#sorry if you just wanted a short answer and not all that shit!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Right Time and Place

Summary: There's no time like the present.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Pretty much zero plot to this porn. Unprotected P in V sex, oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, size kink (kinda), Dean being a cocky little shit, Dean being a sweet bit of sunshine.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader (You)

Word Count: 1,726

A/N: K, I saw this little writing prompt earlier today and it inspired this smutty scenario. The prompt will be in bold, I changed it ever so slightly. Hope you enjoy it!! ❤️

P.S. I wrote this quickly - so sorry for the mistakes!

Master List

“This…is not…the right…time.” 

You pant into Dean’s ear as he sucks hard on a spot just below your jaw, leaving a purple bruise behind before he responds.

His voice is deep, rough and muffled against your skin. “Was there ever gonna be a right time?”

You try to answer but it turns into a gasp as he slides down the zipper on the side of your little black dress. It falls to pool at your feet and leaves you in your strapless black push up bra and matching panties.

“Fuck me.” Dean moans as his gaze sweeps up and down your body. “This is exactly the kind of perfect I knew you’d be.”

His words are slightly confusing to you and you don’t know whether it’s because what he said makes no sense or if it’s simply that your mind is spinning. This is the last place you’d expected to be tonight. 

For god’s sake -

“We’re in the middle of a case.” You finish your admonishment out loud. It loses its authority, however, when you end on a whimper. Dean is on his knees now in the large, walk-in linen closet that he’d pulled you into just minutes earlier. His teeth scrape your hip bone as he nibbles there and you try to protest again.

You’re supposed to be looking for a cursed object.

You struggle to find words as his mouth trails across your belly, his lips like silk, before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

“I don’t even…I really don’t even like you.” The words are all breath as you sink your fingers into his short hair.

“Really, sweetheart?” You can feel Dean smirk against your skin before kissing a path over your hip, following his fingers as they lower your panties. He groans when he sees the way your pussy is glistening, wet and waiting. “That’s too bad, cause I really like you.”

He leans forward, licking up through your folds and your knees give out. But he quickly presses you back against the wall with one big hand flat on your stomach. His tongue dips into you, teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in the tip before pulling it out and flicking it against your clit.

You push a fist hard against your mouth to stop from screaming out the pleasure that rushes through you from head to toe. There’s a lavish gala party happening one floor below you and the last thing you need is people rushing upstairs to find out why someone is screaming. 

But Dean's mouth is pulling you apart, making you shudder and buck your hips forward. You sling your left leg over his tuxedo-clad shoulder, digging your heel into his muscled back and urging him on.

He takes the hint and one of his thick fingers slides into your quivering cunt. A choked sound of need falls from your throat and Dean chuckles.

“How ya like me now, baby?” He teases, his breath hot even against your overheated skin.

You shake your head. “You're such…a complete…idiot.” You pant.

Dean pulls his finger out of you and takes his mouth away to look up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Want me to stop?”

Your body trembles at the mere thought of it; as much as you and Dean bicker and shout at each other there’s no denying that sparks have been flying between you from your first sight of him. You'd been fantasizing this moment for months and you knew you'd never survive him walking away now.

You shake your head at him. “Never.” You tell him succinctly. “Don't ever stop.”

You buck your hips forward again and give up all pretense of resistance, pushing your heel into his back once again. “Please, Dean, fuck me.”

You watch Dean's emerald eyes darken as his pupils dilate. “If you say so, sweetheart.” 

His mouth is immediately back on you, sucking your clit into his mouth as he shoves two fingers deep inside you.

You cry out, the sound loud and keening. You know you’re running the risk of someone hearing you, but you can't stop the sounds every time Dean swipes the rough pads of his fingertips across your g-spot. 

You reach towards him and pull his bowtie loose and then yank it from around his neck. You shove the silk material into your mouth just in time to muffle your shout of ecstasy as Dean quickly and easily rips your orgasm out of you. He continues to suck on your clit, and tease your sweet spot all through your bone-shaking release.

While your whole body is still trembling, Dean stands up, and pulls the bowtie out of your mouth so he can kiss you, the tang of your pleasure still clinging to his lips. 

You shove his black tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, pulling his crisp white shirt free from his dress pants as he unzips them and pushes them down. You try not to rip the buttons on his shirt - you know the tux is a rental. 

But by the time you get to the last few, your fingers are too desperate to touch his warm, taut skin and you just rip the shirt open, hearing a couple of the buttons scatter across the closet floor.

Neither one of you cares very much, though, as you finally get your hands on his muscled torso and he lifts your leg to his hip. You can feel his hot, hard length rubbing gloriously through your folds before he grabs his cock and guides it smoothly into your welcoming heat.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders under his shirt and you dig your nails in as he bottoms out. He's stretched you so wide and is pressed so deep that it almost hurts. You tense up slightly and he stops moving inside you. He pushes his free hand between your bodies, pressing against your clit and circling his middle finger there. 

You thump your head back against the wall and roll it back and forth, mumbling nonsense, your brain scattered.

Dean frowns and catches your chin in his fingers. “I can't understand you, baby, and I need to know if I'm hurting you. I'll stop if you want.”

But you’re shaking your head before he finishes. “No, fuck no, Dean. Please don't stop. I just need a minute. You're so fucking big.”

The concern in his eyes melts into cockiness and a smirk hitches the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, sweetheart. Take all the time you need.” 

He continues to press his hard middle finger against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves and despite the smug little grin he wears now, his earlier concern and his willingness to stop in the very heat of the moment, burrow their way into your heart and you know you won't be able to root them out.

As he presses harder on your clit, your body explodes into nothing but nerve endings and burning bliss. Your cunt squeezes Dean's fat cock, buried so deep, and he groans harshly, his face buried in your neck. His fingers squeeze into the thigh he's holding against his hip, pressing so hard you know he'll leave bruises.

And yet, he still doesn't move inside you. You asked for time and he's giving it, even though you can feel how rock hard he is inside you.

Inexplicably you feel slightly choked up as you pull his head up from your neck and slot your mouth over his. His lips are so soft, and so sensual they make you shiver. Pleasure shoots to your core as he sucks gently on your top lip.

Finally, you whisper against his lips. “You can move now. Please move now. I need you, need to feel you fill me up over and over.”

Dean groans and pulls out of your body so he can slowly push back in. He keeps the same steady, slow pace, pushing and pulling against your clenching walls until you can't take it anymore.

“Faster Dean! Please, I need you faster and harder.” You mewl against his shoulder. 

Dropping your leg, he pulls out of your body. Before you can properly protest the loss of him, he's spun you around and bent you double. Your hands are braced against a step stool beside a shelf full of towels and toiletries.

He kicks your feet wide and then reaches around to stuff the bowtie back in your mouth.

“You'll probably need this again.” He says, his voice cocky once more.

You think about pulling the tie out and throwing back some kind of witty barb, but your words fail you completely as he slams himself home, his cock head perfectly hitting your sweet spot. You do indeed need to muffle the noise as he repeats the move, and leaves you shaking and screaming with want and need.

In a mere four or five strokes you're climaxing again, your cunt clutching and milking his cock as you feel him slam bruisingly against your cervix and then spill deep inside you. 

You're both shaking from the force of your climaxes as you take the silk cloth out of your mouth so you can pant easier. 

Dean slowly pulls out of you with a deep, barely suppressed moan. Your muscles feel too weak to move, so you're in the same position as he grabs a clean cloth from the shelf and uses the soft cotton to clean up the mess he left behind.

Finally he tosses the cloth into the hamper a few feet away and helps you stand up straight. Then he grabs your panties and helps you step into them. 

He runs his fingertip along the top of your bra. “Never even got to see these beauties.” His pout makes you laugh.

You make him groan as you reach forward to grip his now limp cock, marveling at the way it still twitches in your hand. 

“Well, like I told you, now isn't the right time.” You grin mischievously at him. “So what do you say we finish our job so you can take me back to that bunker of yours and we can take all the time we want?”

Dean's bright green eyes light up like a kid at Christmas as he rushes to pull his pants back on. “Fuck yeah. I'm gonna make you like me yet, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part three

part four: say the one thing i've been wanting

Steve had been dreading actually talking about this with Robin. He hadn't wanted to put her in a position to feel like she had to come out or stop using him as a plus one to industry parties to fuel rumors. Even as he and Eddie pretty publicly dated Robin's agent and most tabloids still thought Robin and Steve were a couple some even going as far as insinuating Eddie was Steve's side piece or their third.

"Steve, you're kind of scaring me, what's going on?"

"Birdie, I'm only telling you this because I can't not anymore but I want you to know nothing is your fault and I literally don't need you to do anything. I just need to be able to talk to my best friend and in order to do that I kind of have to get through this uncomfortable part," Steve answered.

"Anything, Steve. Whatever you need," Robin said.

"Okay, so Eddie and I kind of broke up because Eddie assumed I was cheating on him with Nance when she came to visit earlier this year. He got really upset and kind of blocked me from any way of contacting him so there was no way to clear anything up after he left but he definitely assumed I was cheating on him and he wrote that fucking song and I just need to talk to you without leaving out this really huge massive reason why Eddie left and why I still feel like total shit," Steve rushed to cover the main points.

"Steve, hun," Nance comforted. She probably guessed something else was going on but had been understanding enough not to press Steve for more.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Robin started catastrophizing.

"Can you please stop saying my name. It's kind of freaking me out," Steve joked, "Robs, it's totally not your fault at all. It was a shitty situation I could have handled better and so could Eddie but there's really nothing to do about it know because I can't explain it to him and he clearly doesn't want me to so we are moving on, all right?" Steve attempted to keep the energy light.

"If that's what you want, sure babe," Robin said.

"I just want to stop going down Tik Tok rabbit holes of Eddie's stupid song without being able to complain to you about how fucking tired I am of not being able to do anything," Steve said, "and also I want so much ice cream and a really stupid TV marathon with my best girls and maybe roast Eddie's new song a little bit."

Nancy had already pulled up doordash and they were soon on their way to eating a smorgasbord of snacks and ice cream while watching reality TV and eventually dissolving into a karaoke session initially overdramatically singing along to Eddie's new single and ending with some old school Taylor (her version of course). Steve was feeling better than he had in a long time and started getting out of the fog he'd been in since Eddie had left.

Eventually, Steve started answering his agent's emails again and submitting tape for different roles. He'd gotten a part in a small indie film in Italy and Steve was pretty ready to take it. It was an interesting part, it was literally away from everyone he knew, the director was kind of weird and didn't let his cast use socials while filming and encouraged only phone calls and old school letters to really get into the period mindset. It was honestly kind of a perfect next project and it helped that the script was actually kind of great.

"As long as you aren't going because you're running away, Steve. You know I don't want you to leave and you shouldn't feel like you have to," Robin said as he was starting to pack his bags.

"I really like the project. It's a good script and I get to get out of my own head for a while. Kind of perfect honestly. The shoot is pretty short its only like four weeks so I won't be gone that long and you and Nancy can keep holing up in my apartment without me getting in the way!" Steve answered.

"You're never in the way, dingus," Robin nudged him and then brought him into a hug, "we'll just miss you kiddo."

"I'll miss you too, Bobbie. Now let me go so I can pack." Steve pulled away with a bigger smile than he'd had in weeks.

part five

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[chaotic-toasters]

Gone (2)

So both parts of this have been out on Wattpad, I just felt like waiting a bit to post this one so you all could suffer 😈

Cortnee Vine x Reader

Arsenal Women x Reader

------------------

"Cort? Are you in there?" Charlotte joked, waving her hand in front of Cortnee's face. "You left for sec."

"Yeah, sorry, what were you sayin', babes?"

"You ready for the match tomorrow?"

The winger racked her brain. "Against..."

"Arsenal! How have you forgotten? We've literally never played them before."

"Oh, right," Cortnee shook her head.  "It slipped my mind."

"You're so forgetful sometimes," Charlotte smiled fondly. "Aren't you excited to see Y/N?"

Y/N. Just hearing your name sent pangs of guilt through Cortnee's empty heart.

"Yeah, of course," she lied. "I'm always excited to see her."

The duo sat in silence, both occupied by their own thoughts.

"Hey, Char?" Cortnee said suddenly. "Could you ever imagine a life without me?"

Charlotte was quiet for a moment. "No. I need you. Why?"

"Just asking."

--------------------

"Hi, girls," you forced a smile onto your face as you slipped into the changing room. "We ready to face Sydney?"

"Yup," Katie patted you on the back uncharacteristically softly as you sat down at your cubby. "Ye' ready?"

"Mhm," you pulled your shirt over your head, missing the way Kim and Steph shared a look. "I'm excited."

Katie snorted, ignoring the way that the rest of your teammates glared at her. "Coulda fooled me."

"I am excited."

Stina silently intervened, pulling the door open and ushering Jonas inside to do his pre-match talk. "Quiet down, girls."

Jonas raised his eyebrows at the thin layer of awkwardness in the room. "Everybody alright?"

"Yes. Go ahead, Jonas."

"Okay, so..."

-------------------

"Y/N," Kim grabbed your arm just before you left the changing room. "Wait a minute."

"What is it, Kimmy?" you asked, eyes darting to the side where Steph was standing with her arms crossed.

The Scot sat on the bench, gesturing for you to do the same. "Ye' trust me, don't ye'?"

You nodded instantly. "Yes."

"I hope ye' understand that Steph informed me of yer' current... situation with Cortnee Vine," the captain stated apologetically. "Regardless of how ye' feel about that, ye' need to let me or Jonas know if ye' can't play today."

"Steph!" you hissed, standing up quickly. "I told you all of that because I trusted you! I don't want this getting out."

