#the lighting is a wee bit fucked

[poorlemons]

Just a little artwork of my Tyche kid Milo- they’re one angry, lonely motherfucker.. nothin fancy or anything cus fuck i havent properly drawn in days

[trixibebe]

Excited to formerly introduce my Yakuza OC! ^^ Couldn't wait to be cringe on main

OC: Kornélia (nickname: Kori)

Nationality: Hungarian

Age: early 30's

Occupation: translator at Ichiban Holdings (formerly a secretary at Majima Constructions)

Affiliation: Ichigang (current), Tojo Clan (former by proxy)

Weapon of choice: the tanto she got from Majima, who also taught her the stance

Partner: Tianyou Zhao (current), Goro Majima (former)

[nanaslutt]

The cat and the mouse

ʚ pairing: sukuna x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, established relationship, established consent, predator and prey play, fear, rough sex, public sex, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, dirty talk, praise, degradation, squirting, passing out, a wee bit of blood at the end

ʚ note: for @istyrrstars heh <3

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

A shiver crept down your spine as you stood in the middle of the forest, the sun setting on the horizon. You had twenty minutes of light left at best. Your lungs burned as you greedily inhaled the cold hair, never once keeping your eyes still on one spot in the trees, always searching.

A crack that sounded too close made you take off running again. You had no logical reason for sprinting in the direction you did, your body just moved on instinct. Despite the fact you knew who was in these woods with you never wanted to cause you any real harm, you couldn't help but still be afraid.

You hadn't expected Sukuna to let you run away for this long. He was playing with you. He was a cat, and you were the mouse running in circles in a maze with no end. You thought he would let you run, then immediately chase you down and devour you, but Sukuna wasn't one to ruin the fun too quickly.

He enjoyed dragging things out, toying with people, and letting their own brains torture them with the what-ifs. You felt him all around you, it made your skin crawl with terror and excitement. You stopped again when your eyes landed on a very tall tree, one that reached taller than the others, which would give you the perfect one up on Sukuna. He would become your prey, you were sure of it. 

Getting low to the ground, your eyes darted all around the thick bushes and trees, in between each crack and opening between them, looking for Sukuna's glowing red eyes. You tried to control your breathing, your breath coming out stuttered and sharp as you forced your mouth shut, not letting the gasps you so desperately wanted to release escape.

Finally reaching the tree, you placed your back firmly against it, your hands framing your body on the tree. You swallowed hard, your rapid heartbeat in your ears making you think you were hearing things you weren't as you jerked your neck side to side when the appearance of cracking branches and leaves occurred in your imagination. 

The loud wind rustling through the drying leaves didnt help your paranoia one bit. Once you were sure you had lost Sukuna, at least for now, you turned your body around and braced your foot at the highest point on the tree's tall roots. Pushing off of it, you jumped up and reached out to the scratchy wood above you, the tree scraping your delicate hands making you wince as you started to pull your body up. It was a tall jump, maybe five feet off the ground.

Kicking your feet against the base of the tree, you were successfully making your way onto the branch. You pressed your chest against the thick branch and braced your hands against it, readying yourself to push on it so you could pull the rest of your body up when suddenly, a large hand, one all too familiar, wrapped around your ankle.

With a yelp, you were yanked from the tree and landed hard on the ground. You were a bit disoriented as your body made contact with the cold ground, luckily your hands were able to take some of the impact of the fall. With a strangled grunt, you pulled your leg hard against the hand that held you captive and turned your body around, facing the cat.

You were met with Sukuna's grinning face, looking more relaxed than ever. "Caught you." He said, bearing his teeth. Fight or flight kicked in, even though the face in front of you was a familiar one. You were getting really into this, your brain really almost registered him as a threat just then. Using all of the strength you could muster, you kicked him hard in the shoulder, making him release your ankle as you scrambled to your feet and took off running.

Too easy you thought to yourself, that was too easy. He let you go on purpose. While you were running for your life, your head ringing and heart beating were the only things you could hear. Not the leaves crunching underneath you, not your loud gasps, nothing. Abruptly stopping in your tracks you turned around and could still see the spot you were just at moments ago, you hadn't traveled far, and Sukuna was gone.

How such a massive man was able to seemingly disappear in this forest made you so unsettled. You turned rapidly on your heels, not knowing what to do or where to go. Despite the cold, you felt nothing but the heat burning through your body. This was getting you worked up more than you thought it had. 

It was almost pitch black now, a dark blue hue cast itself over the forest. You placed your hands over your mouth when you finally noticed your own breathing. Chills covered your arms, you were scared. Looking around you realized you didn't know where you were anymore. Despite how familiar you were with the land, Sukuna's territory looked all the same in the dark.

"Scared?" You heard Sukuna's voice from behind you. You swore you felt his hot breath tickle your ear. You almost screamed, your breathing picking up as you turned rapidly, expecting to come face to face with him, only you were met with more darkness. You were trembling, your body felt weak all over. "Try harder." Came his voice again, this time from behind your other ear. 

You gasped again, turning rapidly even though you knew the same thing was going to happen. You were faced with more darkness. Deciding not to stick around even though you knew it was now futile, you took off running again in the direction opposite that you last heard his voice.

Your panting was much louder now as you frantically placed one foot in front of the other. Turning your head around to look behind you to check if he was hot on your tail was a mistake. Of course, you saw nothing, then you saw the forest floor. Always look where you're walking. A large rock had tripped you and made you plummet chest first onto the cold ground, right on top of a coarse pile of dead leaves.

You weren't even given a second to process the fall before two large arms grabbed your own and pinned them behind your back, sharp nails digging into the skin. "N-No!!" You yelled, trying to squirm out of his grip. "Running is futile," Sukuna growled, forcing your chest back down onto the ground, your face getting scratched up and dirtied by the vitreous. 

"Legs," Sukuna instructed, forcing his massive thigh between your own as you felt the nails of his third-hand dig under the waistband of your pants. "N-no stop!! I-I'm not done yet!" You protested, fighting as hard as you could against him. You refused to lose like this. You were unaware an hour had already passed, likely because of the intense headspace you were in.

"Struggle all you want. You're caught and there's nothing you can do. You can't even help yourself." Sukuna stated, his cock throbbing hard against his boxers as he shoved your head into the ground, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his hands. "Ngghhh-" You whined and writhed against him, trying to kick him off of you while he successfully ripped your bottom half free of any material. 

The cold air burned your hot skin once it was free from its confines, but that didn't stop you from continuing to fight back. Sukuna's heart was racing. He can't remember the last time he'd felt so worked up. Watching you panic and look so afraid while running away from him, even though you knew it was futile, made him insatiably hungry.

He had to palm himself throughout the entire hunting session to prevent himself from ruining the fun and tackling you to the ground prematurely to ravish you. He knew the wait would be worth it. "Yeah keep trying. Keep fighting it." Sukuna groaned, his eyes never leaving your face, screwed in anguish and protest as he reached into his own pants to fish out his cock, already soaked with pre-cum.

Your cunt felt so hot as it throbbed around nothing, bare to Sukuna's eyes alone. You were growing fatigued. You were getting nowhere from fighting him like this. He might've let you go the first time, but he was under no circumstances letting you get away again. You were unable to hear anything besides his voice and your own heartbeat in your head, so you had no idea what Sukuna was doing behind you.

Your eyes had adjusted to the dark, but you still could see nothing but a large silhouette caging over yours when you managed to crane your neck far enough back. "Are you scared?" Sukuna asked again, making you whimper at his words, your arms pulling agaisnt his hand, making his nails dig into your wrists.

You were about to try twisting your body harder in one direction all at once to try and escape him when you felt his burning skin caress the skin of your body, his breath tickling the back of your neck with his rapid breaths. "I can feel how scared you are," Sukuna answered for you before your jaw fell open in a scream that made any birds in the vicinity fly away to never return. 

He had shoved his cock inside you, all at once, with no prep or warning. A laugh mixed with a groan filled your ears before his hips started up a brutal pace, giving you no time to register what had happened. "A-ahh- f-fuck h-hurts-" you cried, hot tears being forced out from your eyes at the shock. Your cunt burned from the stretch, but there was intense pleasure mixed into it that made your head spin as he drilled his fat cock against your g-spot, threatening to punch against your cervix.

"You like this don't you? You're so wet." Sukuna groaned, fucking into you harder. Your arch fell as your body fell flat against the ground, Sukuna still keeping your arms pinned behind your back and against his chest as his hips followed you, fucking into you mercilessly. 

You were only able to let out cries and screams as he fucked the vulgar noises out of you. You felt your stomach poke the ground each time he fucked into you, his cock from this angle was making your lower tummy bulge out, a sight that would've made Sukuna himself coo if he could see it. 

"You haven't even seen my face and you're enjoying this. Slut." He spat, sitting up he reached under your body and hooked two arms under your legs, another was placed against your chest, right under your clothed breasts as he stood and fucked into you from behind while carrying you, legs spread.

Your body bounced lifelessly, your mind gone completely blank as he bullied his cock in and out of you, your juices spilling out around his cock. Sukuna bit down hard against your neck, making you scream out, your hands balling together in fists as he held them tightly in his iron grasp. "H-haahhh- S-sukuna-" You cried, the tears flowing freely down your face, feeling cool compared to how hot your skin felt.

Sukuna's vision was better than the average human in the dark, so he was able to get a glimpse of your tears running down the side of your face when he lifted his head from your neck. "Fuck, are you crying? Does it hurt that bad? Huh?" Sukuna asked, his heart rate picking up at the sight. He pistoned his cock harder into you, dropping your body down onto him so he was fucking you even deeper than before.

The tip of his cock hit your cervix, making you scream, your head jerking from side to side at the pleasureful pain. "Feels like I'm in your womb. I'm so much deeper inside you than usual." He grit through his teeth, his eyes fluttering back in their sockets as he resisted the urge to blow his load right then and there. "S-sukunaaa-aa- k-kiss- kiss me, wanna kiss-" You sobbed, scratching the skin just above his cock with your nails where he held your hands captive. 

"You wanna kiss?" Sukuna asked, looking at you from the side of your face, the expression on his amused. You nodded, your moans getting chopped up by loud hiccups as you stared into his glowing red eyes for the first time tonight. You squeezed your eyes shut when Sukuna's hot tongue licked across your cheek, licking up your tears. "So weak," Sukuna whispered before he granted your wish and pressed his lips agaisnt yours.

You could hardly even call what he gave you a kiss. He more or less crushed his jaw against yours while he shoved his tongue down your throat. You tried to tangle yours with his but it got pushed down each time as Sukuna dominated you in as many ways as he could. You could feel yourself dripping cum out around him each time he bullied his cock into your walls. The loud squelches echoed through your head.

Sukuna's started to breathe heavier against your lips, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm, though you were too fucked out to notice. Sukuna snaked a hand down to your clit and started rubbing harshly, the action making your eyes shoot open in panic as you turned your head away from him, breaking the kiss. If Sukuna had a fifth arm, he would use it to slap you across the face for that.

"What the matter? Were you not the one who wanted to kiss? How dare you stop-" "Stop stop- t-too much- t-too- Fuck Kuna-" Your cries cut off his scolding, his eyebrows shooting open in surprise. You had started to squirm against him again, fighting in his hold. "Keep fighting me and I'll let you fall." He growled, his face turning into a snarl at your disobedience. 

"Wait- wait p-ahhhh please-" You tried to warn him, shaking your head repeatedly back and forth. It was too much. His fingers were rubbing back and forth across your clit too fast, too hard, it was making you dizzy. You couldn't catch your breath, his cock was splitting you open and ramming against your cervix repeatedly, you were going to pass out.

"Shut up." Sukuna tsked before he released your hands and grabbed your chin, forcing your mouth back on his as he swallowed up your whines. Your hands immediately shot out to grip his wrist, your nails breaking his skin from how hard you were grabbing him as you tried to get him to stop rubbing your clit. Too much, too good, too fast-

Sukuna's breath hitched, he shut his eyes as he focused on the way you sucked in his cock and tongue, his heavy balls twitching as they readied his release. He had no intention of letting you know he was cumming or asking you if he could finish inside, he was going to and you were going to take it like you always did. 

Your face screwed in pleasure and your whole body tensed as you felt your orgasm build and build and build until- you jerked forward as you came, a stream of clear liquid spraying out from your cunt as you came, squirting out around his cock.

Sukuna groaned loudly in a drawn-out growl as your spasming cunt milked his orgasm out of him. He failed to notice when you were knocked unconscious as he fucked each rope of his cum inside of you, his load spilling out around his cock from the sheer amount of seed there was. Sukuna released your lips and bit down hard against your shoulder as he rode out the last waves of his high. A metallic taste flooded into his mouth as his teeth breached your skin, tingling against his tongue.

Sukuna's cock twitched strongly against your walls, still staying hard even after he unloaded his balls into you. It was only when he peeled his heavy eyes open that he realized your head was dangling forward and your hands had released his wrist, which was now ruined with scratch marks. 

A genuine laugh was released from his lungs as he shook his head, his eyes raking over your passed-out form. A hand touched the side of your neck against your pulse point, checking if you were alive. A kiss replaced the fingers there after he pulled them back, confirming your alive status. 

"Well done, you did very good," Sukuna whispered to you, noticing how your skin was starting to cool off. Sukuna lifted your limp body off of him with ease, hissing at the loss of your warm walls around his sensitive cock before pressing you against his chest to chest, trying to transfer some of his body heat to you as he wrapped his arms around you, starting off in the direction of his estate. 

[queenariesofnarnia]

never underestimate the bunny

gif not mine!

wc: 642ish

Alastor x f!bunny!reader

warnings: tiny amount of violence, some verbal harassment( not from alastor), a wee bit of blood, and a mildly suggestive ending

🦌❤️ You were a sweetheart no doubt about it and none of your friend s doing out what landed you in hell. Especially as a bunny demon, everyone believed they had to protect you. Until one day you and Angel were out shopping.

“Toots you should get the red dress! it made ya smile sparkle” Angel told you as you tried on a new article of clothing. “Only if you get the matching black skirt with me!” you tell him laughing and he joins in. As you finished up shopping and began to stroll back to the hotel a group of sinners started pestering you. “Come here little bunny” one creep said “I bet you’d make a pretty little fuck toy” another yelled out. You grip your bags continuing on your way. Angel ignoring the thirst thrown his way since he was used to it. Until another one of them yelled at you. “Don’t be a bitch and let us breed you little bunny” the third one yelled. Huffing you place your bags in Angel’s hands. Your ear twitching in annoyance. “Angel be a doll and just head back. I’ll catch up” you instruct your friend. He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind but you gave him a nod of reassurance. You turn around facing the men before pulling a gun out your small purse shooting each man in their dick before pouncing on them ripping into them. Once you were through you placed your gun back in your purse turning away from the bodies to make your way back to the hotel. Angel witnessed it all, once you pulled your gun out he didn’t want to miss a chance to see you fight. “You got some blood on you toots” he gestures to your dress that was now stained. You shrug and laugh it off together. Making jokes about it until you walk through the doors. You receive a normal greeting from everyone until charlie screams. “You’re covered in blood!” she’s pointing at your dress. you just nod at her reaction. “Are you hurt?” Vaggie asked looking you over. “It’s not my blood” you tell them calmly. “Ya should’ve seen it.Cottontail here knows how to hold her own” Angel praises setting the bags by the couch before heading to the bar to bother Husk. He begins telling Husk the story as you head upstairs, you notice a shadow following you and don’t mind it until you get to your room. “You can come in but no telling Alastor if you see more than you should” you joke with the shadow. “Don’t tell me what cher?” the beautiful static voice reaches your ears as he appears in your room. “Well Alastor I was telling your shadows they may not inform you if they see more of me than they should.” you tell him with a smile. “Now my dear bunny, what is the fun in that hmmm?” he asks you stepping closer taking your appearance in. “Might I say you look like quite the dish covered in blood” he compliments his smile not leaving his face. “They probably would’ve tasted awful” you tell him jokingly. it made him genuinely laugh, it’s a rare sound you had the pleasure of hearing. “I’m sure you’re absolutely right my dear. I overheard our lovely spider friend telling dear ol’ Husker how you handled the scum who accosted you.” he steps closer to you caging you in between the dresser and his body. you are place your hands on his chest smiling up at him. “Your’e looking at me like I’m your next meal darling” your voice soft, the term of endearment slipping past your lips with ease. “With the way you look cher. You might be” he places a light kiss on your shoulder before giving you space. “Just say the word”

a/n: here’s pt 2 that no one asked for but i felt like doing :)

[sems-diarie]

tw noncon, tw misogyny. sukuna x reader x yuji. in light of this wee post.

very much the bare bones of something i wanted to bust out super quick. video takes place somewhere throughout the Shibuya incident.

mindlessly scrolling his own phone, yuji finds a video of you and him that’s he’s never seen before. probably because it’s not him in the video.

..not really, at least.

yuji is going through his camera roll out of boredom, when he stumbles across a video of he and you, but doesn’t quite recognize where it’s from. he taps it w a fat thumb n’ nearly gasps when the image of your thighs pops into the frame, crowded by his own. it plays automatically.

the sound of your voice is what sets him off. immediately, your whimpering makes yuji frown. he looks closer; he can see a set of pants, wide-legged and a deep blue. pink lashes flutter; on the outsides of your ankles, yuji spots his shoes.

that is him. and—and you. in some kind of alleyway, it seems.

he recognizes your legs, the shape, the bewitching swells of them. a small part of him burns with shame; he’s memorized every curve of you. that skirt, it barely reaches the tops of your thighs—he’s seen it on your hips a handful of times before.

that’s you. and himself.

he’s stood behind you, pressing you against some kind of wall. red dust swells past yours and his toes. the camera adjusts and suddenly, yuji is looking at his own cock. then it’s gone, sunken six inches deep beneath the small, flippant denim of your mini-skirt.

where are the two of you? what—is that him? it has to be. what is happening?

as he sinks into you, inch after fat inch, your fidgeting increases. your whines and gasps grow louder. you’re fighting him, twisting away from the thick, ruthless intrusion. your pussy drips and drips and drips—if yuji looks close enough, listens hard enough, he can hear just how eagerly you swallow him up inside of you. he can see the creamy residue your pussy gushes all over him.

but yuji, it seems, holds no patience in his heart for you. the video does not waver even once as he simply holds you harder and still, while sinking his dick to the hilt. his balls smack meanly against your wet skin.

yuji scrambles for some earbuds. his head whips around, wrist snapping about on the bed to snatch ‘em up and plug his ears with your voice. your whines grow louder, closer. he can almost wrap his fingers around your throat—can see your body beneath his hands so vividly when he listens to you like this.

and as yuji observes the video longer, another voice emerges. it sounds like his own, but nothing like it all at once.

“fuck,” the voice—his voice? no.

“yuji won’t like this one bit,” it continues.

yuji can’t help the scowl from stealing into his mouth.

“i’ve gone and taken his—,” your pussy squelches immaculately over the awful sounds of sukuna’s arrogant tone. “his favorite little slut toy.”

“he should consider himself lucky,” sukuna launches his hips against yours hard enough to draw a cry. yuji winces, despite his fingers twitching over his aching cock. “i’m breaking you in for ‘im, little angel girl.”

your skirt rocks back and forth. all of you trembles under the force of sukuna at your back. he has you trapped against a wall—bits of broken glass and debris crumble beneath feet.

“shouldn’t that fuck wit thank me, hm, you stupid, sweet girl? for stretching this little pussy good n’ raw. it’ll be so s-sensitive when he finally grows a pair.”

for the first time since the video started, you speak. and it’s raw, haphazardly thrown over your shoulder as you fight to keep your wits about you. you’re crying, voice bitten with the strength it takes to keep from sobbing into the concrete he’s trapped you against.

“no,” you cry, heave. your body tenses, your voice hits a fever pitch. and soon, the sound of wet splatters mercilessly hitting the ground fills yuji’s ears. your body winds so tight, then nearly collapses in his hands.

“this isn’t how i wanted it!” your voice squeaks in the video, “this isn’t—ohhh! yuji, m’sorry—,”

sukuna grips the supple cheeks of your ass right in the palms of yuji’s hands. and something about it sends yuji into the stratosphere. sukuna is using his hands to defile you. he used your sweet yuji’s hands to then record your torment, and save it. save it—for what? for him?

yuji, m’sorry!

quiet rage quakes beneath yuji’s shoulders.

this isn’t how i wanted it!

did you know sukuna would record you? did you know he’d want yuji to watch your pussy leak bit by bit, innocence pummeled all away by his own cock—and he hadn’t even been conscious to witness, to feel it.

twistedly enough, yuji feels something has been stolen from him.

[urhoneycombwitch]

Ok ok hear me out I have a different idea now after reading your phone sex blurb

What about after Eddie comes back from his tour they're out with friends and some other girl is chatting him up, trying to rub up on him in front of reader. And she wants to stake her claim but she can't because he's not hers, not technically; and he isn't into the other girl's attention because he just wants reader, but he can't be too earnest about that bc it'll scare her off.

