bitch?” You hiss at him, eyes blood shot and wide when your palms crash against his chest to push him away. Never in your life have you wanted Seonghwa to be as far away from you as possible. You can only vaguely recall a time when he was the only person you wanted around.

Seonghwa’s dark eyes burned and you could only accept that the expression on his face was a thinly veiled hatred. It gutted you but you fucking hated the guy too—and hated the fact that you still loved him even more, despite it all.

“Then fucking leave.” His words hit you like a fist to the throat. Throughout your relationship, you’d gone back and forth between having nasty arguments, physical altercations, make up sex, hate sex, but you’ve never once uttered a word about actually ending it.

Before you realize it, your fist flies out and pummels itself straight into his left check, right above where San had already laid it on thick.

You don’t apologize. For a moment, you say nothing at all, before nodding. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Your voice is frigid, devoid of any semblance of the girl that’s loved him since high school. The years having worn you beyond repair.

Sobered, Seonghwa jolts at your words— eyes widening in panic. “No, baby— I didnt mean that.” He says it like telling you to leave was an accidental slip of tongue, one that was never meant to be said, but you both knew where you stood in the mess of all of this.

“It’s long over-fucking-due, Hwa!” He flinched at the sound of your yelling, grabbing at your wrists and pulling you into his arms, trying his best to restrain you as you beat his chest with your hands.

“—no, don’t you fucking dare and try to take it back. I’m so fucking sick of you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! You were a waste of my time. God, I don’t understand what I ever saw in you.” You’re screaming hysterically into his chest, banging at anything you could get your hands on, and strands of your hair whip into his mouth as you tousle around in his arms.

His grip around you tightens, holding your shaking form in his arms, unsure if he’d be able to handle the look of your smudged eyeliner and red heartbreak.

He’s always been a fucking idiot. You were the only one who ever believed he wasn’t.

The only thing he’s done right is prove you wrong.

“You don’t fucking hate me. You can’t. Not you.” Seonghwa’s voice’s dejected, whispering out a fragility no one else was meant to hear, and you’re transported to the intimacies of a time long past—this was your Hwa. A boy with big dreams and a sad case of bad habits. He said it aloud, trying his best to convince himself that he wasn’t so far gone that he’s left to a place where even your love can’t reach him.

You do nothing when he tilts your chin up to meet your lips, almost tiredly. His tongue carving into your mouth is slow and languid, peeling through you and back into a space he’s hollowed out for himself.

You do nothing when his hand finds its way around your throat and tightens.

And most of all, you do nothing else but agree with him when he asks “You still love me, don’t you baby? I know I love you. Without a doubt. No one else gets me, not like you do.” His words are saccharine and high in tone, as if trying to beckon you closer, and tell you everything’s just fine. Like he wasn’t sporting a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and didn’t have his hands around your throat.

You fall into it, as always. The same old trick, the same old story— same old bruising, just in a different space.

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel his rings glide up your leg to sweep a small line down your underwear, grazing it with his knuckles. “This is probably what that fucker wanted to do to you earlier, you know? And you were just going to let him?” He giggled lightly with a half-smile, as if the thought of someone else touching you was hilarious to him.

“—even if he did, what would that do? You’re still mine at the end of the day, no matter who you try to cover me up with. No matter what I do, you can’t leave. I can’t leave you either, sweet girl.”

Your body responds to his taunts from sheer muscle memory, craving his curved fitting inside of you, your body long having been molded into his shape. No matter who you had sex with—there was no unwriting the effect Seonghwa will always have on you.

“So I’m sorry, yeah? I’ll try not to drag off as much, but you know how I get when I’m high off my mind. The women, they mean nothing to me. It’s like having a snack, you know? No one else matters to me, that much is true.” It’s disorienting to know that Seonghwa wholeheartedly believes in his words. That he cared for you an almost debilitating amount, despite the innumerable amount of other women warming his bed.

Either way, you couldn’t help that you’re suddenly possessed with the need of getting your face fucked into oblivion by him and he knew that. It happens every single time, like clockwork.

The small smirk on his face revealed a sharp incisor and your hand naturally drifted to graze the tooth with your thumb, when he pops it into his mouth to lather it with his tongue and sucks.

“Want my cock in your mouth?” He practically purred when your only response was kneeling on the damp street, drenching your stockings with specks of dirt and minuscule rocks.

He unzips his jeans just enough to pop his cock out of the zipper and shifting a hand down to pull his balls out. Grabbing his shaft, he slaps your cheek with its heaviness and groans when you slide it into your mouth immediately. God, you’ve never gotten over how full your mouth felt every single time you did this and your throat automatically swallowed around nothing.

He pulls out again with a soft moan— slapping his cock against your hanging and dripping tongue before shoving it back in all of the way to hit the back of your throat. You immediately gag but he keeps you stationed there with his hands in your hair, fucking into your mouth at a bruising pace. Tears spring out of your eyes and your eyes drift up to meet Seonghwa’s devilish face: an unbridled joy bleeding through the surface at witnessing the all-too-familiar position of you kneeling in front of him again.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, pulsating from expectancy—stimulated by feeling his girth stuffing your throat and your slick melts down your thighs and drops slowly onto the sidewalk. Seonghwa’s pace increases before he reaches his high, balls smacking against your chin and pulls out with a strangled moan.

“Turn around.” Is all he says and gazed at you with dark reverence as you place your palms on damp brick wall. “—and stay still.” Is all he mutters when you hear the flick of a pocket knife come from behind you, and jolt when he reaches forward to slowly drag its point down your stockings. The rip starts just above your ass and down to your clit, and you shiver at the small graze the knife makes near your entrance. He laughs when he notices your pussy pulsate and the clear gelatinous liquid dripping out of your puffiness.

You hear another small shuffle and the spark of a lighter before he thrusts inside of you abruptly, and you almost cream at the burn of him stretching you so wide that you feared you’d tear open.

The hiss of a cigarette is followed by a deep inhale, and Seonghwa almost lazily pumps into you. Your breath hitches at the anticipation building inside of you—knowing that Hwa had this particular tendency of starting off slowly to stretch you out completely before absolutely obliterating you.

Today was that sort of day for him.

“You care if I burn you?” He asks casually and you shake your head before turning to meet his gaze with your own pool of darkness. Flinching when his pace quickens a little and palm around your stomach to see if there was a bulge. There was, to your delight, and your eyes roll to the back of your head—positively fucked into a state of stupid bliss. Seonghwa holds your gaze before taking another breath of smoke, the orange embers highlighting his profile and distinct nose.

“You know that you don’t even have to ask at this point, Hwa.” He only grins and says “okay” before pounding into you without restraint.

You struggle to hold your body upright at the delicious feeling of being split open and the obscene sound of him banging into your wetness as squelches fill the distant sounds of midnight traffic and music. High pitched moans leave you and you feel the fat of your ass shake at how hard he was plowing into you, jostling forward until your nipples grazed the wall in front of you. “Hold out your hand” He says with a small smile, a bead of sweat trickling down before you feel the slight burn of him flicking the ash off his cigarette into your palm.

You thank the thin shirt you wore paired with your decision to go out commando—a beloved combo that only intensified its stimulation as Seonghwa rutted into you. Reaching behind you, you fold an arm around your back and he grips onto it to propel into you faster, your cervix being bruised in the process. “Come inside—please, please, please.” You’re practically chanting and crying out, not giving a singular, f l y i n g (🕊️) fuck if someone catches Seonghwa fucking your brains out onto the sidewalk next to a grody dive bar, stuffed full of cock and exposed for any passerby’s to see.

Your squeals intensify as you reach your peak before feeling the small sizzle of a hot cigarette being put out into one of the dimples on your back. He twists it in with a small smile, before leaning to move your hair to kiss the back of your neck soothingly. The painful bliss of being scarred by him sickeningly sends you over the edge and the fleeting thought of how fucked up you probably were soars over your head and back into the dumpster next to you where it belonged

Seonghwa wraps a fist around your neck, squeezing hard until everything starts to go white before pumping three last bruising thrusts in before ropes of cum fill you— a copious amount spills out of you despite him stuffing you full until you hit the hilt.

A loud groan leaves him after he catches his breath and pulls out. He moves to kneel behind you to shove a couple of fingers in to fuck the liquid back in and leans forward to lick up the slit and opens his mouth to engulf your pussy—sucking hard.

A whimper leaves you as he palms your ass to massage it, while briefly rimming a tongue around your ass, fucking it with his tongue for a moment before pulling away. A bite quickly follows after and you notice immediately that Seonghwa’s floated into his marking mental space and let him do as he wished without complaint.

The next thirty minutes consisted of Seonghwa clutching your body as close to his as possible, littering your body with dark purple splotches and bites on every visible area. You hesitate to lean forward and reciprocate, despite your desire to leave your own marks above his pulse. He pushes your head towards his neck with an arm wrapped around you. “Just go ahead and do it baby.”

You sigh into him and relax at the familiar and encompassing scent of his skin.

When you waddle back into the bar, you quickly notice how packed it’s gotten in the last hour and spot a wild Wooyoung playing a card game with a couple of regulars, shouting out obscenities and vulgarities with high pitched laughter. His arm’s drape around another girls waist but you notice a strange bracelet wrapping around his right wrist.

You stop with a deadpan expression when you realize it, in fact, wasn’t a bracelet.

The son of a bitch had your underwear tied around his wrist.

Seonghwa raises a hand to greet him when he notices the same thing, stilling when he realizes it was a pair of panties he bought you as a “forgive-me” present a few months ago. He turns to you absolutely floored, moderately appalled.

“You’ve been fucking Woo?”

Wooyoung overhears and pales a bit, immediately sporting a nervous smile. You spin to him before squeezing a panicked “You fucking idiot, why are you wearing that?”

He laughs nervously before spitting out “Uh, it’s a good luck charm? I’m betting fifty.”

“You should start running” you lightly suggest, ignoring his audacity out of concern for your best friend.

The next fifteen minutes is spent with Seonghwa chasing Wooyoung like a man on a mission and Woo ends the night with hobbling out of the bar and clutching his stomach.

He hisses at the burn of a split lip he unconsciously licked over before uttering “Fucking hell, everything hurts like a bitch.”

Wooyoung groans before leaning his head against a brick wall and notices you strutting out of the bar.

Sweet lord, you looked good.

He couldn’t help that his eyes followed the coquettish trail of your hips like a dog in heat, and raises a brow when you spin around to walk towards him.

He’s all the more terrified and surprised when you kiss him and lick at his wound before saying “See you next Sunday?” Cheekily and running away before Seonghwa spotted you.

He groans again before letting out a bark of laughter.

Jesus, you’ll be the death of him but he can’t find it in himself to mind.

Seonghwa lights your cigarette with one hand before shifting his eyes back onto the road.

It’s been awhile since you’d last been on a late night drive with him, going nowhere in particular. You missed this, when the silence was comfortable between you two and sat to bask in it while you could.

He rolled the windows down for you and clutched your exposed thigh as he drove.

You always felt like the happiest girl in the world when you sat there in his front seat, legs stretched out onto his dashboard, and watch the hanging rosary on his rearview mirror swing hypnotically.

He’s playing an old and fond song,

singing in that voice of his that you know will take him far away from you and into some estranged city someday—but not now. For now, you’ll just be quiet and let him drive to wherever you both still have time left.

Authors note: I had inspo to write this and opted to take a break from writing my other pieces while i tried to gather more inspiration to writeeeee

I want to be happy with what I produce, so I’ll keep reminding myself that I don’t need to rush.

Anyways—hope this wasn’t ass and is a decent read. Small drabbles will still be released for this seriessss

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #scotty doesn't know

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houseofpsychoticwomxn · 5 months ago

Text

thinking about treating scott like a princess ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ

he’d gripe and groan about how long it takes you to get ready, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom looking down at his watch ever so often as you sat on the counter finishing your makeup.

“the tornado won’t care if your eyeshadow or whatever looks perfect. can we go yet?”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

he’d chew his gum and impatiently cross his arms while he waited on you in the dressing room, nodding along as you talked about the fabric and fit of whatever you were trying on next, taking mental note to just give you his card and get the little fashion show at home next time.