The defender's gaze never wavered. "Do you think we'd let something like this get out? I was your captain. Kim is your captain. We care about you as both a player and a person. If you can't play in today's game because the emotions are too high, then don't play. You're more important than football."

You clenched your jaw, reluctantly backing down and returning your gaze to Kim. "I'll tell you if I need to come off. Can I go now?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

As soon as you were out the door, Kim sighed. "She's not gonna tell me shit."

"No, she won't," Steph agreed. "We'll just have to keep an eye on her. I'll let Lia and Stina know."

----------------------

Cortnee's eyes flicked to the left, pursing her lips as you slipped into the line of Gunners next to her.

It was as if you knew she was watching you, automatically diverting your gaze to look anywhere but at her.

She decided to just try talking to you. "Y/N—"

"Not now, Viney," Kyra whispered, reaching over to pat the winger on the shoulder. "Later."

Cortnee turned away, deciding to just sulk in silence. The two of you hadn't spoken since the incident, and it was killing her inside. She missed you. A lot.

--------------------

"Ow, fuck," you groaned, stretching out your leg as the whistle blew. "Fuck, that hurt."

Mackenzie Hawkesby extended her hand, offering you an apologetic smile as she pulled you to your feet. "Sorry, mate."

"S'alright," you answered gruffly. "Let's get back to it."

"Y/N—" Cortnee stopped short as you swiftly turned around. "Y/N, can we talk after this?"

You shook your head, jogging into position as Katie prepared to take the free kick. You didn't need any distractions.

------------------

"WHY YE' TAKIN' THE PISS?!" Katie's booming shout was the first thing you heard after going down for the tenth time in fifteen minutes. "WHAT ARE YE' TRYIN' TO DO? KILL HER?"

Charlotte Mclean only shook her head, backing up slightly. "It was an accident."

"Katie," Kim's stern voice filled your ears next. "Leave it be. We don't need ye' gettin' a yellow."

You rolled over, clutching your ankle with a whimper as blood flowed quickly and freely down the side of your face.

"Y/N," Steph pressed a hand to the wound on your head, other hand resting on your back as you went limp from exhaustion (and maybe blood loss). "Y/N, don't move. The medics are coming."

"You'll get yer' arse over here if ye' know what's good for ye'," Katie growled, pulling against Lia and Kim. "Thinkin' ye' can just hurt Y/N like that? Think again."

Your eyes subconsciously drifted over to where she stood, taking in the way Cortnee was frozen in fear as she stared at the big screen.

It was replaying the moment in which Charlotte had timed her tackle wrong, hitting you square in the ankle and causing you to fly forwards and into the goalpost.

It spurred Cortnee into action, the winger darting over and shoving her own girlfriend out of anger. "What the hell, Charlotte?! Look at what you did! Look at Y/N! You fucking hurt her!"

Charlotte looked aghast. "It was an accident! And why the hell are you taking her side? I'm your girlfriend! Not her!"

"I wish she was!" Cortnee snapped before slapping a hand over her mouth.

You suddenly sat up, injuries forgotten as blood dripped down the side of your face. "Really?"

"LAY BACK DOWN!" Kim and Steph yelled, both pairs of hands shoving you onto your back.

"Y/N, where are we?" an Arsenal medic you didn't remember arriving asked you.

Cortnee took that as an opportunity to get away, apologizing to her manager before taking off into the tunnel.

"At the Emirates," you responded immediately, maneuvering yourself so that no blood would stian your jersey. "I don't have a concussion, mate."

"Well—"

Lotte peered over his shoulder. "She looks fine to me."

"Lotte, no," Kim protested. "Ye' had stitches all down the middle of yer' forehead and said ye' were fine. Ye' don't get a say in this."

"I do!" you objected, closing your left eye just before the crimson droplets could get into it. "It's my decision because I'minjured and I am me. And I say that I'm fine! I just need a bandage and then I'm good to go."

"Why is it bleedin' so much?" Kim sucked in a breath as more medics ran onto the field with a stretcher. "That's way too much blood just for a collision with a goalpost."

One of the medics shook their head as you shoved everybody off you and stood. "I don't—"

Their voice was cut off by the sudden ringing in your ears, hitting you at the same time the dizziness did. You keeled over, someone quickly catching you before you hit the ground.

In a panic, Steph tapped your clean cheek in an attempt to get you to respond. Unfortunately, you were already passed out, concussion symptoms making a delayed appearance but hitting you full force nonetheless.

Had you been conscious, you would have heard the cries of both the crowd and your teammates as you fell. You would have noticed the look of worry on Katie's usually smug face. You would have seen Kim's uncharacteristically terrified face. Seen Kyra hiding her face in Caitlin's shoulder. Seen Jonas sprinting onto the pitch with paramedics in tow.

Another thing that you weren't aware of was the paramedics telling your teammates that it wasn't a concussion. They weren't sure what yet, but it was something much worse.

---------------------

The waiting room was eerily silent, each and every player lost in their own thoughts as they waited for updates on your condition.

The game had been called off, both Kim and the Sydney FC captain wanting to follow you to the hospital.

Everyone had arrived at roughly the same time, storming into A&E and demanding to know what was going on.

A doctor had quickly informed them that you were suffering from an epidural hematoma and rushed to surgery.

No one had spoken since then, afraid that if another word was uttered it wouldn't end well.

It was simply a waiting game, the only sound being the ticking off the analog clock on the wall.

Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes into hours. Some of the players fell asleep, while other forced their eyes open in hopes that you'd be out of surgery soon. It didn't work, and most drifted off with their worries still at the forefront of their thoughts.

It wasn't until early the next morning when a doctor would finally enter the room, clipboard in hand. "Family of Y/N—"

Everyone snapped awake, Kim shooting to her feet at her words. "Yes, that's us. What's going on?"

"Y/N Y/L/N was fortunate enough to not incur any permanent brain damage or go into a coma," the doctor assured with a smile. "She'll make a full recovery."

Cortnee breathed a sigh of relief from the corner of the room, wiping away a few stray tears as all of the other girls cheered quietly.

"Thank you, doctor," Kim's relief was evident. "Can we see her?"

"One at a time. She's very disoriented right now and it wouldn't be good to overwhelm her."

All eyes turned to Cortnee who only shook her head. "Doc just said not to overwhelm her. I don't think it would be a good idea right now."

"I'll go then," Steph declared, standing up. "Kim, you should go next. I think you need it more than her."

-------------------

"Hey, kiddo," Steph's voice was gentle as she sat on the chair next to the bed. She reached over to grab your hand. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Hey, Stephy," your eyes were shut, voice hoarse. "My head kinda hurts."

She smiled, just happy that you were alright. "I figured. You scared us, you know."

"'M sorry," you murmured, tugging Steph's hand closer. "Is anybody else here, or just you?"

She scoffed lightly. "Kid, everyone is here. Jonas is here, Kim is here, Katie is here... the whole team is here. So are the Sydney girls."

"Is Cortnee here?"

Steph faltered. "Y‐yeah. She doesn't want to come in, though. Doesn't think it's a good time."

"Okay," you mumbled, unsure of whether to be disappointed or relieved. "Did we win?"

"We called off the game," the defender said. "We were too worried."

"Oh."

"I'm gonna head out, kid. Kim's next. I think she needs to see you more than you need to see her."

You chuckled. "True."

--------------------------

"Hey, Cort?" Charlotte's voice was hesitant. "I—"

She stopped short as her and Cortnee locked eyes. A sort of mutual understanding passed between them. No more words were spoken, but they seemed to come to an agreement. It hadn't been clear to either of them before, but now it made sense. They loved each other, but they hadn't been in love for quite some time.

They had thought that they were soulmates, and they weren't completely wrong, but they weren't completely right either. They were platonic soulmates. They cared deeply for each other, but they weren't meant to be together.

Maybe this wasn't what Cortnee had expected, but she wasn't complaining. All that was left was for her to convince you to give her a chance. If she succeeded, she was golden.

-----------------------

"Kimmy?" you questioned.

"Yeah, kiddo?" the skipper's voice was less shaky now.

"Can— can you call Cortnee in? I want to see her."

Kim was silent. "Are ye' sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, kiddo," the Scot patted your uninjured leg. "But if it gets too much, then I want you to tell her to leave. You can't be overwhelmed right now, and this isn't a great idea, but I trust you."

True to her word, she left, the door shutting behind her before it swung open a minute later to reveal the redhead who had been on your mind since you'd woken up. "Hey, Cort."

"Hey, Y/N," the winger hesitantly sat down at your beside, offering her hand which you took without a second thought. "I— I was worried about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I— I missed you," she admitted. "Listen, what I said yesterday on that pitch— I meant it. Char and I— well, we kind of... we, um... we broke up."

The dull ache in your head paused, brain disconnecting at Cortnee's words. "Huh?"

"We ended it on good terms," Cortnee swallowed, forcing herself to keep going despite the cowardly urge to shut the fuck up and sprint out of the room. "She understood that—that I love you. You were my best friend, Y/N. I cared for you, but I didn't realize that the love I had for you wasn't platonic. I didn't realize that the love I had for Char wasn't romantic. It was the opposite."

Her confession was everything you'd ever wanted (other than having an almost fatal brain injury in the process), but now that it was happening, you could barely form the words to respond. "I—I love you too."

"Are you sure?"

You snorted. "What, do you want me to say, 'SIKE!' I WAS JUST KIDDING!'?

"No, no, no," she shook her head quickly. "I just want to make sure it's not the epidural hemahema whatever it's called talking."

You snickered.

"What? I'm not a doctor!"

"I'm sure, Cort," you smiled at her, reaching up to pat her cheek. "I love you. Always have, always will."

"That's sweet." She smiled back at you.

You waited. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You gonna kiss me now or you just gonna stare at me?"

"Oh," Cortnee blushed. "Can I kiss you?"

"Are you deaf? I just said yes."

"Oh," she said again. "Oh."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing her by the front of her jersey and pulling her into a kiss. "You're an idiot sometimes, you know that?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, but now I'm your idiot."

"Yeah, you are. Put that on your Twitter bio, will ya?"

"Of course, love. Now get some rest."

"Love you."

"Love you too, Y/N."

"Oh, and one more thing," you said, grabbing her by the wrist just before she turned around. "FIFA declined my request to switch national teams."

Her grin became impossibly wider. "Really?"

"Yeah. Some dumb legal shit."

She squeezed your hand happily. "I love dumb legal shit."

"Me too, Cort. Me too."

[akiratheartist]

Video Call

warnings!: female reader, phone sex, masturbation, use of toys, fluff at the beginning and end, reader is referred to as “baby/babe” Chan is referred to as “baby/Channie/Chris/Chan

this is not proof read

I sat on the bed of my childhood room waiting for Chan to answer my video call. We were currently on vacation and both staying at our parents homes. My phone is set up against the blanket so when he answers he can see my full body. It is dark in my room and when he answers my screen lights up the silhouette of my body. “Hey baby!” He says happily. I giggle and respond with a smile and a small “Hey babe.” Chan raises an eyebrow at me and stares for a few seconds. “Is that my hoodie?” I cover the text on the front of the black hoodie that says ‘CEEBS’ with my hands. “Um. no..” I say trying not to laugh. “I was looking for that! Hoodie thief!” He laughs again. “Whatcha doin?” He speaks again spotting the notebook on my lap. “I was thinking of some song ideas..” It was a lie. I had planned to try and ‘accidentally’ reveal i wasn’t wearing any shorts under the hoodie like usual to see his reaction.

“Turn on the light so i can see you! it’s so dark in your room.” I reach over to turn on the lamp beside the bed and after i hear a click my notebook falls onto the floor. “Shit.” I say quietly and reach for it. It takes a few seconds for me to grab it since i’m too lazy to just get up and grab it but also once i bent over to grab it i felt my hoodie slide down my back. Once i sit back up i notice that Chan seems to have already turned red. “Sorry my notebook fell off the bed. Is something wrong?” I say knowing very well what it is. “Uh.. It’s just that when you grabbed it.. Your hoodie lifted up a little..” I pretend to be embarrassed. “Did it? Oh.. Sorry for flashing you then… I just didn’t wanna wear shorts cuz it’s warm in here…” I cleared my throat and waited for him to say something. “So um.. What type of song ideas were you writing?” I completely ignore his question and respond with my own. “Did you like it?” He looks confused. “I mean.. what you saw.. did you like it?” I wait for his response but all i get is a “Uh..” along with his staring gaze. “Channie..” I wiggle my hips a bit. “I wore these cute panties for you..they’re my favorite..” I watched as Chan’s eyes trailed down my body sending a slight shiver down my spine. “Yeah of course i like it.. You always look cute when you wear stuff like that.” After hearing this i almost immediately grab the hem of the hoodie and lift it off my legs high enough to show off my panties and a little bit of my stomach. I sat on my knees so he could get the best view. “Fuck.. Those are really cute baby.” His voice echos through my phone speakers. “Ever since I came to my parents house I thought about how much more harder it would be to touch myself without getting caught… I’ve been waiting for this all day Channie..”I slowly drag my hand down from my stomach to my clothed clit over my panties and I start rubbing my fingers in small circles at a pace that might just kill me but it was all worth it to tease Chan. “Damn i wish i was with you… Cant wait to see that pretty pussy up close.” And I don’t expect to be judged for letting the first time my boyfriend sees me touching myself to be over a video call. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to tease him a little before we actually have sex right?