Do I want them to grind on the dancefloor or have sex in the bathroom? Yeah maybe

foreword: more roommate!Eddie x reader filth. secret situationship fucking at a party style. ty anon <3

wc: 1.8k

cw: secret FWB, Reader with breasts + vagina, femme pet names used, fingering (R receiving), the return of Eddie Cums-In-His-Pants Munson, wee bit angsty, lots of hidden longing

____

This party is the most sound your apartment has ever heard- speakers thrumming bass lines through the floorboards, drunken friends’ laughter echoing off walls.

You and Eddie planned ahead, started plotting weeks ago to bribe various neighbors in the building to avoid catching a noise complaint- scratch brownies for the floor below, some pre-rolls handed off across the hall, party invites extended to whoever was in earshot.

Informal karaoke kicked off around midnight, as the room rose in heat from extra bodies and alcoholic flush; Robin and Steve are bringing down the house on the other side of the bathroom door, charming the crowd with a belligerently intoxicated rendition of a Beastie Boys hit.

Eddie’s got you pressed against the sink, your ass to the unforgiving marble of the counter while he teases his teeth over the skin of your neck.

“No marks,” you whisper, fist seizing up at the root of his hair, tugging. He stifles a moan into your skin while you continue to tell him off, voice just under the protective layer of music. “It’s bad enough there’s only one bathroom in this place. Someone’s bound to notice we’re both gone-”

Eddie suddenly drops to his knees, nosing at the strip of skin above your jeans that he lifts your shirt to reveal. Your breath stutters, and he grins before popping the button with his teeth, chocolate eyes eclipsed by the black-lust of his pupils.

“No one’s gonna hear you, ‘cuz you’re not gonna make a sound. Got it?”

The gush of arousal that meets Eddie’s fingers is invitation enough. You rock into his hand, and he angles his fingers up- you take two of them like a dream, as if your cunt had just been waiting to be filled by those long, dexterous digits, cold rings quickly warming to the skin-temperature of your thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie mumbles, never more mouthy than when he’s face to face with his favorite pastime. And then, as if reading your mind- “Been waitin’ for me all night, hm? Poor thing. So wet…”

Outside, the song rises into a fast guitar solo bridge, quickening along with your breaths. Hoping there’s enough sound barrier, you brace yourself with one hand on the counter while the other buries itself into the heat of Eddie’s scalp.

Soft, dark curls slip between your knuckles, your thumb brushing gently under the layer of bangs to touch the bare skin of his forehead. It’s too tender, too endearing for what the moment calls, in direct contrast with the way Eddie’s plunging into you, the insistent, budging slope of his nose near the pounding apex of your thighs.

“Becca’s gonna notice.” Your thumb tracks a path to Eddie’s temple, so now you’re just cradling his head as he fingers you into oblivion. “You know- ah- Becca? The girl from down the hall that you invited, specially?”

If it wasn’t for the public setting, you’d take more time to calculate which buttons of Eddie’s to push; as it stands, you’re sort of flailing around in the dark, hitting random ones and seeing what lights up.

Seems to do the trick, though- in one fluid motion, Eddie shoves your jeans the rest of the way down and takes one of your knees over his shoulders, giving himself enough room between your legs to dip forward and latch onto on your clit.

His plush lips suck, fervently, in time with the rhythm of his curled fingers, managing to hit into that gummy spot that buckles your knees.

“Well Becca- isn’t- here, right now,” Eddie says, around lapping mouthfuls of you, hand on your hip near-bruising with the force it takes to keep you upright. “Besides, she invited herself.”

“I dunno… you seemed pretty excited to see her.” The muscles of your abdomen clench, then release, your head tipping backwards to thunk against the mirror.

There’s an arch in your spine, now, enough space for Eddie’s hand to migrate from your hip to low back, pulling you more insistently onto his tongue and fingers.

In response, the spot behind your navel tightens again, pleasure swelling with the music. It’s irritating that Eddie thinks you’ll drop the subject in favor of an orgasm, so you aim for another button, lashes fluttering at the ceiling, voice stretched thin as your resolve- “She gonna stay the night? Use the same bathroom you’ve finger-banged some other b-”

The wet, hot pressure on your clit disappears, a whine of protest crawling from your throat before Eddie can smother it with his palm. Luckily, the living room speakers are kind of shitty, crackling with feedback as the song reaches fever pitch volume.

Eddie’s fingers still within you, stretching to depths that make your eyes roll back as he rises to cover the length of your body with his own. His hand is big and warm over the lower half of your face, breath an angry huff by your ear as he growls, low- “It’s probably in your best interest to not finish that sentence.”

It’s some consolation that you have the option to bite. Tempting as that is, you let your glare speak for itself, brows knitting together as Eddie draws back to look at you.

There’s a bead of sweat running down the side of his jaw, disappearing into the curls he’s let loose for the night. The eyeliner you’d carefully applied for him pre-party is blurred from the humidity and exertion, a rosy flush in his cheeks to match.

Eddie crowds your vision, close enough for you to note the tiny freckle under his left eye twitch, and for a moment, everything is just him- all you can see, hear, touch, smell, dopamine flooding in a head spin of hormones that respond despite your best efforts to tamp them down.

The background noise fades away, and it’s just you and Eddie, panting and straining against the other. A squelch, as he adds a third finger, your breasts pushing into the solid expanse of his chest as you squirm up, mindlessly seeking release.

“Be good and come ‘fore this song is over,” he’s saying, thick fingers scissoring, your resounding moan stifled by his palm. “Then I’ll kick everyone out and let you come again.”

It’s the promise of another that undoes you, thighs shaking with the growing wave, lashes tickling Eddie’s knuckles as your eyes slam shut.

He keeps all the points of pressure that you need, plus more- hips pinning the frenetic rolls of your torso, tips of his fingers coaxing bright spasms from the channel of your cunt, forehead pressed like an anchor to your own as your body sings.

The whole time, he’s talking you through it, deep timbre just for your ears with rasping praise and encouragement. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart, that’s it. That’s it. Good. Let it all out. S’just me here, yeah? Just you and me. Fuck…”

By the time your hearing returns, Eddie’s dotting soothing kisses up the curve of your neck, apparently trusting you enough to let his hand drop from your mouth. You take a few deep, shuddering breaths, hand still buried in Eddie’s hair like a lifeline.

He doesn’t seem to mind, taking his sweet time pulling out of you, disentangling himself with lingering touches to any remaining bare skin.

While he tugs your shirt back into place, you turn to face the mirror, smoothing over flyaways and making sure you look somewhat presentable. You let Eddie’s hands roam as your heart rate stutters, working itself back down to normal while he refixes the button of your jeans.

His chin settles on your shoulder, arms twining around your middle; you let him take some of your weight, relaxing into his hold, eyes catching his in the mirror as you ask, quietly, “You want me to wingman for you? She seems nice. And it’s never a bad idea to sleep with someone who lives in your building.”

Eddie snorts, your dry attempt at a joke working wonders, grin on its way to devastating greeting your reflection. “You seriously think I’m the one who needs help? After the time I just showed ya?”

“Well based on my limited data-” your hips grind backwards without warning, and Eddie stiffens, smile slipping from his face as your own wicked grin takes over- “-I’d say you’re the one who came in his pants just from touching me.”

You wriggle in his arms to turn around, noses bumping, lips hovering in a not-quite-kiss as you whisper, “Say please and I’ll run and get you some new pants. Hand-delivered.”

Even with the wall of party noise, there’s a distinctive click as Eddie’s jaw ticks. He acquiesces, though, stopping somewhere just shy of grateful to grit out, “Please.”

You hum, pleased and thoughtful, leaning out of his space to lift a brow- “I think Becca’s into blue-collared boys.”

This fact, you’re basing off the one time you saw a UPS guy at your neighbor’s door. Sounds a lot better if you act like you know what you’re talking about, though, as if the list of things you know about Becca is longer than black hair and occasionally receives packages.

Distance, safety, one and the same, even though what your body begs for is to get closer, to soak all your senses in Eddie again. You wind a particularly pretty curl of his around your index finger. “Those khakis you wore once to Robin’s grad party and then never again- bottom drawer?”

When Eddie nods, he fixes you with a glare, nostrils flaring like he’s about to tell you off.

Before he can, though, you’ve wriggled from his grasp, reaching for the door handle with strict, hissy instructions about locking it after you’re gone and only opening for your special knock.

He obeys, deadbolt sliding into place, door swallowing the noise of the party in your absence.

It’s just Eddie now, leaning into hands over the sink, breathing hard like he hasn’t already blown a load three minutes ago.

The entire length of his middle fingers shimmer in the light, still coated with your arousal.

Eddie’s mouth waters. He thinks about you; how for a second, you were the only thing on his mind, how rare that is, for him to be so singularly focused.

Then he thinks about Becca. And stupid tight fucking dress pants.

The sink water gushes to a start as he jerks the handle on, sudsy hand soap scrubbing away at the smell of you, carrying it down the drain.

By the time you’re back, dreaded pants in hand, Eddie’s fixed an easy smile on his face, bickering at the ready. Almost normal, and certainly familiar.

It’s just simpler to keep some distance. Close quarters aside.

[eoieopda]

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

svt taglist: @ashonheavenscloud @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rasparagus @bouclesdefeu @ourkivee @sourkimchi @gyuguys

multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[golbrocklovely]

our girlfriend // sam and colby

A/N: it's my bday and i'm giving you guys a present... aren't i so nice lol i know it's been a LONG time since i posted any form of a fic, and i'm sorry about that. but hopefully this makes up for it a bit. if you squint hard enough, this could basically be a 'careful what you wish for' fic as well (but not really since the boys are just normal and not a demon or vampire). hope you enjoy and let me know what you think !

prompt: you and the boys always had your fun, but you never tried it in public. and now they want to. || fem!reader x sam and colby

trigger warning: SMUT, threesome (but no actual sex), no solby, you are sam and colby's girlfriend…. lucky you lmao, fingering, oral fixation/finger sucking, bossy!bf sam and colby, also very possessive, a wee bit of degradation, mentions of baby, darling, baby girl, love, good girl, slut, and it also takes place slightly in public (but away from everyone)

word count: 2003

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

"Guys, are you sure about this?" You questioned hurriedly as you rushed up the stairs.

Sam looked back at you, his voice loud over the thumping music of the party. "Yeah, c’mon Y/N. There’s no one up here."

"Probably for good reason." You grumbled.

"You’ve never been one to follow the rules. Don’t start now..." Colby smirked devilishly, his voice right by your ear as he passed you on the stairs.

Reaching the top and with each one of them holding a hand, Sam and Colby pulled you down the hallway. They stopped right outside a door tucked away from the stairs. If someone came up, they would see you. Your heart raced at the idea alone.

Colby leaned his back against the wall as you looked around the corner, glancing at the stairs nervously. He rolled his eyes, pulling you against him. "Baby, you have nothing to worry about. You're with us. When have we ever gotten caught?"

You glared up at him, annoyed. "You literally have a rap sheet that proves you don't know how to hide."

"Someone's feeling bratty tonight..." Sam joked playfully, leaning across from you and Colby.

You gazed at him over your shoulder, brows furrowed. "I'm just worried about someone finding out about us. God knows how the fans would react if they knew..."

Colby's finger lightly turned your chin so that you were looking at him. "Knew about what? That we both love to play with our girlfriend, and now we're trying it out in public?"

You stuttered, the lustful glint in Colby's eye making you blush. "Y-yes. Exactly that."

Colby pouted. "But I thought you loved when we both touched you."

"And tasted you..." Sam replied, sounding closer.

Colby leaned his face in, getting close to yours. "And fucked y-"

You cut him off, slapping his chest. "That's not the issue I have. It's the getting caught part. Or someone seeing us."

"But that's what's fun about this," Sam turned you around to face him, Colby's hands still resting low on your hips. "You're getting fucked as a party is being thrown downstairs in our honor. And if anyone tries to find us, they'll see us all up here... with you. So we gotta make sure we don't get caught."

"Especially since no one is allowed up here." You mentioned again.

"Well, we're allowed up here. No one else is." Colby informed.

Your face scrunched up, "I thought the owner said-"

"The owner can suck my dick. If I want to fuck my girlfriend in a house I'm renting out for a party, I'm gonna do it wherever I want to." Colby ranted.

"Excuse me." Sam raised an eyebrow, a light glare thrown at Colby.

"Right, my bad, Sam. Our girlfriend." Colby responded, smiling.

Sam sighed, "Much better."

"Speaking of...." Colby slid his hand under your skirt, pressing your damp panties against your swollen sex. "Our girlfriend is very wet."

You gasped, your body arching against Colby's. He exhaled as your ass grinded into his crotch. His breath was hot against your neck, raising goosebumps across your cool skin.

Sam's eyes danced up your body, studying it as Colby kneaded your clit slowly. Sam hummed when his gaze reached your face, his voice low, "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Kiss me." You shuddered, grabbing his shirt lightly and tugging him closer.

"She's so aggressive when she's needy." Colby chuckled darkly, applying pressure to his movements.

Sam nodded, leaning in and kissing you tenderly. You could barely breathe to begin with but having Sam's mouth on yours and Colby's fingers on your clit, you felt yourself get lightheaded. It was so overwhelming already, and they barely had done anything to you. God, or the devil himself, only knew what they had in store for you.

As Sam's tongue glided into your mouth, tangling with yours, Colby moved your panties out of the way and slid two fingers inside of you, pumping them at an achingly slow pace. Your breath hitched, a moan falling from your lips. Lucky for you, it was muffled by Sam's mouth.

"What did we say, baby girl? You can’t be too loud. And we know how loud you can get." Sam teased.

"Even with the music playing, they would be able to hear her." Colby sneered jokingly.

"Is that what you want? To get caught? To have all of our friends know you're being fucked by us? That you're needy for us?" Sam grunted, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

"I think that's what she wants. She loves to pretend to be such a good girl, but in reality, she's bad." Colby snickered into your ear quietly. "She's a little slut for us."

"Our slutty little girlfriend who can't stop herself from moaning when we touch her." Sam closed the space between you two, gripping your chin so that your eyes were looking into his piercing blues. "You're so pathetic and horny, aren't you?"

You shook your head, a whimper falling from your lips as Colby slid another finger in. You bit your lip hard to not make a noise, knowing it wasn't doing much to help.

"We might have to cover her mouth, since she can't listen." Colby hissed mischievously, biting your neck softly.

"I know the perfect way to do that." Sam placed the tips of his index and middle finger against your lips, "Open." Your lips fell open instantly, and he snaked them in, resting them against your tongue. "Suck."

You immediately started sucking his fingers, whining around them and bobbing your head up and down. Sam growled lowly at the sensation of you sucking off his fingers. He pushed himself closer to you, sandwiching you in between him and Colby completely. You couldn't have escaped their hold if you wanted it, and you definitely didn't want to.

"Her mouth feels amazing, Colby. You'll have to give it a try soon." Sam closed his tightly, focusing on the feeling.

"I remember how good she feels, trust me." Colby leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear, "You always need something in your mouth, don't you darling? You can't help but want to suck on something. On one of us."

Colby's fingers sped up, a groan deep within your throat rocketed out, stifled by Sam's fingers. You kept grinding your ass against Colby, who now was hard in his leather pants. He followed your movements, his hips pressing hard into you. Your hand gripped his wrist, clinging onto the hand that was fucking you. Your other hand held Sam close as your nails dug into his back.

"Are you getting close, baby girl? Do you want to come?" Sam barked.

You mewled, nodding your head desperately. Sam tsked, leaning his forehead against yours. "Not yet, baby. I think you need a bit more help."

His other hand drifted down, stopping right above your clit. He teased you for a moment, the tip of his finger brushing across it ever so gently. Your body shook and both boys laughed.

Colby feigned concern. "Aw Sam, c’mon now. You gotta be nice to her. She's not gonna make it."

"I guess we traded places this time, since you're the one that's always so mean to her." Sam quipped sassily.

Colby faux gasped, "Me? Being mean?" He leaned into your ear, whispering, "I'm not mean, am I love? You like when I treat you rough. I know you do, sweetheart."

You closed your eyes tight, trying to hold yourself back from exploding. Both of their motions were all too much for you, but you didn't want it to end just yet. You needed it to keep going. You just loved being theirs.

Sam pushed his lower half into his hand that was rubbing your clit, both boys now grinding against you. Their cocks were hard, and they were touching you in all the right places; you could feel your orgasm building up to its breaking point. You needed them to say you could let go. You weren't sure how much longer you could last.

"Feel how hard you've made us, baby girl. You want us inside of you? Wanna get filled up by us?" Sam rasped.

You whined and nodded mindlessly. You couldn't even form words if you want to.

"She's squeezing my fingers so tight. God, I can't wait to taste you, Y/N. You're getting so close..." Colby panted. "Maybe we should let her come."

"Only if she deserves it. Do you, baby? Do you deserve to come? Have you been good for us?" Sam taunted, staring into your eyes.

You moaned around his fingers in agreement, shaking your head again.

Sam bit his lip, glancing at Colby for a moment. "She has been following our demands very well. She made me hard just by sucking my fingers."

"You've been such a needy, good girl for us, haven't you? You take our fingers so well. Do you wanna come? Say you want to." Colby lowered his voice, "Use your words, love."

You choked around Sam's fingers, a 'I wanna come' mumbled through his digits.

Colby harshly snapped in your ear, "Who owns this cunt, darling?"

You grunted out a 'You do', eyes pleading with Sam to say you could let go.

Sam smirked, an almost evil glint in his eye. "I think she can come now. What about you, Colby?"

Colby paused, his fingers still moving at their fast pace. Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your back. Your face was flushed, and you felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for Colby to say the magic phrase.

He kissed right under your ear sweetly, his lips then pressed against you. "Come for us, baby."

You cried out around their fingers, your body spasming in ecstasy. Sam finger fucked your mouth, making sure your screams weren't heard over the music as he sped up his fingers on your clit. Colby kept the pace as you exploded around him, your juices running down your thighs. He cooed in your ear, speaking softly that you were a good girl, a good slut for them, and that you were so beautiful when you come.

Your pleasure slowly subsided, Sam and Colby resting against you and their motions still. They breathed with you, kissing along your neck and face as you relaxed.

You were about to say something when all three of you could hear someone walking up the stairs. Sam backed up, removing his hands from your mouth and clit. Colby spun you both around, facing the person coming up the stairs. It was a scramble to make sure you looked okay, and you weren't even sure if you did.

A tall man in an all-black suit, one of the security guards, looked down the hallway at you all. "Excuse me, you can't be up here."

"Uh, sorry about that. My girlfriend wasn't feeling too well and the line for the bathroom was kinda long so we figured she could come up here and use this one." Colby smiled, placing you in front of him to cover up his hard on.

"Are you feeling better now, miss?" The man asked, looking at you.

Sam cut you off, thankfully; since you weren't sure if you could even speak yet. He cupped his hands in front of his body, trying to cover himself up. "Yeah, she's good. We'll make sure she feels better later tonight, though. Just to be safe."

You glanced at Sam, and he gave you a little wink.

"Please follow me back downstairs to the party." The man stated.

You trudged down the hall towards the man, Sam and Colby following close behind. Once the man turned around, you could hear Sam smack Colby's arm, saying 'She's our girlfriend' to him. They bickered back and forth until you got to the bottom of the stairs.

Colby smacked your ass playfully, his voice loud enough for only you to hear, "Don’t go too far, Y/N. We're not done with you yet."

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | part two

part two.

word count: 10.8k

Warnings: wee bit angsty (an argument), mentions of sex + pregnancy

The repercussions of Lewis' birthday night are not as sweet.

You don't remember anything after your life-changing orgasm. You vaguely recall Lewis standing bare and walking into the bathroom. Your eyes were low and droopy, and you could only offer him a loving smile that had his cheeks burning. 

"M'gonna clean you up for a second, okay."

You only hum, allowing him to spread you open; this time, it's not sexual at all; it's romantic. Oh god, you thought. You should've known the sex with Lewis would make you go mad. 

He swipes the warm cloth between your legs, wiping the glistening remainder of your arousal away.

The sight of his cum oozing from your hole has him taking a harsh gulp. He'd have to remind you to take whatever precautions you found necessary in the morning. 

If you weren't so burned out and exhausted, the sight of him walking around in the nude with his golden and tatted-on skin display would've had you jumping his bones again.

You can't help but laugh at yourself as he returns from cleaning himself up. 

"What you laughing about?" He grins, hovering over you. You smile, looking at him like he's hung the moon and the stars. "Myself."

The two of you look like two love-sick high schoolers, completely enamored with each other. 

Lewis lowers and captures your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet. One peck after the other before his weight is on top of you. He rolls off of you with a groan, turning you so that you're face to-face with him on your side. 

His hand falls to your bare waist, pulling you against him.

"We need t'sleep."

He sits up, chuckling as you whine from losing his body heat. With one arm, he gently hoists your legs up enough to pull the comforter from underneath your body. He is back in his place instantly, the cover now offering another layer of warmth.

You're trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and stay in this moment because you'll probably never get to experience Lewis like this again, this loving and intimate. 