“just buy them both, yeah? if we don’t leave soon they’ll lock us in here.” he’s a sassy man! of course if you called him that to his face he’d give you a mean look and make you call him sir before doing anything else. like that wouldn’t prove your point.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

he treated you like a princess most of the time, and now it was his turn.

“come on, scotty just try it!” you pouted, holding out the face mask package matching the one currently on your face.

“fine, but this is a one time thing, alright? don’t try to make this a habit ‘cause its not gonna happen.” he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bathroom counter, letting you get closer without leaning down so you could actually reach him, forcing you to stand on your tip-toes as you put it on him.

you knew the fluffy headband was a stretch but his hair getting in the way and irritating him made it easier to pull off, leaving you with an unamused pretty princess of a boyfriend, mostly interested in keeping you tame while making up for all the time he had to spend away from you.

#would he actually do this? doubt it #i’m making him anyway! :3 #new dark blog theme and this is the type of shit im posting lmfao #whatever!#this is silly idk #I was feeling silly :p #he’s so grumpy i wanna put a spa headband on him #˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ scotty m.#scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters #twisters x reader #˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ blurbs #˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ thots

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littlexdeaths · 11 months ago

Text

scotty doesn’t know - e.m. iii.

eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: cheating, lil sprinkle of angst, shitty (ex) boyfriend behavior, some major fucking CHEESE (sorry if ur lactose intolerant), reader is the ultimate tease, dom!eddie, light bondage, degradation kink, oral (m receiving), ass/pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

series masterlist

based on scotty doesn’t know by lustra

a/n: honestly about to dedicate my entire life and blog to @strangerstilinski because i couldn’t have gotten this one done without her help. also thank you everyone who has been so incredibly patient with me, i hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 8.2k

The weekend had come and gone way too fast.

And now Monday was staring you right in the face, and with it— a very important decision.

You spent the rest of your weekend with Eddie, cuddling, talking and just enjoying each other's company. For those two days you were in your own little world together and you honestly never wanted it to end. But realistically you knew you had to go home and return back to your reality.

A reality where you belonged to someone else.

Your parents were absolutely livid by the time you returned home late Sunday evening, getting the biggest lecture of your life after Eddie had dropped you off. To add fuel to the fire, Scott had been calling your house nonstop since Saturday morning, much to your parents' annoyance. But that was a conversation you weren’t ready to have just yet.

Especially not over the phone.

You tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to figure out what you were going to say to him.

Monday was going to be rough, you knew that. But the thought of being able to finally show everyone who your heart really belonged to made things a little easier. You hadn’t exactly let Eddie know of your plans to dump your boyfriend the following day but he could tell something was up.

From the way you kissed him goodbye in his van, right out in the open for anyone to see, including your parents. And the look you gave him as you glanced over your shoulder before continuing up your driveway. It gave him a spark of hope that maybe this wasn’t just a silly fling to you either.

You got ready that morning with shaky hands, tucking one of Eddie’s band tees into your Levi’s. The male had let you wear it home the previous day, mostly because he enjoyed the sight of you in his clothes a little too much. You fiddle with the belt loop of your jeans as you stare at your reflection.

A mixture of nerves and excitement swirled in your belly as you took in your appearance, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thighs.

You can do this.

You take one final look before grabbing your backpack and bound down the stairs with a newfound pep in your step. You can’t help the goofy smile from spreading across your face as you think of seeing Eddie, and it makes all this seem a little easier. You all but ignore the curious looks from your parents as you bolt out the front door.

They hadn’t seen you this happy in months.

But as you drive to school, those pesky nerves begin to creep back in as you pass Scott’s jeep. You will your heart rate to slow as you search for a parking spot. A sense of relief fills your chest when you notice one just a few spots down from a very particular van. Your hands shake as you pull the key from the ignition, taking a moment to collect yourself before you head inside.

You try to ignore the curious eyes of your peers as you enter the school, knowing the events of the previous Friday were still fresh in their minds. And you reach your locker without incident, quickly yanking it open to put away your textbooks. You keep your head down as you walk to your first class, part of you was just waiting for Scott to sneak up on you.

Oddly enough you hadn’t seen him or Eddie all morning, which was extremely unusual. By now Scott would've walked you to first class and you’d be spending your second period study hall with Eddie. So seeing neither of them had your mind racing, and your anxiety spiking.

Had Scott figured it out? Did he confront Eddie?

A pit begins to form in your stomach at the thought, and you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if Eddie was hurt because of you. You’re so wrapped up in your own head that you don’t notice someone beginning to approach you. A look of determination on their face.

“I need to talk to you.”

The voice startles you, panic rises in your throat as your eyes lift. You are expecting to meet Scott’s icy glare, or the warmth of Eddie’s gaze. But instead, you are met with the soft but stern cerulean of Dustin Henderson.

“Me?” you ask softly, glancing around you before back at the younger male.

“Yes you,” he huffs in annoyance.

“What could you possibly need to talk to me about?” you keep your tone hushed as he takes the empty chair across from you.

“I know you think you’re fooling everyone, but you aren’t fooling me.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment, fingers gripping the arm of the chair as he raises a brow at you.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I know you’re sneaking around with Eddie,” he snaps.

Your heart leaps into your throat, mouth drying as Dustin continues to glower at you. A sting of betrayal suddenly fills your chest, and you feel foolish for even thinking Eddie would actually keep this secret between you.

But maybe he was just like Scott, who loved to brag about his sexual conquests to all his friends.

“He wasn’t supposed to tell—”

“He didn’t.” Dustin cuts you off, taking off his hat to run a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m just not blind.”

You both sit in silence for a moment then, feeling even more confused than you were when he initially sat down.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Dustin sighs, folding his hands together before he meets your gaze again.

“Eddie doesn’t know I'm here right now and honestly, he’d probably kill me if he did know.” The male winces slightly, before he continues. “But I am through with sitting around and watching one of my best friend’s hearts get stomped on.”

“Dustin, that’s not—”

He holds up his hand to cut you off, shaking his head.

“Just let me finish.”

So you hold your tongue, despite wanting to tell this kid that he has it all wrong.

“Eddie’s a good guy, one of the best I've ever known. And over the past couple of months we’ve all seen a change in him, he’s happier.”

That thought warmed your heart.

“But I can also see how all this is weighing on him. You may not notice it, but it’s definitely there.”

A lump has formed in your throat, watching in silence as the younger boy stands and slings his backpack over his shoulder. He glances at you once more, that look of disdain still written across his features.

“Now I know I can’t tell you what to do, but Eddie doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret.”

And without a glance back in your direction, you’re alone again.

Fourth period.

The moment you’ve been waiting for and simultaneously dreading since Sunday evening. It was the only class you shared with Scott, and while you’d been able to avoid him most of the day— it was time to face the music.

When you step into the classroom, he is already seated in his usual spot in the back corner of the room. The empty desk beside him is practically calling your name.

But your whole body freezes when his eyes meet yours expectantly. And as he begins to wave you over, you make a beeline to the opposite side of the classroom. You keep your eyes low as you find an empty seat, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

When you flip open your notebook, you hear the familiar squeak of sneakers in front of you. Your eyes slowly lift to reveal the hardened features of your boyfriend. His jaw is set in a grimace, and he rests his knuckles harshly on the front of your desk.

“Babe, we need to talk.”

But before you have the chance to reply, Mrs. Jones enters the classroom in a flurry. The bell rings immediately after, signaling the start of class. And it’s hard to tell whether the abrupt noise or his harsh glare causes you to flinch in your seat. She claps her hands to attention then, but Scott still doesn’t move.

“Mr. McGuire, take your seat now.”

He merely scoffs before he stalks away, returning to his own seat. Feeling defeated, you slump down in your chair. Any confidence you’d had this morning seemed to dissolve under his angry gaze. The rest of the class period goes by in a daze, as you can’t seem to focus on anything besides the daggers that Scott has been throwing your way the entire hour.

Once the final bell rings, you shoot up from your seat so fast you nearly take a couple other students in your rush. You practically sprint to your locker, hoping to make it to the lunchroom before Scott can corner you.

But you underestimated his speed, especially when he was sober.

His hand suddenly slams your locker door shut, and he backs you into the cool metal. He leans his palm against the line of lockers, closing you in completely. There was no way you could escape him now.

“What is going on with you? Why are you being such a frigid bitch?” he seethes.

You can’t help but wince at the insult, shrinking under his increasingly angry gaze. People were beginning to stare, causing more nerves to twist in your gut. This was a much more interesting sight than anything the cafeteria had to offer. And while you hated the attention, you knew you had to do this.

Just like ripping off a bandaid.

“I want to break up.”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, confusion quickly replacing the anger on his features. You let out the sigh you didn’t realize you were holding, relief filling your chest as you finally spoke the words aloud.

Scott runs a hand through his dark locks, pulling away from you ever so slightly.

“You want to break up?” his voice raises, “Why? Is this about that stupid fucking party?”

You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he wouldn’t just agree and walk away. While you had tried to prepare yourself for what you wanted to say all night, your brain was struggling to string any words together.

You rub your temples, trying to prolong the inevitable but the male could only take your silence for so long.

“Well?!” he shouts.

You take a shaky breath as you square your shoulders, attempting to feign some kind of confidence. Dustin’s words from earlier echoing in your ears. He doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret. The sea of students had only begun to grow in the past few minutes but you don’t notice that Eddie was amongst them.

“I don’t love you, and quite frankly I don’t think I ever did.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“You're an arrogant, selfish prick. And honestly, I just can’t keep doing this anymore…” you pause, now meeting his stormy eyes.

“Especially when my heart belongs to someone else.”

If you thought Scott was angry before, you hadn’t seen anything yet.

His hand suddenly slams into the locker next to your head, causing you to shrink instantly. While he’s never been violent towards you before, you aren’t entirely surprised by it. It was just in his nature.

“So you cheated on me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Before you can get another word in, you hear the familiar clearing of a throat. And a ringed hand reaches out to harshly tug the male away from you.

“You just don’t learn do you, Scotty?”

Eddie is beyond fuming as he shoves Scott back into the lockers before the male can properly react. And while Scott wasn’t the smartest guy, he quickly seemed to put two and two together.

He looked between you and Eddie before he started laughing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Munson? You’re fucking the freak?”

You instantly turn on defense mode, entirely fed up with his treatment of him. Before you can stop yourself, you copy Eddie’s actions and shove Scott back into the lockers. Surprise crosses both of the males' features at your actions, knowing you were never a violent or angry person.

But everyone has their limits and you’ve just hit yours.

“Yeah, and he fucks me so well too. Eddie here actually knows how to make a girl come— but I can’t say the same for you, McGuire.”

An astounding ‘oooh’ resonates through the crowd at your words.

Scott’s cheeks are flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. No one has ever stood up to him like this before and he’s suddenly at a loss for words. Eddie is grinning like a mad man, clapping excitedly before he wraps his arms around your waist. You welcome his embrace, leaning back further against his chest.

Scott just stares at the two of you, gritting his teeth as you smile sweetly.

“Now, I think we’re done here. Let’s go, Eddie.”

The metalhead willingly lets you drag him away, only your destination wasn’t the cafeteria anymore.

You pull him into the nearest empty hallway, shoving him up against the wall and locking your lips together. Eddie eagerly accepts your advances, fingers lacing through the loop of your jeans to keep you pressed against him.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, making every touch of his skin feel like a live wire.

“Munson!”

You curse softly as you realize you’ve been caught, and quickly glance over your shoulder.

Mr. Mundy looks between the two of you with a deep sigh, “Now come on, you know the rules. Break it up or you’re both getting detention.”

You unwillingly pull yourself away from him and lean against the brick wall beside him. A glance out of the corner of your eye shows how the male is biting back a grin.

“Try not to infect your girlfriend with your delinquency, alright?” Mr. Mundy gives you both a disgruntled look before heading back into his classroom.

Once the door shuts behind him, Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and coaxes you back into his arms.

“Y’hear that? Girlfriend,” he teases, wiggling his brows but the title makes your stomach flutter nonetheless. “Didn’t even ask me out on a proper date though, sweetheart. I’m offended.”

He laughs as you playfully pinch his side, shaking your head fondly. You lean your forehead against his chest, letting yourself indulge in the scent of his cologne.

“Did you really mean what you said back there?” he says after a while.