It had only been about a minute of Chan watching me work away before i slipped my hand into my panties. A hand of mine came up to one of my tits and began playing around with my nipple from underneath the hoodie. I let out a few quiet moans and hums as i put on a show for Chan. “Feels so good Chan…” I bent my body backwards with the urge to arch my back. With me now on my back Chan has an even better view of my legs spread right in front of the camera. I hear him let out a quiet “Fuck..” I slipped two fingers inside my hole with a whine while I felt the burning gaze of Chan’s eyes through the camera. Suddenly I remembered a little something I had bought recently and taken with me just for a moment like this. I pulled my fingers out of my pussy and stood up from my bed. Once i walked out of view of the camera Chan began to ask questions. “What are you doing? Baby?” I unzipped a little bag and pulled out the glorious object oddly shaped like a microphone. I sat back on my bed and made sure it was charged up. Time to finally use this thing. “I wanna show you my new toy i bought..” I held it up in the camera. “What is it..?” Chan asked with a raised brow. “It’s called a hitachi wand. Wanna see how it works?” He nodded his head vigorously.

I once again sat on the bed with my legs spread open so Chan could see. I turned the wand onto the first setting and began teasing my clit through my panties with the vibrations. I hear Chan let out a moan from the other end of the phone. “Channie… Are you touching yourself baby..?” I watch him nod his head with an expression of pleasure on his face. “Yeah.. Fuck I wish it was your hand instead..” I turned up the setting to a three pulling a slightly loud whine out of me causing me to cover my mouth with one hand. “Your so fucking beautiful baby..” Chan says before letting out a particularly loud moan. I grabbed onto the hem of my panties and began pulling them down my legs to feel the wand against me better. Once i felt the vibrations against my bare clit I had to bite my lip to prevent moaning too loudly. I whined out Chan’s name many many times. “Please please please.. Fuck.. feels too good…” I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. “You gonna cum for me baby?” I heard Chan’s voice come from my phone again. “Yes! Yes! Fuck! I’m gonna cum so hard for you Channie!” I felt my orgasm rising in my body as i turned the vibrations even higher on the wand now at a five. “I’m gonna cum too baby..” Chan spoke between his moans. “I wanna see it! Please let me see you cum.” He moved the camera down from his face and revealed his hand stroking his cock at a fast pace. His shirt was also lifted revealing his abs. “Oh fuck! cumming!” I watched as white stripes of liquid shot out from Chan’s cock and onto the mountains of his abs. Shortly after my legs tightened around my hand until I had to quickly turn off my wand to prevent overstimulating myself.

A few heavy breaths later Chan spoke. “Shit… babe.. You sounded so wonderful.” I abandoned the wand after turning it off and sat up in my bed. “Damnit.. now i gotta clean up..” I said quietly earning a giggle from the other end of the call. “Hey! I will hang up on you!” I said and he pretended to be shocked. “Im not the one who came all over my bed!” I stood from the bed and flipped my camera around to show the wet spot on the sheets. “Jesus…” I jokingly gave him the middle finger before flipping the camera back to my face. “Well technically you still gotta clean up so…Suck on that!” “You first.” “Shut up.” I stayed on the phone with him while i cleaned up my mess before climbing back into bed. “You look so beautiful.” He said to me as i laid down. “Yeah right. You just watched me get myself off.” I rolled over onto my stomach. “So that means you cant be beautiful? And by the way, I’m gonna need that hoodie back tomorrow..” I raised an eyebrow. “Nuh uh.” He laughed at my response. “Alright we’ll see.. Goodnight baby.” I roll my eyes.” “Goodnight Chris. I love you..” “Love you too!” And with that i hung up my phone and drifted to sleep.

[quodekash]

yeah so im gonna make my silly little commentary posts for we are sometimes but not all the time

he stared at his friend's water and started smiling like a fucking idiot 💀

h2o just makes him giddy like that 🥰

also I genuinely fucking adore Pham and Fang's dynamic, they care about each other so much (I might cry)

I JSUT FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH CAN YOU BLAME ME

im sorry, i cant get over the fact that q fuCKING SANG SOUND’S SONG FROM MSP IN THE THIRD FUCKING EPISODE OF THE SHOW

HES JUST SO SMOL I FUCKING ADORE HIM SO MUCH DUDE

here to pick up his twink

HES JUST SO SMOL THO LIKE CAN YOU BLAME ME???

I JUST WANNA RUFFLE HIS HAIR AND PINCH HIS CHEEKS HES SO FUCKING ADORABLE

i think i just really love satang cos during msp every time sound was on screen i lost my shit and now every time toey is on screen i lose my shit

btw i fully had to rewatch that entire scene, i was entirely focusing on satang’s little adorable fuckin face that i forgot to read and process the dialogue lmao

his expression is like “did you bring me here to do your chores, or are you gonna be honest and just say you want to makeout"

the real answer is just that he wants to spend time with him btu doesnt know how to do that normally 💀

(and also that he wants to make out with him)

WHY IS EVERYONE SO FUCKING SMOL TODAY

HES TINY

HES THIS BIG 🤏

OML IT HAPPENED FOR LESS THAN HALF A SECOND BUT I PAUSED IT AT THE EXACT PERFECT MOMENT

I genuinely adore accidental kiss tropes in bls, its just so unrealistic its fucking amazing

[insert image of phum's friends walking in here (I had to delete some of my screenshots because I can only do 30 and I dont want to do more than one post for this)]

AND THEN HIS FRIENDS WALK IN, CLASSIC

it's so awkward and I am LIVING for it

people in bls always walk in at the WORST possible moments and its AMAZING

THIS WHOLE SITUATION IS SO RIDICULOUSLY FUNNY TO ME

phuwin’s character trying to cook is so me

and also my sister, one time she was making spaghetti bolognese for us for dinner and she put way too much salt, and then to attempt to solve the problem, she put water into the pan to "evaporate the salt" 💀

the best part is I didnt even realise why that wouldnt work until my brother started laughing

anyway, back to the ep

WHAT DRUGS ARE IN THIS EPISODE TO MAKE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CHARACTER SO BABYGIRL

THEYRE ALL SO SMOL AND ADORABLE AND BBG WHAT IS GOING ON

HES SO TINY

Youre fucking KIDDING

IM SO SUDDENLY INVESTED IN THIS MAIN COUPLE

THAT WAS SUCH A SUDDEN SWITCH BRO

literally last week I was like "yeah okay I like it" and then suddenly im on the verge of tears when they make physical contact???

[insert image of pun eating]

PUN !

MY LITTLE GUY

I ADORE THEMMMMM

oh fuck yes I love this friendship already and it just started

AND CHAIN'S GETTING JEALOUSSSSS FUCK YEAH

they look like tired dads fr

is phuwin just fuckin short or is pond like 3 metres tall cos holy shit

LOOK AT HIM

SMOL BITCHES

EVERYONE'S FUCKING TINY TODAY

woah he really just went for it there

HOLY FUCK HE SAID YES

TAN IS LOSING IT HES SO HAPPY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

great frame

[insert that entire scene with the jump onto him and the holding hands and the FUCKING CHEEK KISS]

HES MY LITTLE FUCKING GUY

HES SO NEURODIVERGENT AND I ADORE HIM

KICKING AND SCREAMING MY FEET RN

he's jealoussssssss

I love pun so much, I truly would die for him

Welcome back to another episode of Toey Thinks Peem And Phum Are Dating (And He’s Right)

Im gonna be completely honest, if pond looked at me like that, id probably do whatever he tells me to without a second thought

thats all im saying

LOOK AT THAT LITTLE FACE

HES SINGING THE FUCKING ABAAB SONG

IM CRYING DUDE THIS IS AMAZING

ARE THEY JUST GONNA SING SONGS FROM OTHER BLS FOR THE QHOLE SERIES? IM FUCKIN DOWN FOR THAT DUDE

this song is so out of winny’s range tho 💀

so fucking SMOL

also chains hand just always naturally rests on pun’s shoulder

literally all the time

what im saying here is I think they should kiss

HE DIDNT JUST GRAB HIS WRIST HERE HE GRABBED HIS HAND ERIJKGBNREJB HOLY SHIT

Cool! 👍

im glad they finally got there

FUCK YES NEXT EPISODE WE'RE GETTING THE SCENE FROM THE PILOT THAT MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT

PUNCHAIN FOREHEAD KISS AND QTOEY CHEEK KISS BITCHES

okay now I just have one final question before I take my leave: what the FUCK was the song playing in the background of the qtoey scene near the end of the episode

it was just electric guitar and I KNOW recognise it but I cant figure out what fucking song it was (literally I finished the episode at like 1:30 but didnt go to sleep til 3 because I was trying to find the song)

so please, if ANYONE recognises it and knows what it is, tell me as soon as you can cos Im fucking dying

[blondiest]

girl help i lost sight of creating things first and foremost for myself and got overly invested in external validation therefore setting myself up to feel terrible about my works because i started looking at them too closely and became paranoid that they weren't good enough and that people would think they're stupid and—

i am going to be on here less and for a little while may be engaging with other people's writing a bit less as i try to get back into my own creative flow again 🥲 will still pop in now and again but i think being too tuned-in to everything has been making me a little insecure (<- a me problem; all of you are lovely and sweet) and with some added work stress i'm just!!! not engaging with things in a way that makes me happy or that feels particularly healthy.

honestly i feel strange even bothering to make a post about this bc Who Cares but i didn't want anyone to feel ignored if i am just straight not replying to messages etc for chunks of time. 🤝

[tittyblade]

Oh ya I’ve heard Türkiye is having some elections today, how’s that going? :D

it’s on sunday!!! ive spent the entirety of this morning crying over election coverage LOL. this is the single most important event of my life. yk how every politician says the next election is the most important one so everyone should go out n vote? thats the situation here but quite literally.

on one hand you have islamic extremists (erdoğan. one of the “parties” that support him is literally formed from an extremist cult. the only reason they haven’t all been put on trial is bc erdoğan supports them and he’s only got the extremists’ support left. and also bc years back he declared a nationwide state of emergency and quickly passed multiple laws in succession where. he’s no longer the prime minister but “the sole leader” of turkey. yeah)

and on the opposition there’s a coalition of 6 parties, literally all the major left parties with some nationalists, with their joint candidate kılıçdaroğlu. CHP (the main opposition party) has been center left lately, but its the actual fuckin party that first turned turkey into a republic from a sultanate. its huge. compared to US politics the average left wing party is actually pretty fuckin left here LOL. and they havent won the govt since 1950s (last peaceful n prospering decades of turkey) AND. THEY ACTUALLY STAND A CHANCE. all the polls point towards kılıçdaroğlu winning the elections

and you have no idea how bad it’s been here for the last few years. god. there’s so many shit thats wrong in the country because of the current government. civillians getting arrested for tweets criticizing erdogan, not being able to afford anything, being unable to pay your rent, erdogan (WITH HIS SINGULAR DECISION) withdrawing from the istanbul convention, the femicides being the highest it has ever been since the entire history of the turkey, murdered religious minorities and murdered journalists, tens of thousands of people left alone to die after the earthquakes back in february. its pretty fucking scary living here unless you’re a cishet sunni muslim man.

everyone i know that can afford it has been fleeing the country. sometimes it feels like thats the only option you have unless you want to get killed as a 20 something year old trying to make ends meet. i’m only 20 yo myself and the past 8 years has brought me and everyone under 30 to such a place where the only thing we feel about the future is hopelessness. i feel like ive aged 10 years in the last year alone and i bet anyone thats lived under a similar govt can relate. my countrys politics alone has been robbing me of my youth and my will to live.

AND. DESPITE ALL OF THAT. i have hope for the very first time. i have hope for a better future now bc of the opposition candidate and i have faith in him to deliver his promises. everything thats happened since january he’s been dealing with with grace, and him + mayors from his party actually do shit.

so yeah. the entire course of turkey is gonna change this sunday. if we were to lose this would be the last democratic elections held (the last elections held, period) before erdoğan fully converted the country into an autocracy, and when kılıçdaroğlu wins its gonna become a socialist state, as socialist as it’s ever been since the 1950s. pretty fuckin big stakes

[coryosbaby]

we (8 billion people) are begging for dom fem reader and coryo dynamic. Why she always gotta be sub like my dom ass would slap the shit out of him ong

ʙᴇɢɢɪɴ’ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ !

Synopsis: Coriolanus will do anything to get to the top, right?

Content warning . power dynamics, loss of virginity, face riding, multiple orgasms, marking, sub!pussydrunk! Coryo, dom! Reader that’s a lil fucked up

notes: me when coryo has hair real . This kinda sucks I’m sorry

When you see Coriolanus Snow, you see a desperate man.

A boy, actually. You see a boy. A desperate, handsome, power hungry boy. You can see it in the way he towers over his peers in a sort of fake dominance, the fauxness behind his sugary sweet words directed to anything or anyone in a higher position— some even directed towards you, when that blush isn’t flushing his cheeks with a feral intensity.

As the daughter of Dr. Gaul, it’s quite easy for you to advance some of your friends in their studies. You are not only her daughter, but in a position of power yourself. You know people— and Coriolanus knows that. You aren’t dumb. You can tell by his eyes, the empty, icy blue orbs not quite telling the truth.

Coriolanus, in a way, is just like you.

Maybe that’s what intrigues you so much about him. Besides that pretty smile, or those golden curls or those muscles that make you drool, you admire his determination. You know about his poorness (not all know, but some do, as Dean Casca Highbottom once quoted to him), and you know one will go far to satiate their own greed.

It’s just a matter of how far.

—

Coriolanus walks into your lab crying, one day.

Not obviously. It’s subtle, as you demand he sit down and take off his shirt so you can stitch up his wounds. Your hands graze it softly, and he winces.

“Does it hurt?” You ask him, even though you already know the answer.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at the seat.

“Yes.”