"Going to be right here in the morning; go to sleep, bunny."

Like he had a spell over you, your eyes close for the final time, and you feel his palm cup your face.

Lewis can't help but watch you fall into slumber. His finger prods against your face, tracing your mouth, eyebrows, and nose. He could already remember every detail of your face. If he were a blind man, he thinks he'd have no problem telling you apart from the rest of the world. 

He didn't think it was possible to love you more than he already does, but feeling the way his heart reacts wildly to you laying flush against him naked and comfortable has him ready to read his (prewritten) vows to you in the morning.

He doesn't want to sleep; he wants to stay here and take it all in. He's probably moving too fast, but he can't wait to tell your friends, your guys' family, hell, even the world, that you love him.

Hearing those words from you detonated the lengthiest, most robust orgasm from him that he'd ever experienced. He'd never come so much, so hard in his life. 

Hearing you say you love him in your angelic whimpers, tears falling out the corner of your eyes, holding onto him so tight, fuck, he's hard again just thinking about it.

"I love you," he whispers into the night, kissing your forehead before turning off the lights.

-

You awake first in the morning, dazed and confused. You feel a heavy mass weighing you down. You squint, open your eyes, and you see him. Lewis, your best friend, face nuzzled in your neck, his arm thrown over your waist, holding you tight as if you were going to float away from him in your sleep.

"Oh fuck," you groan lowly as last night's events seep back into you like scenes from a movie.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You gently reach for his arm, carefully lifting it off your body. You pull a pillow from your side, pushing it under his neck as you slide away and gently drop his arm.

You were unsure of how to go about this whole situation. Would he remember it when he woke up? The passionate sex? The beautiful night? You two were off-your-face drunk. Would he laugh at the words you shared? Brush it off. You wouldn't blame him, it'd hurt for you to hear, but logically, it'd make sense; he was in a sex stupor, drunk and horny, and that'd lead to all kinds of words coming out in a daze.

There's no telling how long you stood there like a deer caught in headlights before you began pulling his shirt over your frame. You crept into his closet, thanking God for the array of shoes and clothing of your own filling his space. You tugged on a pair of Nike crew socks and a pair of boyshorts, reaching for the pair of black Ugg Tasmans Lewis had gotten. 

You stood in his walk-in closet, staring at yourself in the full mirror, and sighed.

What the fuck were you supposed to do? You were sure you crossed the line this time and abandoned boundaries that were needed in order to keep your feelings at bay. You knew you couldn't keep putting yourself through the same demise. 

You didn't know how you would handle the situation when it approached, but in the meantime, you knew you needed to get away from Lewis. You needed to leave his home and be far away from him before you did or said something to ruin your guys' friendship for good.

You creep from the closet quickly, not sparing a glance at the man on the bed; as you grip the handle to his bedroom door, he speaks up from behind you.

He is sat up, back against his headboard, watching you try to leave, "Just going to leave?"

You turn to him awkwardly, hand dropping from the handle, "I-uh, didn't know what you'd want, wasn't sure how to go about-"

"You're not a fucking booty call, Y/n," he says it like you're the most ridiculous person alive like he can't fathom the words coming from your mouth; because he can't.

"Just going to leave me after fucking me? Without a word, while I'm still asleep, that was your plan?"

Your mouth plops open and closed like a fish, searching for the words you stammer out incoherent excuses. Lord, he's got such a dirty mouth.

"Get back in the bed." He cuts you off. 

Like a dog to a bone, you stride over to the bed, kicking off your slippers, and you're beside him again.

You're staring at the door, and he is staring at you. The covers hang low over his body, only just covering what had you going crazy last night.

You clear your throat, waiting for him to put you out of your misery. Get it over with, you thought to yourself as you braced for impact.

"Last night was fun," He hummed.

You let out a stifled laugh, finally turning to look at him. His face was still covered in morning haze, and his voice was extra raspy and groggy. He smiles as you, eyes low and droopy.

"I want to address what we-"

You thought you'd be able to take it. You aren't that fucking strong.

"Yeah, no, it's fine." you laugh awkwardly. "I understand. I feel the same way." You don't, but you continue anyway. "We were drunk and in a mad sex stupor, I'm not holding it against you."

"I don't-"

"It was a mistake," you rambled on.

Lewis' mouth plops shut, and he can't tell if his mouth has been dry from his sleep or if the words you're speaking to him have done it.

"You didn't want it?" He question abruptly, putting an end to your nervous break.

"I mean, of course, I wanted it; I initiated it. I was just drunk and turned on; no need to make it a big deal is what I'm saying; we're both off the hook."

Lewis stands from the bed, his bare body on full display. He wants to tell you to shut up and stop downplaying the night he spent with you. He wants you to say to him that you're lying, but you don't, and it's making him angrier as the second goes on.

There are so many sentences he wants to respond to, but he can only grapple with one at a time. You're talking too much, and he's talking too little.

"I was just going to make it easier for you. Usually, you prefer if girls leave, right? That's what you said."

He has said that, but why the fuck would he be talking about you. Why the fuck would other girls include you.

He looks like a wild man, and you look like his blubbering bunny. 

"Why do you say shit like that?" He shouts. 

His loud tone takes you aback, and your head cranes to watch him incredulously. "What are you talking about?" You fire back.

"You say stupid shit like that all of the time like I'm some kind of fucking manwhore."

You scoff, standing up from the mattress as well. At this point, you are glaring at each other from across the bed.

"You think I don't get enough of it, huh? Do you think I don't get sick of hearing you guys laugh at me? I can't help-"

"I'm not picking at you, Lew, I didn't-"

"But you look at me like that. That's how you feel?" 

He wants to know if that is the reason his words went in one ear and out the other. 

"Oh please, I've always told you how I feel. If I viewed you as some slut I would've said it." You wave your hand; this had to have been the stupidest argument ever, Lew knew your character, and he knew how much you admired him and his; he'd have to be a fool to think that you'd ever demean him.

"It's not about what you say! It's what you do!"

"Exactly!" you holler back. "I don't fucking laugh at you, Lew! I don't fucking kiki with the rest of the friends when they point out your new fucking flavor of the month! I defend you. You can't control it. You can't help it! You said it yourself it's in your fucking blood to fuck everything with two legs. Like having an itch, you can't scratch. I don't fucking judge you. It's just who you are." You snap. And you hate getting mad because it makes you go on and on.

"Don't even know my character enough to believe I would say some shit about you; supposed to be my best friend, and you can't even properly gauge who I am." It comes out as an angry sneer, and you're right back to slipping on your shoes. 

Lewis pulls on a pair of sweats, clamoring over to you; his hand grasps your wrist before you harshly pull it away.

"Last night," he shouts, "I'm not defiling your character; you said it last night."

"Lew, last night." you laugh, you genuinely cackle. "This is because I joked that you ran rabid after leaving Nicole? You did! I was there with you, do you not fucking remember, every night someone new! Just because you slowed down doesn't mean it ever stopped."

"You called me a fucking slut, y/n! Like a fucking bitch, I wouldn't date you, Lew; you're a manwhore." He mocks.

"You called yourself that; I said if the condom fits! You're upset because I said you made it easy for me not to want to be with you? If your ego is bruised, just say that!"

And you're missing the point he is bruised yes, but because he wants you to want him and you don't. Lewis is mad that you don't want to be with him. He is hurt and bothered by the fact that you can brush off the night you spent together like it's nothing.

And you're right; Lewis knows you're right, and he's just trying to find any reason to be mad at you. Of course, you wouldn't return his feelings; when you had them, he gave his affection to other women.

But hearing the person he loves call him out for it doesn't hurt any less. He feels like an idiot now, starting an argument over a situation that wasn't even relevant. He should be telling you he loves you, but now he's gotten you fired up and knows you're hard to diffuse.

You mutter curse words under your breath, frustrated, as your shaking hands keep you from slipping on your shoes. You were never a good angry person, so you'd rather avoid conflict completely. But when your frustrations began ticking inside of you, it was only a matter of time before you finally blew.

"All of this because I answered a fucking question you asked me last night, drunk ass motherfucker! I should've never fucking told you; look where the fuck that's got us, arguing over a relationship that never even happened that we're not even fucking in, so fucking stupid! The fuck do I look like trying to keep a man who doesn't wanna be kept? I'm supposed to wait around and pine after you? No fucking way, I've had my fair share of men like you." You're not saying these words directly to Lewis; he can hear them as you get increasingly frustrated. "Fucking idiot. Calling me out my name because your feelings are hurt; if it was such a fucking issue, you would've addressed it last night. Really you should have fucking addressed everyone else."

Finally, you spin around when the slipper is on, not expecting him to be so close. You jab a finger in his chest, looking up at him. "Yeah, you've pissed me off; this is not because you think I called you a manwhore. You know you sleep around. We all know it; I never said it was a bad thing. What are you really mad at, huh, Lewis? Say it!"

He says nothing, but his brain screams the words over and over: I love you.

You let out a bitter laugh, and you're relatively calm for how fired up you had been seconds ago. "Your anger is misdirected, and I'm not going to take it. So when you figure out what's got you so pissy, talk to me because I'm not here for you to yell at."

You're leaving his room in an instant. He can hear your footfall declining down his stairs and the way you snatch your keys from the hook. You don't slam his door, but from his window, he watches as you angrily march to your car, slamming your door and reversing from his driveway way too fast. It has his heart dropping as you nearly ram into another car.

He sighs as you pull down the street and disappear from his sight. "Fuck!" He roars, his fist shooting into his wall. He lets out a deep breath, his hand coming to rub over his face. Fuck.

He feels choked up and tingly as his eyes water. The two of you had never fought this bad, which says a lot, especially for how long you've been friends. He's never called you out of your name, and today he called you a bitch. You were far from a bitch, you were his sweet bunny. 

You just wanted to make sure he was comfortable and that you stayed within the bounds. How were you to know that he didn't want you to leave? 

You're a mess as you drive home, tears streaming down your face. Surprised you even made it there safely. 

When you're home and starting your shower, you see all of the evidence Lewis left behind on your skin, and it breaks you down into a fit of tears. You wish you had never crossed the lines because you were sure the two of you wouldn't return from this. 

-

Lewis has yet to contact you. It's been two weeks since that day. You tried to go about life as normal, but it was hard when you had spent every waking day talking to Lewis. You hadn't seen Roscoe since Lewis' birthday either, and that tore an entirely new part of your heart. Roscoe was like your child; he was with you when Lewis had to be on the road, so essentially, you spent an abundance of time with your four-legged friend. 

You could reach out to him, but you'd be dammed if you put your pride to the side to alleviate your best friend's superiority complex.

He yelled at you, calling you out of your name first. Call it childish, but it wasn't your job to apologize first. Of course, you planned on apologizing for your own actions, for calling him an idiot, because you truly regretted it, and it has been hanging heavy over your head ever since then. But he had to give in first.

You haven't gone out with your friends as a group since then either, opting to go on your regular outing with one or two of them at a time. You've seen in Miles' story that Lewis has been out with them many times. You try not to cry as you see Lewis in the background of a video chatting up another girl in Daniel's close friends. After the initial gloom, you felt infuriated.

Here you were giving him grace, withholding time with your friends so as not to make him uncomfortable and to give him time to come to his own senses and the whole time, he's out committing the same crime that made him blow up at you. Here you were suffering because after all of these years, he still didn't show you the same grace he shows others when it comes to communicating. Why does he shut down when it comes to you but is so vocal and mature with his feelings to other people. Two things were obvious, you weren't kids anymore, and he wasn't to be coddled by you anymore. And secondly, you were done making deluded excuses for this man. He'd take accountability when it came to you. 

-

Lewis awakes with his head pounding; he is in a random hotel, a random woman atop his chest in deep slumber. He sneaks from the bed, searching for his phone and tugging on his clothes. 

He was drunk off his ass and chatting her up because she looked like you, and in the end, when they made it back to her room, he couldn't get hard without thinking about you, and by that time, he was over it, not wanting to do anything with the woman at all. You really fucked him up.

When Lewis arrives home, he is barely sober. He pours food into Roscoe's bowl, rubbing his head.

Roscoe has been feeling the impact of your departure, too. Could Lewis even say you left him? He sighs as Roscoe whines, nudging your walking shoes left by the front door. "I know, boy. I miss her too."

Lewis didn't know why he couldn't just call you and tell you he was sorry. You left the ball in his court, so obviously, you were open to having a mature conversation with him. But as the days went on and he still hadn't called, he began to realize that perhaps he had waited too long, and it was doing more damage than good. 

He stumbles up to his room, stripping from his clothes and plopping onto his bead, Roscoe is up and beside him in an instant, snuggling into his side. Like routine, his hand reaches over to his nightstand, rustling through the stack of papers until he finds one of the many letters you'd gifted him for his birthday.

Lewis always kept your letters, especially when he was far away and traveling; nothing made him happier as a kid than his dad arriving with handwritten messages for him when you couldn't make it to his races. Your birthday gift, though, was a collection of unsent letters you'd had for years, dating back to as early as high school. He reread them all, scanning every word like they were the bible. He never told you this, but he kept them in a folder that traveled everywhere with him when he had to be gone for longer periods of time.

The letter he rereads now has been attached to him since the day you left, which was from your second year in high school. 

Hello Lewis,

I won't be able to make it to your race next week. Get this, I'm on punishment at sixteen years old! You're always getting me in trouble, and you're not even here :( Do you remember Henry Glasgow? Let's just say he's finally gotten what he deserved. No matter what anyone says, your work is paying off, and you're doing great! I saw you on the TV the other day, and boy, did you look great out there. Mum recorded it for me, so I rewatch it so many times a day like a weirdo. I miss you tons, Lew, but I'm so very happy that you were able to get out of this forsaken city. Don't worry; I'm still defending your honor while you're away; let Henry's nose be proof of that. I've made a friend since you've gone away, her name's Whitney but I call her whit whit just like you're my lewlew; I can't wait for you to meet her. She's very bold and different from what we're used to, but she's a sweetheart. I love her to pieces, but I love you wholly, so she's not really doing much to heal how much I miss you, Lew. This is the longest we've been away from each other, and although we talk on the telly every day, I would like to be with you again. But nevertheless, I am so very proud of you, and I support you full send. I know you can be the greatest you already are if you ask me. But I can't wait until the world knows your name. Just promise you won't leave me behind when it does, yeah? Keep moving fast; Pops likes to brag about you everywhere we go, and I love to hear anyone hype you up like you deserve; plus, I bet twenty bucks on you to win next week, and my allowance is already gone, so make me some money. I can only give you the same words of encouragement you've heard a million times, I am truly my father's daughter. You're a cheetah, Lew: move silently and let your actions do the talking. Make quick decisions, but move even quicker. I know it's hard, but don't ever let what they say get to you; you've got a greater mission to accomplish. There are people out there who admire you and have faith in you. Let me be proof of that. Always remember that what you can't say, I will. 

Love you more than you'll ever know, Lew.

p.s tell Nico that unless he wants me to go broke, he needs to push it a little harder. 

From Bunny. <3

-

One day of no contact became a week, and a week became a month; soon, he was in the Middle East racing in the first grand prix of the season two months later, and he still hadn't heard from you. He was racing terribly, and he couldn't even blame it on the car. On the track, he wasn't focused; he could only think about you. And that had put him into the wall (literally) more times than he could count. He had let the best person in the world slip from his grasp, and his mind couldn't grasp that.

His friends knew something was up between the two of you and for the first time ever they decided not to meddle, and he appreciated it just as he was sure you did too. That didn't mean that he didn't ask about you.

Every call home to his mum he asks about you. He sits on the phone with your dad listening to updates on your life. They never question anything between you and him so he assumes you haven't disclosed your argument to anyone. But they know, they always know.

He could tell you were taking every step in order to ensure that you wouldn't run into him. When your family came out to see him you were miracously always busy with work. When your friends invited you out you were never feeling well. 

He felt bad that you felt you had to sacrifice your enjoyment just to not be around him.

He revels in the glimpses he gets of you on your friends story, chuckles at the constant pictures Daniel posts of you that you obviously wouldn't have agreed to. He knows you probably threatened to kill him everytime. He likes every picture. 

He nearly cries as he watches you from a fan account, bouncing Nicholas up and down as he places on podium in one of his own races. 

Your dad's birthday was next week, and he knew you weren't going to miss it. He also knew he wasn't going to skip out on your father, so he mentally prepared himself to be a man and get his shit together. There was no way you could avoid him when you were stuck with him for a week. 

*

You, Miles, and Nicholas had been out and about all day exploring the town before you finally decided to head back to the villa. When you three initially left, everyone else was bunkering down for a post-flight nap.

When you opened the door, you froze in your tracks as you saw Lewis hugging your dad in greeting. You don't know why you figured he wouldn't show, but when he wasn't on the flight with the rest of you guys, it had your hopes high. 

Everyone's head swivels toward the front door as you emerge, he makes eye contact with you and even goes as far to offer you a smile. You don't return it. Nicholas rushes pass you to hug his brother jostling the many bags in your arm as he passes by. 

Lewis hugs him, but his eyes once again fleet back to you.

You suck your teeth, looking away from him and waltzing up the stairs and towards the back of the house where you had claimed your room.

You hardly had the time or the energy to worry about Lewis. You were tired, and the Brazilian heat had you going through it. You kick your bedroom door closed and drop your bags onto your bed. 

All you had to do was get through a week of being in his presence. You had your friends and family here with you. It wouldn't be too hard to stay away from him. You shower and then get dressed right in time for dinner. 

The sun was still out by the time you descended the stairs; everyone had been lounging around in the living room waiting for you to finish.

Lewis feels like a starved bear as the dress sways against your thighs. Like always, you look beautiful.

"And the princess has arrived!" Your cousin shouts, "Girl, hurry your ass up, we've been waiting on you. I'm hungry." The room erupts in laughter as you pause on the stairs and shoot her the middle finger.

"Doesn't the princess deserve a grand entrance?"

Your head immediately turns to Lewis as if you can feel his stare on you. He sits, legs spread open, hands folded in his lap, and looks at you like he had had the night of his birthday. Like he wants to devour you. 

You shake the memory from your head as everyone heads out of the door and piles into the three sprinters out front. 

"Aw, twins!" Whit coos, pointing between you and Lewis, "So in sync."

You let out the fakest laugh he's ever heard, wiping the smile clean from his face, "Ah ha ha, let's go."

When it's your time to pass through the door, you feel a presence behind you, and you know it's Lewis as his signature cologne wafts through your nostrils. As you descend down the front steps, you feel his hand come up to rest against your lower back.

A part of you wants to tell him to back up and that you don't need his assistance, but the soft spot you'll always have for him has you accepting his graces. 

You freeze, watching as two of the three vehicles pull off, fuck. 

So much for being able to avoid him.

You can still feel him hot on your trail as you waddle to the last sprinter. You're helped up by the driver, offering him a sweet smile. Ironically enough, the last two seats are side by side in the back row.

You groan internally, slipping into the seat by the window. Lewis follows after you, slipping between you and Miles.

"So what? This is the kid's bus?" You joke, leaning over the seat in front of you to tug on your cousin's braids. "Be happy it is." She grins, pulling a bottle of Clase Azul from the floor. Everyone erupts into cheers as she passes the bottle around. She hands it to you first, but you quickly pass it on to Lewis. You hadn't drunk alcohol since that night, and when you tried, the smell of it physically made you sick. You were convinced that the stress of that night had made your brain repel your favorite pastime. 

"Girl." Whitney gasped, "You're not drinking?"

"Hell no, I gag just thinking about that shit."

It's been so long since Lewis last heard your voice and seen you so carefree he wants to shout out his praises as you start a conversation within the van.

Your leg is flush against his, your thigh rubbing against his own with every jostle you take down the bumpy roads. 

You don't speak to Lewis throughout the entire ride. When he speaks, you tune into your phone or manage another conversation with those around you. Though it does bring you an unwanted sense of comfort to hear his childlike giggles again. You'd missed them just as much as you missed him.

This time, when the doors open, they are opened on your side, and you cheerfully hop out, wrapping your arms around your girls and skidding to the dock where you can see a great portion of your family and friends already loaded onto the yacht. 

You loved celebrating; it was no secret you were the life of the party anywhere you went, which is why you were always so grand when it came to spending time with the people you loved. Life is beautiful, as your father would say; you might as well live like it. 

Lewis and the guys exit behind you all, he watches you scamper off with that stunning smile on your face waving to the family members and friends you hadn't saw yet. 

An hour goes on of everyone mixing and mingling; your family is technically Lewis' as well, so it's no surprise when he is pulled into hugs and smooches left and right. It makes it easy to avoid him every time you sense him getting closer. You see him catching up with your grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. 

He is close to your entire family, which made it even more annoying for you to be asked about Lewis in damn near every conversation. You were never nasty about it because, after all, you two shared the same relationships, so you simply smiled and directed your family toward him with every inquiry. You didn't expect his relationship with your family to end just because you two weren't...you two?

And then another wave of questioning is aiding in your irritated mood, we're the two of you even best friends anymore. Best friends don't go months without speaking to each other. 