The sudden change of tone has you lifting your head, gazing up at him curiously. Eddie pulls you in even closer, letting his hands rest on the curve of your waist.

“That your heart belongs to me?” he prods.

You look down at your feet shyly, not realizing that he had heard that part of the conversation. Eddie doesn’t let your gaze wander for long though, as he gently tips your head back up to meet his.

“Yes, I meant it,” your voice shakes, your nerves getting the best of you.

But the look that flits over his features has your heart skipping a beat and butterflies erupting in your belly.

“All mine?” he questions, nervously licking his lips as he awaits your answer.

“All yours, Eddie.”

Being Eddie Munson’s official girlfriend is more than anything you could’ve dreamt about.

While sneaking around with him was fun in the moment, the amount he wanted to show you off made your heart sing. You had never felt so wanted or taken care of in your entire life.

But it wasn’t always easy, as graduation continued to grow closer the two of you barely had any alone time together. Between Hellfire, band practice and constant cramming for finals— time was not on your side.

But busy schedules be damned, you both manage to carve out enough time for a date at Benny’s.

“The usual, kids?”

Benny calls from the kitchen with a grin as you both take a seat in your normal booth. The diner had quickly become your favorite place for date nights, in your opinion they had the best food in town. Despite Eddie’s futile attempts to take you to Enzo’s, you prefer the easy going atmosphere of the small diner much more.

“Nah, just two chocolate milkshakes and an order of fries. We only got a few minutes before this one abandons me for prom shit with Wheeler,” Eddie teases.

You can’t help but pout, nudging his foot under the table.

“Says the one who abandoned me for movie night with Henderson yesterday.”

What you aren’t aware of though is how Dustin was actually helping Eddie pick out a tux and tie for prom. Laughing hysterically as the older boy panicked over what color tie would match perfectly with your dress.

Benny watches you both playfully bicker back and forth, shaking his head fondly. He brings out your order a few minutes later and unable to contain your excitement any further, you grab a fry and dip it directly into your milkshake.

Eddie’s lips freeze around the straw, gazing at you in absolute bewilderment when he pretends to gag.

“Sweetheart, that’s disgusting.”

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, taking a bite out of the fry before dipping it back in.

“You really shouldn’t knock it till you try it, Ed,” you say in a sing-song tone as your boyfriend urgently pulls the basket of fries away from you.

“Yeah— no way. I’m not doing that, you’re pretty sick in the head, baby,” he muses between bites of a plain fry. “Shit… and people call me a freak?”

You stifle a giggle as you lean forward, stealing the half eaten fry from between his fingers. You dunk it back into your milkshake and pop it in your mouth with a soft but exaggerated moan.

Eddie shifts slightly in his seat, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. It was almost too easy to get him so worked up. You ignore the warning look he shoots your way as you reach for another fry.

“Come on, just try it.”

You scoop as much of the shake onto the fry as possible, holding it towards him. The male just shakes his head, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth.

“You know, I don’t know if this is gonna work out between us, doll face,” he chuckles, watching as the chocolate cream begins to drip down your fingers.

His petulance continues but you’re still trying to goad him into taking a bite, dangling it in front of his scrunched nose, inching closer and closer. All in an effort to tempt him. You watch patiently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip it between his pouty lips.

“This level of blasphemy might be crossing a line, even for me—”

Before he can finish his thought, there’s lukewarm milkshake and salt smeared across his cheek and the corner of his mouth.

Eddie sits in shock for a moment before you burst into a fit of giggles at his expression.

“Oh, you are asking for it now, baby,” he taunts.

You are unprepared as he dips two of his fingers into his own glass, reaching forward to smear the sticky chocolate across your cheek. You gasp when the male leans forward, mischief sparkling in his eyes. His tongue darts out, causing a loud squeal to escape you as he licks the milkshake from your cheek.

“Eddie, that’s gross,” you whine as you reach out to steady the glass before he dumps milkshake everywhere.

“Hm, you didn’t seem to find it that gross when it was buried inside your—”

You toss a fry at him before he can finish that sentence, hitting him square in the forehead. He looks shocked, ringed fingers dramatically grasping at his chest when he slumps in his seat.

“You wound me, sweet thing.”

It’s then that you take the time to really look at him, and a surge of utter fondness fills your chest. While he goes on a dramatic rant about how french fries could be considered a deadly weapon, you’re only half listening.

Instead admiring the way his dimple indents his cheek when he grins sheepishly at you, and his hands flail about when he speaks. And it really hits you just how lucky you are to have him, that he was all yours.

So when you lean forward to capture his lips and ultimately silence him— he’s a little surprised. But he cups your face between his palms and kisses you back with just as much fervor.

“What was that for?” he asks a little breathlessly when you pull away, and you just smile.

“Just… cause I can.”

His eyes soften and he reaches out to thread your fingers together. Eddie knows the significance of what that means, so he can’t help but lean in to press your lips together again.

“Fuck yeah, you can.”

You really wonder if the universe was playing one big joke on you.

After your mini date at the diner a few days prior, you’d barely seen Eddie the rest of the week. The guys had a big gig at the Hideout the following evening and have been using any spare moment they had to practice. While you understood the reasoning for it, the other part of you was becoming increasingly frustrated.

Eddie could definitely tell something was up, but he didn’t exactly have the time to ask you in the five minute intervals you had together between classes.

So in an effort to make up for his absence, Eddie asked you to tag along to practice that night. But you might have had some ulterior motives for agreeing. Since it had been well over a week since you had any proper alone time together, you were past the point of needy.

Despite still seeing each other, the rushed kisses and subtle touches weren’t enough for either of you.

This was the longest either of you had gone without sex, so you can only imagine he was feeling the same way. But if his longing glances told you anything, it was that he needed you just as much— if not more. So that’s why you showed up to practice in your shortest skirt you owned.

What the metalhead doesn’t know is that you aren’t wearing any panties under said skirt.

However, he’s going to find out soon enough.

You’d given him a quick peck on the cheek when you got there, nothing too much though. You really did want his friends to like you, and they seemed to hate the constant displays of affection you both exhibited on the daily. So you kept it subtle, mostly for that reason.

But a small part of you did it just to rile him more.

In the short time you’d been officially dating, it became quite apparent how much Eddie craved your touch, whether it was sexual or not. He’d subtly tap his fingers on your knee during group hang outs, or press his lips to your temple when he walked you to class. You found it utterly endearing, but you also knew you could use it to your advantage.

So you could immediately tell from the slight pout that your boyfriend wanted more than just a peck on the cheek.

Hook, line and sinker.

As practice continued on, you found yourself sitting on an unused amp, with no other chairs in sight. The group wasn’t exactly used to visitors during practice, so you had to make due. You didn’t mind it though, as it put you in Eddie’s direct line of sight.

About half an hour in they decided to take a small break, the other three males were chatting excitedly about their upcoming dnd campaign. Eddie was more focused on tuning his guitar, but his eyes continued to wander back over to you.

This was the perfect opportunity to let him in on your little secret, while the other members were too preoccupied to be paying attention to you.

You sigh heavily and lean your arms back, uncrossing your legs and letting them fall open. Giving him the perfect view of what you were hiding… or rather not hiding, underneath your skirt.

His eyes flick up to your face before they begin to travel lower, and it takes him a full minute before he notices. But once that recognition flashes across his features, his mouth hangs open in shock.

A playful smirk plays on your lips and you quickly cross your legs again, acting as though nothing had happened. Eddie’s jaw is clenched when he returns to tuning his guitar, feigning as though it had no effect on him. But you could tell from the growing bulge in his jeans, that it definitely did.

He was grateful he had the ability to hide his boner for the rest of practice, not wanting to explain himself to his bandmates. But you knew by his stiff posture, you were so in for it when this was over.

The thought had you squirming with excitement, and you tried your best not to make a mess all over your makeshift seat. Now that would be something you could never live down.

Thankfully Eddie decided to end practice earlier than normal, claiming they could all use a break after their busy week.

But only the two of you knew the real reason.

Eddie all but drags you out to his van once his gear is packed up, gently shoving you against the back door. He opens the other side to put his guitar back into the vehicle, and quickly slams it shut. You bite back a grin when he cages you in against the cool metal.

His jaw is still tense, eyes darkening when his hand begins to caress your bare thigh.

“That was quite the peep show, sweetness.”

You try to keep your breathing even, but his roaming hands are making that very difficult.

“I don’t know what you mean, baby,” you feign innocence, knowing it’ll only rile him up more.

While he loves when you’re his good girl, he also loves any excuse to treat you like his little slut. The brunette chuckles humorously, grabbing your chin in his free hand to keep your eyes aligned with his.

“Come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” he tuts.

You just continue to gaze up at him all doe-eyed, hands resting on his chest. You don’t answer him, which only makes him more frustrated than he was to begin with.

“I see how it’s gonna be... You wanna be a brat? I’ll treat you like one,” he hisses. “Now, get in the van.”

He pulls away, and you feel a sudden chill from the loss of his body heat. When you don’t move an inch his brow raises, cocking his head at you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.”

As much as you would love to continue to push his buttons, you know you’re in enough trouble as it is. So you squeak out a quiet ‘yes, sir�� and round the side of the van to hop in the passenger seat.

Eddie is silent for most of the ride, but the tension in the air is palpable. While he says nothing, the glances he keeps tossing your way have you squirming in your seat. In an effort to stop your distracting movements he reaches a hand out, ringed fingers digging into the meat of your thigh.

And in your desperate state you can’t resist pushing him just a little more. So you rest your smaller hand atop his and guide his fingers in between your legs. Eddie suddenly slams on the brakes and your body flies forward when he pulls off on the side of the road.

He puts the van in park before turning to face you.

“In the back, on your knees. Now.”

You grin excitedly at his demanding tone, already anticipating what was to come. So you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and scurry into the back of the van without another word. Eddie takes his sweet ole time before joining you, as part of your punishment. He knew your patience would only last so long.

He flicks through his cassette tapes and fiddles with the radio volume… anything to keep you waiting.

So when he does finally join you in the back, you’re practically trembling with need. His hands cradle the back of your neck, titling it to bare your throat to him. He presses harsh kisses along your skin, nipping every so often. You can’t help but whimper from the contact, your hands reaching out to grip the fabric of his shirt.

But he stops you, immediately pushing your hands aside.

“Only good girls get to touch me,” he grunts.

Your eyes widen when he pulls the skull bandana out of his back pocket, maneuvering himself around you. He pulls your hands behind your back and binds them together with the soft fabric. Once he was happy with the secureness of the knot, he’s back in front of you.

This was something new.

His fingers gently grip your chin, but he forces you to meet his gaze.

“What’s your color, baby?”

As your sexual relationship began to delve deeper, the more safe words and communication became his highest priority.

“Green… neon fucking green,” you hum.

The smirk quickly returns to his features, and his lips go back to sucking on your neck.

��Watch that pretty mouth of yours, doll or I’ll put it to use.”

You can feel the wetness starting to drip down your thighs, having absolutely no barrier due to your lack of undergarments. His hands have found their way to your breasts, kneading them in his large palms before he continues lower. Once he reaches the apex of your thighs he nearly growls, feeling your arousal coating your supple skin.

“Fuck— I need you, Eds.” you whine, already forgetting what he had just told you only moments prior.

Eddie promptly removes his hands from you, the sound of his belt clinking open has you shivering in anticipation.

“You really want to test my patience tonight, don’t you?”

You now realize your mistake.

But you can’t find it in yourself to regret it when he finally releases his cock from the confines of his jeans. You glance up at him expectantly, licking your lips at the sight of his pre-cum coating the tip. His fingers guide your mouth open and can feel your body practically buzzing with excitement.

“Since you can’t seem to listen, I’m going to use your mouth however I want. If it’s too much I need you to snap your fingers twice. Okay?”

You give him verbal confirmation and snap twice to demonstrate that you are still able to do so even with your hands bound. Satisfied with your response he grins and opens your mouth wider.

“Lemme see that tongue, baby,” he instructs.

You obey immediately and he rewards you by slapping the head of his cock against it. Once… twice… a third time… before he slips it past your lips with a groan.

Eddie’s hand fists your hair, pulling your mouth even further onto his cock. You take every inch willingly, eagerly swirling your tongue around the base of his shaft. His eyes squeeze shut, mouth slightly agape as you take him even deeper.