An honest answer. He must trust you.

You hum, beginning to work on his wound with taught precision. Looking at him now, his jaw is clenching tightly and the boy is shaking so much you fear he might break.

“I killed someone.”

He states it in a remorseful tone, the tone of someone weak and pathetic.

“Someone in the games, if I’m correct?”

He turns to look at you in surprise, as if you didn’t have access to your mother’s decision of allowing him to walk in there and save his friend Sejanus. He says nothing, then. He sniffles, and cries silently.

“You know,” you state, beginning to stitch him. “I’ve killed someone too. Someone I needed to kill.” You smile, remembering the one time a student who was threatening to take your place mysteriously fell into the pit of snakes. “It was necessary.”

Coriolanus tries to stay nonchalant, but you can see the way his shoulders tense. He doesn’t say a word, so you continue.

“Was it necessary to kill the person you killed?”

He looks down at his hands. Caked with blood, knuckles drawn taught. You want to bite them.

“No,” Coriolanus answers slowly. “No, it wasn’t.”

Maybe there’s more darkness to the boy than you originally thought.

You speak to him in a much lower tone now.

“Maybe it was. You just don’t know it.” And then, “There are a lot of things certain people can do to get to the top, Coriolanus.”

Your insinuation doesn’t go unnoticed. He moves his head to look at you.

“And what would that be?”

Typical. Someone so power hungry that his head turns at the mere mention of an opportunity. You’ve got him right where you want him.

You finish up his stitches. You move around to his front, your short red skirt all of a sudden incredibly suffocating as he looks up at you with something utterly pathetic in his gaze.

“How far are you willing to go, Coriolanus?”

And that’s when, a few moments later, you get your wish: that skirt, oh so suffocating, is strewn on the floor, Coriolanus’ big hands massaging the skin of your thighs as you straddle him. Your lips press against his in a hot and heavy kiss, your tongue massaging his lips with fervor. He may be doing this for advancement, but the blonde wants you nonetheless. You can see in the way his hips grind up, the way he lets out desperate whines as you lick up his tears with your tongue. Pulling away from him, your cunt clenches when he tries to push your body down onto his crotch.

“No, Coryo,” you demand, though your voice is desperate. “I want you on the floor, okay? You’re going to taste me first.”

He hesitates, his eyes darting to your lacey panties and then to the colorful tiles.

“… the floor?”

He seems nervous, jittery. It’s not as if he’s afraid of getting dirty, or something.

No, this is something else. In the way he nervously twiddles his fingers, the way his bottom lip catches in between his teeth. It’s not as if he wants to stop— it’s more so that he’s inexperienced.

And then it hits you.

Coriolanus snow is a virgin. This big handsome boy, beautiful and delicious, has never done had sex before. He’s never felt the touch of a woman, never eaten pussy or got his dick sucked.

And for some reason, that makes you want him more.

“Oh,” you coo to him, soft. “Coryo, you’ve never done this before, have you?”

His face turns dusty pink, but he tries to deny, deny, deny.

“What? No! Of course I’m not. I’m just..” he looks at the floor, his lie clear on his face. “The tiles are cold. Dirty.”

“You’re caked with blood and sweat, sweet boy. I’m sure the tiles will be fine.”

He looks away from you, his lips drawn up into a pout.

“I’m not a virgin.” He states, merely to himself. You raise a brow, an amused smile playing on your lips as you move farther away from him.

“Then why don’t you come and eat my pussy, baby?”

His cock strains against his zipper, and you swear you can see it twitch from where you’re standing. He gulps, and with a submission you would’ve never expected, the boy drops to his knees on the tile and makes his way towards you. His shirt, unbuttoned, shows the pretty lines of his chest and his rippling back muscles, and when he gets to you, he stops at the front of your still standing knees. Satisfaction wades through you when his hands move up to the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with shaking hands. Your smell hits his nose, makes his head tilt back as he lets out a throaty sound in the back of his throat. His tongue laves over the skin of your inner thigh, his hands going around the back of one of your knees to pull you close. You spread your legs to allow him access, your pussy lips drenched with arousal as his breath laves over you.

“Go on, Coryo,” you urge. “You want me to put a good word to my colleagues, yeah? So you better do a good job.”

He moans, his tongue finally slipping in between your folds as he tastes you. He’s messy, sloppy, and it’s good but it’s not good enough.

“God. I thought you were experienced? Huh, Coryo? Don’t you wanna make me feel good? Are you even fucking trying?”

He pulls away from you, shame in his eyes as you scold him. He pleads, his lip wobbling, his arms holding onto your legs.

“Please, I’m sorry. ‘M so sorry. Teach me, please…”

He tries to press a kiss to your cunt, but you kick him away with your foot. He falls to the ground, helpless.

“Lay down—I don’t care if it hurts your back. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He does as he’s told, all sweet and sweaty and bloody. His back hits the tile, injured but he ignores it when he watches you tower over him. You move down, pressing your knees on either side of his head. He grabs your thighs to place his mouth back on you, but you grab his golden curls in your hands and yank him back. He groans in pain, his feet kicking in a sort of pleasured resistance.

“You use your mouth when I tell you to, coryo,” you scold, watching the way his eyes flutter and only focus on your dripping pussy. “You do what I say. If I guide your head, or press myself down at a certain spot, you go along with it. Do you understand me?”

He nods, desperate to get his mouth on you, his cock thrusting into the open air.

“Good. Now, go slower. Stick out your tongue.. wider… therrre you go, baby.” His eyes focus on that one spot, his tongue hovering right over your clit. He must have read up on this a time or two. You press him closer, shoving his face into your heat as his tongue hits the swollen bud. “You see that? That’s my clit. Yeahh, stick your tongue right there…”

He groans, the taste of your sweet slick making his eyes roll back. His palms splay across your ass, digging crescent moons into the skin. You move your hips in a circular motion, giving Coryo the impression to move his tongue that way. He’s a smart boy, so he knows exactly what you’re communicating to him. His tongue moves in slow, languid circles, your slick already dripping down his chin. You can’t help but give into the pleasure he’s giving you for a moment, riding his face like your life depends on it before slowing down and stopping.

“Good, coryo. You’re being such a good boy. But you need to move your tongue down. You don’t want to play with my clit too much, because I’ll cum quick if you do.”

He makes a noise of understanding, moving his tongue down to your hole. It’s much funner this way, he thinks. The tip of his tongue can gather up the awaiting slick that’s spilling out of you, it makes your taste all the more prominent. You give him some room to experiment now, letting him move his tongue in between your clit and your hole. He catches on, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was experienced now— he’s a natural learner. Your hips grind down into him, and when he tongues your hole you use his strong nose to grind lazily against. Coryo can only breathe in your slick, his brain becoming fuzzy from his lack of air. But it’s okay. It’s okay because he’s doing good.

You can feel yourself getting close, the languid strokes of his tongue making your legs shake. You hump against his mouth, your head thrown back.

“Gonna cum,” you say to him. “Gonna cum on this slut mouth.”

He groans, his jaw working even harder now. He focuses on your clit more, save for the few times that he slurps up the slick from your hole. Your orgasm is fast approaching, your body drawing up tight.

And finally, you’re cumming on his mouth, moans spilling from your lips and Coryo’s. He’s desperate to catch all of your cum onto his awaiting tongue, his legs still moving around as he consumes you like a man starved. Your eyes roll back and you grind your hips against him as you come down from your high. Coryo pulls away once he’s satiated, looking up at you with his chin coated in slick.

You sigh, pulling your hips back to give him some air. You move your body off of him, going to your knees to watch his pussy drunk face still follow your cunt as you move. You want to return the favor, now. It’s only fair.

But looking down, you notice a wet spot soaking through Coryo’s pants.

He lifts himself up on his elbows, looking from his crotch to you. He flushes, apologies spewing from his wet lips, shaking his head.

“I tried not to. I really, really did. ‘M so sorry.”

He tries to reach out to touch you, but you just move away and down to his crotch. You unbutton his jeans, and he lets you. You look down at his red briefs, watching the white stain peeking through.

“Oh, baby. You just couldn’t help, it could you?”

You mock him, your hand palming his shaft. He lets out a whimper, his head falling back against the tile. He knows it’s too much, but he isn’t stopping you. You pull his briefs down, and boy is he big. Thick and long, all pretty and red with cum dripping down to his balls. Your mouth waters, but you figure that can wait another day. His seed can be used for other things.

You flutter your lashes at him, your hand wrapping around his shaft, jerking him to hardness again. He’s got this look, contorted and pained and pleasured at the same time. You straddle his meaty thighs, your cunt lips brushing over his cockhead, and he gasps.

“W-Wait—“ he starts, choked. “It’s.. ‘S too much—“

“Then why are you hard again?” You tilt your head at him, your movements paused because he didnt give you full permission. “Don’t you want my warm, tight pussy? Don’t you want to make it to the top?”

And that gets him going, his arousal for you and power and riches. He nods, eyes rolling back as you sink down on him. The cum from his last orgasm coats your walls and makes it easier to fill yourself up, warm white streaks dripping down his cock again.

“Oh.. oh my god,” his mouth drops open, and you’ve never heard a boy so vocal. “Please… I want it, I want it!”

You know what he’s asking for. Your stilled hips are non moving, letting him stretch you and sit heavy inside your cunt. You smile, moving your hips just a bit, letting him feel your gummy walls sucking him in. His mouth is in the shape of an o, his hair messy and disoriented. He tries to grab your tits, your hips, and with a surprising force your palm strikes his cheek haughtily. He cries out, his thighs shaking, his hips thrusting up.

“No touching,” you demand. “You don’t get to do that. Give me your hands.”

He lets you take them, and you push them far over his head as you begin to work your hips harder, faster. His balls make plop plop plop-ing noises as they hit your ass, quivering and begging for you to let them empty inside you. You move down to his neck, leaving purpleish bruises over his skin, marking him as yours. You let go of his hands so you can rest your hands on his torso, and his hands move up. Not necessarily to touch, but to hover over your tits bouncing through your tight fitted shirt. You give him permission, just a moment, to squeeze the soft skin in his hands, give them a teasing, bold little slap. You breathe shakily, his cock filling you up in ways no other has. You watch as Coryo’s head tilts back, and you know he’s close.

“Gonna cum?” You taunt, your nails scraping against his chest. He groans, nodding. “Gonna fill up my tight little pussy? Cmon, give it to me, I know you want to.”

And when he spills into you, rope after rope of warm, hot cum filling you to the brim, you let out a cry. His fingers find your clit— he’s thought this through, hasn’t he? He rubs you until you’re seeing stars and clenching around his overstimulated cock with a loud sob. He moves up to kiss you hot on the mouth.

“Did I do good?” He asks.

You smile, your hand threading your hands through his hair as you both relax against each other.

“You did very good, Coryo. I’m so proud of you.”

He breathes out a chuckle, shoving his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he winces. His wound has been withstanding a lot of pressure.

“You probably want to put some ice on that.” You suggest to him. He shrugs.

“The tile was cold enough.”

[sunraies]

Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹

Sleepy baby

As requested above

Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.

You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.

Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.

At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.

But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.

You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.

Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.

The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.

"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.

"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.

"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.

All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.

"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.

"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"

Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.

Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'

He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.

"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"

If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.

What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.

He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.

"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.

"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them

"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.

"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"

You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.

"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.

"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.

"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.

"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.

He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'

[propertyofwicked]

YOU OWE ME - LN

warnings: none, just fluff (inspired by that one CL stream). this is so short pls forgive me

(also, anyone else seen the pics of lando in aus? FERAL for that man.)

“tier 1 sub - max can you tell lando to get off his computer and let me in the flat please im freezing” max reads out, bursting into laughter, “youre in trouble mate.”

max hears a travelling shout of swearing, getting quieter as lando’s headset is thrown to the desk and his entire body hurtling towards the front door.

“shit shit shit shit,” lando shouts, his fingers struggling with the keys left on the inside of the door. finally he manages to unlock the door and pull it open to see his girlfriend, rosy cheeked and a less than impressed expression.

“lando, how many times have i said to take the keys out of the door if you lock it and im not home - especially if youre not going to answer your phone.”

“im sorry baby, im sorry i know - i forgot,” he mumbles, his hands taking yours and bringing them to his face. he flinches slightly at the sheer coldness of your fingers, “do you want a drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee? it’ll warm you up”

“i’d love a cup of tea,” you smile sadly, shrugging your horribly thin jacket off. honestly, with the typical english winter, your jacket was almost useless in combatting the cold winds anyways. you move to follow lando into the kitchen, watching him fill the kettle and move to grab a mug from the cupboard.

“come here,” you say, opening your arms slightly for lando to move into. he moves to you instantly.

“you’re not angry at me?”

“no, i am. youre just warm” you say, looking up to smile at him. his hands fall to your waist, gripping your hips and hoisting you up to sit on the counter, but he doesn’t move back into your embrace. instead, his arms move to take his hoodie off himself, and pull it over your head.

“better?”

“slightly,” you're still smiling at him as you adjust the hoodie - lando can tell you're not angry at him, just slightly irritated.

“the heating’s on, my office is warm - you wanna go sit in there whilst i finish your tea, angel?” he asks, his hand stroking your cheek, “max is on call if you wanna talk to him for a bit? he’s streaming but you already know that,” he grins, his tongue sticking into the side of his cheek.

“i think max’s chat deserve to know how bad of a boyfriend you are,” you joke, hoisting yourself off the counter, ready to march on in and complain to the stream. lando’s hand catches your arm, spinning you back into his chest. his hand comes back to your cheek, and tilts your head back.