Lewis can't help but watch your every move. It's obvious to everyone that there is a lingering tension between you two. There has never been a moment where the two of you weren't connected at the hip. So, the safe distance you're keeping between the two of you is making questions arise. He is standing off to the side, his mind running; he's never once felt like an outsider in your life more than now. His feelings were hurt because, for the first time, he was getting updates about you from others rather than being the one dishing the facts out. He's used to knowing everything when it comes to you, and now it feels like he's chapters behind in a book everyone else is close to finishing.

"I know my daughter." Your dad speaks up from behind Lewis as he watches him watch you. Lewis turns his head, catching sight of your father before walking and leaning his back onto the railing beside him. "And I know you just as well; why are you two acting like divorcée?"

"What's happened, my boy?"

Lewis shakes his head, eyes downcast to the glass in his hand. He couldn't tell your father that he'd spent the night of his birthday making love to you and having the most romantic twilight he'd ever experienced. He couldn't tell him that he spewed out his true feelings in the midst of it and fucked shit up the next morning.

"We haven't talked in months," Lewis admits.

Your dad leans away from Lewis, eyes set in disbelief. "Months?" 

Lewis only nods, looking straight ahead at you. You're standing with his father infront of a group, his arm thrown over your shoulder, yours wrapped around his waist, his father is obviously a wee bit tipsy as he laughs boisterously, you're supporting his frame throwing in side comments to whatever story his father was telling.

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why are you not?" He inquires like it's all so simple.

"Because it's your daughter," he scoffs. "And when she's mad, she's mad. It's not that easy."

You father laughs, "She is her mother's daughter." He corrects. "You know her, eventually she always puts her pride to the side. She's waiting for you to talk to her first. Have you tried."

"No, sir."

He lets out a boisterous laugh that has a sheepish smile skittering onto Lewis' face. 

"You're too old to still be scared of my baby. My best advice is this: you lot know each other better than anyone in the world and love each other more than anyone in the world. If you think she's willing to give that up and vice versa, you're both idiots."

Lewis nods. They stand in contemplative silence as the older man's hand comes up to clap against his shoulder, where he holds onto Lewis as they sip from their glasses. 

"You know," Lewis lights up, "that's where she gets that shit from; she called me an idiot when we argued."

"And were you being an idiot?" He queries.

"Well, Yes, sir."

"Okay then." He walks away not sparing so much as another word to Lewis and he is once again left alone.

You were relieved when dinner started, only to approach the table and see name cards posted in front of every seat. Just your luck. Right next to your seat, the postcard next to you reads Sir Lewis. 

This time, you physically couldn't control your reaction as you threw your hands on your hips, your eyes searching for someone to switch with. Just as you reached over to swap Lewis' and Anthony's place cards, the group approached, and everyone stared at you with inquisitive eyes as you slowly dropped them back into place.

You smiled, sliding into your designated seat, eyes straight ahead as your father and Lewis slipped into their own.

Lewis side-eyes you as he sees that it was his name you tried to swap. You were always so petty. 

You feel his stare on you and give him your back to face as you focus on your father who stands tapping his wine glass with a knife.

Like always your father begins to give a speech. You loved listening to him speak, even if he was lecturing you, he always managed to engrain some life lesson into your memory. 

"Welcome, family and friends. I want to first start off by saying I appreciate you all for coming; if you're here today, you're either family or a friend, so in the end, that makes you all family. No matter when or how I met you, you have touched a special place in my heart, and you've made this life of mine beautiful. We've all become connected somewhere along the line, and now, hopefully, we're stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. As each year goes on and I grow older with it, I am reminded of just how meaningful it is to carry relationships on with you from one year to the next. We've done that." He laughs.

"Most of us have been in each other's lives since the beginning, Anthony has been my best friend since we were nine." He chuckled tilting his glass at Lewis' dad. Anthony raises his own right back at him. 

"We've done everything together, damn near walked through each part of our lives together. He had a son, and months later, I had my daughter. Bam!" he laughs, and the table laughs with him. You smile at the mention of your father and his best friend; they were truly a pair like no other.

"Our friendship continues on through our children; we pass on our camaraderie; through our kids, we get more kids." He motions around to your friends. "And our family is even bigger. I've got my family, I've got my wife's family, Anthony's family, our children's family, and we're all now family. We've got each other for life! We're proof of that; we stick together and treat each other right, and if we don't, we always find our way back together again and start over because that's what a family does. Every year, you guys show up for me, and I show up for you. And I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday than with you. Life is beautiful and even more beautiful when you're spending it with the right people. So I thank you for being the right people."

There are no dry eyes after his speech. You reach over to hug him when he sits, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I love you, Dad."

Chatter emerges as everyone marvels at your dad's words. To your left, Lewis is quite emotional. His dad's arm comes up to pull his son into his side, and for the first time today, you watch him with no shame. He looks like a kid again in his dad's arms as he gets emotional, and your heart breaks.

It's not in your character to be mean to Lewis. You know this, which is why you haven't even bothered being a bitch to him, even though a part of you desperately craves to hurt his feelings like yours has been for the last two months. You pull your phone from your purse, and before you unlock it, his reflection glares at you from your blank screen. He isn't facing you but staring blankly ahead, and your resolve crumbles slightly.

He looks like little Lew, face set in a frown and tuned out to the world around him. You think back to all of the times he'd get into his own head, bothered about why the other kids didn't talk to him and why they were nasty to him when they did. How many times he's nestled into you the same way when he felt his heart take a hit.

He's always been a softie. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, it was one of the things you admired about him so much. His ability to let people see him fully. You were never good at that. If you were, you could gaurantee that you and Lewis wouldn't even be in this situation to begin with.

You are sure that you can hear your heart beating rapidly as you reach down and grasp onto his hand. You pretend to scroll mindlessly through your phone when you hear his breath hitch. Lewis struggles to keep his resolve as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He could cry again right now. 

Your dad was right; he'd always been right. You think back to the times when you were younger when you would tell him why you and Lewis were sitting so far apart. 

"Baby," he would lift your head with a gentle smile, "You know how many times Anthony got on my damn nerves or we had a quarrel, even with your mother. Just have to talk it out, right? That's the kind of friendship you don't let slip away, no matter what. And if he's mad at you, you fight for him. If you're mad at him, you fight for him. Don't ever let something ruin it when you could fix it before it gets bad."

When the food comes out, your stomach flips, sushi lines the table, and your insides feel like they're being shaken. You snatch your hand from Lewis' and toss it over your mouth as the fish is placed in front of you. 

"Baby, you love sushi." Your dad says, pushing your plate away from you.

"I don't know what-" You don't finish your sentence rushing away from the table in a put together manner, you hurry to the other side of the boat where you make it just in time to empty your stomach. Nothing comes out as you dry heave over the water. A hand comes to rub at your back and your hair is being held back.

"Hey, you okay?" It's Lewis and his tone is full of concern as his hand constanly moves in caring circles. 

You jump away from his comforting hands, throwing a glare in his direction. 

"What do you want?" you hiss, preparing to step down from the altitude of the railing. 

He holds out his hand ready to help you down and you almost reach for it before huffing and turning baack around folding your arms over the railing. If the sushi wasn't going to have you throwing up Lewis prescence surly would. You felt overwhelmed as he speaks up from behind you.

"Wow."

"Wow, what, Lewis?"

"So I'm Lewis now?" 

"Is that not your name?" You snap back.

You feel his body heat behind you, this time closer.

"Not to you, you know that though."

"Nicknames are for friends." 

"Shut up." He smacks his teeth.

"No!" you argue, turning around your chest bumps into his, "You shut up!"

 you both childishly bicker back and forth.

“What are you being mean to me for, huh? Don't say that."

"I've got a right to be mean to you."

"I don't got time for your nasty ass attitude right now." He says.

"Good. The fuck." you ramble, turning around, "nobody asked you to follow me."

"I followed you because you're still my best friend, stubborn ass."

"Couldn't tell." You rebutted.

"See, I'm trying to talk to you, y/n. Why say something like that? Stop acting like-." He groans.

"Like what, like a bitch?" You look at him over your shoulder, watching his face drop. "That's what I thought."

"I wasn't about to call you a bitch." 

Yeah, again, you think. 

You stand in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the water sloshing against the boat.

"Your dad has a knick for speeches." He announces, "Always targeting us, huh?"

"That's my dad for you."

"I-, you're still my best friend, that will never change. No matter how long we go without talking to each other."

"I know." It comes out as a sigh and you let out a groan, dropping your head into your folded arms.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask, "I waited for you to call."

"I was scared, I knew I fucked up, and I think us having sex created a weird dynamic with it. I kinda felt like a booty call or something, I don't know; you trying to leave triggered something in me, made me feel like it wasn't..."

He lets out a sigh, and you know he has that hard thinking face on. "meaningful what we did together." He finally concludes.

"I thought that's what you would've wanted, I'm sorry."

"For other people, yes. But not my best friend."

And there are those two words again, like two blades slicing you in half, best friend, that's all you'd ever be.

Lewis was your best friend, nothing less, nothing more. This is all it'd ever be, and that thought alone, although valid, had you knuckling at your eyes.

"You okay, bunny?"

You can't help the sad smile that appears or the way your heart flutters at the nickname; no matter the situation, you'll always be his bunny.

You slump back against his chest as you step back from the railing. "I'm fucking dying," you whine, and he laughs at your dramatics. 

"You're not dying, love." He chuckles. He stands flush behind you, one arm coming around to dangle off your shoulder, the other holding your hand at your side. "How are you going to tell me?" You huff, and it seems as if nothing ever happened between you two as he turns you around and holds you close; he throws both of his arms over your shoulder, wrapping you into his tight embrace, and your face is crammed in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

And in that moment, you both could've sworn fireworks erupt in the sky as your hearts beat against each other's chest. It feels like the missing piece in your lives from the last two months has been returned, and the machine is running excellently.

"Because I know you, what's wrong, huh? Got a tummy ache." He coos. And his soft, caring tone has your stomach doing flips.

You don't know how long you stand there in his embrace before you finally wrap your arms around his torso.

"I'm still mad at you." You declare.

"I know." 

"I still want an apology."

"I'm sorry."

You feel your nausea ease away as you sway to the beat of his heart against your chest.

This is the first moment of relief Lewis has felt in two months, his heart is not in a panicked state and his mind is even better off. 

"I'm sorry for calling you an idiot. It's been bothering me since I said it." You announce, "I don't think you're an idiot. I still think you're the smartest person in the world."

Your eyes water as you apologize, and Lewis hears the sniffle you let out. You remember how much it hurt your heart to see Lewis struggle to catch on in school as a kid, the words the teachers would spit at him, and how he'd let it get to him. You never wanted to make him feel the same way.

"I don't want you to think of me like the rest of them."

Lewis grasps your shoulders, inching you away softly, "I'd never look at you that way," he declares. "I was being an idiot, I know how you meant it, bunny. I should be apologizing for what I said to you. I don't think you were being a bitch; I've never in my life thought about you that way or even remotely considered calling you out of your name. I was just mad."

His hands come up to cup your face, and his thumbs swipe away the wetness underneath your eyes. He sighs, pulling you back into him. "I don't ever wanna not talk to you again, fucked me up."

"But you never called me."

"Didn't think you wanted me to, didn't know what to do, you'd never been that mad at me before, was scared." He admitted.

"I thought you were finally done with me."

"Never that."

"Are we okay?" You examine.

"We're always going to be more than okay. It feels right with me still, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, we're back like it never happened." He assured. 

And he thinks he can stay like this forever, you in his arms as the sunsets on the boat. He can't think of anything more peaceful than watching the sky change colors and the warm hues making your skin glow in the softest way as he revels in the comfort of your warm body and beating heart.

He wants to unleash his feelings right then and there, "I love you."

"I love you more." 

You both speak honestly, wishing that the other would return the same affection. Your parents watch on from above. 

"Wouldn't know if it hit them over the head." Your mom shakes her head sipping her wine.

"So in their face." Anthony exhales, throwing his hand up, "Mhmm, mhm, mhm."

"Those are our kids, damn idiots." Your dad finishes, but unlike his counterparts, he wears a knowing smile on his face. 

-

"There are a few things we need to clarify before we move on from this." You announce before you rejoin your family and friends.

"What's that?"

"That was a one-time thing for the sake of our friendship; no more sex, no more mentioning it; it never happened."

Lewis freezes in his spot, his arm falling from your shoulder as you take another step. You, too, freeze, turning around to take him in. 

He is standing, his eyes furrowed like he's in deep thought.

That would be an easy rule for him to follow if he wasn't struggling as you speak to think about anything other than you every day and how great you felt around him. 

"What?" You question.

"I-" he coughs, "I can do that."

"Don't make it weird." You warn, eyeing him.

"Was the best sex I've ever had in my life, though." He admits with a smirk. You push him away as he tries to wrap his arm around you again. 

"Goodbye, Lewis." You laughed, walking ahead of him.

He happily stays behind you, watching the way your bottom moves in the dress, and once again, he feels the same burning desire. He could get by without mentioning it if you wanted, but he was absolutely and completely sure you ruined him for anyone else. 

Ever since he could remember, his passionate moments never ensued without you flickering through his mind at least once to jump-start him. But actually having you, God he was sure he'd never see another woman again.

As you rejoin everyone else at the front of the boat, you once again see everyone spread out, and you realize just how long you'd been marveling at Lewis' presence as you notice the appearance of the moon.

You gasp as you see a serving bowl full of mango calling your name as you pass by the treat table. You pick it up with ease, stuffing your mouth as you approach your friends who, like always, have banded together in their own little world.

You make eye contact with Whitney, who is looking at you in pure wonder. You shoot her your own look of inquisition. When you take the empty seat beside her, she is still eyeing you like you have two heads.

"Girl, what?" you whisper, your mouth full of mango.

She shakes her head at you, turning and muttering under her breath. You slap her bare thigh, "what?" you whisper shout. 

"We'll talk about it later." She declares, throwing back two shots back to back.

"Whit," you whine, "you know I hate when you do that."

"Yeah, but trust me, later is better."

You sigh, turning away from her and getting back to eating your fruit as Lewis approaches the group and takes the seat beside Mori. "Someone’s happy." Miles teases.

You look up at him, and sure enough, there is a shit-eating grin covering his face. "More than happy."

Whit is still mumbling to herself as you stare back at Lewis, when you look at her she is digging through her bag, "No, there's just now way."

-

Sure enough, as soon as you make your way back to the villa, Whitney is dragging you away from the rest of the group and into your bedroom. Lewis shoots you a questioning look as she yanks you from your seat. You can only shrug at him as you trip over your own two feet.

 She opens the door to your connecting bathroom, waving her arms for you to enter dramatically after you just stand there and stare at her.

"Ouu, girl." You warn, walking past her, "I need you to start using some words."

When you step foot into the bathroom, she pushes something into your palm.

You angle your head down, realizing that what lies in your hand is a pregnancy test. You throw it at her in shock. "Eww bitch."

"It's not used, dummy." Whit catches it.

You gasp, reaching for her hands, "Oh my god! Are you pregnant?" You whisper shout, excitement seeping through.

"No!" She shouts back in a whisper closing your bathroom door. Your hands are cupped in front of your chest like an exicited child. She turns to face you again only this time she's adorning the most serious look she's ever given you. 

"I think you are, though."

Your hands drop down to your sides, one going to your hip that pokes out as you scoff.

"Whit." It's all you say.

"Y/n. Please just take it, ease my mind."

"What even makes you think I could be pregant whit." You huff pulling the stick from her waiting hand.

She sits on the side of the bathtub as you lift your dress and plop down onto the toilet.

"You've been feeling out of it for a while; at first, I thought it was the heat, but you've been having nausea and headaches long before this trip. The smell of alcohol makes you sick, and you're a fucking alcoholic, c'mon now-"

"I am not a fucking alcoholic-"

"The sushi! You fucking love sushi. Out of everything to eat, an entire fucking serving bowl of mangoes, so many fucking mangoes, Y/n!"

As she continues, you begin to feel nerves bubble in your gut as you tinkle onto the test.

Your heart drops to your ass as you put the pieces together. 

You haven't had a period in two months, which didn't raise any alarms before; irregularity was common for you. But now that you think about it, you have been unusually sick in the mornings and around certain foods and smells. You have been craving some things more than usual, and your scale shows a tiny bit of weight gain. 

Two months ago you had sex with Lewis. With no condom, and he came inside of you. He most definitely fucked his cum back into you. The memory has you clutching your chest with a gasp that made Whit reach out to catch you just in case you toppled over.

"Oh my fucking god." you gasp, pulling the stick from beneath you and tossing it onto the sink. You wipe yourself and then stand to wash your hands.

"Oh fuck." you panic, and your hands are coming up to grasp your head.

"On the bright side, if it's positive, you're a mommy. You've always wanted to be a mom!" Whit cheers softly.

You turn to her with quickness. "Yes, Whit! When I'm fucking married and settled down, not when I fucking-"

The alarm tone from Whit's phone has you shutting up mid-sentence.

"I set the alarm when you peed," she whispered meekly.

She motions for you to pick up the test, and you wanna tell her to get out when you see the excitement covering her face. 

You reach behind you, hand tapping blindly against the counter until the stick is in your hand.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose.

When you open your eyes, you see the result clear as day, which has you clutching your pearls.

"I'm going to pass out, I can't breathe."

"Let me see!" Whit all but shouts, jumping up, but you're already reaching for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" She shrieks as you swing the door open, leaving her behind.

"I need to tell Lewis."

"Oh boo," she pouts, "I understand he's your best friend and all, but at least tell me first, I'm the one who brought the test."

You turn to her with watery eyes and a look that tells her all she needs to know.

"Lewis is the baby's father?" She whisper shouts, jumping back like you've thrown cold water in her face.

"What the fuck? When did you sleep with fucking Lewis?" She ponders aloud. "Oh my god, is this why you two haven't been you two?"

"Whit," you groan. "I promise, I don't have the mental capacity to unpack all of this with you right now. There's a fucking baby growing inside of me, my best friend's baby and I don't know what to do with myself."

"Yeah," she nods sympathetically, "I'm sorry, yeah. You talk to Lewis and when you're ready I'll be here for you to lean on." She pulls you into a hig before grasping you by the shoulders. 

"Whatever you decide just remeber it's your choice, okay? You call the shots Y/n. You know I'll support you either way, and you know Lewis, he'll understand."

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm.

"Get yourself together, mama, I'm going to send him in, okay?"

You nod and rush over to your closet. You pull a pair of sweats on and then pull off your dress and toss on an oversized hoodie.

There is a knock on your door before it gently creaks open. Lewis pokes his head through with a gentle smile.

"Hey, everything okay? Whit told me to meet you in here, I didn't know if she wanted to strangle me or hug me, but she said it was urgent."

You shove the pregnancy test into the pocket of your hoodie, stepping out of the closet.

He enters the room, gently closing the door. He approaches you with his arms already open, seeing the teary expression.

"Lewis, can you actually sit down for me. I have to talk to you about something."

He's not sure what he expects to come from your mouth, but it wasn't what he heard.

"I'm pregnant. It's yours."

You surely weren't expecting him to look so relieved. "Why are you looking so-"

"Are you sure?"

You scoff, crossing your arms, "Yes, I'm sure it's yours, you dick. I don't sleep around-"

"What, no! Are you positive that you're pregnant?"

"Oh." You halt, and you pull the test from your hoodie, watching as he approaches you. He takes it from your hands, looking at it with sparkling eyes, "Wow."

"Wow?" You question, "Lewis, I'm pregnant with your child. Freak out a little."

"Why," he asks, "Are you freaking out? How do you feel?" His eyes are no longer on the test in his hands but staring intently into yours.

"Yes, I am freaking out, there is a fetus in my womb."

"Yeah, yeah." He breathes. "Whew, talk to me. What do you want?"

"I- I want to." You shake your head, pushing past him to sit on your bed. He follows after kneeling in front of you and placing the test beside you.

"I am with whatever you want, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but."

"But nothing," Lewis states. "If you want to keep our baby, you keep it. I know you've always wanted a family."

"Exactly," you sigh, "a family."

"Bunny, we're already a family. I'll be there you know I will."

"What about everyone else? What will they say?"

"I don't care about other people or what they have to say. I only care about you and what you want."

"I want to keep it, and I understand if it's not something you want. Won't hold it against you; you didn't ask for-"

"You're losing me. I'm not just going to let you raise our kid on your own. I want people to know it's my child."

"Lewis, they're going to-"

"Once again, I don't care what people think."

"Oh my god, I'm going to be prancing around all jolly and happy carrying your child, and when people ask, I'll just say, oh yeah, Lewis and I had very erotic sex, and now I'm carrying his illegitimate child."

"Don't call my child illegitimate. What the fuck?" He smacks his teeth.

"My child," you state, mushing his head back.

His hands reach up and rest on each of your thighs. "Our child."

"Still illegitimate," you sigh. "What if I find a man who'll marry me pregnant? Does that still-"

"I'm the Dad." Lewis asserts, he knows you're joking, but the idea of another man marrying you, let alone claiming his child, has him ready to kill a man who doesn't even exist. Besides, he would marry you in a heartbeat.