But you already miss his piercing gaze, now desperate for him to look at you. So you pull back until his cock slips past your lips.

His eyes shoot open and he raises a brow at you, “Did I say you could stop?”

The utter dominance in his tone and stature makes you even wetter, your thighs pressing together as he continues to stare you down with those dark eyes.

“Want you to look at me,” you plead, batting your lashes at him.

He just chuckles, keeping his gaze locked on yours when you eagerly take him back into your mouth. His fist tightens in your hair, another groan escapes him when he hits the back of your throat. A wicked grin tugs at his lips when he feels you gag around him.

“That’s right, gag on it,” he coos.

Your eyes remain locked with his as he continues to use your throat, mascara tears running freely down your cheeks with each thrust. His groans fill your ears, each one sending heat straight to your core. His lips pull up into that signature smirk as he admires the absolute mess he’s made of you.

But before he reaches that peak, he slips himself out of your mouth. It’s too soon for your liking, despite the throbbing ache between your legs. He notices the pout on your lips, now eyeing the string of saliva that keeps you connected.

“As much as I’d love to come in that bratty mouth of yours…” he pauses, wiping up some of the drool from your lips with his thumb. “I’d much rather see it dripping out of that pretty pussy instead.”

You can’t help but whimper in response, letting Eddie bend you over the center console of the vehicle. He flips your skirt up, landing a harsh smack to your ass as he nudges your legs apart with his own. You’re suddenly grateful for the console beneath you, knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to hold yourself up with your hands still bound.

Eddie grabs your bound wrists with one hand, the other slipping between your thighs.His calloused fingers run through your slick folds, and he moans at the wetness he finds there.

“God… always so wet. You’re such a little slut for me, huh? You like when I use you like this, baby?”

You merely nod, your thoughts far too jumbled from his touch that words are escaping you. But Eddie isn’t having any of it, and really you should know better.

Another harsh slap lands on your pussy this time, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.

“Come on sweetheart, tell me…”

Eddie slips two fingers into your entrance with no resistance, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside of you. But his actions stop just as quickly as they start due to your continued silence. And when he begins to slip his fingers out, your walls contract around them in an effort to keep them nestled inside you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” he taunts.

You want to cry from frustration when he fully removes the digits, guiding your hips back towards him. Eddie just chuckles, before you hear him noisily suck your arousal from his fingers.

“Y-Yes, Eddie. Just please, fuck me,” you cry.

While you can’t see him, you know he’s grinning like a madman. Any further plans of begging disappear when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing through your folds. As much as he’d love to continue teasing you, his own impatience takes over and he slides into you with one hard thrust.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s fucked you, you still feel so full. Stretched out beyond belief— it nearly takes your breath away.

Eddie doesn’t give you much warning before he’s snapping his hips back into yours. The sudden motion causes your head to lull forward and rest against the console. Your walls practically suck him in deeper, and he enjoys the pathetic little noises that leave you as he continues to slam into you.

“Fuck— you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Eddie uses your bound wrists to pound into you harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, that band getting tighter as he continues his ruthless pace.

“You gonna cum already? Such a little slut…” he nearly growls, “Go on, do it. Let’s see how many times you can make a mess on my cock.”

Between his words and the constant pounding into your g-spot is what tips you over the edge, feeling your knees wobble from the force of your orgasm. Eddie begins to slow his pace, letting you ride the waves a little before he slips one of his hands between you to gently rub at your clit.

Your soft whimpers only seem to spur him on further, keeping a steady pace. But he rams into you so deeply, you swear you can feel him in your throat. Despite how slightly overstimulating the feeling is… it’s too good to stop. And you’d do anything to show Eddie how good you can actually be.

“That’s it… feels good, baby?”

You let out a small but breathy ‘uh huh’, that being the only response you can muster at this point. One orgasm has turned your brain to mush, and all you can think or feel is Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Your response has him chuckling, as the male continues to rock his hips into yours. He loves getting you to this point, so drunk on his cock that you can’t form a coherent sentence. His fingers start to pick up their pace against your bundle of nerves, feeling how your walls clench even tighter around him.

While he wants to fill you up so badly, he also wants to see how far he could push you. It was only fair.

“Wanna show me you can listen, sweetheart? Give me another one. You can do it.”

You nearly sob as your second orgasm suddenly crashes over you. While not as forceful as the first, it’s powerful enough to make your legs give out beneath you. Letting all your weight rest against the center console. Eddie is quick to help guide your hips back up, and stops the movement of his own.

You can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks when he frees your wrists, finally slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact, but it’s not gone for long. As Eddie helps guide you into a sitting position, before carefully laying you back onto a pile of blankets.

He brushes the tears away from your cheeks, and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Can you give me one more? Doin’ so good for me, sweet thing.”

You practically preen at his praise, eagerly nodding when he situates himself between your legs again. He carefully lifts your trembling thighs, his touch much more gentle now. He caresses your supple skin before he slips back inside you with a deep seated groan.

You can feel how your hands begin to twitch at your sides, desperate to reach up and tangle your fingers in his curls. But his previous warning rings in your ears, only good girls can touch me. Eddie catches the subtle movement and reaches down to guide your hands up towards his head. And a loud grunt leaves him when he reaches your deepest point.

“You can touch me baby, you’ve earned it.”

He barely finishes his sentence before you’re threading your fingers through his wild curls and tugging him closer. Until your clothed chests are pressed together and you can feel the weight of his ribs against yours. Your mouths meet with a soft urgency and his tongue glides over your lower lip before slipping past them.

His pace has slowed tremendously, all in an effort to cherish the feeling of being inside you. Despite how rough can be at times, this was his favorite way to be with you. With your bodies entangled in every possible way.

While Eddie may put on a tough exterior, he’s a big softie underneath it all. And you’ve come to adore both sides of him.

He pulls away from your lips with a small gasp, greedily inhaling your mingling breath as his chestnut hues meet yours. Eddie looks beautiful like this, hovering above you all sweaty and flushed. It's truly a sight you wouldn’t grow tired of seeing. He doesn’t let lips stray too far though, leaning down to press hot kisses along your jaw towards your neck.

The brunette eagerly sucks onto the skin of your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the ache he leaves behind. One of your hands untangles itself from his tousled curls, slipping between your bodies to rub at your overly sensitive clit. Judging by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Eddie buries his face into the crook of your neck, whining when you clench harder around him. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you has your head reeling, already so close to finishing for a third time that night.

“Fuck— I love you,” he pants, each slam of his hips becomes more frantic with his admission. “I love you, sweetheart.”

His confession is all it takes to push you both over the edge. Eddie’s hips stutter as he fills you, and your body arches further into his embrace with a cry of his name. It’s so intense that you can feel how his body trembles above you, and the stars begin to dance behind your lids. The weight of his words finally starts to sink in when he collapses on top of you, blinking away the tears that fill your lash line.

The mixture of your heavy breathing fills the silence and you gently stroke his curls while you both come down from your highs. Eddie must have felt your tears dripping down onto his cheek and his head lifts to regard you with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You just shake your head, pressing another kiss to his awaiting mouth. But when you pull away a little too soon for his liking, he practically pouts. You just smile fondly, nervous fluttering in your belly at what you were about to confess. Despite hearing him utter those same three words only moments prior.

“I just… I really love you too, Eddie.”

The grin that stretches across his face has your heart thumping faster, your giggles soon fill the silence in the van as he presses tender kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Love you so much, sweetheart.”

The Hideout was packed, which seemed to be an unusual occurrence for a Saturday night in small town Hawkins. But the promise of multiple live bands quickly filled the seats that usually remained empty during the week.

Ever since you became official, you easily fit in amongst his large group of friends. Even Dustin, who was weary of you in the beginning, had quickly begun to warm up to you. But you had clicked with Robin the fastest and the two of you became very close in such a short amount of time.

Most of them had come out to support the band, besides the group of freshmen. As Eddie all but forbade from stepping foot in this establishment. His overprotective nature towards them was something you found to be incredibly endearing.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, snugly in between Robin and Steve. Mostly due to Eddie’s strict instructions to keep an eye on you. He could already anticipate just how rowdy this crowd might be from the moment you entered the dingy bar.

You anxiously shift in place, taking another swig from the flask that Robin had snuck in. You hadn’t seen Eddie for more than a few minutes since he dropped you off at home earlier that morning. And you were beyond impatient for the show to get started.

It was a little annoying how much you missed him when he wasn’t around, how uneasy it made you.

But the vodka was definitely starting to help soothe your nerves.

You continued to shift from foot to foot, partially from your growing impatience and partly due to the soreness between your thighs. The round in the van had only continued once you got back to Eddie’s trailer. He buried his tongue inside you while he showed you how much he loved you from between your thighs.

It’s as though the universe could tell you were getting antsy, as the lights on the small stage finally dim. You cheer loudly and the rest of your friends join in when the four males walk out onto the stage. They all take their respective positions, and Eddie slings his guitar strap over his shoulder and adjusts the mic stand.

“Good evening Hawkins, we’re Corroded Coffin. Thanks for coming out!”

A round of boos suddenly erupt from amongst the cheers, and your head instantly whips around to find the source. You see Jason and Scott’s whole crew leaning up against the back wall of the bar, a prominent smirk on your ex’s face. Your hands balled into fists and you quickly flip them all the bird before turning your focus back towards the stage.

Scott’s incessant torment had cooled off for a bit, but that entire week it was seeming to ramp right back up. While you knew your boyfriend could take care of himself, it still didn’t stop the fury from bubbling up inside you over it. Especially knowing it had only gotten worse because of you.

You find Eddie’s gaze again and he shoots a wink your way, not even fazed by their presence. They started off their set with a cover of Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot, already getting the crowd ramped up. Eddie was totally in his element, carefree as his fingers danced along the neck of his guitar. While they played mostly covers, they were able to sneak in a few original songs.

The crowd was overly enthusiastic, which was a nice change of pace from the five sullen drunks they usually had in attendance at their normal Tuesday time slot. While Eddie was riding that high, his eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

“Thank you guys for being such an awesome crowd, this is our last song.”

In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve come to recognize almost all of their songs. Eddie was always bouncing lyric ideas off of you, or playing them for you any chance that he could. But hearing the first few chords ring out into the bar, you knew this one was clearly new.

And if shit eating grin he was sporting was any indication, he’d been preparing for this moment. Eddie’s eyes drift from yours to the back of the dimly lit bar as he begins singing. The opening lyrics make your eyes widen in shock.

“Scotty doesn’t know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday. She tells him she’s in church, but she doesn’t go. Still she’s on her knees and Scotty doesn’t know.”

Your heart begins to race and that cocky grin never leaves his face. Your eyes follow his line of sight and you turn around, watching in amusement when you notice how Scott’s fists are clenched at his sides. This is by far the angriest you’ve ever seen him, and you can almost see the metaphorical steam coming out of his ears.

“Fiona says she’s out shopping, but she’s under me and I’m not stopping…”

A smug look graces your features when Scott meets your gaze, giving him a little wave before turning back to focus on your boyfriend. Eddie’s husky voice is full of confidence as he continues onto the next verse. That sound alone could bring you to your knees.

“I can't believe he's so trusting, while I'm right behind you thrusting. Fiona's got him on the phone, and she's trying not to moan. It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing…”

Your mind instantly drifts back to that fateful phone call, that night being a major turning point in your feelings towards the metalhead. Your whole body flushes at the vulgarity of the lyrics, but in an odd way you find it kind of sweet.

Once he has your attention again, Eddie blows you a subtle kiss.

“The parkin' lot, why not? It's so cool when you're on top. His front lawn in the snow, life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know! Scotty doesn't know!”

You watch in fascination as his fingers work diligently over the guitar strings, banging his head along with Jeff. The song aside, you really were enjoying yourself. Eddie lets his guitar fall to his hip, gripping the mic with both hands.

“I did her on his birthday…”

Your curiosity has gotten the better of you again, and you glance back to where Scott had previously been standing. The spot was now empty, much to your surprise. Scott was never one to back down without getting the last word. So you let your eyes wander around the bar, but Scott and his posse were nowhere in sight.