“im sorry baby, you know i am,” he frowns slightly - you reassure him that he is forgiven by pressing a small kiss to his lips. once again you go to move, but he pulls you back in, kissing you again - repeatedly pecking kisses all over your face and eventually your lips. his tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging for more. you pull your head back slightly, desperate to go and rat him out to max but his teeth nip down on your bottom lip again to prolong the connection.

“i don’t think so, lan,” you giggle, smiling up at him again. lando groans and swears you almost skip your way to his office, excited to tell max as he prepares for a night of grovelling.

“max. you’ll never believe this man,” you sigh, after popping lando’s headset on your own head.

“y/n! how are you?”

“freezing, max. and £10 poorer now i’ve had to sub to your twitch to be let into my own flat.”

“oh yeah, thanks for the sub,” max laughs out, looking at the chat, “it’s ok, chat reckon you should invoice lando for the inconvenience.”

“i think i might have to you know, although he’s making me a cup of tea right now and i might be able to pout my way into a takeaway tonight.”

“y/n that man is so whipped i don’t think you need to pout your way into him doing anything for you,” he responds, his emphasis on anything making you grin slightly.

minutes later, lando comes into the room, using his foot to kick the door open in front of him, his hands full with your mug and your lip balm. hang on, lip balm?

“here you go baby,” he says, placing the mug down on the coaster on his desk, “i put honey in it for your throat, and i brought your lip balm ‘cos your lips are dry,” he grins as he hands you the lip balm.

“my lips wouldn’t be dry if you’d answered the phone the first time i rang you,” you say, the eye roll evident in your voice, even to max who couldn’t see your face.

“hang on, y/n, how does he know your lips are dry?” max interrupts, his laugh travelling through the headset.

“because max, when two people love each other very muc-”

“ew stop it,” lando interjects, as he sets up a second set of headphones to join in the chat.

“he’s trying to regain my love with physical affection.”

“i can tell from your tone that it’s not working.”

“well, after that ‘ew’ i think i may have to revoke all physical affection.”

“you wouldn’t,” lando gasps, his hands dramatically clutching his chest.

“order dominoes and ill reconsider. you owe me.”

“yeah lando, and send her £10 to cover the cost of the twitch sub,” max shouts, siding with you, “chat also think you should, as a courtesy.”

you don’t say anything, but turn to look at him, puppy dog eyes and a pout to complete the look.

“fine! fine,” he laughs again, holding his hands up in surrender, “i was going to offer anyways.”

“sure you were,” you and max manage to say simultaneously.

-

an hour later, your food had arrived and your saying goodbye to max and his chat, as lando goes to the door. however, by the time you shuffle into the living room, lando has began setting up netflix, sat next to a mound of blankets he’d brought in from your bedroom.

“hey you, come ‘ere,” he says, leaning his back against the arm of the sofa and tapping the space between his legs. once you were settled, your back resting on his chest, he leans to grab the pizza box on the coffee table in front of you - it went down quickly.

“funny how hungry you get when you’re left shivering in the freezing cold for hours," you think out loud.

“it wasn’t hours and i didn’t do it on purpose y/n,” lando whines, scoffing slightly at the time embellishment, absentmindedly playing with your fingers as he did.

“i know baby, i’m sorry. you’re forgiven,” you start to feel bad for him. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before manoeuvring you both further down the sofa until he’s laying completely flat, and you roll over so that your head can lay on his chest. the two of you lay in silence for a few moments, the tv still playing quietly in the background, and you feel his chest moving with every breath.

lando's hands wander underneath his your hoodie, and begin to trace small shapes on your skin, making you shiver slightly. then, a thought hits you.

“someone needs to make a compilation of F1 drivers accidentally locking their girlfriends out because they’re streaming,” he laughs as you say it, your whole body shaking from the shuddering of his laughing, "it seems to happen more than you'd think."

“hey! i wasn’t streaming - max was, i was just there. AND! i paid you back, charles never paid his girlfriend back for the sub.”

“oh, aren’t you generous.”

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it? 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars. 

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words 

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier. 

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile. 

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.” 

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.” 

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station. 

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes. 

“I see London, I see France…” 

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display. 

“Eddie!” 

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple. 

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-” 

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent. 

“Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you. 

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side. 

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you. 

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.” 

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?” 

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him. 

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek. 

But that just makes his smile wider. 

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you. 

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door. 

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” 

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?” 

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?” 

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world. 

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone. 

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about. 

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.  

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment. 

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care. 

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you. 

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air. 

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?” 

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand. 

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?” 

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you. 

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.” 

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat. 

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear. 

“Good girl.” 

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie. 

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines. 

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served. 

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes. 

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card. 

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin. 

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out. 

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,” 

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you. 

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?” 

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.” 

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!” 

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.” 

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink. 

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being. 

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully. 

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.” 

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery. 

“Oh princess, you are too cute.” 

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks. 

“What? What is it?” 

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.” 

“What, like, kissing?” 

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.” 

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer. 

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?” 

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar. 

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.” 

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now. 

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together. 

“Liar.” 

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks. 

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?” 

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.” 

“I know that, I mean…” 

For a second he just gapes at you. 

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?” 

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.” 

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?” 

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.” 

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.” 

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand. 

“Please?” 

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment. 

“Fine. Right now.” 

“Oh I didn't-” 

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.” 

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him. 

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely. 

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs. 

For a second you stop in sheer surprise. 

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?” 

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.” 

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified. 

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.” 

“Eddie!” 

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you. 

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside. 

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head. 

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door. 

“No, no, it's very… you.” 

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious. 

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar. 

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-” 

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.” 

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.” 

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway. 

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if- 

“You can sit down, princess.” 

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet. 

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you. 

“No I- I was- maybe this-” 

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle. 

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.” 

“But i haven't showered-” 

“When did you last?” 

“Well… this morning.” 

“You're fine. Trust me.” 

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together. 

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart. 

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.” 

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns. 

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?” 

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head. 

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra. 

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?” 

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck. 

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.” 

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.” 

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.” 

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.” 

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair. 

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.” 

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes. 

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip. 

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need. 

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him. 

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?” 

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear. 

“Fuck, look at you.” 

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms. 

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?” 

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him. 

“Say it. You need to say it.” 

‘Yes, please Eddie.” 

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex. 

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.” 

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands. 

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.” 

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture. 

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom. 

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line. 

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real. 

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?” 

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!” 

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure. 

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed. 

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick. 

“You OK princess?” 

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup. 

“Think you can go again?” 

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?” 

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling. 

“I think you've got at least one more in you.” 

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up. 

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.” 

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him. 

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched. 

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do. 

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment. 

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin. 

“So? Good?” 

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden. 

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose. 

“That's not part of the deal.” 

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile. 

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs. 

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.” 

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-” 

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip. 

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.” 

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him. 

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.” 

“You'd probably like that,” you tease. 

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.” 

“Night Eddie.” 

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down? 

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions. 

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything. 

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond. 

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. 

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements. 

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs. 

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example. 

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more. 

It looks like it's going to be a long night. 

********************

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.” 

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine. 

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth. 

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table. 

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early. 

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly. 

“Morning, can I help you?” 

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you. 

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile. 

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID? 

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride. 

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?” 

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles. 

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself. 

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting. 

“You're not my 10:30.” 

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong. 

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder. 

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter. 

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.” 

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?” 

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes. 

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves. 

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda. 

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear. 

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.” 

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat. 

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?” 

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension. 

“Hey, keep it at home guys.” 

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip. 

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie. 

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window. 

“So, as I was saying-” 

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red. 

“I was only-” 

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!” 

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally. 

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac. 

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you. 

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest. 

********************

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently. 

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest. 

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?” 

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom. 

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-” 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile. 

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out. 

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug. 

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.” 

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Really?” 

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong. 

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.” 

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.” 

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?” 

“Of course I would. You got their number?” 

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William. 

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?” 

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored. 

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.” 

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait. 

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is-  well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.” 

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly. 

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character. 

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?” 

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.” 

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly. 

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.” 

“Eddie I already owe-” 

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!” 

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you. 

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.” 

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.” 

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other. 

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time. 

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!” 

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly. 

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.” 

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.” 

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.” 

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled. 

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately. 

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look. 

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.” 

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening. 

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.” 

Taglist

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[canthelpit0]

“We’ll figure it out”

Pairing: Inexperienced!Matt x Inexperienced!Reader

Wordcount: 5.9k +

Summary: what happens when you hook up with your long time best friend? Except both of you are virgins.

Warnings: Smut, nasty, language, use of y/n, pet names (pretty boy, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc), reader has a cat named sun, study session, oral m!receiving, brief crying, oral f!receiving, praise kink, fingering, cowgirl, no protection (wrap it up!), she’s not on BC, creampie

(A/N: English is not my first language. So sorry for any mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy xx)

You have known the triplets since middle school, and you’ve been close to all of them.

Well, especially with Nick.

Everything was fine, you weren’t too popular, but you also weren’t overlooked. you were middle class, not poor but also not rich. You were pretty, but never got too much attention because of it.

Little do you know, but you’re gorgeous. If you wanted to you could easily be one of the popular girls in school. But you didn’t care for it. High school was temporary, and you knew that.

And that’s exactly what Matt admires about you.

Matt is pretty introverted, and especially around freshmen year, you and his brothers would quite literally have to force him to go to school.

Now he was more calm though. Sometimes his anxiety would mess with him, but he overcame it with you and his brother's help.

For the fact that you’ve only known them since middle school, you went over to their house quite a lot. But sometimes they’d come over to yours as well.

Matt was a virgin. Most people would think that. He’s awkward in social situations and pretty shy and introverted before you get to know him.

Though, he’s had a short-term girlfriend before. Wich, at least was something.

You never dated anyone. You never cared to. You’d much rather focus on your friends and school, than some boy.

You were a virgin. It wasn’t like you never watches porn, or were innocent really. You just never got to the point of losing it to someone. Everything you’ve done was by yourself.

Wich would be fine. But you were in senior year now, and the year was almost over. Most people around you had already lost it, and you felt left out.

You were sitting at lunch, listening to Chris drone on and on about some girl he hooked up with. You purse your lips, your apatite disappearing more and more.

Suddenly Chris looks over to you. “Y/n how was your first time?”

You tense up, Taking in a harsh breath.

“Chris! You don’t just ask shit like that” Nick huffs hitting Chris on the arm.

Matt, who was sitting next to you, puts his hand on your thigh in comfort.

You squint your eyes at Chris, judging him. Or at least you try to make it look judgy.

You lean further into Matt’s side. His physical presence was keeping you grounded.

And when matt noticed just that, he takes his hand off of your thigh and instead wrapped it around your waist to pull you even closer.

“That’s none of your business.” You huff staring back at Chris.

But internally you were embarrassed because you were still a virgin.

★ ★ ★

You had planned a sleepover and study night with matt a few days ago. Essentially, he’d come to your house on Friday, and you would study. until you got tired of it and watched a movie or something.

So after school matt drove his brothers home and then drove to your house.

You got out of the car, watching as Matt reached into the backseat to grab his overnight bag.

You couldn’t help but think back to lunch break when Chris had made that comment. Chris was a player, and you knew that.

But everybody around you had lost their v card, and you just felt so left behind.

Matt huffs snapping his fingers in front of your face. You blink. He takes the keys out of your hand, grabbing your forearm to pull you to the door.

“You back with me y/n/n?” Matt ask. He looks over his shoulder as he blindly fiddles with your house keys.

“Yeah, sorry. zoned out.” You answer simply.

Matt chuckles at the flat response. He looks back at the door and finally twists it open. You two both walk in, both of you taking your shoes on.

“Hello, we’re back” Matt says loudly into the room.

You put on your house shoes and so does Matt.

You look over your shoulder at Matt with an amused expression. “Matt they already left” you huff.

“What? I thought they were gonna leave at 4?” He asks, pulling out his phone from his jean's back pocket.

It’s 4.26 pm

“Oh.” He says flatly staring at his screen.

Your parents had driven out for the weekend to your grandparents house. It was a few hours away. You hadn’t wanted to go, because for one you had already made plans for the sleepover with Matt.

And also because you had the test on Monday and you wanted to study the weekend away.

You were probably not going to anyway, but in theory..

“Yeah. oh.” You roll your eyes. Your siblings went with your parents so the house was empty. It’d be the perfect opportunity for a house party.

But you weren’t one to party, and your parents trusted you.

You and Matt walk to your kitchen. Well, it’s just matt trailing behind you.

“You want a drink?” You ask simply while you take out a Pepsi can for yourself and then put it on the counter nearest.

Matt comes up behind you. He looks over your shoulder scanning the contents of the fridge.

“Pepsi please,” he says under his breath.

You take out another can and then proceed to put it next to your can on the counter.

You slam the fridge door shut. You feel Matt turn you around before he’s hugging you. His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

Matt had always been a big softie. No matter how much he loves to deny it he loves hugs and being all sappy and shit.

His own love language was acts of service though. He’d do anything for someone he likes.

And so if he finds a song that reminds him of you, he’ll tell you. If you are hungry, he’s immediately googling places to eat. If you look slightly sad or upset, even though you just have a resting bitch face, he’s immediately doing something stupid to make you laugh.

You know each other in and out.

He knows you love physical touch. So he’d make it a point to hug you at least once a day.

The day was long and draining. It was a normal boring school day.

His hug is warm, his arms feel firm around you.

And despite not having known him since kindergarten or something, it feels like you’ve known him forever.

You can’t think of any future scenario without him in your life.