This is all too real for you at the moment, and you find yourself letting out another whine, "My job, I have a job, Lew."

"You and I both know that I make more money than I can spend." He assures you, his hands now rubbing up and down your legs.

He looks like an excited puppy waiting at your feet.

"Lew, that's not realistic."

"Why not?" He scoffs.

"Because what if one day you start hating me and them I'm left alone with-"

"That could never happen, bunny, that'll never happen."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I've never had a baby before."

He laughs, pulling himself up onto the bed beside you and cupping your hands in his. "We'll figure it out together. Gonna be the best parents in the world."

"Our parents are going to die." You laugh.

"Your mom probably overheard the others chatting about how we'd probably end up having a family one day." 

"My dad still thinks we're going to marry each other one day. Ew, he's going to know I had sex with you." You cringe.

"Don't say it like you didn't enjoy it." He feigns offense.

"We know who enjoyed it more, Sir."

"I'm not denying it, don't call me that." His arm reaches back and pulls one of your pillows onto his lap.

"You horny fuck." You cackle, watching the sheepish look blanket his expression.

"I can't help it; you're calling me sir; you're carrying my child. That's two kinks in one." 

"Lewis!" you shriek, whacking him with your own pillow. 

"You do realize having sex has brought a lot of sexual tension to the surface, or is that just me?" 

You could talk about things with Lewis that would make other people uncomfortable without there being any problems at all.

"It was very charged." You agree, looking back at him as he leans back, his elbows holding him up.

"Just charged? I gave you my all, Girl." He flicks your head.

"Don't hit me, I'm with child." You joke, and he lets out a genuine laugh, his head falling back. "If I'm being honest, it was the best sex I've ever had, too."

He smirked at you, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal. "Yeah, get told that a lot, so."

You snatch the pillow from his lap launching it at his face as you laugh with him, "I bet. I always thought if we were to have kids they'd be best friends like us, now we're having a kid together."

Lewis always hoped that he had kids with you, so in a way this was a dream come true, he was one step closer to having you in every way he wanted. He had an inkling now that the possibility of the two of you being together was becoming more realistic than it'd ever been. 

You were agreeing to bring a life into this world with him, and he knows he's said it a million times, but this time he was absolutely sure, there was nothing and he means nothing that could ever make his love for you fade. He'd never stop loving you, if anything this announcement has made his desires increase tenfold. 

And he could only hope it'd possibly open your eyes to your own, there was no way a person could speak to another like that if it wasn't real. There was no way you could be so open to bringing a child into this world with him if you didn't treasure him too. 

Case in point, Lewis was done waiting on the sidelines.

I luv luv luv y'all.

so here's part two!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[puck-luck]

calling quinn “captain” in bed and he goes feral

warnings: emosh quinn, sex as comfort HIII, masturbation (fingering), wee bit of dirty talk, riding, unprotected p in v, use of "captain" pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: the one where quinn comes home after the 'nucks are knocked out of the playoffs (i am not manifesting!!) and he and his girl make up for the time missing each other. wc: 1601

The playoffs had come to an end with a simmer for the Canucks. Quinn, who had led his team to so many victories throughout the season, was headed home after game seven of the second round– just narrowly missing the finals for the Stanley Cup.

You had called him briefly after the game, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had been quiet, listening to you speak about your day– a topic that he himself had requested, so unhappy with his game that he didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he played hockey for a living.

Listening to you talk about the book that you read that day, the walk that you had gone on with your best friend, and the annoying conversation you had to have with your boss that you hate made him feel like he was just a normal guy for a day.

Now, with him on the way home, you were ready to comfort him in any way that you could.

And it started by making him forget about his problems in the way that only you were allowed to do.

That’s why you were waiting on your couch, naked, legs spread and a finger on your clit. Quinn was due to walk through the door at any minute and the first thing you wanted him to see when he walked into his apartment was his girlfriend waiting for him.

Quinn mused about your beauty all the time, whether it was in public or just to you or just to himself. He had told you many times over the course of his relationship that though you were beautiful all the time, there was nothing like the way you looked underneath him as his cock thrust inside you. 

Tonight, he would certainly be inside you. You were just hoping that you’d be the one on top of him, taking care of him, making him feel good.

The lock flipped as Quinn unlocked the door, making you perk up and tilt your head with innocent eyes at the front door. 

“Hi, Q,” You greeted.

Quinn had crossed the threshold with his head down, dragging his suitcase behind him. His face was soft when he looked up at you, placated like he was happy to see you but still so, so sad. Then, his eyes fixed on your fingers, the ones that were running up and down your glistening slit.

“Hi,” Quinn replied, seeming frozen in place. His eyes darted between yours and your fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” You said. You reached up to pinch a nipple between the fingers of your other hand, watching Quinn’s eyes follow your movements.

He shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes. “Anything in particular?” He asked.

“Been missing your cock, Q. I’ve been feeling so empty without you around to fill me up.”

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Quinn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. 

As the expanse of his chest appeared to you, the light dusting of hair that you loved so much, you moaned softly and pushed a finger inside yourself. It was smaller than Quinn’s, and the angle was always weird when you fingered yourself, and it was hard to get any real pleasure without getting your other hand on your clit, but it was worth seeing the look on Quinn’s face and the way his pants tightened.

“I tried my fingers, Q. I tried my toys. They just– oh– they weren’t as good as you.”

“Fuck, I missed you,” Quinn said, crossing the room and kneeling over you. “That mouth, so dirty, baby.”

You leaned up, capturing Quinn’s soft lips with your own. The kiss was wet, both of you trying to convey just how much you had wanted each other while Quinn was gone without saying a single word. Your finger never ceased moving inside of you, although Quinn had started to rub over your clit. You worked in tandem, comfortably, making your body roll into the pressure. Your movements, and his, were slow, savoring the fact that you were together again and would be for nearly the whole off season.

“I want to ride you,” You breathed into Quinn’s mouth, so quiet that he would practically have to taste the words on his tongue to understand you.

He did, though. Of course he understood what you said. He knew immediately, with the way he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he sat back onto the couch. He fumbled with his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down his thighs just enough that they were out of the way. 

You sank down on his cock as soon as he pressed it against your opening, your mouth falling open with the sensation.You panted into Quinn’s mouth as you began to lift yourself up and down. 

Quinn’s hands were resting on your hips, doing nothing except acting as a presence, something to anchor you as you rose and fell on his length. 

“Feel so good,” Quinn praised, transfixed by the way your hair was framing your face and the way you bit your bottom lip when you found your g-spot without his help. “Was this what you imagined while I was gone, doll?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You agreed. “Fuck, Quinn, I needed you to take care of me.”

His heart quivered in his chest at that, those words meaning more to him than so many of the things you could have said when he came home. 

“I’m here,” Quinn assured you, his fingers pressing into your skin, grabbing and enveloping the shape of your hipbones. “Gonna take care of you forever.”

“So good.” You began to bounce up and down harder, more quickly, relishing in the way Quinn’s skin slapped against yours. “Q,” You whined, clutching at the muscles of his shoulder, one hand pressing against his chest. “Quinn, I’m gonna come, oh, Captain…”

All the breath flew out of Quinn like it was stolen from his lungs, squeezed like a tube of toothpaste that had just one more use left in it. It was like his vision went dark, the word echoing in his head. Captain, captain, captain.

Quinn’s hips moved of their own accord. His hands, having once rested delicately on your hips, were now clutching your ass desperately. 

“My girl, fuck, need me to take charge like I do on the ice? Need your captain to fill you up ‘cuz you can’t make yourself feel good? Have I spoiled you that much?” Quinn rambled, fucking into you with earnest. 

He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. His hips were like a machine, fucking into you so well, so consistently. It was militant, Quinn able to play you like a violin after memorizing your body long, long ago.

You could only moan in response, the kiss of his cock against your walls, as strong as a heartbeat turning your mind to jelly. What was originally a night meant to tease Quinn, to prioritize him, had quickly devolved into a night of mind-numbing, leg-shaking pleasure for you.

“Looked so good, touching yourself when I walked in,” Quinn continued. “Such a pretty sight to walk into. You’re all mine, huh? Just needed me to come home and make you feel good? Show me what I was missing?”

“Quinn,” You whimpered.

“Captain,” He corrected.

“Captain,” You repeated, drawn out. As if hypnotized, you were willing to repeat back anything he said. “Can I come?”

Quinn groaned, gravelly in the back of his throat. He lifted you up and down to meet his thrusts, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you. His eyes focused on the ring of your wetness around the base of his cock, the clear pool of juice that glinted on his abdomen in the light.

“Please,” You begged, your head finding the curve of his neck. “It’s so good, Cap. I need to come, please let me come.”

“Come, baby,” Quinn encouraged, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as you squeezed him. “Come with me.” With just a few more thrusts, Quinn felt himself burst, spurting inside of you. The aftershocks overtook him when you let out a sigh at the feeling of him, his warmth, filling you up in a way it hadn’t in so long that you’d missed so much. 

For a few minutes, you and Quinn just basked in the feeling of being reunited with the person you loved. 

“Captain,” He eventually said aloud, stating it like he was feeling out the way the word felt in his mouth. Quinn eyed you, raising a brow.

“I like the way you take care of your team,” You admitted. You reached out and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around your finger. “Reminds me of how you take care of me.”

Quinn’s heart flipped in a funny way, something akin to heartbreak but so much warmer. “I love you so much,” He said, forcing the words out in a way that he hoped conveyed just how genuinely he felt them. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, and continued to play with his hair. You two sat there, on the couch in the presence of the other, until you lost track of time. Eventually, when you were blinking slowly and Quinn could feel your eyelashes beginning to flutter against his neck in a way that signaled your exhaustion, he picked you up and carried you to bed.

Always taking care of you.

note: ANOTHER MONDAY MORNING ONESHOT! I AM NOTHING IF NOT CONSISTENT ABOUT MONDAY MORNINGS! feeling like a fuckin pirate writing this captain shit (i love y'all and i looove reading captain kink fics (that one threesome between quinn and nico...) but i felt like a damn pirate! aye aye matey!) i'll stick to my daddy kink a-thank-yewwww also: game 4? in nash? holy shit! quinn's hair is so much darker in person and it looks so fluffy. he's pretty (and looks lost all the time) and also i never saw him make eye contact with anyone standing at the glass during warmups. also-also his tapejob on his socks was so weird? also also also: he was adjusting his gear literally every thirty seconds between whistles and no one else was– does your gear not fit, brother?

[gremlingottoosilly]

Normal People Things (dark!141 x fem!Reader)

Soap drags you to his place to meet with his lieutenant. It goes as smoothly as you can imagine. AO3 CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation

The ride is short – shorter than you anticipated. You don’t know if you wanted it to be longer if you needed more time to sort out the thoughts flying in your head – you feel numb, empty, hollow, all of those stupid words for stupid expressions because nothing can quite describe the dread settling in your stomach. 

Your throat burns, your makeup is ruined, you are shaking like a kitten left under a rain – you listen to some light music, something you could hear in the car of a guy you’d probably be interested in. Classic rock, some melodic sensations, if you squint and cover your mouth, you can almost relax and stop the desire to puke. You felt mostly sober when the Scot was pushing his dick in your mouth, the horror of the situation forcing your mind to clear up a little – but now it’s foggy again, blurry and messy every time you open your eyes just to see the same man on the front seat, smiling every time he catches you looking at him through the mirror. 

He broke your phone, obviously – snatched it from your hands and broke it in two with horrifying ease. He kissed you after this, cold lips on your forehead. You were crying, or so you think – you were crying this whole ordeal, your face feeling wet and burning as he was fucking laughing, trying to get you to talk to him. You wouldn’t, even if your throat weren’t hoarse and hurting from the fucking he gave you. 

“Want to grab somethin’ to eat, bonnie? I know a bloody lovely place, eh?”

You didn’t respond, the thought of taking something from a guy who eligibly kidnapped you made you sick. Besides, it’s not like food will do you any good – your stomach is spinning from a combination of fear and alcohol, and even though you’d love to ruin this pretty car, you don’t want to evocate even more negative feelings from its owner. He hasn’t hurt you too much yet – no bruises, no broken bones or blood, and you don’t want to provoke him further. 

“Don’t cry so much, I didn’t even fucked ye. I’ll get ye off later, aye?” 

You don’t want him to ever touch you again – despite that disgusting, burning feeling on your panties, the way your little cunt is fucking soaked because his voice is gruff, his face is pretty, and he almost touched you in a way that wasn’t making you sick – it all dropped now, thankfully, your mind is reminded of just how horrible he really is. “Just sit yer wee arse here, lassie. Lt and I will take care of ye” You almost fell asleep when he finally stopped in front of…a building. You don’t know what you were expecting – an evil lair, maybe some grimy base where monsters like him are being made. Not a rather normal apartment building, maybe a bit too scary and dark for your liking – you probably wouldn’t want to live here or even be around this place at night, but, ultimately, it doesn’t look like an evil base. 

This only makes your condition worse – you start sobbing again, useless and pathetic begging as the Scot drags you out of the car, supporting your wobbly legs and making sure you won’t fall down to the ground as he gently caresses your body. He is too fucking soft, too gentle – even his grip on your wrists isn’t bruising, he has one hand on your waist, gently pushing you towards the building. 

***

Ghost wasn’t expecting guests today. He just got out of another deployment, a few days from the previous mission, ready to get back any time if it weren’t for the fact they all deserved a little retreat – yet, he was planning to go with alcohol, maybe some lowly jerk-off sessions with Johnny and shitton of cigarettes to pass the day. What he wasn’t expecting is his sergeant spamming the 141 group chat – shitty idea, really, too much liability and security problems, despite all the measures Price took to encrypt everything – with pictures of cute, crying girl being all adorable, scared and fucking defenseless. 

No one in 141 is a good person – it comes with the job, really, if you’re willing to be a good guy with a gun, there will always be a moment when the lines become blurred. Dragging a civilian girl to their damp apartment isn’t a life-or-death decision made in the field, but they all deserve a bit of sweetness after a mission, right? 

They can be good for you. Simon isn’t sure there is anything in his heart that can still be declared as soft and fuzzy feelings, but he is willing to try and find it, even if for a night. They won’t be letting you go, obviously, Lasswell won’t cover their sorry asses in case you’re getting out with a marvelous surviving story, so you all would have a lot of time to get to know each other. 

— Thought you’d bring food, Johnny. 

— I did. Not my fault they gave up sweets as freebies. 

— How is she? 

— Quiet. Our lassie is a smart girl, eh? Didn’t even fight too much. 

— Fuckin’ hell. Thought they stopped making those a while ago. 

— Good thing I found her, aye? 

Ghost stands at the door of their shared apartment, staring at adorable scared you. You’re shaking in his sergeant’s hands, poor thing, too fucking terrified to even run – you have mascara smeared all over your face, drool and cum on your lips, and he drags a finger to your mouth, wiping it all away. 

You instinctively suck on his finger, the natural obedience coming with a very simple “please, don’t hurt me” plea – and he fucking knows you will be so good for them. He is dragging you inside, allowing Soap to push the takeout bag on the small table in the kitchen while Simon is dealing with all of those silly clothes you’re wrapped in. 

You beg him to stop, but, at this point, even you don’t think he will. All ounces of hope were destroyed already. You aren’t sure what you want anymore – maybe you want to just lay down and sleep, hoping that they will stop tormenting you. The ache between your legs only grows stronger when Ghost drags you to the bedroom, his strong, bulky hands holding you so perfectly – so firmly, you can’t even wish to move away. 

The mattress creaks under the combined weight of your bodies. You roll to the side immediately, your brain is foggy from alcohol again – you don’t even register his rough, firm hands as he is slowly dragging the ruined dress from your body, revealing the underwear you spend so much time choosing and buying. You liked the combination – you wanted to wear something nice today, even if no one would have seen it. 

Now you have this horrifying man in a skull balaclava and harsh hands tugging on the straps of your bra. You sob, head spinning and vomit picking in your throat. The man puts a hand between your shoulder blades, just enough pressure to make you grounded – to remind you that there is no way out, even in your mind. 

— Calm down, love. Won’t hurt ya. 

You choke on a laugh – they are literally going to fucking assault you, you were already forced to suck on Soap’s dick, and yet, this man is playing gentleman with you while undressing you at the same time. You cry again, your tears met with a soft hand on your cheek – checking on you. 

God, you want to drown in this affection, no matter how artificial it is. 

— L…let me go, please. I won’t tell anyone. 

— Too late for that, eh? Johnny don’t have any bloody manners. 

Scot screams from the kitchen, making you wince from the sound. 

“Bloody hell, Lt, I ken ye were fine with draggin’ our lassie here a minute ago!“ You sobs intensify, and you never felt more fragile than before – just one loud sound is enough to break you. The British guy drags you into an uncomfortably tight embrace almost immediately – you’d say you’re almost thankful for the moment of affection, but he snaps your bra a second later. 

— Sorry, love. Will buy you a new one. 

His fingertips are rough on your skin, a contrast that sends shivers down your spine. You whine, feeling stranded like this – feeling like you’re going to be fucking sick from the moisture in your panties. You hate yourself for being this touch starved, but the man is as rough as he is mysterious – and by the look of his figure, perfectly sculpted hands, and a healthy amount of tummy that doesn’t make him look any less intimidating, he might be up to your tastes. It's too bad you don’t have a choice anyway. 

— Don’t touch me. 

— Can’t help it. You’re pretty. 

You feel like you are going to have a fucking panic attack. This is too much – you feel sick, you feel mortified, you are getting your hands out of his hold with the power of surprise and dragging them closer to your mouth, trying to contain the involuntary bile collecting in your throat. You gag, finally feeling all the alcohol you took, getting back to bite you in the ass. 

Before you could say or try anything else, before you could even be bent over, trying to calm yourself down before you dirty everything in this fine-looking bedroom, Brit already dragged you to the bathroom, allowing you to look at the tile floor and white ceramics while you were vomiting your guts, cum, and anxiety out of your stomach. 

It took you a few minutes before you could get anything out – and another few while you were just holding the toilet seat, not even caring about how unsanitary it was. You feel like you’re going to die, the throbbing in your head only intensifying as you could almost feel dropping out of conscience. God, you will never drink again – even though it’s a promise that will break you right after you break it. 

— Bloody hell, love. Easy. Easy. 

— F…fuck you. 

— You will, love. Promise. 

The skull mask guy was rubbing your back the whole time, a motion you didn’t expect from a kidnapper, rapist and a fucking arsehole. He gently took your hair out of the way, he slowly rubbed calming gestures in your aching muscles, and you leaned into his touch, your state was finally reaching the breaking point – you were longing for the soft touch of your captor, not even caring that he is just as awful as his friends, rummaging through various bags somewhere in the other room. 

You cry, the depths of the situation finally getting to you – and he drags you into a tight hug after wiping your mouth with a paper towel, throwing it away before you could feel sick from the smell again. 

He talks you through it with his grovely voice and deep accent, and you can’t help but lean in and listen. 

— Calm down. Can’t have you panicking on my cock. 

— D…don’t touch me. Please. 

— You need this, love. We’re not the worst people who could have picked ya up. 

— You’re a bunch of fucking ra…

He stops you immediately – holds your hand, and drags you back to the bedroom almost too rough, dropping you to the bed before you can manage to scramble your legs and writhe away from his touch. You sob again, crying even more – you don’t have makeup now. Thankfully, everything was mostly wiped out by the paper towels and a mix of your tears, but you still feel horrible. Laying on the soft bed in your soaked panties made you feel like a slut, and this is not the feeling you were expecting out of this night. You just fucking wanted to go home and sleep the alcohol out, not…this. 

— We’ll take care of you. Be a good girl for us, and I will make Johnny pay for not getting you off, eh? 

You can hear the Scot again, emerging from the kitchen in an apron – to your surprise. He looks too domestic, too clean, his hair is a bit disheveled after your little attempt at breaking out, and you can see the resemblance between him and a very, very sad and polite dog. If he had a tail, it would be curled between his knees, a look of genuine guilt almost making you believe that he wanted to apologize for being so forceful. 

— Steamin’ Jesus, I tried to be a gentleman. Didn’t want to scare our lassie too much. 

— She’s shivering. Poor girl, was Johnny this scary? 

— It’s yer mask. Wee things always scared of those. 

They both laugh, clearly not taking your tears seriously. You curl into the bed, trying to protect your exposed breasts and midriff as much as possible. You don’t want to be touched, you feel dirty and used already, but their attentive gaze is making your skin burn and crawl from the feelings you never thought you knew before. It’s a horrible situation, but somehow, you are almost flattered because of how affectionate they both look for someone as insignificant as you. 

Maybe, it’s your brain trying to protect itself from further trauma. Maybe, if you’d lie to yourself long enough, you could pretend you want this. 

Ghost looks at you, drinking the drowning panic in your eyes. You’re so pretty, so helpless, he doesn’t even want to think of what could happen to you if Johnny weren’t here to pick you up. You’d be murdered in cold blood, left laying on the side of the street after a group of some perverts would be done with you. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you deserve a proper help and calmness of living with them – and he knows that once he is done with bringing his first orgasm with your body, you will learn to love it too. Maybe not at first, but the seeds would be there. 