When the song starts to come to a close, Eddie and the rest of the guys have gathered at the front of the stage. Huddled together as they chanted a chorus of, ‘Scotty doesn’t know’, the crowd joining in unison. When you glance over at Robin, her grin practically matches that of your boyfriend’s.

While you had never explicitly told anyone (besides Robin) the details of how everything played out between you two, your ex definitely had his suspicions.

But now, one thing was for sure…

Scotty definitely knew.

sdk taglist: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @mugloversonly @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @transparentenemypenguin @calumfmu @vamp-bunny @eddiesxangel @nailbatanddungeon @deathst9r @comeonatmebruh @mrsjellymunson @eddiesghxst @eddiesguitarskills @callsignraver @eldermayfield @potatobeans99 @loserboysandlithium @em0220

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: scotty doesn’t know 🫧#eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #[ series: scotty doesn’t know ]#[ the munson files ]

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imsryyimlate · 3 months ago

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law x anthropologist!reader meeting for the first time?

sure! 👍🏽 i also included her having a health condition, and she has a devil fruit power!

— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader

eating the rock rock devil fruit came with many advantages, especially when it came to your travels. as an anthropologist, you lived for exploring and studying artifacts, particularly the evolution of early medical technology into modern-day.

your powers made excavations effortless: you could dig through dirt, dismantle obstructive rock formations, or even create floating stone staircases to reach inaccessible places.

one day, as usual, you were traveling by yourself, going through a dense forest that was rumored to have an abandoned dig site that you wanted to check out.

unfortunately, you were ambushed by a group of people who saw the jewelry you wore - a necklace, and an amethyst belt rumored for healing properties. many years ago, you were diagnosed with a muscle disorder and amethyst was known as a healing gem. you managed to create the belt and wrapped it around your legs when they weakened, soothing the muscles and accelerate healing.

“hand over the belt and we won’t hurt you.” one man said, pointing to the belt z

you smirked. “no thanks.” kneeling, you slammed two hands against the ground. four rock pillars erupted beneath your attackers, sending them flying. some coughed up blood from the force of the impact.

you were underestimated. it was typical but you were used to it.

you easily fended for yourself, not knowing that in the background you were being observed by the heart pirates, and you caught the attention of their captain, trafalgar law.

when the group ran away scathed from your powers, law slowly emerged from the forest, slowly clapping his hands. you turned around and saw his crew trailing behind him. as you raised your hands waist high, rocks of different sizes emerged from the ground.

“that was a show.” he remarked.

you arched an eyebrow. clenching your fists, the rocks instantly sharpened into lethal spikes.

“high praise from a former warlord of the sea,” you replied. “congratulations for your success regarding the emperors as well, by the way.” you added tilting your head.

law smirked. “it was a team effort.”

“if you don’t mind,” you said, lowering your hands. the spikes crumbled back to the ground, as you continued, “i’d like to continue my work uninterrupted.”

crossing his arms over his chest, law nodded his head. “don’t take too long. i’ll be waiting for you right here.”

“that a threat?” you asked, brushing dirt off your jeans.

law shook his head. “no. it’s a fact.”

“in that case,” you mused, taking a few steps closer, “i’ll see you in a couple hours.”

#trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #law x reader #law x oc #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x you #x oc #writing request #queue me up scotty

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jj-lvr · 5 months ago

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bsf!jj x former kook!reader, jealousy, brief harassment, sexual tension

—————————————————————————

“come on, you’re telling me you don’t regret ghosting us just a little bit?” topper asked again with that stupid glint in his eyes. he was stirring up shit, and you both knew it. you sighed quietly, before looking up at him through your eyelashes with a small smile.

“topper just let it go,” you replied shortly, “you’re embarrassing yourself.” as you made to step away, a firm hand gripped your forearm with such force that the beer in your cup spilled on the ground.

“what do the pogues have that way don’t, huh?” toppers voice was getting louder, attracting the attention of his friends until they all were taking steps towards you. “is it jj?” toppers voice lowered ridiculously, so much you could barely hear him. but you did.

“fuck off, topper,” you whisper-yelled, and the sudden feeling of being enclosed struck you all at once until you were glancing around frantically for a way to escape without getting too much attention. across the bonfire, jj met your eyes. his hands were clenched around his red cup as his jaw ticked.

“get off me,” you said again, this time your tone was frantic as you tugged your arm back. topper stumbled forward, but his smile remained wide as ever.

everything happened so fast.

topper urged towards you with his arms out as though trying to soothe a wild animal, and suddenly he was on the floor underneath a blond mop of hair. “she doesn’t want you man,” jj bit out the words as he pummelled topper into the ground. a quiet ripping sound brought you out of your daze, yet at the sight of the smear of blood on your best friend’s face you stayed silent. “keep your hands off my fucking girl.”

ten minutes later, the both of you were sat in the twinkie as jj rolled his third joint of the night. a heavy silence had fallen, neither of you knowing what to say.

“you didn’t have to do that, jay.” your voice was quiet, and for a moment you thought he didn’t hear you with the way he light his blunt and slowly took a drag, eyes trained on the floor.

“yeah…i did,” his voice was painfully soft, but you couldn’t complain because he was finally looking at you, eyes shining in a silent question that you know you would answer anyway, regardless of if he voiced it.

��he didn’t hurt me,” you assured him, “i just…” as you trailed off your best friends eyes darkened. his jaw tightened, but he stayed silent. “I hate them so much.”

“and to think he thought you actually would go back to them,” as he spoke jj scoffed, “he touched you.” his eyes went to the scratch on your arm where one of toppers nails nicked you.

“i guess he did.”

at your words, his breath hitched in his throat. you hadn’t seen him like this before. the way he was looking at you made you weary, yet at the same time you didn’t want to to stop.

before you could question him, he was shuffling closer until you arms were touching side by side, and if either of you dared to turn your head your lips would be just centimeters apart. you dared. at your movement his eyes widened. no doubt, you were both under the influence of alcohol and weed, but with the way he gulped silently at the sight of you, and the way you want to bury your hands in his hair and tug was reason enough to ignore that fact.

your lips were tantalisingly close, hovering in the void state between kissing and not. “you know i would never let him touch you, right?” at his question you nodded vaguely, but not at the words. you nodded at the way his breath hit your lips just right, at the way his lips brushed yours ever so slightly as his lips fit around his words. the corner of his mouth raised into a smile. “my eyes are up here, babe-”

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. before he could even finish his sentence, your lips were on his. hands grasping at his hair you pulled him closer closer closer, until his chest was flush against yours. his breathing was heavy through his nose, as he finally realised what was happening. hesitatingly, he raised his hand to the back of your neck, playing with the short hairs under his fingers and smiling at the small whines that his ministrations earned him. as you tugged on his hair, he let out hisses and groans so delicious you just about needed him to make them again.

god, you just needed him.

just when you were about to throw your leg over his hip, he wrenched himself away from you, face lingering such a small distance away. he was silent, just watching you blink at him with hooded eyes, shallow breaths escaping him at the sight of you. you weren’t in a much better states your eyes raked over his figure, memorising every single detail before you. his trembling hands, his shuddering chest, his perfectly fallen hair, the dried blood on his jawline, and lastly his eyes. they were like deep pools of water borne from the ocean, and you wanted nothing more than to drown in them helplessly.

“i dont…” jj stuttered, for the first time in all the years you knew him. “don’t wanna ruin this, y’know.” his actions betrayed him. as he spoke, he brought a hand to your cheek and tenderly moved a strand of hair from your face. “but god, babe, i’ve wanted this…” his voice broke off at the sight of your face, and you could see the gears turning in his mind as he gnawed on his lower lip.

you opened your mouth to speak, and he took his chance, claiming your lips in a fierce kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. you seized your chance and threw your leg over his waist, you squirmed closer to him and revelled in the feeling of his firm hands planting themselves on the curve of your ass. without further prompting you swerved your hips over his.

“god,” jj whispered between kisses, “you have no…” he presses a wet kiss to your jaw, “idea how long…” he nipped at your throat teasingly, “i’ve waited for this.” you pressed your your hips flush against him, and he released a whine that you just had to hear again. “those fucking kooks wish they could see you like this,” he ground the words out like they revolted him just to think them, let alone speak them. “no,” he chuckled against your sweaty skin and he snaked a hand between you, “everyone wishes they could see you like this.”

the tips of his fingers brushed against your slit deliciously, and before you could stop yourself you cried out, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a vice grip so hard he winced into the curve of your neck. “shit, i’m so sorry,” you mumbled, but he cut you off with a thumb circling your clit gently and a look so tender you couldn’t help but keep his gaze. vulnerability crept up your throat, uncomfortable and soft, until you had to shove it down. distracting yourself, you attached your mouth to his neck, sucking and biting enough to illicit quiet mewling moans that went straight to both of your cores.

“jj” you whisper against his neck, feeling his whole body shudder, “i wanna…” you whine as you trail off your sentence, grinding straight into his thumb where it hit your clit just right. he smirked knowingly and reached to unbuckle his belt.

“oh hun, say less,” he breathed out his words as he held his dick to your entrance, eyes transfixed on where his tip met your entrance. breathless, he watched with wide eyes that darted between your face and your pussy at the speed of light as he teased your entrances

“please jay…” you whine as you grind forward onto his dick, accidentally pushing the tip in. without warning he throws his head into the crook of your neck, shuddering breaths shaking out of him and landing heavy against your neck.

“oh my god,” he hisses into your skin and bares his teeth, dragging them along the side of your neck until you were writhing on top of him. “you want it baby?” he asks, but he knows the answer. you watch his mouth as its corners tilt up into a mocking smile, “wanna ride my cock with everyone right outside? show em how much of a slut you are for me? just for me?”

with each question his voice got higher, hips rising to meet yours until his tip was fully in. whether it was the alcohol or the raw vulnerability of the moment neither of you knew, but his eyebrows were drawn together as he moaned and your eyes shut gently at how much you were feelings “god, jay don’t stop. please don’t stop.”

“i don’t see no god here,” he chuckles, grunting as another inch of him eased into you, and you could see in his eyes that he was formulating a plan. before you could ask, he answered. “it’s just me, baby.” with no further warning he pushed you back so that he was now on top, bottoming out into you with a buck of his hips that made you both cry out in ecstasy.

each thrust felt like a shot of tequila until you were so lost in his musk you couldn’t tell how long you’d been there, listening to his grunts and falling victim to the growing feeling in your stomach. “jay…” you whimper against his chest, clutching his shark tooth necklace in your fingers, “jay im gonna cum.”

at your words his pace quickened, his face scrunching in pleasure until you were sure that the other party goers would certainly hear you. like a waterfall, the band in your gut snapped and it all came crashing down at the same time you felt his warmth spill into you.

master list

#jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #prompt list #obx drabble #Scottie Blue #jj maybank concept #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks smut #outer banks

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demie90s · 13 days ago

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𝙽.𝙰.𝚅.𝙸.𝙶.𝙰.𝚃.𝙸.𝙾.𝙽

(Remember your not here for me. You’re here for the post. Ignore the weird shit….Look at you….Gay asl. But me to twin) Started May 30th.

✦ where divine femininity meets delusion ✦

📍 Welcome to the inner circle. Home of the unbothered, the beautiful, and the borderline unhinged.

📍I’m your host: ✧ loud ✧ glowing ✧ creatively dangerous. You’re gonna love it here…..you’re safe now.

✩ | About Me

ᴡʜᴏ: ʟᴇxɪᴀɴᴀ ~ ꜱʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ (ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱ "ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ" ) ~ 05’ ~West Coast Baby ~ AA ~ @/FeinDemie90s on Wattpad

ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ: ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ, ɢᴀʏ, ꜰɪɴᴇ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇʟʟ, ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ

(Nice Asf. Like we could be bestfriends)

ᴀᴇꜱᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ: ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɢʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀ & ꜱᴡᴇᴀᴛ, ʟɪᴘ ɢʟᴏꜱꜱ & ʟɪᴇs

✩ | The Blog?

ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ

ᴛᴏɴᴇ: ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ, ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄ, ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄ, ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛɪᴄ

ꜱᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇꜱ?: ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ?: ᴏᴘᴇɴ ɪꜰ ɪ’ᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ (ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ)

✩ | Content

Women’s College Basketball

~ UCONN

~LSU

~IOWA Hawkeyes

~USC

WNBA

~Phoenix Mercury

~Seattle Storm

~Las Vegas Aces

~New York Liberty

Masterlist + Descriptions

Materialist #2 + Descriptions

~Click here for more people

…More To Come

⚠️ ALL MATERIALS POSTED ARE MINE.

⚠️DO NOT REPOST ANYTHING WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION.

⚠️YOU WILL BE REPORTED. I’M NOT PLAYING WITH YOU.

⚠️PUTTING BELT TO ASS

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lenoraah · 2 years ago

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𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥

pairing - daniel ricciardo x james!reader

summary - when Chloe decides to play matchmaker, she just so matches her sister-in-law and the one and only honey badger together

a/n - she’s giving ‘your my brother but i don’t care’, also there is a eight year age gap so the reader is twenty-six 🤍

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Scotty? How come you never introduced me to your, friend?”

“Yeah, how come you never introduced me to any of yours?”

“Because I knew eventually you would find a hot and sexy woman that would become your wife.” Y/n nudges Chloe in the arm with a grin on her face. Chloe rolls her eyes playfully as she smiles herself.

Scotty rolls his eyes and Daniel laughs at the two siblings. The four of them had just so found the time to hang out and conveniently, Scotty had called both Daniel and Y/n to come. This was never supposed to happen, Scotty did not want this to happen. Ever.

“So, tell me about yourself.” Y/n leans against the armchair that Daniel is sitting on. She has a curious and quirky smile on her face. Daniel raises an eyebrow, an interested look on his face.

“Okay, what do you want to know?” Daniel asks as Y/n sits down in the chair next to him.

“Anything and everything,” The two of them keep smiling at each other, making Scotty gag and Chloe smile at the sight of of sister-in-law and her husband’s best friend talking and being intrigued in each other.

Chloe even takes a picture when the two are completely distracted by the other person. She smiles and leans against Scotty’s shoulder, only to see a scowl on his face as he glares at the sight.

“What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem? Look at them,” Scotty points an accused finger at Daniel and Y/n.

“Scotty, they’re getting along. Isn’t that what you want?” Chloe looks is at him with a soft smile on her face. She really can’t understand why he’s so annoyed about his sister and best friend getting along.

“Yeah, but- But- Look at them!”

Y/n and Daniel are laughing at something and Chloe couldn’t think of another time where she had seen the two of them so happy. While Scotty’s face is turning red, annoyance running through his blood.

He couldn’t even begin to express how much he didn’t want his best friend and sister to be in any kind of relationship. Especially romantically.

“Scotty I know what you’re thinking about.” Chloe shakes her head, Scotty’s cheeks brighten and he slowly turns to face her.

“They’re eight years apart, I’m going to kill him if anything happens to my sister.” At this point Scotty and Chloe are whisper yelling at each other and Y/n and Daniel are still indulged in their conversation.

“If anything happens they probably will tell you first. And Daniel is a great person you know that,” Chloe smacks her husband in the arm and scowls at him.

“Right, you’re right. Nothing can go wrong,”

————————————————————————

“Chloe!”

“Yes?” Chloe turns her head around to see her husband stomping towards where she is sitting on the red and white checkered blanket.

“You said she would tell me! Chloe, she let the world know before me.” Scotty has a small pout on his face as he sits down next to his wife.

Chloe sighs, quickly turning her head to look at Daniel and Y/n running around on the park. Everyone else around them aren’t paying attention, doing their own things, not caring at the four of them.

“Scotty, they are grown adults. They can do what they want. Besides haven’t you been saying that you wanted Y/n to find someone?”

“Yes, but not Daniel!” Scotty groans, burying his face in his hands. “He’s eight years older than her and what if they’re not right for each other?”

“They are consenting adults and look-” Chloe points at the two.

Y/n is laughing as Daniel picks her up by the waist, swinging her lever his shoulder. Chloe can’t help but have a smile on her face as she leans on Scotty’s shoulder.

Daniel sets Y/n down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before grabbing her hand and running off to wherever it is. The two have grins on their faces as they run off, not giving a thought about anything.

“They’re in love, Scotty. You know that feeling. And you know Y/n and Daniel. They’re happy, aren’t you happy for them?” Chloe mumbles, looking up at her husband, waiting for a reaction.

Scotty sighs and fidgets for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Fine, yes, I am happy and they are in love. Now one question, when did they get together?”

Chloe pauses before moving back a little away from Scotty. He raises an eyebrow, his mouth opening slightly and face twisting in slight horror, knowing what his wife had done.

“So you know how Lance set us up together. I kind of-”

“Chloe!”

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #scotty james #chloe stroll #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #original post #original writing

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violetflowers55 · 3 months ago

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Wally Doesn’t Know - Part 1

(Dick Grayson x fem!reader)

Summary: You tell Wally you’re at church, but you don’t go. Wally doesn’t know his girlfriend and his best friend do it every Sunday.

Notes: Based on the song Scotty Doesn’t Know. established relationships + cheating, but not really angsty this chapter

No content warnings needed!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alarm clock on the nightstand next to you rang just seconds after you woke up. You jolted upright and turned it off, already buzzing with excitement. Today was your favorite day of the week; the day that you got you through the rest of the week.

You quickly climbed out of bed and saw the other side of the bed was empty. A giddy smile spread across your face. Wally was already up - no need to hide it. You practically bounced over to your dresser and pulled out a lacey blue thong - his color blue - before covering it with your “Sunday best.” Standing in front of a mirror, you smoothed out the soft dress. It was nice enough to pass for church attire, but short enough to provide easy access. Buttons ran down the front of the dress, and you shuddered at the thrilling thought of him slowly unbuttoning them.

As you bounded down the stairs, you could hear the soft clanking of a spoon against a bowl and Wally’s daily news show. “Hey babe,” Wally called over his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, and when he caught sight of you out of the corner of his eyes, he did a literal double-take. “Where are you going all dressed up?”

“Babe, it’s Sunday,” you giggled - it was kind of cute he still did double takes when he saw you.

“Oh, right! Well, have fun at church. Tell God I said hi.”

“I will!” you said brightly. You headed out the back door, leaving Wally to his news show.

Once outside, you did a quick scan of your surroundings. Not a soul in sight. With a deep inhale, you focused on where you wanted to be, and when you exhaled, you were there. A solid wooden door stood in front of you. You steeled yourself and tried to take some calming breaths before knocking. Even after all these years, he still made you feel like a nervous school-girl.

The door swung open. Dick Grayson stood on the other side, shirtless, with a towel hung over his shoulders. His defined abs glistened with water, making your breath catch in your throat. His usually neat black hair was damp and tousled. A pearly-white grin grew across his face as he eyed you up and down.

“You’re early,” he teased. You smiled and entered his studio apartment. “Well, I wanted to get a good seat at church,” you teased back.

He laughed, then shut the door, making sure to lock it. You let your purse drop to the ground and hopped up to sit on his table. “Is that a good seat?” he asked. You crossed your legs and smoothed your skirt, discreetly pulling it up so he could almost see your whole leg. Excited butterflies swirled in your core. The little game you two played was your favorite part.

“Hmm, I think so. Though, I’m a little far away from the main event…”

The grin on Dick’s face turned mischievous. He slowly walked over to you and placed his hand down on either side of your hips. The air between you two sparked with electricity as his face neared yours. It took everything in you not to immediately close the small gap and kiss him.

“Is this close enough?” he asked.

You slightly shook your head left and right, never letting your eyes leave his deep blue ones. He leaned in closer, and you uncrossed your legs so he could slot himself between them. His face lowered to your neck, his warm breathe sending tingles across your skin. “How ‘bout now?” he murmured into your skin, peppering kisses up and down your neck.

You had no response but an airy gasp of pleasure. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand tangling itself in his damp hair. His hands slid to your waist, holding you as he leaned into you more. His soft kisses grew deeper as they traveled lower and lower. Each point of contact sent sparks across your skin. When he reached the edge of your dress, he pulled away and lowered you down flat against the table.

“You sure you still want this?” He leaned over you, slightly out of breath.

The thought of Wally sitting alone at home danced through your mind, with his soft red hair and freckles that you loved to count. He was so sweet, so goofy. So trusting. He truly believed you were at church.

But then you looked into the pools of ocean in Dick’s eyes, and melted beneath him all over again. Even after you’d said yes a million times, he still asked. His hands on you still felt so special. He made you feel like no one else ever could. He was everything.

You grabbed onto either end of the towel around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Your lips moved in tandem, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Muffled moans mixed together. When the both of you needed air, he only pulled back slightly, lips practically brushing against each other. “I’m sure,” you whispered.

With that, he descended on your lips again. You melded together in a fiery, passionate kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, while his hands explored your body. He squeezed at your hips before traveling upwards and groping at your breasts. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. Pulling back from you, he grinned at the lustful expression on his face.

“Let’s get this off of you,” he said, more to himself than to you, as he began unbuttoning your dress. Each button revealed a new section of bare skin, save your undergarments. He took his time, enjoying your growing desperation. When he finally reached the bottom, the dress fell away to reveal your lacey blue underwear. He groaned at the sight of your scantily clad body and dropped his head - the exact reaction you were hoping to elicit.

“You like?” you teased, biting your lip seductively.

He lifted his head back towards you, eyes twinkling with lust. “You… are going to be the death of me.”

A giggle escaped you, and he leaned down to capture it with a kiss. Your laugh turned into a moan as his tongue slid into your mouth and swirled around yours. You wrapped around him tighter to pull him closer, clinging to his back. His wet chest pressed against your bare skin, and you shuddered at the coolness.

Suddenly, in one swift movement, Dick slid his arms underneath you and picked you up off the table. Never parting his lips from you, he carried you to his bed. Only when he deposited you onto it did he stop touching you. He quickly discarded his towel and practically tore off his pants. You drank in his toned body as he did so, eyes fixating on the growing tent in his boxers. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered even faster, and your heartbeat pounded in your chest. He crawled on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knees.

“I think it’s time for this to go too,” he said while unclasping your bra. Your nipples perked up at the sudden cool air. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Dick purred, sinking his head down to your chest. His lips wrapped around your nipple and gently sucked, eliciting a gasping moan from you. He pleasured your other nipple between his fingers, and your back arched towards him.

“Ohhh, Dick.” You wrapped your legs around his waist again to bring his arousal closer to you, clumsily grinding against him. He groaned into your breast, and his teeth threatened to nip you. His other hand found your hips and lifted you up slightly so you could grind on him better. The growing, unsatisfied pleasure in your core was starting to become unbearable. Whines and mewls spilled from your lips. He lifted his head from your chest, releasing your nipple with a pop, before trailing kisses up your neck.

“You want me to touch you?” His voice was hot against your neck, heating up your skin even more. “Yes, please,” you unashamedly begged.

Dick happily obliged. The hand that was on your breast slid down until it reached where you wanted him the most. He slipped his fingers into your panties, lightly skimming over your already-slick folds. His thumb settled on your clit, and he started rapidly circling it. Your legs tried to clench together, the sensation almost pleasantly unbearable, but his knees kept them open. Each swirl of his thumb made your body tremble beneath him, threatening to overwhelm you.

“Oh, God, Dick - fuck-“ you sputtered. Colored dots crossed your vision. You clutched at his back and hair as you felt your climax rising.

Just as you were about to come, his hand moved away. A pitiful whine escaped you at the interruption. He chuckled against you, then slid a single finger into you. Your hips bucked up towards him, chasing your pleasure.

“More?” he asked, clearly teasing.

“Mmph, Dick, please!” you whimpered. You could feel his smile against his skin - he loved it when you begged for him.

Mercifully, he added a second finger, and pushed them both inside of you. Your head fell back with a deep moan as he began pumping them in and out. His movements were deep but languid, drawing out your pleasure. You mindlessly rocked against him in an attempt to please yourself quicker. Noticing your neediness, he curled his fingers inside you. Shameful whines fell from your lips as he rapidly twitched against your walls. His lips refound your breast, and his tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked on it.

“I-oh, f-fuck, fuck, Dick!” you cried out, right at your precipice. He picked up his pace, abusing the most sensitive spot inside you. The shockwaves running through your body grew stronger and stronger until you had no choice but to succumb to them. You clenched down on him, walls spasmed around his fingers, your own cum dripping down beneath you.

Feeling your release, Dick pulled his fingers out and lifted them to his lips. The two of you locked eyes while he sucked your juices off of himself. He drew it out, making you wait. Your head felt light, like you were intoxicated by his touch. Your pussy fluttered around nothingness. After what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped.

“Just as delicious as you are stunning.”

A stupid smile spread across your cheeks. You pulled him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. His hard length pressed against your heat, and he moaned into your mouth. In one swift movement, he broke away, leaning back on his heels, and tore his boxers off. The fire inside you reignited at the sight of his thick, throbbing cock. He lowered his hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“You want this?”

You nodded fervently. “Please.”

Dick didn’t take any time to hesitate. The thick tip of his cock pushed into you, stretching out your cunt. He pumped in and out of you slowly, forcing more of himself into you with each thrust to let you adjust to his size. His head fell to your shoulder, and strangled groans hit your skin. You tightened your legs around his waist and pulled him into you. He took to sign to bury himself in your heat, filling you up.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped. All you could respond with were mewls and moans of your own. His pace picked up, and the sound of him fucking your slick cunt filled the room, mixed with both of you crying out each others names. Overcome with desire, he drove into you like an animal. The bed beneath you shook from his powerful thrusts. The tip of his cock slammed into a particularly sensitive spot, and you cried out as your walls tightened around him. Your back arched and your head fell back with overwhelming pleasure. Dick sucked at your skin, threatening to leave a hickey.

“Shit, I can’t…” Dick said to himself, his voice strangled. His movements grew sloppy and shallower. “Wait, here.” He fully removed himself from you, leaving you feeling horribly empty, then guided you into a better position.

You rolled over onto your knees and lifted your hips towards him. Standing at the edge of the bed, he gripped your hips and thrust himself back inside you. From this new angle, he could push into you even deeper, filling you up completely. A gasping moan from the new feeling of being completely full spilled from your lips. His hands pulled and massaged your cheeks, slight pain mixing with pleasure. As he resumed his precious pace, you pressed your face against the bed to muffle your moans. Each snap of his hips threatened to shatter you again, and each moan from you threatened to shatter him.

You could feel his dick pulsing inside you. Your hips bounced back, meeting his thrusts halfway. As his climax approached, his movements grew sloppy, and he let you fuck yourself on him. Right as he was about to finish, a cellphone ringing interrupted him. Worse, it played the cheesy song Wally had set as your ringtone for him. Dick grabbed your hips to still them and groaned behind you. “Don’t tell me that’s Wally.” All you could do was slightly nod, frozen in panic. He pulled out of you, and your hips fell to your ankles in shame. Panicked thoughts ran rampant in your mind.

Why would Wally be calling? He thought you were in church - you don’t call someone during church! Did he know? How could he possibly know??

You could hear the soft padding of footsteps behind you, and then the sound of your purse opening. The cheesy song grew louder as Dick walked back to you with your phone in hand. With his free hand, he lifted your hips back up. To your surprise, he slid his length back into you, meeting no resistance, eliciting a gasp from you. Right as you relaxed around him again, he held your phone against your cheek.

“Dick, wha-“

His thumb pressed the screen to accept the call. The speaker crackled to life. “W-Wally?” you said, silently praying he would think your hushed tone was from being in church. Behind you, Dick thrusted into you, graciously slower than before. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as Wally talked.

“Hey, babe! I was just wondering, can you stop by the grocery store on your way home? I know we just went shopping, but you know how I am, I’m already -“

“Wally,” you hissed, somehow managing to say the right name, “I’m in church.”

“Oh, crap! Sorry babe, totally spaced out. Tell God I said sorry!”

“Yep,” you managed to get out. Dick put you out of your misery and ended the secret three-way call. All the moans you had been holding in poured out of you. “You… are… evil,” you gasped.

For once, Dick had no response except grunts and pants. He picked up his pace, jackhammering into you frantically. You quaked beneath him, both from his powerful thrusts and from the waves of electricity coursing through you. His hips smacked against your ass, the slight sting only heightening your pleasure. Your knuckles turned white from how tightly you were gripping the blankets, desperate for something to hold on too. The faster he rutted into you, the tighter your wrapped around him. His tip found your sweet spot again, and at the sound of your cries, he abusingly slammed into it repeatedly. It all became too much, and your whole body stilled, save the momentum from his thrusts.

“Fuckkk, Dick!” you screamed out. Your guts tightened before convulsing around him, the world around you shattering. Your eyes rolled to the back off your head, your vision blurring as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“F-fuck, that feels, Christ, you feel so good,” Dick gasped. You could feel with cock throbbing inside you. His movements grew frenzied as he chased his own high, roughly slamming into you over and over again. Right at the last second, he pulled out, and hot cum spilled across your ass and back. When you were sure he had finished, you collapsed onto the mattress, out of breath.

After catching his own breath, Dick walked around the side of the bed to your head. “Don’t move, I’ll go get a washcloth,” he said, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek. You complied. A moment later, he returned with a wet washcloth in hand and gently wiped his cum off your skin. Once clean, you stretched out and rolled over onto your back. Dick tossed the washcloth into a hamper before tugging his boxers back on.

A lazy smile formed on your face. Your body hummed, content and blissed out. Dick handed you back your discarded underwear and climbed into bed next to you. Once you were slightly redressed, you shuffled into his arms. His warm arm wrapped around you, and you nuzzled closer into his shoulder. Your head fit against him perfectly, like you were made to be there. He smelled like fresh peppermint, slightly tainted by sweat. The two of you laid there together in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Dick broke the silence first. “You should go soon. Wally will wonder where you are.” Despite his words, he made no effort to move. His thumb gently rubbed back and forth over your shoulder.

You let out a deep sigh, the reality of the situation sinking back in. You looked towards the clock on the wall- you had fifteen minutes left of “church.” There was no way Dick didn’t know that. He knew exactly when you usually arrived and exactly when you needed to leave. You tilted your head up to look at him. His jaw was tensed, and he was staring up at the ceiling. The smile on your face faded as your heart dropped.

“Yeah, ok,” you acquiesced, rising from the bed. As you stood up on trembling legs, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Hey,” he said softly, “See you next week?”

His eyes were full of guilt and hope. Guilt over betraying his best friend, hope for something more with you. You smiled down at him and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.”

His usual smiled returned, and you left to him get redressed. You could feel his eyes on you as you regathered your things. With one last parting glance, you opened the door and left his apartment. On your way home, you made sure to stop by the grocery store.

#young justice fanfiction #dick grayson x reader #wally west x reader #cheating sex #smut #dick grayson smut #x reader smut #established relationship #scotty doesn't know

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strangerstilinski · 2 years ago

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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 — 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞?

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share/save.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

It's the worst day you've had in a while.

Each of your classes dragged entirely too long, leaving you glancing at the clock only to find mere minutes had passed since the last time you'd checked.

Then, on the way to the courtyard where you planned to sit in the sun and relax, you'd dropped your lunch. The contents of your takeout container had created a truly heartbreaking splatter across the pavement, and then you hadn't even had enough cash left on you to buy anything else, so you'd had to settle for munching on the bruised apple at the bottom of your bookbag.

And, after an already exhausting morning had tested the strength of your sanity, you had your scheduled office hours in the afternoon. Said meeting was with one of your least favorite professors to discuss an upcoming term paper, and the hour spent in his stuffy office had proved to be grueling and overall unhelpful, which only resulted in you biking home from campus sporting a decidedly bad mood to pair with your rumbling stomach and the beginnings of a stress headache.

When you finally collapse face-first onto your bed a few hours later and release a little scream into your pillow, the sound of it is muffled into no more than a quiet cry. Through the smothering cotton, you fight to pull in a steadying breath, if only so that you might have enough air in your lungs to scream in frustration again.

The sky outside is dark, crickets creating a loud symphony in the distance, and the breeze coming in through your window brings goosebumps along the backs of your thighs where the baggy tshirt you've chosen for pajamas has rucked up to settle in the curve of your spine. The cool air meets your flushed skin like a blanket of ice, your body still warm from a shower in which you'd spent a little longer than usual beneath a cloud of steam and hot water in a failed attempt at releasing some of the lingering tension from the day — But even an extra few minutes breathing in the aromatics of your body wash clinging to the steam-thickened air wasn't enough to settle you. The irritating buzz of the stress still made itself known underneath your skin, the itch of it making your body feel just a little too tight for all of the frustration building up inside.

You can't even find it in you to flinch at the sound of something scrabbling at your bedroom windowsill, nor do you lift your head at the small crash and thump that follow a few seconds later. There's a small rustling of fabric and limbs, shoes thumping against the baseboard as they're kicked off, what you assume is the sound of your backpack being placed back where you'd thrown it on the cushioned bench beneath the window when you'd first gotten home.

There's a moment of silence as Stiles drinks in the sight of you. Hungry eyes rake across every inch of your exposed skin, trailing the length of your legs up to where they meet the supple curve of your ass, and with the way your shirt has bunched up underneath your belly, the soft skin of your backside is hidden from him only by your underwear. He spares a second to admire how the pretty fabric clings to your flesh, the cut high and revealing on the cheeks of your ass.

It takes a few slow seconds for him to reorient his thoughts to something slightly less salacious, but after an audible breath, he manages.

“Are you..? Hey.. 're you sleeping?” Stiles' voice comes out a little incredulous but still hushed, as if he's actually worried about waking you in case you truly had somehow slept through the cacophony of noise he'd caused when he climbed in through the window.

You only give a pitiful whine into your pillow in response, feet kicking a little petulantly as you finally roll to face him to reveal the lack of sleep in your eyes, “Scott isn't home,” You tell him weakly, voice still a little smothered by your pillow, “You coulda jus' come in through the front door.”

Stiles is at the edge of the bed already, kneeling on the mattress and making to join you now that he knows you aren't asleep. He looks deliciously soft, gray sweats hanging low on his hips, his sweatshirt already stripped away in a heap on your bedroom floor to leave him in a cozy-looking tshirt, the fabric of it soft with wear.

“Where's the fun in that?” Stiles asks with a quiet laugh, urging you onto your back and crawling on top of you without warning. His weight settles atop your body and his nose nuzzles into the softness of your breasts over your shirt as he burrows his face into the space between them.

He's so warm. Body heat is quick to seep out from his clothes and through your own with the way he's settled heavily on top of you. It's all a little smothering, the way that his weight is making it a bit hard to breathe, your lungs not quite able to get a full inhale — but it's also grounding, the heavy blanket of warmth he provides managing to alleviate just a little bit of your anxiety.

“One of these days you're gonna hurt yourself, or worse, you might break something of mine with a flailing limb when you inevitably trip and come tumbling through the window,” You tease weakly, pinching your eyes shut as you try to push away that lingering tightness in your chest, “I'm serious. You're gonna break something and I really hope it isn't your face.”

Your fingers come up to tangle in his hair and he hums in appreciation, a content grumble rising in his throat as he settles his cheek onto the plushness of your breast like it's his own personal pillow.

His hand slips down your thigh, fingers blindly drawing little patterns around the top of your knee as he scoffs, “Oh, real exciting. Yeah, next time I'll just use the front door, like some kind of common loser. As if.”

“You are a loser.” You say quietly, the small smile in your voice not quite managing to hide the discontented sigh that slips out as your mind wanders back to the events of the day.

Stiles pushes up onto his elbows at the edge in your voice and your hands fall from his head with the movement. He frowns as his big brown eyes flick over your face in scrutiny, “What’s wrong?” He asks immediately, long brows drawn together as his lip juts out in a pout of concern.

Your eyes fall shut again and you give his biceps a squeeze even as your nose scrunches up, “Just.. Stressed. Had a really shitty day.”

He hums in understanding, sitting up to settle on his knees between your legs and draping your thighs over his own, big hands slipping underneath your hips to rub at the base of your spine. You let out a little noise of appreciation at the rough dig of his fingers massaging the muscles there, hips lifting up from the mattress just a little to give him more room.

“Oh, you like that?”