“You always smell so good” he mumbles, dramatically nuzzling his face into the side of your neck.

You chuckle at the compliment.

“Come on pretty boy, we gotta study.” You hum slightly pulling away. Matt dramatically groans in response but reluctantly pulls away.

You pick up the two Pepsi cans and start to walk back to the stairs.

Matt grabs both of your school bags and carries them upstairs with him.

Once you’re in your room you pull out your desk chair and sit down.

Matt puts both your backpacks against the wall. He walks towards the bed to sit down when he spots your cat.

“Sunny” he exclaims excitedly. As much as Matt would love to say he’s a dog person. He loves your cat.

She’s and orange Persian cat. Her hair is fluffy and long. She looks like a ball of hair all curled up in your bedsheets like that.

You look over to matt and your bed. You watch as your cat looks up at him and he coos at her. He slowly sits down and starts to pet your cat.

★ ★ ★

By now two hours of studying had passed. You were both now sitting on the floor on your carpet, the study material all sprawled out across from you.

You and Matt were sitting next to each other, your cat still sleeping on your bed.

“Matt I’m bored” you whine loudly. You throw your head back dramatically and groan.

Matt looks over at you watching you as you complain. He looks mildly agitated himself.

Before he can protest and tell you that you two need to continue studying you start to put the pages and books on top of each other.

Once no books and loose papers are sprawled out anymore you sit back again.

“Y/n” he rolls his eyes and you can feel the lecture incoming.

“Matt please, I’m literally about to die of boredom.”

“You’re so dramatic” he scoffs watching you.

And for a moment You two just look at each other. Neither of you say anything. You just stare. Your face relaxes out of the pout. Matt looks over your features like he’s admiring you for the first time. Like you’re a piece of art.

You can feel yourself start to grow hot. The tension in the room skyrockets.

“You’re so pretty you know that,” Matt says under his breath. Matt leans over on his arm leaning closer to you.

Your mind is blank, and you can’t come up with an answer. You just take in the compliment.

“So fucking gorgeous” he sighs and before either of you knew it his lips are on yours.

You freeze for a second your eyes wide. But like it’s an instinct you immediately kiss back.

Matt’s hand finds its way to your jaw holding you in place, while he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

You were sitting Chris-cross while Matt was sitting on his legs, sitting just a bit higher than you.

After a while of just innocently kissing, he pulls away. You two stay close though. His eyes instantly widen as if he knew he fucked up.

“Fuck- I’m sorry” he breaths out, taking his hand from your face.

You sit up. Uncrossing your legs. you shift to sit on them, fully facing a blushing Matt. And you’re sure you have a matching red hue on your cheeks as well.

“No.”

the statement catches Matt off guard. He immediately looks back over at you, confused.

As soon as he looks back over at you, you reconnect your lips with his. He sighs into the kiss. His open mouth grants you the opening you need as you swiftly slip your tongue into his mouth.

You’re a virgin. That doesn’t mean you’re fully inexperienced tho.

You two make out heavily for a while. Making out like you’re trying to feel every part of each other.

Somehow you ended up in a position with you straddling Matt, as he has his legs sprawled out.

You pull away, both of you breathing hard.

“Y/n..” Matt starts his voice shaky.

He averts his eyes, the blush on his cheeks and even deeper red than before.

“I’m a virgin” he admits under his breath.

You thought for sure that Matt wasn’t. You were. But you also never dated anyone. Matt used to have a girlfriend though. But he’d never done it?

“Like fully?” You ask out of curiosity.

But it wasn’t like you wanted to use him. You liked him for being, himself. His presence made you flustered, feeling butterflies in your stomach, and all giddy.

“Yeah” he breaths out. You watch him close his eyes as if willing his embarrassment to leave. “I’ve never, done anything..”

You pause thinking of the best way to reply. “Neither have I.” You say softly, feeling mildly flustered as well. But both of you were inexperienced. You were in the same boat.

He pauses for a second at the reply. It was obvious that he thought you at least had one body. He didn’t think you were a virgin too.

“You… you wanna try?” He questions. Now he looks a lot less embarrassed than he did just a few seconds ago.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “If you want to?”

He pulls you back in for another kiss by the back of your neck. The kiss is shorter and more reassuring.

Matt pulls out of the kiss his hands going to your waist “We can figure it out?” He asks hopefully.

You nod in agreement. You could feel Matt’s bulge through his pants with the way you were sitting. And you could feel yourself aching.

What’s the harm in trying. He’s your best friend after all. Besides you’d finally lose it, and to someone you trust.

You peck his lips briefly before you get up off of his lap.

Matt gets up off of the ground too. You pick up your cat and wake her in the process. She meows at you in annoyance before you chuckle and put her on the ground.

Matt opens the door as Sunny finally but reluctantly leaves the room.

You pull off your shirt tossing it away. Matt turns around to see you sitting on your bed with your top discarded, your bra in full view. His eyes widen.

He licks his lips, his eyes shamelessly tracing your body.

Matt comes to hover over you while you sit there. “You’re such a tease” he chuckles. He leans down to capture your lips in a brief kiss again.

It was like he couldn’t get enough of your lips.

“Get on the ground,” Matt says, his tone more demanding and rough with lust.

You obey. You slide off your bed, getting on your knees on the ground.

Matt tugs his shirt off throwing it off to the side. He unbuckles his belt and undoes the button and zipper on his jeans before finally sliding them off and tossing them away.

You curiously watch. The only men you’d seen in this position were in pornos. This though, was your best friend since middle school.

Sometimes you forgot he was an actual man with a dick and all.

And right now, seeing the imprint of his cock through his boxers felt surreal.

He starts to tug on his boxers. Your eyes go up to meet his. “Ever gotten your dick sucked?” You ask sarcastically to cover up how nervous you are.

“No.” He breaths out. While continuing to look down at you he finally pulls down his boxers. He tosses them away too.

Your eyes trail from his eyes to his lips, over his jawline and his chest, down to his dick. The dick that was rock hard and right in front of your face.

Your eyes widen, as you sit back your hands staying on your knees as you just stare.

His tip was the same red he had on his cheeks, leaking pre cum. He had a vain running up his shaft. You always thought that male body part was rather disgusting looking.

But the way Matt’s looks right now…

You don’t know if it’s just the burning lust running through your body. But you actually really wanted to taste that.

Your hand goes to cup his aching cock. He lets out a sharp sigh at the feeling. You touch it gently. You don’t move your hand and stay careful of your manicured nails.

“I don’t know what I’m doing” you breathe out. While you do, you gently start to move your hand up and down your length slowly jerking him off.

“I don’t either,” he tilts his head forwards closing his eyes for a secound. “Keep going we’ll figure it out,” Matt assures you.

His hand goes to the back of your head. His hand starts to smooth down your hair.

“C’mon baby, don’t be shy” he coos staring down at you. Matt looks down at you like he’s done this a billion times before when he claims he never had.

But you guess one of you at least had to pretend that you were understanding what you’re doing right now.

You lean forward leaving a tender kiss on the tip. You do what you think someone would do in this situation.

The way he shudders at the simple touch though, shows that he is in fact, not experienced.

In hindsight, you don’t know why you thought that he was experienced. You just assumed.

“You think this will fuck up our friendship?” You ask while still slowly jerking him off.

Matt’s breaths are slightly shaky, but he chuckles at the question.

“No. I won’t let it.” He huffs.

“So..” you pause your movements. You glance down at his dick and the way your manicured hand wraps around it. And how huge it looks.

You then look back up at him through your lashes. “How am I supposed to do this?” You ask uncertainly.

“I don’t know.” He pauses to lick his lips. The way you, his best friend, look up at him through your lashes like that, was making him even more aroused.

“Just do what you feel like. But be careful of your teeth.” He says slowly. he wasn’t even sure himself.

You raise your eyebrow at his vague response. Neither of you knew how to do it, so you might as well imitate the porn that you’ve watched.

You drag you tongue up his shaft, keeping your eyes locked on his. When you’re at the tip you lick up all the pre cum leaking. You keep eye contact with matt, and it was driving him crazy.

He lets out shaky breaths. He was clearly enjoying this.

You kiss his tip again, before wrapping your lips around his tip. You slowly swirl your tongue around it trying to see how he’ll react.

You watch him to see if he likes it or not.

“Yeah, like that,” he says under his breath staring down at you.

With his praise and encouragement, you start to take him further down your throat. Slowly and carefully.

Matt whispers praises into the quiet room. All of them go right to your core and boost your ego.

You eventually feel comfortable enough to bob your head. You were jerking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You were bobbing your head at a rhythmic pace and hollowing out your cheeks occasionally.

“I’m close-“ Matt whines. He actually whines.

And that sound. The power you had to make him sound like that was making you feel even more confident.

You don’t slow down your pace. You just keep going.

Until matt puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He tugs on it hard, to keep you still. He starts at a gentle but fast pace.

You feel your eyes fog up. The constant hit to the back of your throat makes you gag slightly.

His pace starts to become more and more sloppy as the seconds pass though.

You feel his dick hit the back of your throat before you suddenly feel your mouth be filled.

You feel his sticky load shoot down your throat. He pants, pulling at your hair to pull you off.

You swallowed what you could. But still, you feel a bit of it roll down your chin.

“Sh, sorry no don’t cry.” He immediately panics cupping your face in his hands. He looks down at you, worried. As if he thinks he went too far.

He wipes away the tears. The tears that you hadn’t even noticed had fallen.

Sighing, you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. “I’m okay Matty” you breathe out softly. His facial expression visibly relaxes at the statement.

“I’m sorry if that was too hard”

“It wasn’t, you’re good.” You stand up.

You immediately go to undo your own jeans. You slip out of them, throwing them off to the side.

His eyes roam over your body. The air is thick, both of your bodies pulsing with pure lust and awe.

You watch as his half-hard dick gets hard again.

You chuckle at the reaction. You teasingly take your bra off. And once you unclasp it, it’s Thrown across the room to the rest of your clothes.

His eyes trail your body again. He can’t help himself at the way your boobs look. He’s always admired you from afar. He never thought he’d ever be able to see you like this.

Sure he had imagined you two together like this before, but he never thought he’d actually get to see it. Besides, the real thing, the euphoria, it all felt better than he could’ve ever thought.

“So pretty, baby” he sighs. His hand goes to your chest. you could tell he’d never done this before just by the way he touched you like you were fragile.

But neither of you knowing what you were doing only made this more thrilling.

His hands go to your waist as he pushes you back onto your bed. He hovers over you for a moment, before crashing his lips back onto yours.

You kiss back, but you mostly let him take the lead. After he breaks the kiss, You feel him start to trail his kisses down your jawline and neck, while needing your breast in his hand.

He sits up again putting his other hand on your chest and needing it too, watching the way his hands look wrapped around your tits.

He sighs getting off of you and between your legs.

“Tell me when it feels good, sweetheart, alright?” He hums. He pulls at your panties, taking them off and half-heartedly throwing them away.

His eyes stay locked on your pussy. He admires it, like it’s the first time he’s seen it, which it is.

He puts your legs over his shoulders to give himself a better angle. He uses his middle finger to brush through your folds experimentally, watching you in awe.

You sigh at the contact on your folds. You’ve never been touched there. But Matt’s touch felt so incredibly comforting and good.

Your core was aching, pulsing around nothing. And Matt watched.

After a moment he kissed just above your clit. Kissing a trail down to your clit, before harshly starting to suck on it.

Your moan tears through the room. You were startled by how bold and confident he acted.

He groans into your core at your taste on his tongue. The groan sends pleasure coursing through you and chills down your spine.

“Fuck- matt” you whine. Your thighs clench around his head trying to get him closer. Your hand finds its way to his hair tugging on it slightly.

Your other hand berries in the sheets, trying to find something to hold onto. “God- have you done this before?” You ask rhetorically not expecting an answer.

He licks a stripe up your folds and starts to move his tongue against your sensitive nub. You whine and he chuckles.

“No.” He mumbles against you in answer. You throw your head back in pleasure your eyes briefly closing.

You feel Matt pull at you, tilting his head slightly for a deeper angle.

He was eating you out like you were his last meal. But beyond that also like this would be the only time he got to taste your sweet juices.

“Matt, fuck yeah- just like that.” You keep praising him. You notice how it boosts his confidence and in turn, makes this even more pleasurable for you.

You feel a finger brush at your cunt. Before you feel it slide in. Your hand immediately tugs harder at his hair. Your back arches slightly as you throw your head back in pleasure.

He thrusts his middle finger in and out of your tight cunt. He was turning his hand slightly, twisting it and turning it to get a feel for your body and how you react. And to also make you loosen up a bit.

You whine in discomfort. Matt detaches his lips from your clit still hovering close though.

“You okay sweetheart?” He says lowly under his breath.

Your moaning was loud and echoing through the room.

You sit up in your forearms staring down at him and the way he was fingering you like that. Watching the way his finger disappeared in your tight cunt.

“I’m good”

The words come up a bit slurred. The pleasure of him finger fucking you like that, was making your head feel all fuzzy.

“Never fingered yourself, baby?” He asks teasingly. You watch him and the way he steadies himself on his other arm.

He readjusts his finger, curling it up roughly hitting your sweet spot right on.

The touch sends shivers of pleasure down your spine making you shut your eyes and throw your head back.

“Matt, matt-“ you chant his name like a prayer. It’s the only thing you can think of. Him. And only him. That’s all that’s relevant right now.

He slips his second finger into your soaked core with ease. You barely even notice the second finger added. Until he starts to scissor them apart to stretch your insides even further.

He keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of you harshly. Curling them at just the right spots to make your vision blur.

You lay back down fully, as he is now sitting up more.

“Yeah pretty girl, that feel good?” He asks. Your back arches and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

He leans up further, your legs fall from his shoulders as he hovers over your lower body. He puts his whole hand on your lower stomach applying gentle pressure on it to keep you down on the bed.

“I’m close-“ you breathe out between loud moans.

“good girl, come for me.” You shudder at the pet name. Your thighs shake slightly at the burning intensity of his gaze and the way his fingers curl at just the right spots.

You squirm under his gaze. And suddenly you feel the intense knot in your stomach snap. You feel him continue to finger fuck you, while your entire body feels burning hot.

You feel so warm and overwhelmed by the euphoria flowing through your veins. It feels better than any high you have ever experienced. Not that you’ve experienced a lot.

Once you ride out your high you breathe hard. Your eyes stay closed as you lay back on your bed.

Matt gently pulls out his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact.

He lays down on your duvet next to you, turns to his side, and watches you.

You also turn to face him after a moment. You two just look at each other.

Matt looks at you with such intense adoration and love, it’s crazy.

“You actually wanna loose your virginity now?” He asks gently. Ignoring the fact that he was rock-hard.

You two so far had only given each other pleasure, but you hadn’t lost your virginity yet.

“Yes” you breathe out. You feel ready now more than you ever have before. Especially if you get to lose it to matt.

He licks his lips looking over your face.

“I don’t have a condom.” He says simply looking back at you. He knew you weren’t on the pill. He’d be fine doing it some other day.

“That’s fine.” You say though , catching him off guard. How desperate do you have to be to let him raw dog it?

“You’re not on the pill tho?” He questions.

“I’m not” you confirm simply. He raises an eyebrow waiting for further explanation. “You can pull out or something.” You shrug.

“That sounds tacky.” He huffs a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll deal with that tomorrow morning. Just please fuck me?”

You think he’s going to refuse Until he suddenly pulls you on top of him. You sit on his torso for a moment before you get the memo.

“You want me to ride you?” You ask slowly.

“If you’re not comfortable we can switch?” He offers. But why would you decline to ride him?

You shake your head no, before starting to slide down on his torso feeling his length glide between your soaked folds.

“Can’t be that hard?” You question rather skeptically.

In your opinion matt didn’t seem small. Though you had nothing to compare it to. All the girls in porn seemed to struggle with something that looked as big as Matt.

So either this would be really hard or easy for you. But either way, you wanted to try.

“You’re okay, we’ll go slow” he chuckles at your nervousness but is secretly just as scared. “And I’ll help you.” He assures.

You lift yourself hovering over his crotch area. You take in a harsh breath grabbing his dick and hovering over it.

Matt’s hand goes to it too holding it up. While your hand goes to your cunt as you gently and slowly sink down on it.

You both moan at the contact. Getting in the tip was hard. But once that was in you felt like you could easily slide down the rest of it, not that it wouldn’t hurt.

Matt’s free hand goes to your waist, guiding you like he said he would.

“Doing so good, princess.” You whine at the praise, but ultimately slowly skink down further..

Matt keeps your movements steady as you keep doing your thing. His second hand also goes to your waist using it to steady your movements further.

“Fuck so big.” You moan. Your thighs tense as you pull it out slightly. You could feel the stretch burn.

“It’s okay sweetheart. you only got a couple inches left.” He assures you as he starts guiding you back lower on him. Your cunt was aching around him harshly.

“Fuck-“ you sigh. You can’t help yourself when you take one of his hands from your waist and interlock your hands. You need the moral support.

“Such a good girl,” Matt says as you start to gently bounce on what you have fit so far.

He was occasionally groaning. Your moans filled the room, the air in the room staying hot.

He squeezes your hand. You close your eyes at the mixture of pleasure and pain. When you close your eyes he lets his eyes wander down to where your bodies meet.

He’d never done this and this felt so incredibly good. The sight alone could make him come right then and there.

Matt wasn’t dumb, he knew he had quite the dick. It wasn’t small by any means. And he knew that. It was amusing Watching you struggle with what you had, knowing there were at least still 3 more inches to go.

“You okay?” He asks again just to make sure you are okay.

The pain had subsided and you felt the pleasure. Sure you could take more but you were nervous to. This wasn’t as easy as it looked or as You thought it’d be.

“I’m okay” you sigh. You keep yourself gently and slowly bouncing on the upper half of the length of his cock.

Matt knows you really well. And matt just knows you can take more than that, Despite being a virgin himself. It was just a gut feeling. “Baby, I’m gonna need you to bear with me alright?”

Before you can respond, his hand on your waist tightens, and he squeezes your hand that’s intertwined with his. He rams you down on his dick harshly, making you take it as much as you physically could.

Your legs tense up at the harsh treatment. Your eyes close as a moan is ripped out your lungs. You clench so unbelievably tight around him. And just the sight of himself buried so deep inside of you could have him come at the spot.

He groans at the feeling of it as well. “Good-“ he breathes out. “Such a good girl.”

He keeps his hand intertwined with yours for moral support. His hand trails from your waist over your side soothingly.

You sigh at the feeling of him being completely in you. It’s a foreign feeling. It just feels so full.

“I feel so fucking stuffed” you groan dramatically. You let your head hang forward your mouth open in a silent moan.

“Oh, you’re so gonna be stuffed” he huffs. And somehow, even though pregnancy and birth scares the hell out of you, this type of dirty talk was extremely hot to you.

You huff in response starting to grind into him. You grind on his dick, his Hand on your hips helping you as you slowly try to get used to the size.

You sigh pulling all of your hair back out of your face again. You readjust your legs, taking your hand out of Matt’s. You shift, leaning on your arms to lean back slightly.

You start to carefully ride him your moans and whines still audible. Your head is thrown back in pleasure.

Matt watches the way your body moves in awe. Groaning every so often when you clench around him.

His hand goes to rest over your lower stomach, his thumb goes to rub on your clit gently. “Matt.” You gasp at the sudden added pleasure.

You can’t help yourself when you lean back forward. You just really want to see Matt’s face while you ride him.

“So good for me baby, keep going” he encourages. And with his words, you readjust again now pulling out more and ramming yourself back down.

You feel the knot in your stomach get tighter. You feel really good riding him like this, listening to his mumbles of praise and encouragement.

You continue to bounce on him, now chasing your high. And the harsher you slam yourself down the louder you and matt get. The room is filled with your noises as well as skin clapping loudly, and your lewd wetness.

After a few seconds you feel the knot snap. You lean over him, your arms on either side of his head catching you. Your high feels incredible, the heat washing over you like a wave.

Matt’s hand on your waist gets bruisingly harsh. He holds you in place while he thrusts up into you. You whine at the way he fucks you through your high. He was chasing his own now.

“Where do you want it.” His breath is harsh. He choked out the words in his lust-filled voice. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding to know.

“Inside.” You grit out. You bite your lip harshly, feeling your high subside and overstimulation slowly take over.

Matt grunts an agreement and you feel his thrusts get more sloppy and harsh. Until he gives you one last thrust, finally stopping his movements. He pulls you down to sit on him while spurts of his release shoot up into you.

You were pulsing around him, practically milking him for all he’s got. “Such a good girl” matt breathes out. One of his hands goes to trail over your stomach slightly.

He feels the slight bulge in your stomach from his sheer size.

The idea that this is how you make children is crazy to you. And the fact that you just did that with your best friend.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks softly staring up at you lovingly.

“Warm” you respond truthfully. His sticky seed inside of you makes your core feel all warm, along with the fact that you haven’t gotten off of it yet.

“Do you regret it?” He asks gently. After all, you two were best friends, and he had just lost his virginity to you and also taken yours.

Despite being terrified of the fact that you let him raw dog this, you didn’t regret it. In fact, you felt content, you love matt dearly.

“No” you don’t hesitate. You never realized how much you love Matt. He was just always there with you, he was always your best friend. You couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“You’re paying for the plan b pill tho” you chuckle.

He huffs a laugh. you carefully lift yourself off of him feeling your combined juices leak. You can see Matt watching, his eyes focused on your pussy. Watching the way you’re filled to the brim.

You kneel next to him, as you watch him sit up. “Come on sweetheart let’s get you cleaned up.”

Masterlist

A/N: I know this isn’t the most original idea, but I haven’t read any ffs where both of them are virgins. But if there is one that’s similar to mine, just know it was not intentional. In that case, If someone gives me the @ I can credit them.

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturnioloos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangepepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo

[raitonsfw]

jjk men: sub edition

characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, okkotsu yūta, kamo chōsō, & sukuna ryōmen.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, gn!reader (gojo), sub!characters, vibrating sex toys (gojo's and geto's), face riding (yuta's), pegging (choso's), refusal to submit (sukuna's), whining, whimpering, pleading, begging, dirty talk, bondage (gojo's), p in v intercourse (geto [riding] & sukuna [mating press]), anal sex (choso's obvi), slight rim play (gojo's), degrading & praising, pet names, gojo selfishly whines, geto can't keep his composure, okkotsu loves you, choso's completely fucked out, sukuna shares a body with itadori (& doesn't care about your kinks), fyi the reader isn't very dominant (more neutral, maybe i'll write another one of these with a dom!reader later on)

a/n: this came about 'cause of some hate from an anon about me writing satoru gojo whimpering & that men shouldn't whimper or moan? next time, be a dear and send it off anon? i'll answer you more thoroughly that way. i love having the option that is 'write to spite'. wc: 3.2k total. m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮…❞ who isn’t really all that submissive– at least not on the surface. in public his exterior shone a haughty personality but in the midst of silk sheets, he whined like a little bitch. 

soft whines of ‘please, baby…’ and ‘r-right there– yes…’ as you moved the vibrator towards the tip of his cock. he was sitting up against the headboard, his knees slightly bent and his bright eyes were glued on your hand that held the small pink wand. 

you knew gojo quite well, the man could withstand almost anything sorcery related; curses expelling out left and right, best friends turned enemies– but he couldn’t handle the juddering feeling of a sex toy. he’d practically short-circuit. his entire body would freeze up as you ran it along the side of his thigh, a dulled lust sinking within his eyes and suddenly his cock would be rock hard.

you’d watch as his legs would spread open for you, a quiet obedience held within the air and you’d hum in content as he let you shed his trousers and boxers. and holy shit, it was so intoxicating to take in how fucking hard he got just from the slight indication of the vibrator buzzing up his thigh. 

he wouldn’t be quiet for long though, no– that was just for show. as soon as your hand grabbed at his flushed cock, a choked gasp would follow and a bunch of pleas would spill out of his mouth like a waterfall. 

“need the toy– give me the toy…”

“y/n, baby…sweetheart– c’mon...” 

“please, don’t want your hand right now–”

“‘m sorry, i’m so sorry– fuck-!”

and despite his empty words (and the rushed apology when he vaguely realized his mistake), the vibrator would be set to the near highest setting. ‘cause there was something so hot watching him squirm from such a delicate thing, bulleting at an overstimulating press firsthand.

god, you could get drunk off of his whimpers and cries as they spilled from his mouth every time you ran the vibrator over a vein on the underside of his cock… his jolts of pleasure when you upped the setting by a hair as he was so sensitive and even the slightest change would send him spiraling… the constant clenching and unclenching of his fists within the confines of his blindfold– courtesy of you tying it that way. 

you had the right mind not to edge him, his voice pitching higher and higher each second you ran the droning sensation over his slit, precum slathering the toy. his chest rose and fell quickly as you switched the settings to a different rhythm, his back arching out towards you and his cock bobbing against his tummy with a loud whine escaping him. 

his head had knocked back into the headboard with his eyelids fluttering closed, a fucked out expression washing over his face as his thighs trembled– as his whole body trembled in front of you. you knew he was close; the tiny whimpers felling long with each stroke of the toy and the way his muscles tightened in his stomach with each roll of his hips as he desperately feigned for more friction. 

which led you to take a quick gamble– and press the toy right against his rim. 

you didn’t even have time to replace your hand on his cock as he painted his shirt white. long spurts decorated it, nearly up to his chin and you hummed softly to yourself as you pumped him through his release, your name heavy on his lips as he rode it out. you cooed out praises as he bucked into your hand, dribbling the rest of his cum all over it with small pants filling the room. 

and as soon as he came down, his hands were slipping from his blindfold and pinning you underneath him– it was your turn now. 

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮…❞ who’s slightly submissive– but knows how to keep his composure. it wasn’t often you got to see him needy, the man wasn’t exactly enthralled in giving you a show; so instead of begging for what he needed, he did everything in his power to please you.

the most he’d give you were tiny hums from the constant drag of his cock as you rode him, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. when he had the pleasure of cumming inside you – when he could because you’d fall apart against him in mere minutes – you’d hear the most sinful whimpers bare from his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he gasped for breath.

you couldn’t escape the cuddling afterwards either, the quiet contented sighs that captured you whole as he worked his body around yours in a tight embrace when the stars fell away from your eyelids. his mind would be reeling with the aftermath, still painfully hard in his boxers since he didn’t finish; but you came on his cock and that’s all that mattered to him.

but there were just some days where he needed you more than ever – and the aching pleasure of his cock spasming inside you – a pliant buzz reigning him in as he heard you come home. his arms would wrap around your waist as you’d toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and you’d feel his breath fan against your ear as he spoke, a slight whine etched in his voice.

“y/n, come to the bedroom with me…”

“ah–! shit… please?”