He tries to be on his best behavior as he slowly drags his body between your legs, catching your ankles once you tried to kick him. You’re like a kitten, growling and hissing, clawing on his hands like it didn’t turn him on even more – he pins you under his weight easily, enjoying the audience of Soap already palming himself through his pants. Fucking pervert – he already came in your mouth not so long ago, but the lieutenant knows that given a chance, his sergeant will break this girl for another three rounds in a row. They can’t have that, right? 

— Calm, love. Don’t make it harder for yourself. 

— Stop…please, just…god, wait, I…

It’s such empty words, he knows you can’t calm yourself down – you’re a pretty girl, really, you’re cute and adorable, and you don’t deserve his firm hand taking off your lace panties, but he knows that you will love it after a few more times. You’re dripping already, a combination of manhandling and previous foreplay making you adorably weak for them. 

— Will make you nice and wet, yeah? Such a pretty cunt, bound to give it a taste. 

— W..wait, please, don’t, really, j…just let me…

— Quiet, love. You’ll fuckin’ love it. 

Ghost drags his fingers straight into your folds, spreading them as quickly as possible. He would love to give you more time to adjust, but he was hard ever since Johnny made that goddamn call, and patience isn’t his best quality when on leave – he needs you in all ways you can handle. On your back, preferably, he wants to see that pretty face of yours when he will bottom himself in your cunt and make you squeal. Maybe play with your ass for a little – if you’re going to be the team’s favorite girl, they need all of your holes ready to be used. 

You squeak from surprise when he drags his mask on the upper half of his face, revealing his mouth. Clean-shaved chin, a bit of uneven blonde stubble, strong jawline – he smirks because he knows he is quite the opposite of ugly, that even after all the burns and scars, he is still that rugged type of handsome that ladies in pubs just love to touch. He wonders if you’re more of a typical pretty boy type – he wonders if you’d like Gaz as much as you love Simon. And you fucking adore him by the sight of your wet pussy almost dripping on his tongue. 

You beg him to stop when he slides his tongue in, the feeling of his harsh fingers stretching you only making everything hotter, less bearable. You don’t want to like it, but he is handsome and strong, he is whispering sweet compliments into your pussy, sliding sloppy kisses all over your folds, not forgetting to pay attention to your throbbing clit. 

“Such a pretty cunt for us. What was the last time she got so much attention?” 

He kisses you down there sloppily, adding another finger almost immediately to really make you feel that burn. You’re crying from stimulation, it’s been a while since the last time you had anything so heated – you just want him to stop, to proceed, to let you go, and also to never stop kissing your pussy and collecting all the juice that’s been flowing from you. You make the bedsheets under your ass wet, and Ghost just can’t help but stretch you a bit more, enjoying the sound of your confused, almost pained squeals. 

“Stop crying, love. I could have taken your arse instead.”

He can only imagine how adorable you’d look, crying from his cock in your plump rear. He is by no means small, and the thought of tearing your pretty arse just a little, making you cry from being filled so much, makes him even harder. He needs to be patient, can’t break your rear before Captain gets here – but god, isn’t patience the hardest virtue. 

“S’good for me. Sorry, love, can’t wait much longer. Got a bloody lovely cunt f’ me” 

You cry even harder when Ghost finally slides his cock in you – one harsh thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours, is enough to make you sick again. You’re stretched, dripping wet, it wouldn’t hurt if only he had a normal-sized cock, not the fucking monstrosity he is showing in your underprepared pussy. Nothing would prepare you for this – he started moving immediately, with little regard for your comfort. The niceties he was whispering were falling on deaf ears as he slammed inside of you over and over again. 

You feel sick. 

— Fuck. S’ tight for me. 

You’re clenching around his dick, not allowing him to pull back. Such a pretty girl, he doesn’t know what he would do without that feeling – he wants to fucking devour you whole, to have you laid out for him so prettily. He bottoms finally, stretching you beyond any man could – you feel him somewhere deep, near your cervix, hitting your sensitive walls while all you can do is cry for him to stop tormenting you like this. You can only squeal under him, for him, he is hitting all of your special spots at the same time, and you don’t know if you could really handle him like this. 

His hand lands on your folds, playing with your clit – only making you more and more wet with each second, you almost feel like you are passing the breaking point already. He is stronger than you want him to be, and you feel like he is going to fucking break you, every attempt of squirming from under him is met with a fierce grip on your waist, dragging you back where you belong – moaning and crying on his cock. 

The intrusion stopped being painful after a few minutes, you’re open enough to allow his cock to slide in and out easily. He bites your neck, munching on sensitive flesh like he is going to rip a chuck off you, leaving marks as if he were a wild dog. You moan under him, the feeling of his teeth on your skin isn’t exactly horrible – but not too enjoyable either. 

You squirm softly, hoping he would at least cum soon. 

— That’s right. Dumb civvie girls should just relax for the ride. 

— N…not dumb. I’m not dumb. 

— Only a dumb girl like you would get in Johnny’s hands. S’ry, love, but you really are dumb. 

— I’m…

— It’s alright. We like dumb girls. 

He moans in your ear, biting your earlobe, engaging in a sloppy kiss that allows you to taste your pleasure on his lips. You hate every second, you want to loathe every inch of his body, but his hand is moving faster and faster, steady rhythm that makes you see stars every time he plunges his cock inside – and, oh god, you can’t help but feel your pussy throbbing around him, the tight knot in your lower tummy getting warmer and warmer as his movements steadily brings you to an orgasm. 

It hits you too fast to be prepared for – just a few minutes later, you’re panting under him, mouth open agape as he slides his cock even faster, abusing your poor, sensitive cunt. You’re milking him for cum, not even caring that you are not on the pill – you just concentrate on the head of his cock hitting your G-spot in the most perfect of timings and his rough fingertips caressing your clit in a way that makes you go wild. 

You cum with a cry, soft, squeaky sobs escaping your lips as you hiccup and moan, pressing your hips against his in an attempt to become as close as possible. You feel his hot cum filling you up, a slight bulge in your lower tummy becoming even more prominent. 

Ghost kisses you on the forehead as he slowly emerges from you, hissing as your tight walls refuse to let him go. You’re so fucking perfect, all flushed and panting heavily, neck covered in bite marks and outline of his bruises forming on your waist. 

He pats your pussy a few times, making you shiver from the feeling. 

— Such a pretty girl. Lay here, your cunt is goin’ to be a bit more visitors today. 

He smiles, kissing you on the lips again – you whimper, curling on the bed, feeling the hot cum dripping from your exhausted, sore pussy. You feel his hand affectionately patting your head as if you were a cat, and he hums in approval when you instinctively lean towards his hand, getting as much affection as you possibly can. He brings you a pillow and drags your head so it would rest more comfortably – and you already feel extremely tired, your eyes closing. 

You’re almost ready to sleep when you feel the Scot sliding in bed with you, slowly spreading your legs.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I am SO excited that the Mafia AU won for your Lady D fic poll and I CANNOT wait to read it!

My Little Toyslut ~MobBoss!Alcina Dimitrescu xFem Spy!Traitor!Reader (Mafia AU)

Summary— The infamous, mob boss Lady D finds out she had a traitor in her midst. What will she do when she finds out it’s Reader, one of her closest and most trusted advisors…? Anon Response— Hi hi hi anon!! I am so glad to hear how much you look forward to my Alcina!MafiaAU fics! Here is another one, it’s another one shot (doesn’t take place in the same plotline as the first), but it’s still an Alcina!MafiaAU fic. Hope you enjoy! ♥️

Link to First Alcina!Mafia Fic (;

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, wee bit of angst, eating out (oral sex), implied smut, kissing, teasing, degradation, light torture themes, light hate sex theme, light non-con theme, implied overstimulation, fear, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You were swaying in the air, your wrists bound by tight rope which in turn was hung around a rusty ceiling beam. Your head was ringing and your vision was blurry as you began to wake up. Part of you vision was clouded from your dried up blood, a consequence of having been hit in the head. That's how you had lost consciousness.

You tried to wiggle at your restraints, but it seemed that the more you fought, the tighter the rope pulled against your sensitive and now raw wrists. In dismay, you turned your attention to the room around you, trying to memorize and remember every detail as if your life depended on it.

Realistically, it probably did. The most infamous, powerful boss in the city had found out you were a spy, undercover for the Agency. You had spent years infiltrating Lady Dimitrescu's inner circle of corruption. It had taken immense push and pull over the years to gain her trust. And then another fucking idiot of a mob boss had found your name out, and in spite and seek for vengeance, he had given you up. One of Lady D's closest advisors... He wanted to watch her empire crumble, and you were his choice of weapon.

You were torn from your thoughts as the only door in the room opened and two goons entered, followed by none other than Lady D. The two men gave you sleazy grins as they stalked towards you, but Dimitrescu had other ideas...

"Leave us."

The goons turned around with grumbles, but listened as they left the falling apart room, slamming the door behind them. Lady D's gaze then turned towards you. Your breathing was shallow and you lowered your head and gaze in turn. She slowly stalked towards you, making the hairs in the back of your neck bristle with pure fear. You were trembling, hanging mess by the time was right in front of you, towering over your hanging frame.

"I must say I was... surprised when it was your name that came up in my recent meeting..." She purred warily.

You still kept your head down and did not meet the woman's gaze. You wouldn't dare. Afterall, you'd seen her slaughter men for far less. When you made no response, Alcina cocked her brow in satisfaction and she continued.

"I must admit... You had me fooled. Not many people can say that... not many who are alive anyway..." Alcina hummed, as her claws ran up from your cheeks down to your feet.

You shuttered at the touch, closing your eyes and preparing to feel the pain of being slashed to bits. But instead, you heard the sound of her claws retracting. And then you felt her stern hand on your chin, roughly forcing your head and gaze up to meet hers. You fought against the restraints and her hold, but to no avail, they were both far stronger and far more resolved.

"Look at me, Draga!" She sneered.

Your meek gaze met the powerful woman's. You bit your lip and tried not to cry or shake too violently. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, as if she had been crying.

"I invited you into my empire, into my bed... and this is how you repay me...??" Alcina jeered.

You couldn't stop the tears that came pouring down your face anymore. They flowed all the way down to Alcina's fingers, where she curtly would wipe them away without another word about it.

"I... I-- I'm sorry--" you stammered, your eyes looking around frantically while trying to make sense of what she wanted from you.

For a mere moment, you saw the rawness of hurt flash across the woman’s facade. But it was quickly replaced with rageful apathy.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, she dropped your head and sliced something above you with her razor sharp claws. Your limp, trembling body hit the cement ground with a crack!. You were still bound by the wrists, but you were no longer hanging from the ceiling.

In one swift move, the lady grabbed you by the wrists and pushed you up against the dirty wall, so that your were outstretched from her one hand tight hold on your wrists, your toes barely touching the floor.

You winced, letting out a guttural and painful groan, and tore your head to the side, screwing your eyes shut tight. You could feel the woman’s heavy, hot breath against your neck. Her face was right up in your personal space.

You waited for your doom with bated breath, tears still running down your cheeks with no plan to stop anytime soon. But instead of doom, you suddenly felt Alcina’s hot mouth on your neck. Her slippery tongue licked and irritated your sheening skin, as her mouth sucked tightly, creating the exact vacuum of pressure for the perfect bruise.

At the first hickey, you didn’t know how to respond, your body simply limp, still, and silent towards the menacing woman. But by the second bruising, this one the lady placed right on your collarbone, you couldn’t help the breath you sucked in, accompanied by a shiver running through your spine.

But slowly, bruise after bruise, Alcina started to warm your body up. By the time she got to your pressure point, you had craned your neck back for her access and were overtly breathily groaning out after each marking, your eyes threatening to roll back. You could feel the tight coil in your core slowly building as your breathing shallowed and your body came alive.

Alcina sliced your clothing off piece by piece with no further comment, and you took it from her, not daring to oppose. With more exposed skin came more slow and meticulous sucking and marking. By the time the powerful woman got to your thighs, you were an aching mess. But you bit your lip, resisting the urge to beg, as you knew better to talk unless instructed to.

“Who do you belong to, Draga…?” Alcina growled into your now exposed cunt, her hot breath alone to make your core clench around nothing.

You suddenly felt dizzy, and very subservient. The lady tended to have that effect on you. You had hated it at first, as your job was to take her down by spying on her. But overtime, you had learned that Lady Alcina Dimitrescu wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. Or at least her tongue and fingers weren’t…

“I… y-you my lady—“ you whimpered.

“That’s right… So what’s this when I hear someone else is claiming to own you and your services…?” She cooed wickedly, as her free hand gripped your left thigh until it bled.

“N-nothing ma’am—! I belong to y-you and you only…!” You pleaded, trying to fight back tears.

“Good girl…” Alcina hummed, before sliding her lengthy tongue all the way into your core.

You couldn’t help how your body reacted to the woman and her wicked administrations. You shuddered, hating just how good her slithering tongue felt inside your cunt. Your head hit the wall with a light crack! as your eyes effectively rolled back, a filthy moan spewing out from your lips.

“That’s right… My little toyslut… aren’t you…?” Alcina chuckled darkly, pulling away her tongue from your cunt momentarily.

The whimper that erupted from your throat at the loss of stimulation made you want to throw up. But all these feelings were quickly stifled by the intense pleasure of two of the lady’s fingers filling your core. You nodded your head vigorously, willing to do and say anything as long as she continued to make you feel this good.

The first orgasm that Alcina pulled out of you hit you like a brick, your body spasming against the wall and her firm hanging hold on your wrists. You desperately tried to stifle your sounds of pleasure, but your pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t contain your screams.

“That’s it, my little whore… Be a good draga and take it.” the tall mob boss wickedly cooed.