He's teasing, you know he is, but the way his grip on you tightens, the way his fingers press into the fat of your thighs so that he can tug you just a bit higher up on his own lap — it makes your breath hitch. Your sleep shirt has bunched up just above your navel and it leaves your panties exposed from the way your ass has settled over him. Your body is tilted at an angle, your hips in the air with how he's propped you up on his thighs while your knees press in on either side of his waist.

One of his hands leaves your spine to give the soft dough of your thigh a squeeze before making a slow trail up, settling his palm over the thin cotton at the apex of your thighs. His thumb presses down softly against your clit through the fabric and Stiles watches intently as you let out a breathy sigh when he draws a slow circle against you.

You still haven't dignified him with an answer, opting to pinch your lips together as his thumb slips down a little further to press into the wetness that's begun to soak through the fabric, his finger dipping in and pushing cotton into your opening with it.

“Need me to make you feel better, honey? 's that it?” Stiles asks. The grin in his voice is audible, but when you blink your eyes open to get a good look, you find him peering down at you with awe and hunger swimming in his eyes. When he catches your gaze, the corners of his lips pull up a little more and his thumb moves back to rub at your clit over your underwear, “Need me to make you a little stupid? Huh? Work some of that stress outta your head?”

Your jaw has gone a little slack with the way he's circling your bud with easy drags, knowing exactly how much pressure to use and what angle feels the best and- He asked you a question — What had been the question?

“Huh?” You ask quietly, the sound half a question and half lost to the moan working it's way up your throat.

The smile on Stiles' face goes soft and he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, right at the corner of your mouth. Your lips purse and your chin tips up in an attempt to meet him, but he's already leaning back so that he can watch the drag of his finger over your panties.

“You going stupid on me already, baby? I've barely gotten started.”

The circles he's been drawing slow, growing unhurried and leisurely. The movement of his thumb is agonizingly slow now and you huff in frustration and cant your hips up in a silent demand.

“Stiles.” You plead simply.

“Alright, alright,” He laughs, leaning in to press one quick kiss to your mouth before he begins to make his way further down, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck in his wake, “Settle down. I got you.”

He makes a small detour at your chest to bunch your tshirt up at your collarbones, exposing your tits so that he can leave a cluster of bites to the supple flesh. You gasp at the sharper bites, keening a little, but he's already peppering kisses over the abused skin and moving farther down. His tongue dips out between his lips, the warm wetness making you squirm a bit as he moves in a slow line down your stomach. Lower, lower. When he reaches the waistband of your panties, he hooks his fingers under the fabric and pulls just a little, exposing the sliver of sensitive skin just above your patch of trimmed curls. You gasp again at the sharp sting of his teeth when they scrape harshly over your hipbones and your hips lift up again on instinct.

Stiles takes pity on you and finally eases your underwear down your thighs. The tension is broken for a brief moment as he struggles to coax the fabric past your knees and around your ankles without dislodging you from his lap, a small huff of laughter escaping you when he curses quietly.

He rids you of the article but immediately brings your ankle up to nip at your foot in reprimand, pushing your thigh up against your stomach with the movement.

“You gonna behave?” He asks while he curls his fingers around your ankle.

“Mhm.” Your hum and the small nod of your head are paired with a coy smile.

“See, I don't know if I believe you,” Stiles says with a small laugh and an absentminded peck to your skin, his teeth scraping the bottom of your calf with his grin as he does so, “You've got that look in your eye.”

“What look?” You question curiously, a little lightheaded with the way his lips press a small line of kisses from the top of your foot all the way up to your shin and then back down again.

“The look that says you're feelin' a little bratty.” He tells you.

You scoff in indignation and his teeth nip at your ankle bone again, successful in cutting the sound off before you can say anything to the contrary.

“You gonna let me take care of you, or what?” He asks seriously, eyebrows raising a little as he fixes you with a stern look.

You nod and your eyes go a little wide at the tone of his voice, your cunt clenching with the flash of warmth that rushes down your spine.

“Good girl.” Stiles murmurs with a grin, already beginning to kiss a slow trail up from your ankle. His lips press into your skin in an irregular pattern of teeth and tongue, briefly broken up with gentle pecks as he makes his way up the length of your leg toward your naked cunt.

As he finally reaches his destination, he urges the bend of your knees over his shoulders, your legs framing his head nicely as he dips to press an agonizingly gentle kiss to your clit. You fight the jolt in your hips, making an effort to keep your muscles taught, but then he does it again, his lips parting just enough to nudge the little bud with the tip of his tongue, and you're lifting toward him without really meaning to.

“Sorry, sorry.” You're apologizing breathlessly before he can scold you, fingers curling into the duvet as you settle your hips against the mattress again.

“Atta girl.”

He kisses your clit gently again and you bite back a whine at the soft press of lips against you. His wide palms run up and down the outside of your thighs and he turns his head to where your legs are draped over his shoulders to suck softly at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. Your brows furrow at the sting of the bruise he's leaving there but you manage to stay still and the praise he murmurs against your skin in return makes your head feel a little light.

Another small series of kisses mark his path back to where you want him most and his voice is quiet as it reaches your ears, “No more stress babe. You know I got you, right?”

“Mhm.” You agree quickly, fingers tightening around the blankets in anticipation.

“Good. Good..”

And then his mouth is on you again and you find it a little hard to breathe. He doesn't ease into it, there are no teasing licks up the length of your folds nor are there anymore agonizingly gentle kisses. His mouth closes around your clit, sucking softly, tongue laving over the bud before he's sucking again.

A weak little cry pushes its way out of you, another coming just a moment later when Stiles scrapes his teeth against you gently as he works, his tongue quick to sooth over the sensitive nub in apology. He kisses your clit like he can't get enough, licking and leaving wet little pecks only to close his lips around it again a second later.

Minutes pass. Your mouth doesn't even close between moans anymore, lips permanently parted to let out a near-constant stream of tiny whines and breathy gasps and desperate whimpers. Your whole body feels like a live-wire. The nonstop stimulation to your most sensitive muscle leaves you teetering on the edge of something earth-shattering despite it not actually managing to peak yet.

“F-ffuck,” You manage to get out, lips trembling as you look down and catch sight of the way Stiles is devouring you, the dim lamplight creating golden patches in the dark locks of his hair, his head bobbing as he works. “Stiles.. St-Stiles! 's.. 's so g-fuuck.. 's so good-”

He doesn't slow, nor does he glance up at your first real words since he started, sheer determination pushing him to continue at the same brain-melting pace.

His teeth catch against you again and you gasp sharply, the sound tearing from your dry throat as your hand shoots up to grab a fistful of his hair.

“J-jesus, nngh- God! Stiles-”

Your back arches of its own accord, hips canting toward his mouth as another choked sound drags its way out of your throat. You feel like you could come any second — have felt a little like you might come any second for the past ten minutes at least — and it's making everything a little fuzzy around the edges. Your shower-damp hair is cool against your flushed skin when you tip your head to the side against the pillows while warmth creeps along your neck and spreads down your spine. It crawls all the way to your toes as your eyes pinch shut, fighting to hide the way that they're starting to cross embarrassingly from the pleasure.

“Fuck,” You whine with a stuttered breath at the feeling of his lips closing around you again, sucking so delicately at your sensitive bud, tongue rolling against it softly within the suction of his mouth. “Fuckfuckfuuucck-”

He finally gives you a small response, a quiet, noncommittal hum that rumbles through your cunt and has your hips spasming with a thrum of pleasure. Stiles brings one hand from where it had been drawing absentminded patterns along the length of your thigh and drops it to rest over your torso instead. He firmly pushes your hips back down without ever slowing his skillful mouth and you can't hold back a quiet whimper as you're immobilized, the restless movement transferring almost immediately into a tremble in your thighs and stomach, the muscles beneath quivering and jumping under your skin.

His palm is warm and heavy where the weight of it is spread over your ribs. The width of his hand has his fingers curling around your waist while his thumb begins to drag back and forth over your tummy in long, smooth strokes. His soothing touch is a tether in the dark and you cling to it desperately, your fingers tangling tighter in his hair as you grapple for something to keep you steady amidst what's beginning to feel a little like it might be a constant, never ending orgasm.

A noise rips from you so choked off that it sounds a bit like it might've been punched out of your chest and your hips jump again. The shakes in your thighs and stomach seem to spread, your whole body beginning to quake throughout stuttered breaths that might actually be sobs.

It's then that Stiles finally peers up at you, brown eyes meeting your own and taking in the mess you've become under his minstrations. He still doesn't pause, doesn't slow, but he does raise his eyebrows in silent question as his fingertips dig into the doughy flesh at your waist.

You don't manage more than a garbled, “Yes!”

Your free hand grabs ahold of his forearm with an iron grip and a few tears actually break free and fall back into your hair when the warm fog creeps impossibly further across your body, clouding what little remained of the blurred edges of your mind. Any shreds of lucidity are gone as your eyes roll back with a high keening moan. Your hips stutter wildly now, thighs tightening around Stiles of their own accord as your never-ending orgasm seems to finally crest and send you hurtling over the edge that you've been dragging on for so long.

It's possible you black out. The next thing you become aware of is Stiles pressing loud, smacking kisses to your pelvis, the insides of your thighs, your belly and ribs, his lips are gentle against your skin as the soft sound of the kisses breaks through the fog in your head. By the time he settles on top of you, hands slipping beneath your sweat-slicked shoulders to rest his weight on his elbows underneath you, the heavy beat of your heart is a loud echo in your ears.

He's wiped his face off at some point, but his swollen lips still glisten lightly from the time spent between your thighs as you pant warm breaths against his mouth. The cool smugness that Stiles had worn before is gone and now he looks at you with nothing but adoration, chocolate brown blinking down at you as if, even flushed and sticky with sweat, you might be the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

You intend to bring a hand up to fix the wild tufts of his hair where your hands made a home earlier, but your arm feels entirely too heavy when you lift it and you hardly manage more than a brush of your fingers over his cheek before your hand falls limply to the pillow beneath your head. Stiles chuckles softly at your attempt and tangles his fingers with your own, dipping his head to press a few playful kisses to your cheeks and the tip of your nose until you reward him with a breathless laugh.

“You okay?” He checks quietly, thumb stroking over the side of your own, “Wasn't too much was it?”

“Okay,” You assure him, “Very, very okay.”

The way his sweatpants rub against your naked legs is soft when he readjusts, manhandling you onto your side so he can wrap you up in his embrace, the quilt from the end of the bed being draped over you as he settles in. His arms go around your shoulders and you curl your own around his back in return, your nose pushing into the warmth of his chest as your body continues to come down.

“Hey,” You murmur into his shirt, craning your head back to look up at him and tangling your bare legs with his as you continue, “You're big-spooning me. 'm usually big spoon.”

“Yeah. Not tonight your not.” He says easily, wide palm dragging soft up and down in the space between your shoulder blades.

His hips unconsciously nudge forward just a little and you feel the warm stiffness of his neglected cock against your hip, erection straining against his sweats where he's pressed against you. It makes you gasp almost comically.

“Wha'bout you?” You mumble in sleepy realization, batting your eyes with heavy blinks in an attempt to keep sleep from claiming you.

“Don't worry about me, alright? Seriously, I'll just jerk off in the shower later,” He tells you, fondness in his voice, “Now shut up and let me hold you.”

You hum, burrowing back into his chest contentedly, “Yes, sir.”

A quiet groan meets your ears as the soothing motions of his hand stutters, “None of that, come on.” Stiles huffs quietly, voice laced with self-deprecating laughter, “I know you know you're gonna get me worked up sayin' shit like that.”

You did know that.

Your lips pull into a grin, brain lax and floaty and sleepy. Your arms tighten around him for a moment before relaxing again, “Sorry.”

He grumbles something to the contrary as your eyes slip closed, your body finally free of the tight-coiled tension that had followed you around like a shadow all day.

Stiles Stilinski is loud and weird and passionate to degree that's concerning at times. He's bumbling and he's awkward, often to the point of it being a little adorable and entirely endearing, but then he still always manages to surprise you — With his eagerness to please. With the way he can shift into something else, someone else entirely, behind closed doors. Just for you.

That night, wrapped up in the arms of your brother's best friend you realize that, at some point along the way, after all this time, he might very well have become your best friend too. And finally, feeling warm and safe and cared for, you find yourself slipping into a blissful sleep.

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭? 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐩𝐮𝐭! — 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 🤍

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