“need you tonight… can’t wait any longer–” 

“gotta be inside you– right now.”

and you thought it was the usual routine, you laid out underneath him with his cock driving into you like no tomorrow. but as you were pulled into the bedroom, the box of sex toys you shared with him had been dumped over the bed and you realized his neediness and the sound that droned lightly from him– the vibrating cock ring was missing.

you weren’t exactly sure if geto ever acted submissive in his life, never really wanting to push him too far as he already did so much for you; he never seemed bothered by the lack of reciprocation. but when he came home with the cock ring and your life sure flipped a sudden switch, your collected man reduced to nothing but a puddle as you drove him to the edge over and over again. 

as you fully sank onto his cock, his ring would vibrate against your folds and you’d sigh out in relief when you noticed his face screwed up in pleasure– and pain as he was already so close to his godforsaken orgasm. needy– fucking desperate whines would leak from his mouth as you bounced lightly on him, some hiccuped noises escaping him and– oh? he might cry. 

his hair was splayed out on the pillows, some of it stuck to his sweaty shoulders as the corners of his eyes brimmed with tears, his hands clutching onto you for dear life. he wouldn’t say anything, too drunk off of the overstimulation of your pussy and the vibrations pushing him over the edge; except he couldn’t cum yet. not until you took off the cock ring and honestly, did you really want to? 

this was one of the only times you saw this side of him after all. 

you eventually let him cum, pulling off his cock to ease the ring off while instructing him softly not to cum until he was inside you. and he’d be damned if he didn’t shoot off inside you, holding himself back for all of ten seconds before the feeling of your walls warm around him pushed him over– you felt him twitch inside you and a lengthy moan accompanied as he tried his best to pull you close into him through it. 

he stole kisses from you afterwards, his demeanor returning to the same old facade he encased himself in and you wondered if you buy him vibrating beads– what would that do to him?

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚…❞ who is just the right amount of submissive. he would quiver at the faintest feel of your fingers ghosting his cock as he knelt before you. his eyes would be nearly blown wide, taking in your composure as his falls away when you bend down eye level to him. 

he’d know better than to buck into your hand like a poor puppy, desperate for any friction you could give him as his fingers reach out to grip at your clothing. and he wouldn't even realize he broke a rule as he repeated in his brain ‘don’t thrust’ into the warmth of your palm. 

as you backed away, you’d notice the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes, the pout that would cross his face when he tried to retrace his movements– and then his mouth would be going a mile a minute with apologies.

“baby… i’m sorry! i’ll be good, i promise– i won’t touch you again.”

“please… forgive me? use me to get off…”

and that wasn’t a bad idea in your eyes as you thought it over, squatting back up to let him breathe. god, he was so pliant with you, complete putty– pulled and stretched out for you. his cock curved up towards his tummy as it stood proudly from the confines of his jujutsu uniform; he was so excited he didn’t even care to unzip his zipper, he just pulled himself out ‘cause you told him to. 

as you finally allowed him up onto the space of the bed after his relentless regret, a muffled ‘thank you’ spilled from his lips before you could even position yourself onto his face and you clutched the headboard to steady yourself; because he wasn’t allowed to touch– and he sure knew that as he was chanting it in his mind.

he needed you to use him, to just sit right on his tongue and ride him mercilessly; it’s what he deserves for breaking one of your rules. but you were nice, you weren’t mean with your punishments and honestly this seemed more like a reward for him. he was manipulative, that one– you had to be careful as he could get you to do anything for him with just a glassy eyed look and a pout. 

his hands grasped at the sheets for leverage as you sat down against him, his tongue not hesitating in the slightest to swipe over the swell of your clit and you huffed out a relieved moan. you didn’t falter, your hips rolling against his mouth with the shock of warm pleasure flowing through your body. and he reciprocated your moans, humming gently into you as he lapped at your arousal trickling against the tip of his tongue.

and all he wanted to do was touch you – bury his fingers inside you and fuck the life out of you – anything for his girl. but he knew the moment he moved his fingers from the threaded sheets, you’d pull off with a whine falling from his lips. god, did he want to please you– and he wanted it in return; his cock was aching even as it laid against his tummy. he couldn’t take it anymore, between the sweet taste of your slick running down his chin and the insane amount of precum building at the tip of his cock– he begged. 

“fuck, please touch me… won’t cum til you say so, i swear–”

“just need your hands on me, y/n honey… l-love you so much– god, thank you.”

when you leaned back to pull him off, your other hand feathered into his hair and you caught a glimpse of his dark rimmed eyes staring back up with such profound desire– you just knew he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨…❞ who takes the cake for being the most submissive slut known to man. when you sunk into him the first time with the strap nudging into him subtly, he couldn’t help but let out a choked whimper. he would be so fucking full– his rim clenching harshly around you and you’d coo at him; some praises that did you no good as he could barely hear you through the pounding rush of blood in his ears.

you couldn’t even begin to fathom the drunk passion you felt for this boy, arching his back for you as you started to ease yourself in all the way– it was fucking insane and you weren’t even the one with your nerves on fire. he’d grip at the sheets with a wanton moan, pushing back onto the strap with eager hips and it took everything in you not to collapse onto him with the heated arousal you felt in your cunt. 

you’d be on your toes, basically straddling the poor boy’s hips, your hands flush against his waist to keep you steady and all you’d hear was ‘more, please… i can take it–! need you to move.’ christ, you haven’t even gotten your bearings yet and he’s begging for you to pound him into the fucking mattress. 

his spiked hair wouldn’t be in their usual ponytails, it sleeked down the back of his neck and soon, it was going to be balled up in your palms while you fucked the living shit out of him.

once you actually rolled your hips into his tight hole, a broken moan flew out of his mouth and his head drooped down onto the side of the bed. his entire body shook in pleasure as you thrusted into him shallowly, hushed pants coming from him as his cock dripped onto the sheets beneath you. 

you noticed his cock rather quickly– and how neglected it looked, hanging between his legs with a reddened flush and you snaked your hand underneath him to tug at it a bit, earning a repressed whimper that was muffled in the sheets he buried his face into. before you knew it, your hips found a rhythm you were content with and one he was ecstatic with, his body jolting upwards with every stroke of his cock and bruising of your strap. 

you knew you nailed his prostate when his head snapped up, his entire body shuddering around you. his moan was so sharp in your ears, it delved straight towards spine and you threaded your fingers into his hair with the words ‘good boy, that’s it… that’s the spot?’ leaking from your mouth in a soft tone. to which he nodded, a heavy need carving out his common sense and replacing it with nothing whines and whimpers. 

‘soo good, thankyouthankyouthankyou–’

‘right there, keep going…’ 

and you did, even when you noticed his tongue loll out of his mouth– the fucked out expression blatant on his face as you pulled his head back to look at you. his violet eyes were watery, his mouth completely open in near silent moans as you pounded into him now, and you swore you saw a blood tear drip from his mark as he squeezed his eyes shut through a particular thrust. and now he begged for you, pleaded like no tomorrow as you fucked him senseless; his entire mind clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

‘am i being a good boy? please– tell me i’m being a good boy for you…’

‘fuck me harder, yeah– yes… shit–! so close…’

as he came around the strap, you watched in awe– ropes of cum spurting against the sheets and harsh gasps filled the air as you kissed down his back with your hands massaging his waist through the heavy orgasm. you ran a quick finger down his spine, reveling in the way he trembled against you as you pulled out of him. 

you wouldn’t even talk to him properly afterwards, just tiny adorations; because you knew as soon as he came to, he’d be out like a light.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧…❞ who isn’t submissive at all. the king of curses didn’t have a submissive bone in his body– completely overtaken by the dominant hull. you’ve tried to make him submit – more than once – but it never worked out in your favor.

your hands would delve towards his shoulders to pin him down as you rode him– well, tried to ride him as his cock pounded up into you harshly– but you’d be thrown off in an instant, a mating press following suit so you couldn’t move underneath him.

you’d whine for him to take you more than once in a single night, in pursuit of overstimulating him– but you failed to realize just how much stamina he had and you ultimately ended up being the one overstimulated with your cunt stuffed full of his cum each and every time.

there were some days where he played along with your endeavors to be nice. sometimes a quiet whine would fill his throat before replacing it with hefty growls and grunts while you sucked his cock. and other times he’d let you have the upper hand for more than a half a second, reveling in the way your body moved against him to try to overtake him. 

your tits would bounce right in his face and it made him think twice– he almost begged for them, wanting nothing more than to take them into his mouth and litter them red with teeth marks. but that thought left his mind rather quickly as your cunt pressed warmly against his cock, stirring it awake from its confines and it was game over. 

there was no way he’d beg for a lowly human.

why would he need to when you gave yourself up to him so easily? you’d practically jump him as soon as he switched with itadori, strong arms holding onto you as you pushed him onto the bed. but of course, he could flip you over in an instant and he would, his cock dragging deliciously along your walls within the next two minutes. 

as much as it was fun to watch you squirm and cry about him not letting up his dominance, it also turned him on immensely. his cock would ache inside you as you begged for him to make a needy noise… his eyes would threaten to roll back as you clenched around him in hopes he would show some type of submission… and he’d have to recollect himself when you breathed hot in his ear that he was such a good boy for fucking you so well. why the fuck did that affect him? 

but once he grounded himself, you were in trouble– his cock pounding into you with heinous phrases leaking from his mouth. he couldn’t bear to listen to you anymore, the idea drove him insane– a fucking human shouldn’t be calling him wretched pet names like that. so to shut you up, his palm would end up on your mouth and his tongue there would shove straight into it. he just needed to fuck the kink out you, that’s all. 

and of course being the curse that he is, once you couldn’t speak, he’d tease (berate) you about your subby needs.

“ah, so you get off on pussy men now?”

“don’t look away from me, doll, answer the question.”

“what– you want me to whine and beg for you like a goddamn pup? i don’t think so.”

“now hold your legs open ‘n take my cock… like a normal fucking human.”

yeah, you tried and all it got you was a sore cunt each time, unable to walk without a bit of a wobble– his devilish smirk and targeted eyes followed you every step of the way before he relinquished his form to itadori in the morning. 

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @satorawrrr | @winterskeleton

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[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[superhoeva]

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 – 𝐜. 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, +𝟏𝟖) | sorry for this. blame my ovulation and those new jaw pics <3

deep. his tongue is so deep inside you that it’s hard to think. to breathe. to think. all that tumbles from you are incoherent cries of fuck carmen and mewls that have him grinding a wet spot into the sheets beneath him. he’s got your legs open, fingers gently pulling back the slick skin of your pussy. lips and tongue tangling themselves with spit as they circle all over you. carmen’s chin is drenched and his jaw is sore, but he won’t stop. he can’t stop, he thinks to himself, placing heavy open mouthed-kisses over your cunt. it’s all lips and groans and sweet as he eats at you like it’s his first and last time. the sounds—sloppy bouts of smacking and squelching—have his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

carmen could come like this. carmen will come like this, but not before you do. it takes everything in him to tear his mouth from you, lines of drool and juices dragging away with him. soft shushes pour from him as you whine, squirming at the loss. i know, baby, i know. need you to come first though before i bust on the bed, okay. can you do that for me? carmen’s found his way back towards your face for a deep, salty peck to your lips before pulling away. you stop breathing for a second when his tongue reaches out and laps at your chin, taking back the juices transferred during his affections. so good. always so good, so sweet for me. how’d i get such a sweet girl, huh? you almost think carmen wants you to answer, but the two fingers that delve inside you rid your brain of any intelligible response. carmen's jaw drops some at the sight of your head thrown back as he deepens his fingers, the thumb of his other hand sliding over your swollen clit.

shit, there we go he mutters to himself, voice low and dick twitching at your warmth around his fingers. you clench and squeeze, a grip around his wrist that he knows means anything but stop. fuck, you’re so warm, baby. so fuckin wet, really need you to come for me. please. his words are paired with a thrusting of his hand, in and out of you as his fingers bend. searching for the place you taught him about before. the place that makes you choke out his name. it only takes him a short five seconds before he hears it—forced from your lips in a strained whimper.

there we go, that’s it. that’s it, pretty girl. gorgeous fuckin pussy squeezing around me. you flinch when he drags his fingers against the spot with even more intention. right there, that’s it, right? that feel good? he grins a little to himself when your reply is nothing but a loud groan and a tighter grip on his wrist. he can’t help himself when he bends back to kiss right below your belly button, a few falling curls tickling your bare stomach as he nips at the skin. his lips trail down, down, down, and you're certain you could just burst. the mixture of his fingers and tongue has you seeing stars, spiraling towards an intense warmth that feels almost too good.

carmen’s breathing is ragged and comes out is harsh pants. he’s licking and sucking and nearly sobbing into you as he works. something louder leaves him when you reach down and grab at his hair. the meeting of your gazes has you mewling out a pitiful line of fuck. fuck, yes, oh god, carmen. please, please don’t stop—gonna cum—don’t stop. there’s a new intensity from carmen as you edge closer and closer to euphoria. his hips pump, heaving the heavy, dripping head of his dick back and forth over the mattress. the bed shakes at both carmen’s vigor and your inability to stay still as a harsh blanket of heat begins to smother you. every sound becomes nothing but a wave of meaningless frequencies. a high hum rings in your ears as your limbs tense and your body shakes uncontrollably. carmen tongues at your center in a feral manner, and he stares at you with hooded eyes. fingers still slinking in and out of your pussy. you drop your head into the bed, still trembling, and eyes wet with tears as the heat of your everywhere has you floating.

carmen slows now, opting for kisses against your sopping middle. his chin is wetter than before as he presses his lips all over and across you. cooing out soft words with his finger sitting calm inside you. oh you did so good for me, pretty girl. so good. a kiss. taste so good another kiss and fucking sweet, jesus. made me cream the fucking bed and i don’t even care. another kiss. good fucking girl. another kiss. best fucking girl.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.