By her increasing speed and your curling toes, your fractured mind could barely piece together the fact that this woman was not stopping anytime soon…

~~~

Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist

[samkerrworshipper]

your moms are here

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, (wobbs as coparents)

part 5 of beautiful girl series pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4

warnings: if your any bit emotionally unstable this isn’t for u x

You didn’t expect to wake up, let alone wake up warm and in a fraction of the amount of pain you’d been in the last time you’d been conscious enough to feel anything.

Your eyes were still crammed shut, your chest still hurt, your body was still shaking, but you felt better, less like you were dangling on the cliff of life and death, you weren’t sure where you were, or if you were even alive.

Was this they greater beyond?

Was it the warmth of death’s embrace?

You knew it wasn’t, because there was still the dull pain and the tension all over your body. You didn’t believe that life after death was anything, that it was actually some overwhelming cloud of happiness and perfection, but if it did exist, if there was some kind of heaven, this wasn’t it.

You thought about the places you could be, in bed at Matt’s house, in bed at your mom’s house, in bed at some kidnappers house, in bed at rehab.

You quickly eliminated each option, the bed and sheets weren’t the same from your bed or Matt’s, kidnappers didn’t normally concern themselves with comfortability, and in your mind rehab would have more detoxing, screaming, junkies.

Out of pure fear, you tried to crack your eyes open, it wasn’t easy, but with some concentration that made your forehead feel like it was being split open, you managed to slowly crack your right eye open. There was sleep and tears keeping your eyelashes stuck together, which made it far harder then it should have been, the blinding white light directly above your head wasn’t much help either.

You took back what you thought, everything hurt.

From your toenails to the follicles on top of your head, it felt like every single nerve in your body was being plucked and split in half.

Your whole body curled itself up into a ball, it made the shaking a little bit less like your body was being exorcised.

You realised very quickly as your eye became accustomed to the light around you that you were in the last place you possibly wanted to be.

You should have clocked on to it, based on the persistent beeping noise coming from above you and the cords that were connected to your arm.

They’d dropped you off out the front of a fucking hospital.

Or someone had found you and called a ambulance.

Or your moms had taken you to the hospital.

Or you were in some sick twisted dream.

With the rest of the energy that was left in your body you managed to crack open your other eye, it wasn’t easy, but it helped you feel more aware of your surroundings.

It was a surprisingly quiet hospital, or at least by your standards.

You tried to sit up, but it was no use, your body was completely spent, all of the energy felt like it had been completely pulled from your body.

Withdrawals, maybe.

Or the reaction of the opioid with the stimulant.

Those were your best guesses as to how you’d ended up feeling like death.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the curtain which was keeping you contained from the rest of the ER was opened up, a nurse waltzing her way over to your bedside.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit vulnerable, you could hardly move your body and had a lot less control over it then you would have liked.

“Miss dump and run awakens.”

Dump and run.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you were mad with your friends, on one hand, it was smart of them to drop you off at an er. They had no medical knowledge, they were druggies, they didn’t need a dead body on their hands. On the other hand, they’d left you, deserted you, left you for dead.

The nurse moved to your IV and monitor, looking at the different flashing numbers and writing them down on her clipboard, before she looked down and addressed you properly.

“Had a lot of drugs in your system for such a wee thing like yourself. Your friends were smart to drop you here, you would have been as good as dead with that much meth in your system for any longer. I’ve seen a lot of overdoses in my day, you might just take the cake though, darlin’.”

Overdose?

A fucking overdose?

You’d been doing drugs for months now, meth, a smidge of coke, little bits of molly and LSD, a little sprinkle of heroin, opioids a couple of times, plenty of weed. Not once had you ever overdosed, you’d never seen someone overdose, you’d come to think it was urban myth.

You’d hardly taken anything, two shoot ups within a couple of hours of each other, it wasn’t something you’d done before but it also wasn’t exorbitant or something you hadn’t seen other people do.

“Sorry, an overdose?”

You were still shaking, it was less obvious underneath the shitty hospital blanket that was on top of you, but you were still shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Yup, think you had more meth in your blood stream then blood. The saline should flush it all out until your guardians get here.”

Guardians?

What?

What the actual fuck was this nightmare that you were stuck in.

“Sorry, my guardians?”

The nurse looked back down at her clipboard.

“Ms Williamson and Ms Nobbs? We’re obligated to call emergency contacts in life threatening circumstances and those were the ones that were on your phone, they should be here soon enough.”

You didn’t care that you couldn’t moved, you needed to leave.

“I want to discharge, now.”

The nurse looked at you like you had gone silly, like you were in a psychiatric ward instead of the emergency one.

“You’re underage, and you’d have to sign a waiver saying that you are aware you’re going against doctors orders, a lot of paperwork, and you’d actually have to be strong enough to walk out of here, which I can promise you is not happening any time soon,”

The nurse pointed to the IV bag.

“There’s still another hour or so left on this, until it’s done that dizzines your experiencing and the weakness isn’t going to pass. You’re frighteningly dehydrated and full of methamphetamines.”

Fuck.

You were so fucking fucked.

“Please, I’ll sign whatever forms, just let me leave, please.”

You didn’t know how you planned to leave, considering you weren’t even mobile enough to roll onto your back to look at the nurse properly, eye to eye.

“You get up and walk to my desk where the papers are and you can leave, how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

You want to yell directly into her face and tell her to let you fucking leave. But you don’t, you have a inch of self-respect that prevents you from doing it.

“Please.”

You’ve never liked to beg, you did enough of it during your youth, begging for your mom to not leave you home alone every night, begging for things to get better, begging for your life to get better, and it had. Jordan and Leah had introduced you to a whole new world, a beautiful world, the kind of world you’d read about as a child, they’d given you anything and everything you’d wanted growing up. You’d become gracious, but promised yourself that you’d never beg in the same way that you always had, but when your life had been turned upside down, you’d reverted back to your old ways.

“I have a daughter of my own, y’know, around your age. If she was in your situation all I would care about is her being okay, that’s whats most important.”

You rolled your eyes, you were certain of one things, your moms would be mad, you were surprised they were coming at all, everyone had deserted you, it felt like you had nobody.

“Can i get something for the pain?”

You were intelligent enough to know that the iv was detoxing you at a rapid rate, whilst it was saving your life, it also meant that you were going to be sent into withdrawals a lot faster then you should have. You weren’t going to get your hands on meth, clearly. So you needed a substitute, luckily, you were currently sitting in a hospital which was filled with every single painkiller known to man.

“Good try honey, a part from the fact that your bloodstream and body couldn’t even handle a tylenol at the minute, I’m also not going to give an addict drugs, just hang in honey, the chest pain and muscle cramps should start to pass soon.”

Just as she was finishing, your eyes darted to the emergency room doors, which were now hanging open as your two moms and Lia walked through the doors.

Jordan was dressed in the same sweats she’d been in all morning, her face was red and puffy, eyes bloodshot and still full of tears.

Leah looked more put together, she had a pair of slacks on and a clean shirt, her eyes were as red as Jordan’s but she appeared to have put on more of a brave face.

Your eyes darted everywhere, looking for some kind of escape, or to stop their fast steps that were slowly getting closer to you with every millisecond that passed.

There was no hope for you.

If the drugs hadn’t killed you then your moms would.

Leah managed to cross into your makeshift room first, her eyes flashing across every inch of your body. You expected her to ask the nurse a question, or yell at you, but she didn’t.

She walked straight to your bedside, your nurse moving out of the way, and without you being aware of what was happening, wrapped her arms around your body.

You didn’t hug your moms a lot anymore.

In the start, when you’d started out with them, it had taken a lot of effort from them to make you trust them with that kind of contact, but eventually, you’d become reliant on their hugs, the shoulder pats, the little motherly touches here and there that you’d never gotten as a kid.

When they’d broken up, the hugs and contact had faded, similarly to the love in the house, it was like everything personal, everything that made Leah’s house a home had been drained.

“You’re okay, thank god you’re okay.”

Leah’s body lingered on your own body long enough for Jordan’s arms to wrap around your body on the other side of you.

You hadn’t been hugged by the both of them in over a year, you felt guilty for wishing that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that you could have this whenever you wanted. That wasn’t your life though, it wasn’t your reality, it wasn’t reality.

You let yourself relax, you knew you’d regret it when the moment ended, it’d make it that much harder to realise you couldn’t have this, but you let yourself enjoy it whilst you had it.

It lasted longer than you’d thought, it was hard, Jordan hugs were addictive. You didn’t get them a lot anymore, occasionally you’d get a hug from Leah, once every blue moon when she wanted one, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t body on body, feelings on feelings, love on love.

You didn’t know if you knew what love felt like anymore, over the years it had been distorted, you were certain that love could only be given to a person in transaction. It’s why you’d tried to be perfect, the perfect kid, the perfect student, the perfect player. You’d given up when Jordan had left, it didn’t matter anymore, there wasn’t enough love to be shared around between you and Leah. Love to you, was a privilege, not something that everyone had extra of. You had to earn love, or at keast that;s how you’d always seen it. You’d never been good enough for your own parents, that’s how you’d ended up with Jordan and Leah, from them you’d always craved that love, the love you’d never gotten and you’d been willing to do anything for it, you still were.

“We love you so much chicky, so much.”

You enjoyed the little murmurs, the little whispers in your ears that were so heartfelt and meaningful that you could feel the tears of your moms dripping down each side of your neck.

All good things come to and end, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Leah, unsurprisingly was the first to turn to your nurse.

“They didn’t tell me anything on the phone, just that we needed to come here, she’s okay?”

Your nurse nodded at your mom.

“Yes ma’am, we’re flushing her out right now. She wants to discharge herself, it’s going against medical advice but she’s free to once she’d done with her iv and she’s regained some strength.”

Jordan sat down on the bed next to you, leaving a big enough gap of space that you could still feel her presence but weren’t pressed up against her, she was listening just intently as Leah to the nurse.

“Flushing her out? Of what?”

Fuck.

You’d never ever, in your life, known Leah to not be inquisitive, she needed and wanted answers to everything, but this was worrying you. There were things you kept a secret for a reason.

“Methamphetamines, she had a pretty high amount circulating in her body. I can get the doctor to come and talk to you about it. Her body had built up a decent tolerance, she took it a lot better than you or I would. Apart from that she’s in fairly good condition, although the doctor did have some concerns about some scratches and bruises that seemed consistent with domestic or sexual abuse.”

You watched, in a series of moments, your mothers face fall more and more as the nurse kept speaking. Leah was pretty good at having a poker face, she had to for her job, she also kept a brave face for life though. You’d hardly seen a break in her resolve since her injury but right now, she was keeping nothing hidden. You felt Jordan’s body go rigid behind you as well, you knew shit was about to get real.

You considered strangling yourself with the blanket on top of you, or drowning yourself in the toilet bowl in the adjacent bathroom. It sounded better than the conversation that was about to occur.

“You’re daughter is very lucky, stupid, but lucky. Her friends ditched her at the front door, if they had of been any later she’d be in far worse condition. She was here just quick enough for us to counteract the drugs and stop them from effecting her mental cognition. Her friends shouldn’t have ditched her, or let her get that far gone, but you should be grateful they were at least smart enough to take her somewhere she could get help. I’m going to go find the doctor, he can talk to you about different option you have, and I’ll leave you guys to talk for a little bit, okay?”

Leah nodded, dumbfoundedly, trying her best to smile at the nurse as she made her way towards the exit of your room, closing the curtains and then the door.

Leah pivoted as soon as she was gone, looking down at you with so much horror and pain that you could feel it in your gut.

“Meth, bubba? You’ve been doing meth?”

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds, filling up all of the space, you hoped that after a couple of seconds that it would disappear, like it had never been said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

You should have chosen your words more precisely, but you were finding it hard to think with all of the drug haze clouding your head.

“Not a big deal? You told me it was the vape, then it was weed, then it was coke and now iut’s fucking meth? There is nothing not big about that bubba. This isn’t just something you can do for fun, this isn’t okay, this is serious. You could die from this. You almost did. You’re 17. 17 year olds aren’t supposed to die. Why bubba? What made you want to do this, not just to yourself but to your life, to everyone. Do you know how scared your mother and I have been. The whole team has been calling up hospitals and roaming the streets looking for you. We’ve been terrified.”

Guilt was one of the best ways to make a person admit they were wrong, you knew it, you’d watched your moms manipulate each other during the break up the same way. They’d use something against the other until it spiralled into a massive fight which would end with someone sleeping at a teammates house or on the couch.

“I’m sorry, okay? Can we just go home? I want to go home.”

Another poor choice in words apparently by the look on Leah’s face.

“No we can’t just go home, we need to talk about this bubba, you overdosed on meth. You have a tolerance for it, which means you’ve been using it for a while. You have bruises and you’re in a hospital bed unable to move. You’re addicted to a drug that I would have thought you’d have absolutely no interest in. You’ve got a disease bubba, you’ve got an addiction and we’re going to work it out, we’ll fix it.”

Similar to being a control freak, Leah was also a person who wanted to fix everything. No problem was big enough for her, apparently your whole life wasn’t either.

“Mom this isn’t a disease, this isn’t like fucking cancer or something. I made a choice, I have it under control, this is my life. I’m choosing to live it this way.”

Your mom looks like she’s about to lose her shit.

“I understand that you think you have this under control and that you think this is the best way to be living your life but it fucking isn’t. I understand you’re struggling, but this isn’t okay, you’re a kid, you can;t be doing this.”

Worst thing you can tell a addict, you can’t take drugs.

Because yes you most certainly can, it’s a free motherfucking country.

“I understand what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me a bad person or any different from your or mama. You don’t like who i am anymore, not since i quit football and stopped being who you wanted me to be, I’ve changed and you have to accept that, this is me mom, this is who I am.”

Leah looked flabbergasted.

“You want me to just nod my head and accept my daughter is a junkie, right? That’s the permission you are seeking, you aren’t going to get it bubba, this isn’t anywhere near okay. This isn’t you, people change, I change, you’re allowed to be different then how you were a couple of years ago. Drugs isn’t how you change yourself, it’s not how you reinvent yourself. You can’t live your whole fucking life like this because guess what, you’ll end up dead. Addiction is a degenerative disease, it is incurable, it is deadly, it’s no fucking different from cancer and you’ve got it. I understand that, you’ve got an addiction, we’ll figure it out. I am not going to enable you to keep abusing a substance that will kill you. You’ve got a death wish and I won’t sit by and allow it to happen. I thought I was cool, I thought it was good of me to be accepting that you’re a teenager and you were going to do stupud stuff, I let you get away with much more than I should have. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that if I gave you to much space that you felt the need to do this, I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough parent to see the warning signs, but I won’t let you kill yourself bubba, not when I can stop it from happening.”

Jordan was still silent, as passive as ever, she’d always taken a backseat, the silent enabler.

“You’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going through, I’m sorry I scared you, but I don’t have to explain my actions to you, you understand nothing about what I’m dealing with.”

The first time you sweared in the presence of Leah and Jordan was your second day with them. You didn’t even know what swearing was, you’d just picked up words that had been said as you’d been growing up. You hadn’t hesitated to throw a ‘fuck’ out when you’d stubbed your foot on the kitchen bench as you’d been pouring yourself a glass of water.

You’d known something was wrong though when you’d turned around to sit back down at the table with Leah and Jordan and both of them looked like they’d seen a ghost.

You’d hardly swore after that, to your core, you were a people pleaser, you didn’t like to be in trouble, right now though it was like everything you’d grown up with was exiting your body. You felt like a monster, like a version of yourself you didn’t know and it was hard, it was really fucking hard. You didn’t want to break down, you were scared that if you were vulnerable you’d be taken advantage of again, the same way that you friends had, so you put up your won shields.

“I don’t need to know what you’re going through to know that this isn’t good. We’ll get you into rehab, we’ll get you clean, we’re here for you, right Jords?”

You could feel Jordan nodding from behind you.

“I’m not going to rehab, fuck no.”

Leah was pacing, it was what she did when she was stressed, it was a clear tell.

“So, I’m just supposed to allow you back into my house, knowing that you’ve been hiding an addiction from me for months, trust that my drug addicted child will stay clean on her own account and be willing to go through withdrawals and not give in to her own addiction. Do you think I don’t love you, is that it? Because right now you’re telling me that I am expected to allow my daughter to use drugs, lethal drugs that almsot killed her, under my roof, allow you to live your life as you want it, and leave you alone. As a person who loves you and has loved your for the past 9 years of your life, are you actually hearing what you are saying?”

Love.

It was a curious thing, your mother thought she loved you, or at least she felt like she did. Ut was funny how to you, you felt the exact opposite way.

“So what you’re doing this to show me you love me or something? Reality check, you haven’t given a fucking shit about me in months, it’s all about Lia, all about your knee. I’m not selfish enough to expect that you can focus on me whilst your recovering but don’t try and act like you’ve been loving and caring about me this whole time when you haven’t.”

Leah sits herself down, she can only handle so long on her feet nowadays.

“Maybe you should coem stay with me, come to rehab in Birmingham. Bubba, your mom is still struggling.”

You’re more than shocked to hear Jordan pipe up, it reignites something else in you.

“No you don’t get to have a fucking say. You left me, you don’t text anymore, you don’t call. I’m only your kid when it’s convenient for you, which is about 10 days every year. You don’t even try with me, you washed your hands of me a year ago and you don’t get to come back now. You gave me up.”

Your sick of being the understanding one, sick of being the one everybody could burden with their problems, sick of being the fucking scapegoat in every situation.

“Look kid, i think you need to have some more respect for your mothers.”

Lia.

Fucking Lia and her audacity and her fucking butting into all of your family problems.

“No you don’t get a fucking say, you move in a couple of months ago to support my mom and all of a sudden your my third fucking parent. You’ve got nothing to do with me, You don’t get to have a say in anything, you aren’t apart of this fucking family.”

Leah looked like she was having about 30 wars with herself inside of her head, like she was struggling to figure out which side of her brain she should side with.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, you need to be respectful to Lia.”

You were sick of everybody telling you that you had to respect people, that you had to follow fucking rules. They wondered why you’d spiralled.

“No, fuck this, fuck you, fuck jordan, fuck everything. I made a series of decisions, ones that I am happy with, this is how I am living my life.”

Leah took a deep breath, before turning to face you.

It was hard looking at her eye to eye, you were putting her through a lot right now, and a part of you deep down felt bad about it. You didn’t want to make your mom feel in pain, you didn’t want her to suffer, it was the last thing you wanted. Without her, you’d be as good as nothing, you’d have absolutely nothing. But you were lashing out, you were as frantic as your sore chest and pumping heart would let you be.

“Bubba. You don’t seen what’s wrong. I do, Jordan and I are sitting here talking to a girl that we don’t know. This isn’t our daughter, this isn’t the girl we’ve raised. You’re going to go to rehab, you’re going to detox, you’re going to get properly clean and once you are we’ll have this conversation again, see if you have a different perspective.”

You didn’t want to have this conversation when you were clean, you wanted to have it now.

“No. If you gave a shit about me, like you’re acting to, you wouldn’t have fucking broken up in the first place. You wouldn’t have torn my life apart, you wouldn’t have done this to me. You wouldn’t have stopped cring about me, you wouldn’t have stopped loving me. Let me go, let me leave. You fucking did this to me and if you want to make it up to me you’ll let me leave.”

You saw Leah’s face fall to another level.

“I can’t do that bubba.”

You felt like you were spinning out of control, like you were in a car that had just fallen over a cliff, and you were slowly doing flip after flip as the car catapulted towards the rocks at the bottom.

“Mom, just let me leave, let me go, please mom, let me leave, let me fucking leave.”

Leah just shook her head at you.

“Bubba, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, it might not ever. I know me and your mom breaking up was hard for you, you didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry for that, but neither of us could handle keeping you in a household without love, and I know it’s different now, I’m so sorry for that, I wish we could go back. But we can’t, me and your mom don’t love each other more, we can’t just love each other. We love you though, we love you more then anything else. We would both pick you above anybody in the world, you’re our beautiful little girl, you’re our girl. You’ll never not be our daughter. We chose you years ago and we would choose you again today, everyday, for the rest of our lives. No matter what you do.”

There are big tears dripping down your moms face, you’ve seen her cry plenty in your life, Leah Williamson is known to be an emotional person, but not like this, not with this much anguish and pain in her face, never like this.

“You don’t love me, you can’t fucking love me, I’m not like either of you. I break people apart, I’m a catalyst, everywhere I go, I tear people a part, I wreck their lives. I wrecked my parents, I wrecked you guys relationship, I wrecked my own life. I’m a fucking semi-truck that bulldozes through peoples lives, just let me leave and you guys can be happy again.”

Leah takes a double take, her fists are white from how hard they are holding onto the arms of the chair she’s sat in. You’re surprised she doesn’t yell back at you, but instead of meeting your aggression with an equal amount, she composes herself.

“Bubba, do you know how much I love you, how much your mama and I love you? If you could take all of the words in the english language, it still wouldn’t be enough to describe how much we love you. And if you could gather all of those words together, it still wouldn’t be enough. What we feel for you is everything. I love you more than everything. You don’t pull people a part, you’ve made your mama and I happier than we ever would have been without you. You light up our lives everyday, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but just seeing you everyday is my biggest achievement, it’s the best part of my day. Seeing you grow up to be the person Jord and I raised will forever be the best part of my life. You didn’t tear us apart, if anything you were what kept us together for so long, because being around you made us both so happy, that all of our problems didn’t matter as much. Eventually it was too much though, it had nothing to do with you, it never will, it never did. You’re the light in our life, you are our whole universe. We just want you to be okay, you don’t have to be who you were, people change, but you need to be okay. You’re not okay right now, there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s okay to not be okay, but me and your mama will find you help if you don’t seek it our yourself. You need to go to rehab, you can’t live your life like this, it isn’t sustainable. Drugs ruin peoples lives. I don’t need to throw stats at you for you to understand the magnitude of drug related deaths, because that’s how this will end, with you dead. You’ve been through so much bubba, you’re so strong, but you don’t always have to be strong, you’re allowed to break down, you’re allowed to have bad days. But drugs isn’t a way to fix that, it’s not a safe coping mechanism, you can’t rely on drugs to solve every problem that you have. You need to get clean. We love you so much, our beautiful girl.”

Everything hurts, your heart, your head, your body. Your eyes and head aren’t clear, it’s like there is a fuzzy haze covering everything, but you believe what Leah is telling you, she’s telling you the honest truth, and you can’t deny that.

[themeraldee]

YOOOO THE “figuring out how to control his strength” fic was SO GOOD, I saw spanking at the end of that, a wee request to expand on that idea mayhaps 👀

Kissing you for enabling me, mwah mwah mwah. I tried going with gender neutral reader for the last one but had to switch to female for this one. Hope that's ok! I'm happy you enjoyed the last one hopefully this one hits the spot!😉

[Masterlist] [A follow up to this]

18+ Only | 1.5k | Homelander x female!Reader | Communicating during sex. Spanking. Riding. Unprotected sex. A dash of dirty talk.

Homelander has been trying to get his paws under your clothes for the past hour of the movie you were adamant you should be watching together. ‘It’s my favorite movie!’ You had said earlier. And not that he has anything against sharing your interests, he loves having every piece of you to himself. But now you are warm and soft against him, cuddling and leaning into him in a way that pretty much puts you in his lap.

He inhales the lingering fragrance of the expensive hair products he got for you. Something in him stirring at the thought of how utterly he’s changing your life, marking you with his touch with every little change he’s making to your routine. Ever since he’s had you move into his penthouse he’s been meddling with every aspect of your life, wanting to add his touch. Just as a reminder that you were his. So anytime you spritz his choice of perfume you think of that and in turn he gets reminded everyday that you make the choice to be his again and again and again.

So it’s no surprise that he’s now peppering your neck and cheek with kisses, pulling you closer no matter how much you protest. “Come on babe, fuck the movie. We can finish it another time.”

“But it’s my favorite…” You pout like a child, trying to pull away but he’s having none of it.

“Shhh. Come on now, don’t be like this.” He’s nuzzling into your neck. His hands wrap around your body, resting on top of your tits, giving your nipples a pinch through the fabric. “Be a good girl for me.” 

Now that sends a shiver down your spine, slowly pooling heat in between your legs. It also gives you a great idea. 

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should spank me for misbehaving.” You’re not facing him but the cheekiness of your grin is audible.

However as much as you’d prefer him to lean into the dirty roleplay of it all, he pulls away, tensing up.

You turn to face him.

“Are you sure? You know I could hurt you.” He’s carrying his worry openly. But just like with the choking you know there’s nothing this man wouldn’t do for you. 

“We’ve been over this baby. Sometimes the pain just makes things feel better.” You caress his cheek, giving him a sweet kiss flush on the lips before you pull away and take matters into your own hands. You lay yourself over his lap, face down, wiggling your ass right in front of him.

Tucking your fingers underneath both the waistband of your soft luxurious loungewear and the panties he’s picked for you, you pull both pieces down to reveal the bare skin of your ass.

“So…maybe you could spank me for not giving you enough attention?” You try to tease him into it, shaking your hips gently to give him the green light.

This does the trick. Homelander places both his hands on your cheeks, giving them a squeeze, really just playing with the softness of the flesh before he remembers what he’s meant to be doing.

Slap.

“Holy shit! Oh-ohhkayy. Fuck. T-that was pretty hard.” His hand is rigid, hard, unforgiving. With his added strength it was definitely a lot for the first slap. So sharp it jerks tears out of your eyes. 

“Fuck—I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” You can hear the fear and panic in his voice. In this instance it’s both at the idea of hurting you and at disappointing you with not being able to do the act justice.

You gather yourself, as the sting slowly eases off. 

“No, no. It’s okay. It wasn’t bad, it was just a lot. Just rub it a bit. It helps with the stinging.” His hand is barely touching you now, almost worried that he could cause more damage but he rubs your sore skin anyway. His touch is soothing. His hands are perfect. Unmarred, not a single scar or blemish and you feel the softness melding right against your ass.  

“Next time, keep your fingers together. Keep your hand loose, relaxed. Don’t make it too stiff.” You give him instructions, not wanting to dissuade him from continuing. It may have been hard and definitely a slap you’d be more likely to handle better as the spanking went on rather than from the start but it was still exhilarating. 

“Homelander,” you say his name, to break him from the trance while he’s still rubbing your ass gently. And as much as that feels good you really want to get the party started so you convey the need for more with a little, “please?”

He takes your instructions to heart and he slaps your ass again. This time a little gentler. With his palm less splayed open it makes a deeper sound which is just music to your ears. 

“Oh fuuuck.” And it feels just as good as it sounds. Really good. Its gentle sting burns through your skin, thoroughly wetting your pussy. Your eyes roll back at the sensation. 

“Was that better?” He asks with gentleness you never expected him to be capable of.  

“Y-yeah.” You slurp back the saliva you feel pooling in your mouth. “It was perfect.”

He takes that as his hint to continue as he lands another. And another one. And more. All in the same spot. Your skin is getting brighter and brighter red. The burn is making your toes curl and your pussy throb.

The more you moan the more he spanks you, alternating between your cheeks until they’re both screaming bright red. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re leaking all over me.” Homelander says in an almost incredulous tone, as if he’s surprised that pain could make you this riled up. Finally, he sees it for the pleasure it gives you.

“Uhh, s-sorry.” You slur, drooling, already having melted into the couch. 

“You’re really fucking kinky, you know that?” 

You laugh at that. “What can I say? I know what I like.” 

“Clearly.” He ran his hand down the hot, red skin, making you hiss. His hands settled in between your cheeks, spreading them out while his other hand made its way to your pussy, sliding his fingers through the mess you made of yourself. 

“My, my, that got you excited.” He shoved two fingers in, meeting no resistance as he pumped them in and out. Even with the TV playing in the background the squelching sound of you is still obscenely loud. You should be embarrassed, really, but it feels so good to finally have something soothe the throbbing pain that’s been building up with each slap. 

“Fuuck. Can I have you, please?” You whine out, really just wanting to get pounded into the couch while you’re feeling all woozy.

“So you want me to spank you, and now you want me to fuck you? See, good girls participate. So hop on sweetheart. You gotta work for it too.” Now he was getting it. With his reservations out of the window, he slips right into teasing you.

You feel yourself flush and throb at his words. He’s so good to you. No matter what, he always makes you feel otherworldly.

With his help you peel yourself off the couch, straddling his lap where he’s pushed down his pants. His cock already hard and flushed red. Just like your cheeks.

You sink down on him, letting out a whimper when your cheeks meet his thighs. The skin on skin contact burns, reminding you of each slap you received. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, but really you just want to be close to him.

He kisses you, as if he’s been starved for it. This whole time you were facing away from him so it’s not like he could have enjoyed your gasps and moans against his lips.

You ride him as hard as your thighs allow, chasing the high of feeling full after the empty feeling you had to take each slap with. With each bounce your ass meets his thighs and your eyebrows pinch together in pain. Good pain. You’re sure he can feel just how blazing hot your cheeks feel.

Homelander grabs your ass from both sides, helping you up and down. His hands squeeze the bruising flesh, making you gasp for air.

“Good?” He asks as he massages the flesh, catching you off guard by another slap.

“Yea-AH!—s’good. Really fucking good.” You mumble, your speech slurring as you lean your forehead against his. It was intimate and debauched at the same time and it didn’t take either one of you long to finish. His cock was hitting you just right and with the added sting of your skin and the occasional slap he landed on alternating cheeks you unraveled on his lap. As you cling onto him with spent, burning thighs he finishes inside you with a few more strokes and you fully collapse into his arms. 

“See? I told you it’d be fun.” You’re panting against him, trying to calm your poor body down. Spent, satisfied and still burning up. You wonder how long you’re gonna feel that everytime you sit.

Hopefully for a while.

“Mhm. You got any more of these great ideas?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic): @infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss @hom3landr @mrsdesade @nommingonfood

[leonsdoll]

SLITHERYN!ELLIE HC'S • 💫

summery: enemies to lovers with slitheryn ellie:3

warnings: light angst, fluff, a wee bit of smut

notes: chat did I eated with this one>_<

tags: @ellslvr

slytherin!ellie who's best friends with draco and they decide to start a one side prank war with you

slitheryn!ellie who makes it her job to terrorise you but never take it too far, but one day she does in fact take it too far leaving you sobbing as your covered in syrup and feathers, she thought it wouldn't be that much of a big deal because it's a classic prank

slytherin!ellie who feels sooo bad, she tried apologizing to you multiple times but every time you ignore her and move on, she even tries to sit next to you in class but you end up just leaving the seat

slytherin!ellie who shows up to your door with flowers and chocolate, you take the chocolate and then shut the door on her

slytherin!ellie who during class gets the bright idea to start leaving love letters in your dorm as an anonymous person

slytherin!ellie who spends hours writing love letters that'll last her a month, she slips one under your door every morning for a week straight

slitheryn!ellie who gets paired up with you for an assignment, while working she's inches away from you, you glance at her notebook and see it's the same writing as the love letters

slytherin!ellie who of course didn't think of changing her writing for the letters

slytherin!ellie who slowly gets closer to you while you guys are working on the project, you start talking instead of working

slytherin!ellie who has no clue the only reason you've sort of forgave her is because you know she wrote the letters

slytherin!ellie who's laying in bed reading a book when she hears a knock on her door, she opens it up to see you standing there

slytherin!ellie who's caught by surprise when you confess to her, her jaw dropped and her eyes are wide, 'really?' she questioned in pure shock

slytherin!ellie who takes you on the sweetest dates, picnics, pubs, or just in her dorm room

slytherin!ellie who fucks you in the slytherin common room when everyone's asleep

'shh, baby hush, you don't want anyone to hear you right?'

slytherin!ellie who's mean to everyone else but you!!! she acts all tough around other people but she's a total softie with you

slytherin!ellie who treats you like her princess and would never ever hurt you again:3

[charmercharm3r]

steady streams

BC

Masterlist

8/8 of The Sleepwear Series

wc: 4k

Synopsis: Sometimes, the dead of night is the only time you get him all for yourself.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, fluffy bf!chan, genderneutral!reader, unprotected sex, handjob, oral, light choking, talk of pleasuredom!chan hehehehe, reader crying during sex but nothing bad!! they just luuuuvvvvv each other so much..pretty tame

Chan is a man already spread way too thin, mind in a million places, phone always just in reach, shoulder so weighed down by his duties that sometimes he feels like a fucking zombie. And he admits, sometimes he thinks he actually is. But hey, it puts food on the table and keeps a decent amount of change in his pocket.

That’s why you always made sure he left all of that outside the door when he came home. Chan was grateful you didn’t ever let him sulk for too long, or let him leave early in the morning on an empty stomach– those meal preps in the fridge are life savers for his incredibly long days.

It was another one of those days, drainingly long and so, so far away from you. Another thing that weighed on him, he felt like the world’s worst boyfriend for spending so much time at work and only being able to see you so late into the night when he came home. In all honesty, it did suck, of course it did. But you understood him and his workaholic lifestyle, and dating him turned you into a night owl as well.

Judging by his lack of enthusiasm in his texts, he just wanted to get home. So you opted to pick him up in the wee hours of the morning instead of him taking a taxi, sending him a quick notice and a few comforting hearts.

Chan was waiting outside the building by the time you’d gotten there and let out the loudest sigh as soon as he sat in the passenger seat. You were thankful for the lack of traffic on the corner of the street because he threw his bag in the backseat and leaned over the center console to take you into an exhausted embrace. He still smelled so good, musky but somehow the vanilla lingered on his clothes and skin, you couldn’t help taking in a deep breath of the scent as you hugged him back. “You okay, hon?” You cooed, voice muffled by how tightly he held you. Only receiving a groan in response, you laughed lightly and kissed the part of his body you could without breaking away.

He held on for a bit longer until he’d had his fix, pulling away but keeping content with his hand in yours. The drive home was pleasantly quiet, your late night playlist softly playing in the background while Chan kept his eyes closed and head rested back, occasionally rubbing his thumb into your hand to tell you he was still awake because of course he was.

Getting back home as you unlocked the door, he let his forehead fall against your shoulder from behind for a moment. You say nothing, leading him in and tossing all your belongings down before Chan could follow suit.

“What do you need from me tonight, baby?” The gentle nature of your voice was already calming as it was, but your open arms were even more inviting. As if the hug in the car wasn’t enough, Chan leaned his head into your neck and encased you in his arms, intent on not letting go. He didn’t need to explicitly tell you that he needed the physical affection, he always wanted it, but it never hurt to ask.

“Need to shower,” he murmured back as his arms slithered tighter around your torso and crushed your bellies against each other.

“Eat something small and I’ll get it started.” Hands in his hair, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go easily now that your nails raked against his scalp.

“‘M not hungry. Stay with me,” Chan’s voice was low while pulling far enough just so he could peck your cheek and trail his lips to yours for a chaste, longing kiss. He moaned against you, practically melting in your arms.

You barely nodded before he was blindly leading you towards your ensuite bathroom, the same route you’d make a million times a day that either of you could do in your sleep if you’d gotten any. Clothes were strewn about the pathway through the bedroom door, past the perfectly made bed, and into where the steamy oasis awaited. Granted, it took a minute to get it the right temperature, but Chan just couldn’t stand the wait. He dragged you into the shower before it was hot enough and bore the burden of standing in the lukewarm stream just so he could have an excuse to hold you skin to skin.

There couldn’t have been less space between your bodies but it still didn’t feel like enough for him. All he wanted was in his arms, lightly scratching up and down his bare back as the water finally reached the perfect temperature.

“Would you like to tell me about your day?”

“After you tell me about yours. Wanna listen to you talk.” His admittance made you smile and kiss his neck.

“Well, then let me help you clean up and I’ll tell you about all the drama at work.” Chan nodded and leaned back, keeping his hands on your hips at all times. His eyes closed as the warm water began to soak his hair and drip down his face. The image of him was enough to stop you in your tracks and admire his pretty features. Delicate and somehow prominently defined bone structure, pink plump lips with a lovely cupid’s bow, your eyes raked down his thick neck to the built traps of his wide shoulders and broad chest and you wondered how on earth you came to call this beautiful human yours. His looks alone were enough to cast a spell over you, make you want to do anything you could to take care of him, in this very moment you were entranced.

With him still holding on to you, you reached for the shampoo bottle and poured a bit in your hands, lathering it up before massaging the bubbles into his hair. Chan’s lips parted a little at the action followed by a slight groan. “My boss is still an asshole, but today was okay for me, he was pretty occupied. Remember that girl I was telling you about? The assistant? Well, I saw her sneak into my boss’s office during his lunch break.”

Chan peaked one eye open, “what? Really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded your head, “you’ll never believe what happened.” Once your fingers started to get rubbed raw, you figured it was time to rinse. “Head back,” he followed your instructions and let the water clean the shampoo away. “My boss came back after lunch, but his wife was with him!”

Both of Chan’s eyes shot open and he gasped, “no way! Was the assistant still in his office?”

“Yes! And the door was closed! I saw the whole thing as it was happening. Head up.” Conditioner next, then body soap on a scrub glove. You took your time rubbing the exfoliating glove over the expanse of his skin, enjoying getting to clearly see all of his little features up close, particularly his chest and arms. Chan smirked a little as he watched you ogle him.

“What happened next?” He prodded.

“I couldn’t see what the assistant was doing inside his office, but I heard her say that she was just leaving his week’s itinerary and organizing some files and she ran out. The wife was totally clueless.”

Straightening out his arm, you held it up as the soap coated his skin, smelling like a soft lavender. “Damn, I really thought the wife would finally realize her husband was cheating on her.” Chan mindlessly used the suds to clean his lower half as well.

“You and me both, babe. Turn around.”

His back was like a dream to look at, let alone get to see all soapy and wet. You squeezed the glove across his shoulder and let the suds drip down for your own amusement. The little giggle that left you had Chan peaking over his shoulder, “enjoying yourself?”

“Mhm. A lot,” you kiss his lips as he chuckles before continuing your task. “Wanna tell me what made your day suck so bad?”

Chan’s head fell forward with a long sigh, he rinsed the conditioner from his hair. “It’s not even anything terrible. It’s just… the regular stuff that is getting so exhausting.” 

Taking the shower head off the hook, you rinsed his body and hung the scrub glove, handing it to him to put back so you could wrap your arms around his waist. Chan’s head hung in the hot water while you pressed your ear to his back and listened to his heartbeat. The soft rhythm was almost mind numbing somehow, not realizing you were feeling him up and down until he cupped his hands over yours to stop before they got too low. “How can I help you?” You could only whisper, wishing there was a way to make all of his responsibilities evaporate like the steam on the bathroom walls.

“Just hold me.”

It was another few quiet moments with him like this until you started to get antsy. Your boyfriend was right in front of you, yet it still felt like his mind was so far away. You knew it was, a bad habit of his that not a lot seemed to break as he thought of all the things he still needed to do. And you missed him, so much that you couldn’t bear to tell him because it’d be one more thing on his plate.

Instead of voicing your concern for his overly bombarded thoughts, you figured it’d be more beneficial to put a pause on his brain all together.

So slow that he didn’t seem to register, you tiptoed your hand south and splayed your palm over his pelvis. It wasn’t until you took hold of his semi-hard cock did Chan realize what you were doing. His head shot up and tried to look back at you, but you lightly wrapped your hand around his neck and said, “relax, baby. No more thinking tonight.” You felt him swallow, then nod.

Not even thirty seconds later and he was at full mass, entirely at your mercy as the water acted as lubricant for lazily pumping him. Knowing just where to touch, just how to nibble lightly at his skin, just enough pressure around his neck to make his head fall back, Chan bucked into your palm and already felt so grounded beneath your touch. The warmth of the water was making him overheat even more now that his high was rising quicker than he’d expected. Your fingertips ran over the head of his cock before wrapping your hand into a tighter ring and speeding up your movements, Chan shuddered and let his head rest back against the side of yours. While you worked him up further, he placed a grip over the hand on his neck and squeezed tighter while his other reached back to grab your ass and pull you flush against his back side. Every time he rutted into the ring of your palm, your hips moved with his, fluid and in sync with every motion until he bit his lip to hold back the strained moans that wanted to erupt. “Let go, sweetheart. You deserve it. I won’t let you go,” the loving coo of your voice was what tipped him over the edge and release onto the tiled shower walls with a deep groan. You squeezed his neck just a little tighter while his nails dug into the fatty flesh of your ass, hips twitching until his shoulders slumped forward with relief.

“Fuck, I needed that. Thank you,” Chan rolled his head to kiss your temple. As he turned to take you into a hug again, you quickly took the shower head and cleaned the wall off and washed his seed down the drain.

“I know.” You hugged him back, but still felt his erection hard against your stomach.

His breathing returned back to normal soon. “Did you shower earlier?” He asked, you nodded, “good.”

Before you could question him further, Chan was guiding you out of the shower and letting the steam flood the bathroom even more. He dried you down before drying himself, taking in your lips as you attempted to wrap your hair in another towel to catch you off guard with your arms up and body exposed.

The kiss was hungrier than any of the past few shared since picking him up, so much needier and desperate that he unexpectedly picked you up and dropped you onto the bed in a matter of seconds. You squealed when your bare back hit the mattress and Chan fell to his knees in front of you. Doing your best not to get the sheets wet with your soaked hair, you looked down at him wonderfully confused, “what’re you doing?”

His lips were peppering kisses up and down your legs, coming to your thighs and he looked up at you through his long lashes. “You’re so sweet to me,” Chan said into your skin. “Packing me meals. Picking me up so late at night. Getting in the shower with me even if you’re already clean just because I asked. Always treating me so good and that was just today. You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a reward, did you?” Each sentence was accompanied by more kisses and slight teething to leave soft red marks.

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, he made his way higher and hooked his arms under your thighs. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything in return,” you admit, unabashedly indulging in how pretty his hair was when it was wet and curly, you couldn’t stop from twirling it between your fingers as his kisses came to the junction where your thigh met your pelvis.

“You don’t have to ask, baby. I wanna give it to you. Y’always deserve something just as sweet as you are. Let me? Please, please let me?” He was begging as his warm breath fanned over your center, sending shivers up your spine and raising goosebumps along your limbs.

Just a nod and a whine, he was overly enthusiastic in the way he began to devour you. Slurping noises filled the room from the very start, Chan clutched your thighs tightly to keep you from squirming and against his mouth at all times. His big tongue covered so much area, made you feel tingly all over especially when he peered up at you from between your legs, an obvious smirk as the same tongue wriggled to tease you for making such pretty nosies for him. Maybe a little too lost in it, Chan sat up onto his knees, hunched over and took your lower body up with him to fold you in half as he continued to stimulate what felt like every nerve in your body. He was looking down at you now and slightly menacing but in a way that was painfully arousing, he knew what he was doing when he began to hum. Hands in his hair, you were rutting into his face as if he was only there for your pleasure, and he loved it. So much so that even after you came into his mouth and he swallowed every bit, after you finally let him go and he placed you back onto the bed, Chan begged to let him do it again.

“Baby, I don’t think I can. Too tired and sensitive,” you breathed heavily as he crawled over your body.

“I know I can make you cum one more time at least. If not with my mouth, then…” His voice trailed off, lowering to place supple kisses across your chest and up your neck. “Let me fuck you, nice and slow just how you like. Wanna keep making you feel good, the way you make me feel. Wanna feel you around me, pulling me in so deep that you feel me in your belly,” he emphasized his sultry words by tracing his fingers across your lower stomach, making you shudder again. “Let me fuck you so soft until you cum around me, make you feel how much I love you and appreciate everything you do for me.” Your stomach twisted at his lewd, heartwarming promise, there was no denying him when he asked so kindly.

Tugging his head down for more kisses, Chan hiked your legs around his hips and immediately aligned himself with your core. The initial push in was a burning, blissful stretch to accommodate his swollen size, the both of you a sensitive mess from already coming once each and loudly groaning into the bedroom air.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck– you feel so good, so warm,” he mumbled against your lips, unable to shut himself up. Not that you minded, you adored when he told you how you made him feel, and he loved the reaction you gave him.

“See that, sweetheart?” He bucked his hips impossibly deeper, seeing the bulge in your lower belly protruding slightly. “What’d I tell ya? Isn’t that just the prettiest sight? Aside from you, of course,” Chan chuckled as he slowly fucked in and out of you, pressing his forehead against yours to watch as his tip prodded lightly upwards from your stomach.

His fascination for seeing himself within you was maddening, when he said he’d fuck you slow, you didn’t think it’d be this slow, to the point of almost stagnant. Whining and clawing at his biceps, you tried to buck yourself back and forth just for the friction and he laughed. He actually laughed watching you struggle to get yourself off after protesting it not even ten minutes ago. “Oh, you’re just so cute! Trying so hard. Is it working? Think you can do it yourself?”

“Baby, please– you said you’d–”

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I could never say no to your pretty face.”

Chan adjusted his stance so his thighs brushed against your bruised ass and settled on his forearms on either side of your head. Cheek to cheek, you held onto him from under his arms, one hand hooking under his shoulder and the other reaching as far down as you could to dig your nails into his ass the same as he did earlier. The slight pain of your nails was encouraging, pulling out and pushing into you again at a languid pace. The sound of wetness filled the room from both the sloppy kisses he was leaving anywhere he could and from where your bodies connected.

He was alway vocal in bed especially when he was feeling the way he did now, at rock bottom but somehow on top of the world because he had you beside him, conflicted inside thinking he doesn’t deserve the love and support you provide but can’t seem to fend off the selfishness to push you away. You were better that sleep, better than three hot meals a day, better than any drug that could run through his veins because drugs eventually wear off, but there was no way he was ever going to get you out of his system.

So yeah, if the opportunity to tell you how much he adored you ever came around, he was going to take it. Such as now, for instance, fucking into you with nothing but love and passion while also letting out all of his day’s frustrations through his words.

“My beautiful baby, you fit me like a glove. Oh, you sound so pretty when you say my name. Say it again please? Hngh– there we go– ah, fuck– do that again. God, this hole is perfect, so perfect for me. Don’t ever wanna pull out. Wanna fuck you all day and night, make you cum over and over again until you can’t remember what day it is. How does that sound, love? Would you let me? Just say so and I’ll do it.”

If dirty talk was an olympic sport, he’d take the gold year after year because the flame in your gut was burning brighter and brighter with every thrust– or was that just his cock?

Didn’t matter, it could’ve been minutes or hours that he spoke to you like this, kept you teetering on the edge with just the right pace and depth to have your toes curling. It was so good that you wanted to cry, not just from the pleasure but because of how much you loved him, and there was no way to express that love without actually making the two of you break into tears.

But you couldn’t hold back the few that escaped down your cheek, though it was the sniffle that caught his attention to sit up and look at you with deep concern. “Baby? What is it?” He pulled out immediately, making you whimper and claw at his back for him to return. Chan was confused, but did as you asked and slowly pushed back into you, making your eyes screw shut and dig back into the mattress. “Talk to me, why are you crying?” 

As he swiped the tear away with his thumb, you held his hand and nuzzled your cheek into his palm. “Love you so much,” it came out as less than a whisper and if Chan wasn’t looking at you, he wouldn’t have understood.

His eyes softened more than they already were, he almost felt the need to let a few tears shed as well but held up the strong fort for your sake. If he had cried too, that would’ve been the end of your little steamy session, and Chan knew better than to take the promise of pleasure away from you. So he squished your cheeks with both hands and planted kiss after kiss against your puffy lips, not letting you breathe as he did so.

“Love you so much more, you’ll never understand.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, not letting his eyes stray from your glistening ones, he continued to fuck into you until your body began to feel like it was floating and you were locking him between your legs in a vice grip, finally closing your eyes as the high stole your vision with a white blur. Chan’s head fell to the side of yours, still holding on when the pulsing of your walls finally let him give in to the euphoria he’d been trying so hard to keep at bay because truth be told, he almost came as soon as you said you loved him.

Bodies damp and tired, Chan would’ve collapsed on top of you if not for his knees tucked below him. Kissing you slowly, feather light and cherishing, he slipped away for just a moment to grab tissues off the nightstand and wipe you clean, then reaching for a clean pair of his boxers to slip up your legs. He giggled when he realized how much bigger they were and weren’t going to stay up.

The comforter was still neatly tucked under the corners of the bed, but Chan decided that while he had you here momentarily immobilized, he’d tuck and roll you into the blanket like a burrito, just your head sticking out of the top. “Nooo! I can’t hold you!” You complained, but laughed along with him anyway.

“It’s for your own good! So you can’t run away from me,” he challenged and wrapped himself around your blanket bundle tightly.

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

“You’re stuck with me, actually. I have you trapped with no escape.” He rubbed his nose into your cheek with a sleepy grin.

“Oh nooo, what will I do?” The fake worry made him sigh, but still smooch your cheek sweetly and roll over so he was on top of you again.

“What do you think will happen with the assistant and your boss?”

“You’re so nosy!” The two of you giggled much too loudly for how late at night it was.

He didn’t let you loose, choosing to keep you wrapped up tightly in the blanket, safe and sound and in his arms.

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit. @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101@skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz