#yeah he can crush a man with his thighs but if you stand close enough to him you can hear the dial up tone from his brain

[lovequartz]

where our fingers meet.

✵ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x fiancee!reader

✵ genre: fluff!

✵ warnings: none

✵ word count: 701

✵ crush me in your arms give me a lovelier kiss, lover

✵ notes: yeah i am back with more of this couple <3 i literally cannot stop writing for them

the week before the wedding is stressful, and not for you but for your mother and sister. you are still trapped in somewhat of a daze, you can’t believe you’re getting married let alone who you’re getting married to. your sweet sweet wonwoo, you’re sure you must’ve dreamed him up for it is madness that a man so perfect exists. in thinking of your wonderful fiance you’re awash with a sense of longing that sits heavy in your chest. 

it’s been a little less than a week since you’ve seen him, due to all the planning madness your mother and sister have swept you up into. not to mention the fact that wonwoo had left town for a stretch to visit his parents and travel back with them so they could attend the ceremony. you wish you could’ve gone with him, to have a bit of privacy between the two of you before you were to become spouses. 

silas has been lovely as he usually is, but you suspect that he’s coming to understand that you won’t always be with him so he has been making sure to take up as much of your attention as he can. which is why he currently lays sprawled across your lap while he doodles on the edges of his math notebook, and the accompanying math textbook sits abandoned across the room near your bed. 

you run your fingers through his hair for a few passes, “i thought you promised your mother that you would have a page done by bedtime?” 

silas hums, you feel it against your thighs where his upper body is positioned, and he puts his pencil down and lays his head against his open notebook, “too sleepy,” he murmurs.

your hand moves from his hair to rub his back gently, it was just about his bedtime so the sleepiness was understandable. you leave him be and when you’re certain he’s asleep is when you tuck him into your futon, making sure the blanket covers him. gathering his things, you stack them neatly into a pile and set them near the door. 

as your nephew sleeps you busy yourself with getting ready for bed yourself, changing your day dress with your sleep gown, and running a comb through your hair. 

a few minutes into brushing you hear a faint knocking at your window, its seems too quiet to be actual knocking but doesn’t quite sound like the branches that sometimes scratch at it. you slowly make your way over, and try to peer out the spaces in the slats. after not really seeing anything, you carefully slide the window open just a crack and the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. 

“wonwoo?” you say in disbelief, staring wide eyed at your fiance that stands just outside. 

he gives you a shy smile, and rubs his hands together nervously, “sorry for the abrupt and unannounced visit.” 

you shake your head, still dizzy with disbelief. “what are you doing here?” 

“i wanted to,” he pauses as if embarrassed by his actions, and you notice how red his ears are, “see you.” 

your face heats up at his admission, and you stare silently at him for a few moments before telling him to stay put. assuring him that you would be right there.

you grab a shawl from your closet and throw it over your shoulders before quietly making your way out of your bedroom and out of the house. your slippers kick up loose rocks as you hurriedly round the corner to where your fiance waits. 

he smiles when he sees you, holding out a hand that you take as soon as you’re close enough. both your fingers weaving together seamlessly. 

“is everything okay?” you ask breathlessly, still a bit worried over this unannounced middle of the night appearance. 

his free hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and you melt as his thumb brushes across your skin. “everything is fine,” he replies, “i fear that a week without you is far too long for me to bear.” 

“wonwoo…” you mumbled, flustered over his words, “you could’ve called.”

he shakes his head with a grin, “and miss this lovely sight before me? never.”

notes: okay my lovelies thank you as always for reading and there will most likely be more of this couple from me! let me know what you thought <3

[tojisfavlatina]

‘Me and My Husband’

Wc: 3.9k

Cw: nonconsensual drug use, brief message of SA

An: if you’ve seen this fic before… yeah that was me i accidentally deleted my tumblr acc cuz i didn’t know deleting ONE blog deletes all of them… oops… i also wrote that spider-man gojo fic WHICH I WILL REWRITE AND REUPLOAD

Being engaged to Satoru Gojo was nothing short of perfect. You both completely trusted each other, you were completely in love, you rarely ever argued, and if you did, it was over the simplest of things and you’d both end up laughing at the end of it.

The only problem was his family. They didn’t approve of your ranking as a grade 3 sorcerer and they didn’t like how you chose to spend your time as a sweets maker, instead of trying to become at minimum, a grade 1. You had the potential, they were aware of that, but you just chose not to try and promote your rank. They saw your actions as rebellious and an embarrassment to sorcerers.

When you first started dating Satoru, they all laughed in your face, saying your relationship was nothing more than a fling, but once Satoru announced he had proposed to you, hell broke loose.

They condemned it, they hated it, they even sent you threats, stating if you didn’t break off the engagement, they’d ruin your life.

Satoru always told you to never worry about them. He’d always choose you over his family, and of course, you trusted him.

⋆

“Ugh, do you have to go?” Satoru had gotten a call, another mission he had to oversee, since no one else could be trusted enough to take care of it.

He laughed at your grumbling. “I wish I didn’t, but you know how it is.”

You threw your head back on the couch and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I know… I just wish we could spend every day together.”

“Become a grade 1 and then we can go on missions everyday together.” He sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh.

You placed your hand on top of his. “Very funny, Satoru.”

You felt your phone buzzing and you quickly glanced at it, but the messages weren’t from anyone in your contacts.

2 New Messages From An Unsaved Number

hey it’s mei-mei

let’s go out tonight. just the two of us.

“It’s… Mei-Mei. Why would she be asking me to hang out?”

“Change of heart? I say give her a chance.”

“I don’t know… this feels random. She’s never liked me, Satoru, why would I believe she all of a sudden is a changed person?

“I think you’re acting way too paranoid.” You gave him a light smack on his forehead. He pouted at you as he rubbed it better. “Come on! It’s been forever since you’ve gone out, hasn’t it? Go have fun!”

You groaned with annoyance knowing he wouldn’t stop persisting. “Okay… only because you’re irritating me.” He gave you a smile and kissed your cheek before standing up.

“I guess I’ll see you later tonight. Have a great time baby.” Satoru gave you one last kiss before leaving.

Once you heard the door close, you flopped down onto the couch. You didn’t like the idea of hanging out with Mei-Mei, especially since it’d be just the two of you. There was a bad feeling growing in your gut, but you pushed it down because you told Satoru you’d have fun. You sent her a confirmation text and you felt your phone buzz a couple minutes later, but you didn’t even bother looking at it.

Slowly, you rose up from the couch and started getting ready. You didn’t bother doing much since you didn’t really care how Mei-Mei perceived you nor did you care about impressing anyone there. You were doing this for Satoru and Satoru only.

She sent you the address to a bar nearly half an hour away, so you decided to call an Uber instead of having her pick you up.

⋆

The bar was extremely busy, the only reason you were able to spot her was because of her bright hair.

You tapped her shoulder and let out a small hi. She let out a small gasp and gave you a smile before giving you a bone-crushing hug. “Go find us a table, I’ll get us drinks!” She left before you could even say anything, so you simply obliged.

You sat at an empty table and let out a shaky breath. You wanted to calm down, you wanted to have a good time, but this still felt strange.

She came back and slammed two glasses on the table, sliding one over to you.

“I wasn’t planning on drinking…”

“Come on~ one drink won’t hurt…”

“…Okay.” You took the shot from her and downed it immediately. It burned your throat, making you wince. There was a slight salty taste, but you ignored it, thinking maybe alcohol just tastes like that now. You rarely ever went out to bars or clubs, since Satoru was a lightweight and couldn’t get past two drinks. Mei-Mei giggled at your reaction and took her shot soon after.

“I’m gonna get us some more~.”

“N-no Mei-Mei, please I had the one drink, I think that’s enough.”

“What? You don’t want to have some more fun with your friend?”

“I… I’m gonna find the bathroom.” You quickly left your seat and walked forward, not even knowing if you were headed the right way. You eventually found the line for it and waited.

Once it was your turn, you felt yourself get lightheaded, must’ve been one hell of a shot Mei-Mei gave you.

You finished using the restroom and tried finding Mei-Mei, but couldn’t spot her. Every step you took had you stumbling, you couldn’t even stand up straight. You’ve only had one drink… Why was it affecting you this much?

You spotted white hair in the middle of a group of people, and you let out a sigh of relief. You hoped Mei-Mei could take you home since you felt so strange.

You pushed through the crowd to reach her, but once you did, it wasn’t her you saw.

“S-Satoru? Why are you h-here? … at work…” The words that could leave your mouth came out slurred and mumbled. The music started sounding extremely muffled, every blink you took made your vision blurrier. Satoru kept fading in and out, eventually, someone grabbed your arm and pulled you outside.

Your eyes shut. Once they opened again, you were inside a house, but you couldn’t tell who it belonged to.

Everything felt foggy, you felt nauseous. You wanted to stand, you tried to.

But you must’ve fallen, since the next time you had opened your eyes, you were blinded by the sun’s rays.

The first thing you felt was pain. Your head was throbbing and the light wasn’t making it any better. You rubbed your temples for any sort of relief, but to no avail.

You slowly opened your eyes, hoping they’d adjust to the light. Blink by blink, the light wasn’t so harsh anymore and you could fully open them. You looked around and didn’t recognize where you were.

Satoru. I need to call him. You looked around for your phone, but as you looked down, you weren’t in the clothes you put on last night. Instead, you wore an oversized shirt and sweats, clearly belonging to a man. A sick feeling grew in your stomach. There’s no way in hell…

“Mornin’.” A deep voice caused a shiver to run down your spine. Every worst case scenario went through your mind.

“W-who are you? Where am I?” He handed you two pills, but you refused to take them, you didn’t even know who he was.

The man only rolled his eyes at you before dropping the pills onto the coffee table. “They’re painkillers. Take ‘em’ or don’t, I don’t care.”

“How did I get here… did we…did you…” Sleeping in the house of a stranger scared you enough, but the possibility of him also taking advantage of you, made your heart almost stop.

“No. We didn’t have sex, I didn’t even touch you. The most we ‘did’ was me liftin’ your body off the floor.”

“Did you see the girl I was with? She has white hair-

“Yeah, she left. She came with us last night, but she was gone before I even woke up. Hell of a friend you got.” He walked to another room and came back out with a bag. “Here’s your shit. You should leave soon.” You only nodded to him before he left you alone again.

At the top of the bag was your phone, which thankfully, had enough battery to last you until you got home. There were 27 missed calls from Satoru alone, and a couple of others from your friends. You’d call them once you got home, right now you just wanted to hear Satoru. You dialed his number, but it immediately went to voicemail.

You didn’t think much of it. His phone was probably dead, you were always the one that plugged it in at night. You’d see him soon, so you simply ordered a ride home

⋆

You unlocked the front door, but it was eerily quiet inside. He was probably still asleep, he always woke up late.

You walked towards your room, the door was slightly cracked open, but you could see a figure inside, “Satoru?” Once you opened it all the way, you saw it was him and let all your things fall to the floor. You missed him so much, you just wanted him to hold you.

He had his blindfold on, which was extremely out of character, he rarely wore it around you anymore. He was sitting on your guy’s bed and stared at the wall ahead of him, not even glancing at you. “You’re back.” His tone was cold and his voice was meak, the complete opposite of what you had expected.

“Yeah… I am.” You approached him for a hug, but he stood up and immediately backed away from you. “Satoru? What’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with me… the fuck is wrong with me…” He let out a dry laugh. Everything about him was confusing you. “What exactly did you do last night?”

“I… I don’t remember. I met up with Mei-Mei, I had a drink, then everything after that is… blurry.”

“What were you doing with Toji?”

“Who’s Toji?”

“So you don’t even know the man who you slept with last night. That’s fucking amazing.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

He pulled out his phone and walked towards you. Satoru made you hold it as he swiped. On the screen was a picture of you getting pulled out of the bar by a man and you getting into that same man’s car. You recognized the man, you woke up in his house this morning. You started laughing at Satoru. “Is that Toji? Are you two friends? Wait… you both set this up to prank me! Oh~ you really got me.” You continued laughing, but as you looked at his face, he didn’t find this the slightest bit of amusing, making you stop.

He snatched his phone from your hand before inhaling deeply, “and whose clothes are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. I woke up like this.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, “and you keep lying to me, even though I already know…”

“Already know what?” Your voice grew louder, angrier. “You don’t… believe me?”

“How am I supposed to!? There’s pictures, the clothes you’re wearing, Mei-Mei called and told me everything that happened.” Hearing her name made you pause…

Mei-Mei…

“You believe Mei-Mei over me? Satoru, you know she’s been oddly obsessed with you since you’ve known her.” You threw an accusing finger at him.

He only glared at your finger, and at you. “I’ve also known her longer than you. She’s given me evidence that you cheated on me, so is believing her really the craziest thing right now?” You were taken aback by his words. He had never doubted you before, but now he was believing Mei-Mei of all people.

“So is that what’s going on? Is this your lame ass way to end things with me, so you can go and have her? Is that why you were so insistent on me going out?” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at you.

“Don’t try turning this on me ‘cuz you can’t own up and admit you’re a whore now.” You lifted your hand to slap him, but your hand never made contact with his skin. His infinity was on. Satoru didn’t even trust you enough to have it off around you anymore.

You scoffed, tears were building in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You let out a shaky breath, “okay… I’ll admit to being a whore once you admit you were too pussy to end things with me, so you called your side bitch for help.”

“My family was right, I should’ve never proposed to you.” That was the last straw for you.

“Yeah, they were right.” You started gathering your things, but as you tried walking past him, he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“I already packed my things. You have my number right?” He let go of you and started walking out of the room, “make sure to get rid of it.” He walked further away and you eventually heard the front door slam shut.

Everything that just happened hit you all at once, finally breaking you. At first, you felt so betrayed, so angry. You threw the framed picture of him you kept on your nightstand against the wall, shattering it. Anything that even reminded you of him was broken. Once your rampage was over, you fell to your knees and started wailing, screamed until your voice was gone, you could barely breathe at this point.

You weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

Your entire life, the love of your life, gone.

Just like that.

⋆

A few days passed, you’d wake up hoping it was a nightmare, but the other side of the bed was always empty. He’s in the bathroom… he just woke up before me.

You’d get up to use the bathroom, but of course, it was empty, not even his toothbrush was there.

He was gone, and every time you came to that realization again, you’d break down sobbing.

⋆

A week passed. You knew he wouldn’t be there. You knew he wasn’t coming back. It still hurt, but you had to get use to it.

Word got out to your friends that you’d broken up, and they all sided with him. No one came to check up on you. It sucked, but you grew to understand it.

⋆

Three knocks sounded from the door. They were faint, almost hesitant. At first, you thought you imagined them, but then you heard them again, this time, a lot louder.

You opened the door to see the very man who had caused this depressive episode. Just seeing him made your knees almost buckle. Various emotions coursed through your body; rage, shame, sorrow, but worst of all, love.

You wanted to throw yourself back into his arms, for him to cradle you and say everything’s okay. You needed his warmth against yours and to bring you back the comfort you’ve been yearning for since he left.

But that wasn’t possible. Nothing he could say would fix what he’d done to you. His immediate response being to leave you, told you how much you really meant to him. He was so quick to push you away, like these last couple of years together truly meant nothing to him. It hurt to think about all the empty promises he had given you when he proposed.

How he promised to cherish you forever. How he swore to endlessly love you no matter what. How he’d choose to relive this lifetime over and over again if it meant being with you and only you.

The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you wanted to bawl. All of those happy memories you had with him flooded your mind, nearly drowning you into submission.

A lifetime had passed before you decided to be the one to break the silence. “Why are you here?” Your voice was laced with venom, making him rethink everything he wanted to say to you.

“I… I needed to see you again.” He could barely even look at you. Ironic. He knew he had caused you all of this pain and he wanted so badly to just hold you once more. “Can I come in?”

You exhaled before answering him, this didn’t feel real, you weren’t sure if you wanted it to be. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His eyes pleaded to be let in, making it hard for you to refuse. You opened the door a little wider and let him walk past you. You closed the door behind him and stayed facing it.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t think there’s much else to say.”

He tried turning you to face him, but you wouldn’t move. “Please. Just give me 5 minutes and then you can slap me, kick me, scream at me, I don’t care, please just… listen to me for a bit.”

You sighed. “5 minutes.” He let out a breath and thanked you. You ignored him and you both walked over to the living room.

You sat down and waited for him to start. He was nervous, he wouldn’t stop pacing around.

This was getting on your nerves. “Time’s ticking.”

“I found out my family had paid Mei-Mei to set you up. They paid her to drug you, and they paid Toji to take you home. I talked to Toji and he said he wasn’t aware of this plan they had set up. All he was told was to take you and Mei-Mei to his place and that’s what he did.” He said that all within a single breath.

Everything that had happened that night came back to you and what he just told you, explained everything.

It explained why you got drunk so easily, why you ended up in Toji’s car, why you woke up the next day with different clothes on, and why Mei-Mei had that picture of you and Toji together.

To say you were pissed was an understatement.

“You believed everyone else over me, over your own fucking fiancée.”

“Mei-Mei showed me proof! How am I supposed to believe words over that?” He threw his hands into the air out of frustration.

“Because they were my words! When have I ever fucking lied to you, Satoru?!” He was stunned into silence and you took a deep breath before you continued.

“When you proposed to me, I thought that meant we could trust one another, that we understood each other, that we were in love, but I see that I was wrong. You believed the bitch that’s been trying to get at you since high school. You chose the family that you shit talked more times than you’ve told me you loved me. All of them… over me.”

He was at a loss for words. He felt like the biggest idiot alive. Satoru knew he had made the worst mistake possible, believing others before you, and he could see that now.

Before, he was so blinded with anger, he was so hurt by you, he thought he had hated you. He even blamed himself, thinking you had cheated on him because he didn't care about you or didn’t appreciate you enough. He didn’t even stop to consider you were telling the truth.

You tore your eyes away from his body, knowing if you even caught a glance of him, you’d never say what needed to be said. “Maybe… maybe this is for the best. You need someone equally as strong alongside you. Someone who can pick up from where you may fall short, not someone weak, who drags you down alongside them. Maybe your family doing this was the right thing to do. You need to find someone better.”

Every word you spoke tore his heart apart. He hated hearing you belittle yourself, how you thought leaving him is what’s best, and how the both of you knew, you didn’t believe a single word that came out of your mouth.

He grabbed onto your hands and tried getting you to look at him, but you wouldn’t budge. “But there isn’t someone better. I don’t need to find anyone else… I need you. I can’t imagine my life without you, I don’t even know how I managed to live before I met you. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning and the reason I continue living. You make me want to get stronger so that every time I leave, you have that reassurance that I’m coming back home.” You continued looking away from him, causing him to feel helpless since he knew once your mind was set on something, there wasn’t any changing it.

He fell in love with your stubbornness, and now that same stubbornness became his grief. He couldn’t stop the flow of tears that fell from his eyes. Gojo hated showing weakness, he hated showing that he was just a human. He was never treated as such, so why act like one?

It hurt to see him like this. You hated seeing him in pain, but you kept convincing yourself this was the right decision. “Satoru, I’m always going to love you…” You tore your hands away from him and slid your engagement ring off your finger, “so when you eventually find the perfect somebody, the person who truly completes you, just know it was all because of me. Because I had the strength to let you go. I had the strength to let you find true happiness.” The tears that had been threatening to fall finally came crashing down.

You had spent the last few weeks all by yourself, abandoned by your fiancée, so officially breaking things off should’ve been easy. But it was so difficult having to mourn the very person that stood right in front of you.

It’d be so easy running back into his arms and saying everything’s okay. That everything would be fixed and everything would go back to normal.

However, there wasn’t any trust anymore, the very foundation your relationship was built on, was broken. Staying with him would mean living under his constant supervision, since he’d fear being lied to. You’d never be able to enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. It simply wasn’t possible.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled a few times before speaking again. “It’s been 5 minutes, Gojo. You should leave.”

He was on his knees, practically begging now. “Don’t do this. Don’t call me that. Please, we can make it work again, it’ll be okay.”

“I gave you what you wanted, and now it’s time for you to go.” He very hesitantly got up and tried to at least hug you, but you backed away from him. “Funny, you still haven’t even apologized to me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly raised your hand to stop him. “Don’t bother. Just leave.”

Gojo wiped his eyes and turned to walk out. He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth kept failing him. He decided to say nothing, he didn’t want to make it worse. He opened the door to leave but before he could, you grabbed his shoulder

“You have my number right?” He nodded, a spark of hope lit up in his eyes. “Make sure to get rid of it.”

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve and Eddie are at a fair out of town with the kids. It was a few towns over, far enough away, so they didn't have to run into anyone trying to ruin their fun. Steve had already won stuffed animals for the kids. Well, except for Max and El. Max insisted on winning one for her and El by herself. So did Erica. The boys had no problem letting him do it for them. Will blushed when he handed him his stuffed animal. For Will's sake, Steve pretended not to notice his crush on him and let him keep it to himself. It was cute. He was turning back when he noticed the large stuffed Garfield hanging up. Oh, Eddie would love that.

"Hey, Eddie," Steve called out.

Eddie hadn't been paying attention, too busy talking with Dustin and Lucas. He looked up at him to see Steve approaching with the stuffed Garfield.

"This is for you," Steve said and held it out for him.

"This is for me?" Eddie asked softly and sweetly. Steve nodded. "Um, thanks, man."

He stared at it and then at Steve. He tried to control his stuttering heart, but when someone looked at you the way Eddie did at Steve. . .well, all sorts of feelings come popping up. Those damn cow eyes of his. Eddie closed his eyes and hugged Garfield tightly to his chest. Fuck, if that didn't bring the biggest smile to Steve’s face. Yeah, Steve knew he was a goner. It wasn't long after that that they made their way back to the car and were driving back to Hawkins. The kids were fast asleep in the back of Eddie's van, curled up on each other and their stuffed animals. Eddie was still fighting sleep as he gazed affectionately at Steve while he cuddled up with Garfield through heavy eyelids.

"Get some sleep," Steve suggested softly.

Eddie reached over, took Steve’s hand, and laced their fingers together before closing his eyes. It felt like his heart was doing somersaults in his chest. Yeah, he definitely liked this. Once Steve started dropping off the kids, Eddie had woken up and rubbed sleep from his eye before leaning over the console to rest his head against Steve’s.

"Can I stay over?" Eddie whispered.

"Yes, and fuck you, I had it all planned out on kidnapping you. You ruined them," Steve said, and Eddie chuckled.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you can tie me up later," Eddie said, not really thinking about what he said.

"Is that a promise?" Steve asked with a smirk.

Eddie blushed and buried his face into Steve’s shoulder and remained there with Steve’s hand on his thigh until they reached Steve’s house. He let Eddie hang off his arm as they walked into the house. Eddie plopped the stuffed animal against a wall and turned around to thank Steve yet again. He nearly jumped out of his shoes when he saw that Steve was already standing so close to him. Steve reached up to cup his face, let his thumb run over Eddie's soft lips. He cupped his other cheek and pulled Eddie into passionate but gently kiss, the metalhead melted into it. Eddie's knees nearly gave away, but Steve pulled him up against him, and Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck, hanging onto him tightly. Steve pressed him up against the wall as he slipped his tongue inside. Eddie tasted like popcorn, funnel cake, and cigarettes. Steve sighed against his mouth. They broke apart, leaning their foreheads together.

"You are so fucking cute," Steve said, tucking a hair behind Eddie's ear.

"Shut up, no, I'm not," Eddie scoffed.

"Yes, you are, and I will spend every day making you believe it the way I do," Steve said.

"Sap," Eddie said and buried his face into Steve’s neck.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms as they nuzzled each other's necks. Eddie had gone prone, and it took Steve a while to realize why that was until he heard a loud snore come from him. Steve chuckled and picked him up, wrapping Eddie's legs around his waist. He started to walk them towards his room when he heard Eddie groan.

"Garfield," Eddie mumbled sleepily.

Steve sighed and went back for Garfield. He's not sure how he did it, but he managed to carry both Eddie and his stuffed animal up the stairs. He placed Eddie gently on the bed, undressing him down to his boxers and shirt. Eddie cuddled up next to Garfield with a sleepy smile.

"You can do whatever you want to me, Stevie, just don't wake me up. Okay?" Eddie said.

"Yeah, no," Steve said with a laugh. "I want you wide awake for what I want to do to you."

Steve stripped down to his boxers and slipped in behind Eddie, curling up against his backside. He wrapped an arm around both Eddie and Garfield.

"Steve. . .?"

"Yeah?"

"Garfield wants to know if you want to have a threesome," Eddie said.

Steve bursts into laughter, shaking against his back.

"Go the fuck to sleep, asshole," Steve replied.

They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, them and Garfield.

[davycoquette]

put the world between us

It’s impossible to discern one bleak parcel of land from the next in this place. You pass cornfield after wheatfield, driving into the blaze of sunset posited at the far edge of the earth. 

How can it be this is the place Shay Ferrick comes from? You look at his scabbed knuckles on the steering wheel, the blue veins on his wrist, his forearm with its own field of coarse dark hair across it. A tiny scratch on the surface like it came from a skipping record’s needle.

Then you skip straight to staring at his face, at how his wiry stubble follows the angle of his jaw. Imperfections register as perfections; even the patchy, shitty shave-job — even the tiny flake of dry skin left after he scraped a blemish off under his nail. His nose seems sweetly short on his face and that makes the corner of your mouth hook halfway into a smile. 

Under his aviator shades, his eyes are the best part of all. You can’t see them just now, but you can picture them crystal clear all the same: they’re dark. Almost black. And they sit under his bushy eyebrows and he gets two distinct wrinkles between those eyebrows right before he grins whenever you’ve just said something funny, and shoot, you wish you could come up with something, now. You make an idiot out of yourself all the time trying. You’re so resolutely in love with this guy — in love! Who knew you’d ever get to feel like this. It’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at?” he asks.

“You,” you say, earnest.

He swings a glance your way, and your moonstruck face reflects back at you from either lens of his sunglasses. Then he looks at the road, then back at you, then back at the road.

“Well, quit.”

“Y’know Housman? Alfred Housman?”

His face screws up. “Who?”

“Y’know, Last Poems —”

“No, Shy, I don’t give a shit about that. C’mon, man.”

“I was just thinking about something else he wrote. It went like—”

“No, c’mon. Don’t recite poetry at me. I hate that.”

“Okay.” You sit chewing the inside of your cheek for a beat, then add, “It’s just—”

“Shy,” he says firmly, and your name coming out of his mouth in a hot gale of exasperation makes your heart swim.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree, and grin out the window like a schoolkid with a crush.

For the next hour neither of you speaks, then a severe house juts out of a wheatfield. A windmill turns slowly beside it. At the same time as you’re clearing your throat, Shay confirms, “This is it.”

This is it. This is the place where he grew up. This is the place where he first learned to walk. Where he learned how to read and speak. Where he first built the walls that stand around him, or, no — where he dug the moat anyone who tries to get close is bound to drown in. It’s flat and unending, oppressive. The sky is bleached diluted blue. The sun festers, its fire razing outward, a tiny pinprick in the cloudless vastness. It makes you uneasy, and you love it at once.

A whip of cold, dry air blasts you in the face as soon as you open the car door. You rise and stand on your stiff legs and a little breeze bends the top of the grass. It shimmers like golden water around you. The windmill turns with a metallic shriek. The porch door swings shut.

“Hi, there,” says the tall, thin woman who just has just come outside. Her cheeks are gaunt and her face is long, and her hair is coarse and dark and tied back. She wears old blue jeans with flour handprints on the thighs, and a flannel shirt and house boots. You think she has his dark, soulful eyes, but there is something at once callous and dry about her, and you want to step onto the porch and grab her by a fistful of her shirt and demand, “Did you love him enough?” And, “Why would you live here? Why would you make him live here, in this place?”

What you say is, “Mrs. Ferrick.”

“Hi,” she repeats, barely sparing you a glance.

The smell of biscuits and cigarettes wafts out onto the porch.

“Hey, Mom,” Shay says, and lugs a duffle bag out of the back seat with him. “This is my buddy, Dick.”

You wait for a third, hi, but she ignores that altogether. Instead, she says, “Dad went to go get somethin’ at the store. He’ll be back any time now. You all come in.”

“What store? We’re comin’. Dick, get your bag.”

You open the back door and grab your backpack, sling the strap over your shoulder, and squint at the thin length of road in front of the house. You imagine Dad driving hours upon hours to reach just a store, to reach anything at all.

“Hardware store. Spigot on the side of the house needs fixed. I figured you could take your sister’s room, and he could sleep in yours.”

Shay looks at you, then at his mother. His nose wrinkles. You smile serenely.

“Alright,” he agrees, and that’s how you wind up in his childhood bedroom. 

There’s nothing childlike about it apart from the size of the bed. Sitting on the edge of it with your backpack between your boots, you look up at the light cover on the ceiling — a bowl of dust and moths — then at the dresser with the mirror sitting on it and the chip in its leg you just know he kicked there when he was, oh, fifteen.

A little scrap of metal sits on top of the dresser in front of the mirror. You know what that is, as unidentifiable as it seems: it’s a piece of The Airplane. That story feels like something you can clutch to your heart — it’s The Airplane that fell out of the sky when Shay Ferrick was just a kid. That fell like an angel outta Heaven and crashed like flaming hell in the field with the pilot smoldering inside it. Shay found that scrap of metal with Dad years later.

You stand and pick it up.

“Don’t,” Shay says, taking it out of your hand and laying it down again, “do anything weird in my bedroom. In my parents’ house. ‘Kay?” 

He lays his hand on your shoulder and pushes you down onto the bed again, and your heart flies up into your throat like a chimney sweep who got sealed in.

“The less you wanna talk, the better.”

“As it pleases you,” you reply, and lean down to unlace your boots. “I’ll lie up here a while.”

Then you do, while he goes downstairs and makes stilted conversation with his mother. Their voices carry up through the cold carcass of the house while you lie on your back with an arm tucked under the musty pillow. The lace curtains are open and the dust on the glass lights the whole window golden, but you make out an airplane gleaming thousands and thousands of feet away. The windmill creaks. Then you can hear the plane’s engine, then nothing again, until,

“Well, you’ll move back here, won’t you?”

Then Shay’s sharp whispering. You can’t make out the words. The little smile that lives at the corners of your mouth when you’re with him is vanishing, however, loosening and uncoiling, and your heart knocks to be let out.

Now she’s whispering, too. Everything ends in question marks.

Your friend don’t know?

He clears his throat and says he’s gonna smoke a cigarette. Asks if she wants to come out with him. That screen door slams shut, bounces. You sit up again and slide down to the edge of the bed, then glance out onto the barren lawn. 

He’s out there, looking up toward the window. You can see it on his face; you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear. He knows better than believe you could ever miss anything. And now you know this; it sits like a lump of concrete in your stomach: Shay Ferrick is afraid of you.

[stargirlforevah]

*•.¸♡ MAN OF THE HOUR♡¸.•*

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it folks) piv sex, oral(male!receiving), tit play, grinding/dry humping

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: MDNI! DENKI AND READER ARE IN 2nd YEAR OF COLLEGE!! Also this is one of my first longer “fics” so if you like, please interact so I can write more. Also PRETTY PLEASEE send in requests, I wanna write what ya’ll wanna see! Okay enjoy ya nasties!

★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ ★·.·´¯`·.·

You stood in the mirror, holding up two mini skirts to your body. Red or black? You tossed your head back in frustration. Fashion was full of trails and tribulations.

“Minaaa!” You yelled. “Red or black mini skirt?”

“Black,” Mina called back, standing in your bathroom mirror trying desperately to shove a second pair of earrings through her piercing that closed months ago.

“Mins, lets just get it re-pierced,” you winced.

“NO! I literally got this!”

“Whatever you say,” you said with a sigh.

The soccer team at your Uni had won Regionals and was hosting a celebration at the frat. The star player who scored the winning goal, Denki Kaminari, was apart of the frat, so of course the party would be go big or go home.

You were mutual friends with Denki, although not as close as you’d like to be. Though he was incredibly attractive, a star soccer player and had a charming personality, you heard enough talk to believe he has yet to touch a woman. How interesting.

“Okay slut,” Mina said, grinning as she stepped out of your bathroom. “Let’s go.”

Giggling as you walked up the frat steps to the pounding base of Heartless by The Weeknd, you inhaled the party scene. Alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne. Lovely.

Mina quickly went off to find Momo Yaoyorozu, who she had been crushing on for weeks and who was unlikely to be found at a scene as vulgar as this. You can’t blame a girl for trying though.

You refrained from ingesting the punch bowl mix some random boy had told you was “jungle juice.” Sounded more like a trip to the emergency room to get your stomach pumped. You settled with a coke and rum instead.

Scanning the room for someone you could talk to, you saw a flash of blond hair with a lightning strike streak. Denki! He was leaning against the doorframe of his room, completely alone. Odd.

“Hey!” You called out. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!”

“Hey Y/N!” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” you smirked at him. He was nervous. How cute. “How’s the star player life treating you?”

“Oh same as always,” he laughed nervously.

“Oh don’t be modest, Kami. You put our soccer team on the map. You have to have a whole fanclub by now.”

“Nope,” he sighed.

“More for me, I guess,” you sipped your drink and looked up at him.

Denki nearly choked on air. A girl like you? Coming onto him? It seemed unfathomable. Sure, girls had hit on him before, but he had never had the courage to take it past harmless flirting. Maybe a kiss if he was feeling bold.

You stepped closer to him, smirking. “It’s a shame you aren’t getting the star treatment you deserve.”

“Y-yeah,” he felt his dick stir. “A real shame.”

“I can fix that,” you whispered, running your hand along his v-line.

“R-really?”

“Yes, Kami. Let me take care of you.”

You pushed him into his room and kicked the door shut. Shoving him on his bed, you straddled his lap.

“Y-you’re so beautiful Y/N,” he said breathlessly.

“And you’re adorable, Kami.”

You began to slowly grind your hips onto his half hard dick. He whimpered softly and squeezed his eyes shut, causing you to smirk.

“Has anyone ever touched your dick before?”

“N-no one but me.”

You began to play with the zipper of his jeans, continuing to ride his thigh. You began to moan softly at the pressure on your clit.

“F-fuck, do you like grinding on me?” Denki said nervously.

“Mhm..” you nodded slowly. Unsure of how to help, Denki began to bounce his thigh slowly to meet your movements.

“Shit Denki, that feels so fucking good.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm, I’m close pretty, but I wanna cum on your cock.”

Denki moaned at your words.

“But first, I wanna suck you off. Can I Kami, pretty please?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, okay.” He whined.

You unzipped his pants, pulling down his boxers. His cock sprung free, leaking pre all the way down his tip. Your eyes widened, and Denki covered his face in embarrassment.

“Uncover your face, Denki. Wanna see the faces you make when I suck your cock.”

Denki looked down at you as you began to lick around his tip, eliciting whimpers from the blonde boy. Licking up the pre and moaning at the salty taste, you began your ministrations.

“Oh shit, Y/N. I-I fuck..I can’t…” Denki whined.

You took his whole cock in your mouth and began bobbing your head. His moans grew louder as you began to play with his balls.

“N-not gonna last long,” Denki choked out. “M, sorry.”

You batted your eyelashes at him, eager to please and continued the bobbing of your head. Denki’s legs began to shake and his cock began to twitch, signaling he was close to his release. His hands found purchase in your hair, grabbing at anything he could grasp.

“F-FUCK,” he moaned out. “C-cumming, CUMMING!”

You popped his dick out of your mouth and hastily threw off your shirt.

“On my tits,” you moaned. “Please Kami.”

That elicited an incredibly loud whine from Denki as he spilled his hot seed all over you perky tits. Breathless and starstruck, he just stared. How did he get this lucky? As if scoring the winning goal wasn’t lucky enough.

You straddled him once more, and held up a tit to his face.

“Suck.” You commanded.

“Y-yes, anything,” he said eager to please. He took your tit into his mouth and began to suck on your pert nipple.

Moaning, you began grinding yourself on his leg once more.

“Fuck Kami baby, so good to me.”

He began to swirl his tongue around your nipple, producing more and more moans and whines from your lips. Suddenly, he unleashed your nipple with a loud POP!

“P-please,” he whined. “Can’t take it anymore. Please ride me.”

You smirked and grabbed his dick, which was hard again.

“Anything for my star player,” you grinned and sank down onto him, eliciting loud whines from you AND him.

“So big, Kami,” you whined. “Why have you been hiding this from me?”

You began to bounce slowly up and down, as his cock began to ram into your G-spot.

“F-fuck Y/N..you feel so good.. such a pretty pussy.”

You began to go harder, eager to please him and draw more whimpers from his mouth. The lewd squelch of you pussy and skin slapping sounds filled the room.

“So good, Kami..So wet for you and only you.”

“Y-yeah.. you don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

His cock repeatedly rammed your G-spot, making your vision blurry and speech slurred.

“M close Kami,” you slurred.

“M-me too.”

“Cum inside, please. Make me yours.”

Denki couldn’t hold on much longer. You came with an obscene moan, the one’s in the adult films that seem fake. But yours was so, incredibly real.

“F-fuck..F-uck..shit.. cumming…” Denki stuttered as he desperately thrusted his hips up into you.

“Please Kami,” you begged. “Make me yours. Fill me up please!!”

“FUCK!” Denki screamed as he filled you with his hot load.

Laughing and giddy from the pleasure, you laid next to him, his cum seeping in between your legs.

“Next time,” he stated. “You’re riding my face.”

[for-fvckssake]

his laugh comes out in a boyish tone, shoulders moving up and down as he watches you crawl out of bed to help him get to the bathroom. "i could still carry you, y'know?" you know it's a lie, he knows it's a lie. the apparent tremble in his thighs every time he moves a step only shows how throughly fucked he was, literally. he can support himself just enough to not crush you with his weight, one arm wrapped around your neck while you hold him closely by the waist.

his butt meets the cold counter with a soft thud and a loud hiss from him. eren purses his lips, brows low on his face as the discomfort of being stretched out to his limits hits him.

"walking is gonna be a little hard tomorrow. you better take care of me, " he states camly with a small smile on his face, heart eyes following you around the bathroom as he watches you prepare the bath before plopping your chin on his knee. eren runs his knuckles down your soft cheeks, sliding pointer fingers down your chin and using his thumb to pull your bottom lip down.

"get outta there before you get me in more trouble," he chuckles and pinches your cheek softly before sliding off the counter and dragging you to the bathtub with him, where he sits with his back to the wall and your back to his chest, "jesus, is this how you feel when i fuck you?? goddamn, baby. respect"

-Rennie <33333

“yeah yeah, ‘m sure you still can big man.” i say, humming before pressing a kiss to your knee before you stand me up and move back into the bath.

“see, when we do it as often as we do, i just learned to live in a perpetual state of ass aching.” i say before your little ‘respect’ comment finally proves before i laugh and elbow your side gently.

“you fuckin better respect it or else you ain’t gettin anymore. you sayin you didn’t respect me before, hm?”

[kitamars]

hmmmm…sounds like…..buny 🐰

[elysianslove]

shameful lust; suna rintarō

synopsis; he’s off limits in every way, but that only makes you want him more. based off of this, this, and this. the smut is inspired by my bunny anon’s birthday idea :) bunny, you know the one :)

pairings; brother’s bsf!suna rintarō x fem!reader

genre; porn with kind of plot lmfao

word count; 5.5k what the fuck??

trigger warning; age gap (not specified, & everyone’s 18+), masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, humiliation, praise, mini panic attack, link for the lingerie (slight nsfw warning)

it started off innocent, as most things do. you were sixteen when you first felt the butterflies nestled deep in your stomach, the drop of your heart, the heat of your cheeks, only around him. you’d thought it was a natural reaction; after all, you’d known suna rintarō since, quite literally, forever, and you were a growing girl, hormones imbalanced and thoughts as confusing as ever. it was normal, completely ordinary to feel as nervous as you did whenever his hand so much brushed against yours, or whenever he’d barely glance your way to offer a small, teasing smile.

it meant nothing, of course. you were just a young girl, sixteen, desperate to lose yourself in some sort of fantasy. a silly crush on your brother’s best friend was nothing strange, and definitely inevitable.

it would go away.

you’re eighteen when the feelings don’t go away, and when they begin reshaping into more— impure thoughts. the more you see of him, the more hyperaware you grow of everything that he is. suddenly your eyes easily find the small strip of skin revealed when he stretches his arms up, and suddenly you can’t help but constantly think about the way he sits, legs spread so wide as if to... accommodate something. suddenly your thoughts always find their way back to the way he’d hugged you goodbye, arms squeezing you so tight to him, allowing you to feel every ridge and ripple of his muscles, and the way he had ruffled your hair and his hand, so large, so easily sinking into the strands— and you’re left wondering what else his fingers could do in your hair, to the rest of your body—

it’s bad. it’s really bad. every day you try and convince yourself it’s innocent, and every night you prove yourself wrong when you find yourself on your stomach, face buried in your pillow and teeth biting down on it, mouth dampening the cloth as your fingers rub harshly at your clit and sink into your dripping cunt— all with his name falling off your tongue as you heave and cry. every night you think about how much thicker his fingers are in comparison to yours, how much longer, how they’d feel inside of you, curling within you. you know he’s dexterous, insanely good with his hands. you’ve seen the way his fingers fly across a keyboard or tap urgently at a gaming console. you know it, and it in no way helps in calming your frustration.

it’s bad, of course, but you live with it. after all, he is in every way off limits. a lot older than you, and much more experienced, suna would have to lose his mind before he ever thinks of you the way you think of him. what would a girl like you have to offer a guy like him anyways? your shaky hands and clumsy mouth? your tight cunt that can barely fit two of your fingers? you’d only leave him unsatisfied, and leave yourself utterly humiliated.

worst of all, however, you can’t imagine how devastated, how betrayed, your brother would be if he’d caught you fooling around with his best friend.

so although you’re yearning to say fuck all and fuck him, you don’t, because it doesn’t make sense in the slightest for you to do so. you continue to make due with what shirtless image of him or that time he slept over and went commando, waking up at the same time you had and his — his dick was hard— you could see—

fuck.

you need to grow up.

as you sit with your back to your headboard, your knees bent up and swinging slightly, two simple knock erupt on your bedroom door. it’s late afternoon, the sun’s brightness dimming slightly, casting your room in an orange glow. in all honesty, it’s soothing.

looking up from your phone momentarily, you call out for the person knocking to come in, your eyes returning to your screen once more.

“hey.”

at the sound of the awfully familiar voice, your head snaps back up and you lock your phone, looking up with newfound excitement at the man standing at your doorway. “hi,” you return with a smile, sitting up and crossing your legs.

suna smiles back, walking into your room with one hand tucked behind his back. “your brother said i’d find you here,” he explains, walking towards you.

you quirk a brow, curiously and amusingly smiling as you ask, “whatcha got there?”

he’s quiet for a moment as he walks over to your side of the bed, maneuvering in a way that doesn’t reveal what he has hidden behind him. you twist around on your bed, leaning on your knees to face him properly, and it’s just when you lift up slightly to settle comfortably that he leans down, bends over to get close enough to whisper, “happy birthday, pretty girl.” he gives you not another moment to process how close his face is — how close his lips are to yours — before the hand behind his back comes around between you.

tucked in his hand is a medium sized bag, not related to any sort of brand, so you assume it’s a simple bag he’d gotten from a convenience store. that would really only mean one thing— that he’s gotten you more than just one gift. you can’t see what’s in it since there are colorful papers stacked within it, obstructing your view, but you’re still flustered at the mere thought he’d even considered to buy you a gift. it’s not unusual; suna, every year on your birthday, has gotten you a gift, yet it’s usually more so a gag gift than anything. some inside joke of yours, maybe he’d pay for your dinner, things like that. never a full on, thought out gift.

“you didn’t have to,” you say, settling back down on your knees and hesitantly taking the bag from him.

he waves you off, disagreeing. “course i did; you’re nineteen now.”

you roll your eyes. “wouldn’t eighteen be more special?”

“fine,” he decides, playfully taking the bag from your grasp and pulling it to him. “guess i’ll just give this to someone else then— maybe your mom—“

“suna!”

at your reaction, he laughs boisterously, and against all odds, you find yourself smiling too. quickly, you reach out for the bag again, pulling it back to you.

“open it when you’re alone,” he disclaims, almost as if in warning.

warily, you eye the bag.

“sure.”

you try to be quieter when unboxing suna’s gift, but the paper’s scrunching is just so damn loud. after cursing it out, you finally rid the bag of its first layer of paper, and are met with a scented candle and some lotion. basic, expected. there‘s a card there too, and when you open it, there’s a note in his messy handwriting, reading out a simple happy birthday— and a good couple of yens too. money, a candle, lotion.

so basic.

there’s still more paper beneath, but you don’t expect it to be for anything except decoration, not for—

what the fuck.

what the fuck.

What The Fuck?

your two hands dip into the bag, reaching out for the final gift, grabbing it by its straps and—

holy shit, he got you lingerie.

it’s so— sheer? you don’t think an inch of you will be properly covered, even with the lingerie on. it’s properly transparent, with only the intricate lace designs to modestly cover you. when you dig into the bag, you find the panties to match the bra and— well, it’s pretty, you can’t lie. there are dark, almost flowerlike designs all over, and it’s a deep black, nearly blue or green. there’s also a garter belt, but there aren’t any stockings in the bag to attach to the clips. maybe he’d expected you to take care of that?— ah no, you stand corrected. there are stockings.

fuck, he thought of everything didn’t he?

but more importantly, what the fuck does all of this mean?

burying the lingerie deep inside the bag again, and making sure to cover it up with the paper, thoroughly, you place the other gifts and the card back in and on top, before putting it aside on your bed.

and now, to gather your fucking thoughts.

you had to text him to thank him for the gift, obviously. but there was no way he’d accidentally misplaced the lingerie there. it was deliberately placed, with the way it was folded and tucked neatly, underneath an extra layer of paper above and beneath it? yeah, definitely on purpose. but— why? had he taken notice of your feelings towards him? was this his way of making fun or... reassuring you they were mutual?

god, what the hell are you thinking.

snatching your phone from your bedside table, you check the time.

2:01 a.m.

okay, everyone‘s bound to be asleep by now. hopefully. you eye the bag, so cautiously one would assume there’s some sort of killing machine within it. you contemplate. shake your head. no. the gears twist. yes.

no.

yes. no. yes. no—

fuck it, it’s yours anyways, isn’t it?

you snatch it loudly, rushing off to lock your bedroom door, then rushing to close the blinds, tightly, surely, then rushing to turn the lights off and turning the small lamp by your bedside on instead. what else are you meant to do with lingerie other than, well, put it on? it’s rational, you think, obvious.

it’s fine.

stealing one last, deep breathe, you dump the contents of the bag again, and pick out the lingerie.

it fits.

it fits perfectly.

the bra is snug against your chest, pushing at your breasts but not digging in uncomfortably. your nipples peak through what‘s revealed of the mesh, and when they stand perky and hard, you blame it on the fact that you‘re half naked. the garter belt wraps tightly around your waist, not squeezing to the point of discomfort and pain, but not loose that it’s a nuisance, and the clips that hang from it are attached to a pair of stockings that stop mid thigh, squeezing at the flesh. finally, a pair of panties rest on your cups, cupping your ass perfectly. it too is sheer, and god— you can see so much of you.

is this— what he would‘ve wanted?

you can’t deny that you do look good. it shows your figure off appealingly, and coupled with some dark lipstick, your messy hair, and the slightest smudge to your day’s eyeliner— would— would he have wanted you like this? all dolled up for him?

is this what suna likes?

doubting the fact that you’ll ever have the courage to put this set on again, you grab at your phone, clearing the area before your mirror, then sitting down at the edge of your bed. might as well enjoy it while it lasts, shouldn’t you? posing in the mirror, you appreciate the way you look, the way the dim lighting complements the atmosphere, the way the piece hugs your body and shows you off. you look so good.

so good— for him.

reveling in this surge of confidence, you snap a good amount of pictures, posing differently in each of them, taking them at different angles. your camera roll overflows with them, and as you fall back on the bed, hair splayed out on the mattress, you smile proudly at the pictures.

do you look good enough for him to see?

the thought strikes you suddenly; it tickles at the pit of your stomach, makes your knees bend and your toes curl.

should you?

the messenger app is open at the text messages between you and him before you can think, a picture of you uploaded and ready to send.

should you?

you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, mulling it over anxiously.

no, you most definitely shouldn’t.

quickly, you swipe out of the messenger app, and onto safari. porn it is.

you should‘ve turned the ac on. fuck, it’s hot.

3:10 a.m. 45 minutes since you’d put the lingerie set on and had your mini photoshoot, ten minutes since you’d started masturbating. everything’s still in place except for the garter clips, which have snapped off of your stockings at some point in the past few minutes, but you pay it barely any mind as your legs spread wider, one hand dipped beneath your panties, the other pressing hard against your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet.

it’s not that you generally had a problem keeping down your noises. your home was constantly filled with people, and you’re almost always sexually frustrated at the most inconvenient times. this time, however, it’s different. it’s different because you’re wearing a lingerie set that suna picked out, that suna bought for you, that suna gave you himself. would he have wanted to watch you touch yourself like this, dressed up so pretty? or— would he have wanted to fuck you while—

shit, you’re gonna cum.

you let out a broken moan, bleeding into a desperate son, muffled barely your hand. your fingers fuck into your cunt faster, squelching lowly as you arch your back, pressing your palm harshly against your clit.

“ugh, hngh,” you whine, squeal, wrist aching. “fuck, rin— please—“

you’re so loud, shit, shit, shit.

beside you, your phone dings! loudly, alerting you of a message received, but you can’t stop, not when you’re so close. it dings again, and again, but you continue to ignore, chasing your own high so desperately, faster, faster, faster. the coil tightens, your body tenses, mind hazing over and eyes rolling back— so close, so fucking close.

“well aren’t you a doll.”

your eyes snap open, and you only manage one second to process who the fuck and what the fuck before your hips are trembling and twisting, and your legs are shaking so awfully as your back arches deep. the moment you hear his voice, so deep and clear, looming just by the edge of your bed where you lay spread, fucking yourself, you cum— and you’re convinced you have a humiliation kink. you didn’t cum because you’d simply been close— you came because you heard him catch you.

in your post orgasmic daze, you pant deeply, chest heaving, rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. your fingers pull back from your panties, falling to the bed, sticky and wet, while your other hand falls from from your mouth, drool and spit dripping from the corner of your lips.

“aw, you ruined the set.”

you sigh. “rin.” the way you say his name isn’t in a way that’s calling out for him, but neither are you scolding him nor brushing him off for teasing you. you’re just simply trying to process the fact that he’s here.

“i like it when you call me that,” he admits, and in a second he’s falling over you, hands bracing and steadying him beside your head, keeping himself hovering at a small distance. “why do you always insist on calling me suna?” he wonders, head tilting curiously.

blinking slowly, you breathe in, and out, and ask, “what are you doing here?”

above you, he shrugs. “you were the one that sent me those—”

immediately, you’re pushing him off you, sitting up all too quickly as you reach out for your phone. you shakily unlock it, typing in your password and opening the messenger app. he’s right— shit. you could’ve sworn you’d deleted the photo, because you’d explicitly decided just how stupid sending it would’ve been. 

well, look at you now. 

“that wasn’t— oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you stutter, turning your body towards him once more, but avoiding his gaze, your body, only barely having just cooled down, heating up once more. 

“oh?” he tests. “was it not meant for me?” 

“no, i—“ 

he’s smiling all too wide for him to not be getting off on your embarrassment. at the thought of that, your eyes unintentionally snap up to him, to his crotch, where beneath his sweats is a bulge, and god, it’s like all those nights ago where you’d seen his dick through his sweats and he’s big, he’s so big—

“just where do you think you’re looking?” he sneers, hand all of a sudden gripping your chin, tilting your head back up and forcing you to finally, for the first time, meet his eyes. they’re dark, almost sinister, as they narrowly glare at you, begging you for explanation. 

your mind’s no longer clouded over, all pleasure dissipating from your veins, pathetic humiliation replacing it. “i’m sorry,” you mewl, eyes tearing up at the look on his face. of course he was disgusted. just as your stupid crush on him was natural, so was his reaction. “i’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, lower lip wobbling. 

his grip on your chin tightens as he furrows his brows. “tell anyone?” he questions. “about what?” 

had he not— heard you? 

he says your name, firmly, deeply, in a way that has you stifling your sobs and biting your bottom lip to stop its quivering. patiently, you wait for him to speak, to say anything, until finally, he asks, “do you want me to fuck you?” and your heart stops. “yeah?” he continues, his other hand reaching for your wrist, your hand, the same one that’s still sticky with the evidence of you. slowly, as he brings his lips closer to yours, fingers slipping so that he’s squishing your cheeks tightly, he leads your hand to his crotch, to where his dick is painfully hard beneath his sweats. your initial touch is featherlight, and he doesn’t fully press your hand to his clothed cock, but still, just the smallest, tiniest feel of him has the lust in your veins thrumming alive. “you think you’d look pretty—” he pauses, lips hovering by yours, eyes searching for any sign of hesitance or resistance, “sitting on my cock?” 

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again, but he swallows it by finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. his lips are so soft, softer than you’d imagined and fantasized a thousand times over, as they press against yours, managing to pull the softest moan of surprise and pleasure from you. you’d forgotten, in your moment of shame, just how much you’d craved suna rintarō. just how often you thought about him, those same fingers gripping your chin to be buried inside of you, those pretty lips sucking on your tits and clit. “want you so bad,” you hiccup, kissing him back. “so bad.” 

he hums, amused, pulling back. licking his lips with a grin, as if tasting you, his hands leave you entirely, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he lifts it up, freeing himself of the piece of clothing. “don’t you think i know, sweetheart?” he teases, daringly. at the sight of your eyes widening, he nods with a dramatized serious expression, tutting as he adds, “so dirty, thinkin’ ‘bout me like that.” 

you whine again, hands lifting up to obstruct your face from his view as you fall back on the bed, body bouncing slightly. “stop,” you plead, not for him to pull back but for him to stop reminding you of just how wrong it is to feel the way you do. still, you spread your sticky thighs for him when he presses his hands to your knees, and you shiver at the feel of his fingers tickling at your skin. “i’m sorry.” 

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he reassures you, faux sweetness dripping like honey off his tongue. he leans in, carefully slow, hands following the curve of his body and yours. “i want you too.” he smiles mischievously, leaning close once more. “so bad,” he mimics you, lips hovering right above yours before he kisses you once more. you want to pinch his arm for outright mocking you, because really, how infuriating can he be? but it’s impossible to want to do anything but desire him in every possible way at the moment, especially when he presses himself harder against you, hips slotting between your legs and clothed cock brushing against your dripping panties. 

“rin,” you plead, hands clawing at his back, grasping at his shoulders. god, his skin is so warm. 

“yes?” he drawls, wet lips kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing easily to your jaw, and down to your neck. patiently, he waits for you to speak. 

with a trembling voice, you ask, “be quick. please.” 

a little stunned, suna pauses his ministrations at your neck, but it’s barely for a second. because moments later, he’s grinning sinisterly into the crook of your neck, sucking hotly as he replies, “sure thing.” 

you do want to take your time. you want him to stuff his face between your legs and sink his fingers so deep inside of you. you want him to force your mouth down on him, want to bury your face in your lap till you’re choking and gagging on his cock. you want him to take his time stretching you for his cock before he sinks inside of you, letting you feel every single inch and ridge of his dick until he bottoms out. you wish. you wish. 

but you’re desperate, and needy, and frustrated, and most of all, you’re not even sure if this is real. you’re scared to blink and have him disappear all of a sudden. you’re scared to wake up with soaked panties and no gift from suna, no suna above you, hard cock pressing against your cunt, only the same suna from all these past years, the same suna you pine over at a distance, wanting but never having. 

so you whimper so quietly, “be quick,” again, because he’s still too slow for your liking.

his fingers grasp the sides of your panties, pulling as quick as he can, sliding them down your thighs, watching as the cloth rolls at the urgency as it slides past your knees, your shins, your ankles, legs lifted high up. at the final loop around your right ankle, as suna flings it off, he kisses at your ankle, gripping it tightly and using it to spread your legs. 

as your legs spread, your pussy, soaking from both your past orgasm and this unbelievable build up, spreads too, glistening and dripping for him. his eyes easily fall to it, and, with that same glint in his eyes, he grins, and licks his lips again. “wish i could have a taste,” he admits to you, shuffling closer and bending your legs closer to your chest with one hand. the other hand frantically pushes at the hem of his sweatpants, tugging it low, beneath his balls. “god, i’d have you sit on my face for hours.” 

he’s going to kill you. 

he’s going to fucking kill you. 

at his words, your cunt pulsates and clenches tightly, hole glistening as you moan. you hope he doesn’t notice, but he does, somehow, and he laughs, too fucking loud. “you liked that, hm? bet you’d look so cute,” he spurs you on, and your entire body trembles. 

you wish to say something, to find the courage to belittle him, degrade him, remind him that if you’re in the wrong for wanting this then so is he, but it’s so hard to find your voice. it’s like he’s stupefied you completely, reduced you to this dumb, wordless, horny mess. god, fuck, it’s embarrassing. you can only watch with wide, tearful eyes and quivering lips and trembling legs as he spits on his hand and fists his cock, quickly, getting himself all nice and slick for you. his cock is— he’s so big, fuck. if you’d been shocked feeling him beneath his sweats, well, your entire body’s rigid with anticipation now. 

just as promised, suna’s quick. with one hand pressing and steadying firmly at your lower stomach, right by your hip, he guides his cock to your cunt with the other, wasting no time by pushing in. no way, no way, no fucking way. 

how is he fitting? 

“ease up,” he orders sharply, forcing more of himself inside of you.

in response, you bring both hands up to your mouth, clasping them tightly above your lips. you remaining quiet is as impossible as ever, with the way he’s stretching you so wide for him, so you press down harder with your hands and throw your head back as he sinks in deeper, and deeper. 

“aren’t a good girl?” he praises sweetly, his other hand mirroring the one on your hip. he watches as you lower your head again, lifting it up slightly to look between the two of you at where he’s fully bottomed out, buried deep inside of you. “feel good?” he wonders, even if he knows the answer. your head falls back again and you nod with your eyes squeezing shut. “feel so full, yeah?”  you’re glad he’s speaking for you, because you doubt you could find your voice at the moment, even if you tried. 

you nod again instead, urgently, just as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you, before pressing back in quickly, thrusting into you suddenly. the sight of him above you is better than anything your mind has ever made up, hands squeezing at your hips tightly, both ensuring you keep your legs spread for him and keeping himself up, steadying himself as he fucks into you. his arms bulge and the muscles in his abdomen tighten and tense with every thrust. his chest, so flushed red; his hair, a little sweaty, a little messy; his brows, furrowed deep in concentration; his lips, wet and red, so fucking red, his tongue jutting out slightly as he picks up the pace, as he thrusts faster, harder. 

and best of all: the noises he makes. he’s shameless, fucking into you with abandon, moaning and grunting and whining for you, like he’d been the one yearning, pining, and not you. and, you suppose, with the way he’s fucking into you right now, that there might’ve been some truth in his words, that he’s wanted you just as bad, that this wasn’t some pity fuck— poor little girl, his best friend’s sister, sending him lewd and inappropriate photos because she’s so desperate, she can’t help but lust after him, every single day. 

his hands squeeze even tighter and he grunts, gritting his teeth sharply. “fuck, m’already close,” he grunts, and somehow, that makes your heart swell, pride deepening. “cunt’s so fucking tight, shit.” you’re making him say those words, you’re going to make him cum so quick, it’s you. you. 

when his hands crawl up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading through the bra, your hands fall to his forearms, gripping so tightly and digging your nails into his skin. “please, please, please, cum inside,” you beg, trying to be as quiet as you can. “please rin, please.” 

the bed creaks with the effort and speed of his thrusts, your body bouncing as his cock fucks deep into your cunt. his head bows in, smooth hair swinging forward as he curses. “are you— hm..hngh—sure?” he asks, and you nod so rapidly you feel dizzy, arching your back as much as you can to get him deeper inside of you. he’s a mess of curses and pants as he fucks you even faster, one hand remaining at your breast, grasping tightly, the other lowering to your wet clit, rubbing furiously, messily, clumsily. 

no words are exchanged as he desperately circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing and kneading your breast as he angles his hips, trying to get you to cum before he does. and just as as before, just as he’d caught you earlier, your body starts to tense up, shaking in anticipation as your orgasm draws closer and closer.

but there’s something— different. 

“rin!” you yell out, still half-whispering in an attempt to keep quiet. your eyes well up as you call out for him again, your orgasm unbearably close. “rin, feels weird— oh m—”

he only just barely manages to shove his hand against your face before you’re screaming, throat aching and scratching as you thrash beneath him. around his cock, your cunt spams and clenches down tightly, cum splashing and spraying all over his lower stomach and past his cock to his balls. you’re still thrashing, still squealing and screaming, and he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up impossibly, his cum splashing and dripping as it mixes with yours. 

“holy shit,” he breathlessly marvels, hips still rocking and grinding against yours as he helps the both of you ride out your highs. “you ever—“ he steals in a breath, steadying himself slightly, “—cum this hard?”

you’re sobbing, hiccuping and mewling and whining and crying, your body impossibly sensitive. tears stream freely down your cheeks as you sink into the mattress, feeling quite literally like jelly. slowly, suna pulls his cock out, trying not to get distracted by the way your cunt squeezes out some of his cum, and instead focuses on you, his hands cupping your cheeks softly. 

“hey, hey, eyes on me,” he encourages, kneeling above you as his thumbs brush at your tears. 

“m’sorry, ri— suna,” you heave, hands grasping his as your eyes water again, fresh tears joining ones that are yet to dry. 

“what for, sweet thing?” he asks gently. when you start to lift yourself up, he leans back, sitting on your bed, giving you space to get comfortable. he watches with worried eyes as you furiously rub at your eyes with your palms and the back of your hands, as the tears never stop flowing. shit, did he fuck up somehow? he calls your name again, cautiously reaching out for you. when you don’t reject his touch, his heart settles, just a little. “tell me what’s wrong?” he offers again, and you sniffle. 

“are you not disgusted?” you ask, voice wobbly and cracking. 

his brows furrow, and he cocks his head. “because you... squirted?”

you slap at his arm with a roll of your eyes. “no, suna.” 

“when did i lose my first name privileges?” he asks, dramatically shocked. again, you roll your eyes. well, at least the tears have ceased. softening slightly, suna sighs. he’s shit at this. he’s worse than shit at this. talking in general? awful. talking about his or someone else’s feelings? he’s sure the devil would be better comfort. still, he can’t just— leave you. he’s sure that would make things a thousand times worse.

and honestly, neither does he want to leave you. 

“i can’t read your mind, pretty girl,” he reminds you, and momentarily, you look away. 

until you inhale sharply, and meet his eyes again. “it’s okay...” you begin, trailing off as you attempt to gather your words, before continuing, “that i feel this way for you?” 

at your words, at the much needed clarity, suna sighs in relief. so that was it. “more than okay,” he promises you. 

you nod in understanding, before prodding further, “not weird?” 

he thinks it over, before answering. if he’s honest with himself, the most he’d felt with you was sexual attraction. he liked the way your tits bounced when you ran to greet him or the press of your ass against his crotch when you passed by him to get somewhere. he liked— he liked thinking about your body, your lips, your hands. it’s why he sent you that lingerie set, the one that sits so pretty on your body right now. not that he’d been expecting you to send him anything, and he’d even anticipated that you might feel disgusted, might throw it in his face and slap him too. but he knew you better. suna was observant. he knew more than he let on, more than anyone could imagine. if he hadn’t realized your eyes on him in the past years, he must be blind.

still, he’s not sure if it was ever more, or if it is more. but, he supposes, it’s not an unimaginable feat. he thinks that maybe, there is a chance. he likes you, sure; you make his belly twist and his heart jump. but is he going to risk leading you on? 

he doesn’t know. 

he settles for, “good weird.” 

your face is the definition of a question mark. “what the hell is good weird?” 

“your face is good weird,” he retorts. it’s a bad comeback, terrible actually, but his face is flushing a dark red, and he needs to get away. you’re flustering him and it’s pissing him off. 

“that’s so mean!” 

yeah, the devil would’ve been better comfort. he wasn’t around though, so he made sure suna had been sleeping over that night instead. 

worked in your favor didn’t it? 

end note; my godddddfhksfhbskjbsb ,,, sorry if you found mistakes this took me all day and im not assed to proofread <//3 but i hope you liked regardless!! 

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[po1songore]

"if you called of get off to my voice im hanging up" with a fnaf man of your choice (surprise me im excited andnwnwj) but instead of hanging up *insert guy* switches to facetime and forces you to get off via there and if you do so successfully, he's got the car keys in his hand :)

well this is the obvious pick

michael afton x reader

bottom reader and top michael, afab reader, phone sex , guided masturbation , edging , praising, slight dumbification, teasing.

"hey what's up?"

you heard him closing the car door behind and getting inside the vehicle, letting out a small sigh almost forcing himself to sound relaxed.you and michael were good friends but you always has this one sided crush on him and, today you needed to satisfy this pleasure of yours..it was driving you crazy and you wanted to cum when interacting with him even if he didn't know..

"just..called you to see how are you..where you going..?"

that was a lie, you currently were calling him to masturbate to his pretty voice and even attempt to bring him over. your fingers reached inside you as you looked down at your twitching thighs,needy for something more.

"nowhere, i just needed some time alone off the house..whats up with you..?

you swallowed hard as you dipped your fingers inside your leaking cunt, covering them with your juices as your breathing turned sharp.

"y/n?"

"Y-yeah mikey?"

"what are you doing?"his tone changed to a more soft and quiet one, you could immediately realize how relaxed it was now. you stopped fingering yourself in embarrassment, face red and almost drooling from pleasure. you were so desperate for him.

"ngh i..i..."

"continue what you are doing babe..."

as if on demand, you let out a soft moan at him telling you to go ahead and calling you babe ,dipping your fingers deeper,palm slapping against your pretty and needy cunt, overstimulated by how long you have been going at it like this even before calling him.

you could hear his pants unzip, which made you let out a small moan at just the fantasy on your mind of his bulge.

"fuck..y/n..i can hear how wet you are.."

you turned around ,chest on the bed and played with your clit like crazy, face dipped on the pillow and red, drunken from pleasure.

"m-mikey..f-fuck.."you whined out hearing his heavy breathing,matching your sharp one perfectly. "i..ahh fuck~"

after a second you heard him chuckle a bit.

"pst.turn on your camera,i wanna see you play with yourself."

your face went red as you knew you didn't have the guts to do that, let him watch you so weak was so humiliating..you immediately stopped, he had never even seen your naked body before so, this was scary.

"..i..i dont..im embarrassed.."

"oh no im not asking you doll,im demanding it."

that tone on his voice was enough for your clit to burn from pleasure, sending that euphoric feeling up to your stomach. you hummed yes and placed the phone on your night stand, and sat up opening your legs wide, playing with yourself and turning the camera on without your face showing.

once he did too, you were greeted only with the view from his neck and under, his smile visible the slightest which somehow made it hotter. he wore a black tshirt and cargo pants, so you could finally take a look on his pretty arms .you could see the hard inside his pants and your voice turned shaky.

"y/n..shit.."his hand flew over his bulge, pressing and squeezing from above the pants.

your fingers played with your clit on a circular motion,tits puffed from being so horny and needy to be fucked ruthlessly. just realizing he was watching you get off to him made you feel so filthy..

"let me see your pretty face."

"m..mikey.."

"c'mon, do as i say and ill do you a little surprise."

nodding you moved back a bit, exposing your red; dumb and weak face , lips parted wide, eyebrows shot low weakly, a blush spread around.

"thats my girl.."you soon saw him lower his underwear just slightly enough so the tip was shown, which made you gasp a bit. pink, glossy and wet from watching you like that.

"put your fingers inside you babe.."

you did as told and slowly slipped one in, feeling your stomach tighten from pleasure ,your fingertips exploring the warm caves of your cunt, dripping down to your ass just for him..

"m..mikey i cant go on for long i..I've been doing this for a wh-while.."

you leaned back on one hand as the other one was busy, you rolled your hips with the same movement as your fingers, fucking your own hand as your thumb travelled to your clit.

"you have been playin' with yourself thinking of what..?"he slowly lifted his shirt, allowing you to take a peak of his tight stomach, a slightly fit skinny body which you loved..

"don't make me..say it.."you whined out more.

"or what?"

"..th...thinking of you.."

you could see the small smile on his face as his hand slipped under his underwear, and the other one pushed the fabric down, allowing his cock to slip out from tip to base, you could see how it reached his belly button perfectly, which made you realize how long he was. the single drop of precum running down the tip made you let out soft moans, your fingers reaching inside you faster, juices covering them.

"c'mon baby, finish on your pretty fingers for me.."he said , beginning to jerk himself off too, slowly so you could totally look at the motion of his hand running up from his tip down and reverse.

"i..f..fuck..I'll cu-m mikey.."

"i know baby, i know. you look so pretty drooling for my cock.."

and with that your moans filled your room, your one hand shooting up to cover your mouth for screaming out in pleasure, eyes almost crossing from the feeling as you squirted over the sheets, leaving behind a wet pretty spot to remind you for now that you came for him.

suddenly that confident tone of his disappeared and turned into a whispery one..

"shit..y/n.."you saw his cock twitch on his hand before he slipped his pants on again .

"wh..what.."you struggled to form a proper sentence, panting having lost your breath.

"where you going..."you whined out almost scared he didn't like the way you finished for him, or was dissapointed.

he soon put his hand on his pocket and pulled out his keys, waving them at you.

"there, be ready in five.." was the only thing he said before hanging up..

[babyboibucky]

Slut Fest Day 5 - Noncon

Pairing: TWS!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k yeah this is a full oneshot lmao

Warnings: Dark!Bucky obviously, fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, creampie, implied suicidal thoughts, use of a knife, mentions of wound and blood

A/N: This is the first time I wrote a full noncon fic so feedback is very much welcome!!! This will have a second part which is tomorrow’s prompt, Breeding

Slut Fest Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Your vision was hazy when you first opened your eyes, the splitting headache and body pain that came along with it almost made you think that you were merely having a hangover.

Almost.

Flashes of the previous night flooded your brain, you could only recall bits and pieces of what went down. You were at a club with your friends, lots of shots and dancing; there was a man in a black shirt that danced with you. He was ruggedly handsome and well-built with dark hair and a rough voice.

You searched your memories for a name...was it Brian? No, it was far from that. Brock? Yeah, you were confident that his name was Brock.

He danced with you that night and you were sure that he had asked whether you wanted to go somewhere private. And that’s where everything had gone to black.

Blinking helped you with your vision and now you can clearly see that you weren’t in your room. Looking around, you realized that you were in a cell. It was dark and damp, with only a single fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling above.

The pain in your shoulder and arms made you want to stretch but to no avail because it was only now that you discovered that your wrists were restrained and tied above your head. You were almost standing on your tiptoes with how high you were tied up, explaining the cause of your body ache.

“No, no...is someone out there?!” you screamed in panic as your mind finally understood what was going on.

“Please? Help me!” you yelled, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you tugged at your wrist.

The echo of your voice was the only response you received. Up until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from afar. Your lips trembled in fear as you waited for someone to emerge from the dark.

And there he was, the man from last night, Brock. But he wasn’t alone.

In front of Brock was a man who was way taller and bigger than him— long brunette locks covered his face and if that wasn’t enough to keep his identity hidden, he had to be wearing a black mask as well.

It wasn’t just his large built and mysterious look that piqued your interest, it was his left arm. It was made out of what seemed to be metal; there was a red star painted on the shoulder.

“Good, you’re awake. Didn’t want to keep the Soldat waiting.” Brock said as he pushed the man inside the cell.

“Who the fuck are you?! Why am I here?!” you spat at Brock as you watched him close the cell door before locking it once more.

Brock merely smirked, “You were at the right place at the wrong time, baby. Needed to reward our asset with a little something, thought you looked like the perfect present.” he chuckled darkly.

“Soldat, she’s all yours.”

Those words made your bile rise up to your throat and the presence of the metal-armed man didn’t help you with your fear. You threw up all of a sudden, coughing as your tears began to fall endlessly.

“Please...please don’t.” it was all you could utter as you shook your head.

The sound of the Soldat’s heavy boots crushing the ground made your heart beat twice as fast. You probably looked pathetic, tugging at your wrists despite knowing that it was futile. The closer the Soldat was, the more you moved and thus, the weaker you got.

“Whoever you are, please...just help me out.” you pleaded.

The Soldat stopped when he was a feet away from you and suddenly, your breath hitched in your throat. His eyes were the bluest you’d seen and despite his intimidating appearance, they held a certain softness in them.

“I don’t know who you are but I know you don’t want to do this.” you softly said, hoping that he’d change his mind.

Your body jolted in shock when Soldat spoke, his voice was low and gravelly— hoarse even, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Такой красивый подарок.”

Such a pretty gift.

He lifted his metal hand and you flinched, afraid that he was going to hurt you. But he merely took your chin and wiped your bottom lip clean. Soldat was so close that you could hear his heavy breathing beneath his mask.

“Стоит ли мне развернуть подарок сейчас?”

Should I unwrap my present now?

“I...I don’t understand you.” you croaked out.

The way his blue eyes turned dark in a split second brought your fear back. Just like that, the softness he had turned into something so perverse, it sent shivers down your spine. You were about to say something when the Soldat gripped the neckline of your dress with his metal hand, tearing it open effortlessly leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and underwear.

You screamed and tried to kick him but he was so much stronger than you. He didn’t even budge when your feet landed on his thigh. If any, your defiance triggered him and only placed you in a much more dangerous situation.

“I beg you, please…don’t do this.” you cried and cried.

A squeal escaped your lips when Soldat grabbed your face in his flesh hand, squeezing your cheeks as his eyes roamed around your face, taking in all of your features. His thumb grazed your mouth, tugging your bottom lip down before he spoke again, but this time, in a language you finally understood.

“Suck.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you shook your head but when you felt his hand tighten around your face, you were left with no choice but to obey. Letting out a shaky breath, you took his thumb into your mouth and sucked.

Soldat hummed before you felt his thumb press down on your tongue. He moved his thumb in and out of your mouth before letting go of your face and taking a small step back away from you.

You hoped he had a change of heart. He didn’t.

You let out a gasp when you saw him take out a knife from one of his holsters, skillfully flipping it before bringing it close to your face. You’d never known fear like this before, it was extremely horrifying.

It felt like you were face to face with the god of death himself.

“Don’t kill me, please! Please let me go, please...I’m not going to say anything to the police, I swear. I’ll stay quiet, I promise.” you sobbed.

Your pleas fell on deaf ears; the Soldat wiped away your tears before he dragged the tip of his knife from your neck down to the strap of your bra, slicing it before moving onto the next, letting it fall to the ground, leaving you bare for him.

There was nothing else you could do to escape and yet you tugged and tugged at your wrists, ignoring the stinging pain from how the restraints were now digging onto your skin. Your wails were unheard and the more you screamed for help, the more helpless you felt.

The Soldat moved to slice the sides of your underwear before tearing them off of you, throwing the fabric behind him. He took a step back, as if admiring his present before him and he loved it.

He loved seeing you like that, vulnerable and helpless. All for him to use, to take and to ruin.

A cold hand ran up from your hip to your ribs, the coolness of the metal making your entire body shiver. A soft sob echoed in the cell when the Soldat cupped your breast before his fingers pinched a nipple, making you cry out.

Your body was responding to his touches despite your protests and it was making you frustrated. You didn’t want this and yet your body craved for more, needed more from him.

The Soldat’s hand traveled to do the same to your other breast before sliding down to your abdomen, making you hiss at the cold sensation. His eyes met yours the same time he cupped your mound.

Your body jumped up as you cried, feeling his fingers rub at your cunt. You begged him to stop but at the same time, you wanted him to continue. Everything was a blur to you now; your pussy began to weep for the same man you wanted to run away from.

Biting your lip, you tried your hardest not to make a sound. Warmth crept up to your face when your hips began to move on their own, grinding against the Soldat’s hand as he continued to rub your folds at a slow, steady pace.

You felt ashamed. You weren’t supposed to feel good and yet you did.

The Soldat seemed to have noticed that you were holding back because he suddenly pressed his thumb against your clit at the same time he slid his middle finger in. The intrusion was enough to make you whimper, something that urged Soldat to keep going.

“N-no…” you whined.

He pumped his finger in and out of your cunt in a quicker pace until you felt your wetness dripping down your thighs. You cried and refused to look at him in the face so you rested your forehead against your arm.

Your body was giving up from how you were restrained, your arms were starting to feel numb and your legs were trembling both from pleasure and from trying to support your entire weight on your toes.

“S-soldat…” you unintentionally called out his name when he added another finger in.

It stirred something darker within the man, something primal and feral that made you want to just die right then and there. Perhaps it was better for him to kill you.

He continued to finger your cunt while rubbing your clit in circles, faster and faster until you were crying out both from shame and from your release. Wetness gushed out of your pussy, soaking his metal hand. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt and stuck it into your mouth, muffling your sobs.

“Я хочу попробовать тебя в следующий раз.”

I want to taste you next time.

The Soldat was quick to remove his fingers from your mouth, only to move them towards the zipper of his pants. Your eyes widened as you watched him take his cock out, pumping it a couple of times before he stood close to you.

You shook your head, “I don’t want this, please. Soldat, please…”

“Продолжай умолять, милая девушка.”

Keep begging, pretty girl.

In one swift motion, the Soldat hoisted your legs to wrap around his waist before sliding his cock into your pussy. You gasped out loud at the sudden stretch, your brows furrowing into your forehead at the stinging pain. The Soldat was relentless and didn’t give you time to adjust.

He kept on taking and taking and taking until nothing was left from you.

His cock was huge, it filled you up like never before. It stretched you out to the point of pain, making you sob out loud. Your lip began to bleed from how hard you were biting down on it, you were giving it your all not to moan but one particular thrust rendered your efforts a failure.

You moaned out loud when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, making your body tremble from the pleasure that shot through your veins. Your toes curled and your hands balled into fists when the Soldat kept on hitting that particular spot.

He started groaning and cursing in the same language he had been speaking. His hands on your hips were tight as he brought your body down on his cock each time he thrusted into you. Your restraints kept on jangling above you, as if they were mocking you and the way your body was reacting to the Soldat.

The Soldat sped up his thrusts, fucking you harder and deeper until you were gasping for air. His cock was punching the air out of you and with the heat building up in your abdomen, it was becoming difficult to breathe.

Your entire body was covered with a sheen of sweat while your face was drenched with your tears. You threw your head back when the Soldat brought his thumb to your clit, pressing down on it.

Looking up at your wrists, you noticed how wounded they already were. Small droplets of blood began to drip from your wrists down to your arm. You closed your eyes and refused to watch the Soldat’s assault on your body.

“Please, stop…” you softly begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

The Soldat didn’t stop and only went faster until you were a sobbing mess. Your body shook when your orgasm hit you wave after wave. You ended up crying out his name as you finished, drenching his cock with your juices.

His grunts were becoming louder and his thrusts sloppier. You knew that he was close and you didn’t want him to finish inside of you. You tried to move your hips away but he was too strong and managed to hold you in place as he fucked you until his balls tightened.

Two more thrusts and he was done, groaning out loud as you felt ropes of his cum fill you up. Your whine turned into a full cry when you realized that you were done for.

Just like that, the Soldat pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his pants.

Your body had given up and you allowed yourself to just hang limply, ignoring the throbbing pain on your shoulders. At this rate, you were sure that your shoulders were already injured from having been restrained like that for hours.

Your cries died down into hiccups, you’d completely given up. The feeling of the Soldat’s release tainting your legs as it dripped out of your abused cunt was a clear indication that you’d lost everything.

The Soldat lifted your head up with his metal hand; he caressed your cheekbones gently as he finally removed his mask, revealing his face to you.

You were on the verge of passing out when he showed you his face, the last thing you saw before your vision turned  black.

The Soldat truly was the god of death.

[strawberrystrangers]

Little, Teeny Crush | sebastian stan

Synopsis: Chris and Sam hook you and Sebastian up on Chris’ birthday night out, knowing you like him.

A/N: This is really rough for my first piece lol but hope you enjoy anyway. Requests are open for Sebastian Stan/Chris Evans/Tom Holland related topics. I have a few of my own story ideas I’m putting out, so if you do request bear with me.

“I honestly hope he doesn’t come,” you say, twirling the straw in your drink as a hopeful distraction. You focus on the ice cubes that circle the glass, feeling your chest pulsating at the same pace. It was June and that meant, really, only one thing: Chris demanding a night out for his birthday. You and Anthony had already planned the night, intending it as a surprise, but Chris ended up finding out and wanted to stay updated. So, now, the three of you were sat in The Wooden Crown Arms—because Chris always had an interest in British pubs—in a booth in the corner, waiting for Sebastian to arrive… Well, they were waiting, you were dreading.

     “Why?” Anthony asks, sitting opposite you and laughing. “He’s just late, what’s he ever done to you?”

     An already tipsy Chris giggles. “She has a little crush on him,” he points at you and then boops your nose. “A little, teeny crush.”

     You roll your eyes and try to suppress a laugh. “I’m gonna need a lot more to drink if I’m gonna catch up with you, Evans.”

     “A crush?” Anthony leans closer to you from across the table excitedly. “Really?”

     Before you can reply, you watch Sebastian walk through the entrance on the other end of the room. “Shut up,” you say. “He’s coming over.”

     Chris turns around but Sebastian still hasn’t seen you guys. “Oh, you mean Sebastian Stan?” He says loudly, almost falling off the seat. Anthony manages to pull him back before he completely hits the ground. 

     That’s when Sebastian sees you.

     He only looks at you first and it’s like the two of you are having some film-like slow-motion moment. But then Chris’ loud voice breaks it, and he engulfs Sebastian in a hug. You feel Sebastian still looking at you but you try and keep your focus on Anthony, too worried that you’ll blush if you look long enough. 

     “Sorry, I’m late,” he says, sitting down next to you. His thigh brushes yours and you gulp, but he seemingly ignores it, greeting Anthony across the table. “Traffic was a bitch.”

     “I think Y/N wants you to say that last part again,” Chris giggles. You widen your eyes at him and grit your teeth. Fuck.

     “Why?” Sebastian is looking right at you, obviously waiting for an answer but you can’t meet his eyes—and you see Chris staring, evidently manifesting you to look at each other.

     Still looking at Chris, you say, “My hearing is really bad in this place. I just didn’t catch it.”

     “Right,” Seb laughs in confusion. “I guess I’m gonna need a lot to drink if I’m gonna catch up with you, Chris.”

     Anthony and Chris turned to you, eyes wide at Sebastian’s similar line to yours earlier.

     “It’s a common phrase, guys,” you sigh.

     “A what?” Sebastian laughs confused again.

     “Common phrase.”

     “A common phrase?”

     “We said the same thing,” you explain. “They think it means something. I think it means Chris is too drunk already.”

     “I’m perfectly fine, Y/N! Look, it’s like this… when you have a time and you have a moment, it’s going to be pretty interesting.”

     “Chris, what the fuck are you saying?” You laugh.

     Sebastian laughs. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Anyone want another?” He looks at Anthony, who shows his full bottle, and then to Chris, and Anthony shakes his head. Then he finally looks at you, and you finally look back at him which causes your stomach to feel like a whole circus.

     “Southern Comfort and lemonade.” You smile.

     He nods and heads towards the bar. As soon as he’s out of sight, you lean across the table. “I should smack you both, what are you doing!”

     “Did you just say you’ll smack us?” Chris giggles.

     Anthony ignores Chris and says, “Trying to hook you up.”

     “You don’t even know if he’s attracted to me. Can you not put me out there when I haven’t done it myself? I can’t handle rejection. Especially not from someone as hot as Sebast—“

     “Here you go.” Sebastian sings, sliding your drink towards you. “Got you a straw too, saw you had one in your last drink.”

     In unison, Chris and Anthony shout, “Gentleman!”

     “This is so weird,” Sebastian laughs. “I love it.”

***

Chris and Sebastian are deep in conversation while you and Anthony scan the food menu for snacks. Sebastian stretches his arm across the back of the booth seat behind you—his focus still on Chris. Anthony’s eyes widen at you, face not really containing his excitement. You mouth to him to “chill out”. 

     “I need the bathroom!” Anthony bursts out abruptly. Everyone looks at him. “Yeah, I need the bathroom. Move Chris…”

     After a short moment, Chris’ phone dings and he looks at it. Then he quickly looks up, grinning at both you and Sebastian. You give Chris a look of, don’t you fucking dare leave me alone with him. But his grin only grows larger.

     “I have to go to the bathroom.”

     You sigh, “did Anthony just text—“

     “I just have to go to the bathroom. I can’t hold it any longer, I guess.” 

     And then he’s gone… leaving you and Sebastian left alone. With his arm still behind your head, he taps the seat with his fingers and you feel your heartbeat get faster. You’re getting nervous—or rather more nervous than before. You can hear his fingers on the leather so close by your ear.

     “Y/N?” He says, and you snap out of your daze. “Were you not listening?” He laughs, a smile wide on his face.

     “I don’t think I was, I’m sorry. Say that again.”

     “I was asking if you were having a good time.”

     “I’m having a great time.” You’re still facing frontwards but you notice and feel Sebastian turn his body towards you. “What about you?” You give a quick glance and then sip your drink again.

     “I’m having a good time…” he’s chuckling to himself. You can hear the leather squeaking as he’s shaking his leg. “I’m having a really good time, yeah.”

     “Seems Chris is too,” you joke.

     “Yeah,” he says. “Chris is definitely going for it tonight.”

     “Yeah…”

     “Why were they shouting my name when I first arrived?”

     You gulp and hope he didn’t hear it. “They must have seen you come in.”

     “They were facing you,” he says with a smile still on his face. “You were the one to see me. I saw you look at me and look away.” You drink faster through the straw. “Did you say something about me?” He laughs. 

     You choke as you swallow your drink, coughing and catching the attention of the other people in the bar. He rubs your back and puts a hand on your arm. “Oh my god, that was embarrassing.”

     “Are you okay?” When he asks this, you turn to him. Properly looking at him now and you wonder if you can trust yourself. While looking at him, you notice one of his collar sides is sticking up. You unfold it and caress it down so it’s in its right place.

     “Sorry,” you say overly apologetic. You completely forgot where you were for a moment. “It was bugging me. One side up. One side down.”

     He just stays smiling and shakes his head. “No problem, I liked it… I mean, I appreciated it. Appreciated it, yeah.”

     He’s looking at you in the eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who makes such great eye contact like him. It’s making you nervous again. His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips then back to your eyes, licking his lips every now and then.

     Then you move your hands down to the hem of his top, twisting it around your fingertip to ease your nerves. “Is this okay?” You ask and he nods.

     He moves his free hand—with his other still in the back of the booth seat behind you—onto your thigh, his thumb gently caressing the inside of it. “Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. You feel your insides becoming giddy, goosebumps forming across your skin.

     Just as you think Sebastian is leaning in, Anthony approaches the table and you retract your hand from his shirt but his hand stays still on your thigh.

     “I’m gonna give Chris a ride home,” he says. “He’s gone a little bit overboard. You two good, here?”

     You nod. “Yeah, I’ll grab a cab home.”

     “We can share and split the cost,” Sebastian says. “Then we know you get home safe.”

***

The cab finally pulls up outside your apartment building, and you hesitate for a moment. The rain is pattering on the car windows and with your light alcoholic buzz, everything feels so calm and soothing.

     “You okay?” He asks.

     You want to ask him up, but you don’t want to feel rejected. Maybe you were imagining the moment in the bar?

     “I’d like that,” he says.

     You’re brought out of your thoughts, “Huh?”

     “Coming up to your apartment,” he laughs.

     “Did I say that out loud?”

     He nods, laughing. “Did you not mean to?”

     The cab driver sighs. “Look, man, this is cute and all but I’m running gas, here. Are you getting out or not?”

     Sebastian looks at you to make sure you want him to come up. You nod at him knowingly. He lets you out of the cab first before he paying the driver. When he exits, he puts a hand to the small of your back. You’re both quiet when you walk through the lobby and into the elevator—maybe it’s tension or maybe it’s just awkwardness. You’re not quite sure.

     “Which number?” He asks.

     “Oh, yeah, sorry,” you laugh. “It’s the third floor.”

     He presses the button for number 3 and stands close by your side, his hand still on the small of your back. The doors open on your floor and you walk down the hall to your apartment, Sebastian now trailing behind you instead of beside you. You put the key in the lock and turn it, open the door.

     “You’re not some secret serial killer, are you?” You ask. “Only you’re trailing behind me…”

     “I figured I’d give you some space in case you felt like you wanted to slam the door in my face and not let me in.” He says this as he’s walking through the hallway of your apartment. When he sees your couch he asks if he can sit on it and you nod.

     “Water or coffee?” You call to him from the kitchen.

     “Coffee, please, Y/N.”

     You walk into the room holding a glass of water for yourself and a coffee for Sebastian. You sit opposite him on the couch. “Tonight was fun,” you say.

     “Very fun,” he agrees, sipping from the mug. Then there’s a moment of silence. “Did you like my hand on your thigh?”

     “Did I?” You stutter nervously, taken aback by the question.

     “I should really stop making you choke, shouldn’t I?” He chuckles. “So, did you? Like my hand on your thigh?”

     “That’s a sexy way of asking for consent,” you giggle. “But I did, yeah.”

     He looks at you deeply again, and you’re getting nervous again. “Would you like it…” he moves closer to you, and you do the same.

     “I would,” you whisper.

     He places the mug on the table and rests his hand on your thigh like earlier. His thumb gently caressing the inside of it.

***

Sebastian’s hand was cold when it slid up your body to rest his hand by your collar bone, his palm flat feeling your heartbeat get faster and faster, and his wrist resting between your boobs. His other hand slipped into your underwear, finger sliding down your slit.

     “You’re soaking,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm. A jarring difference from his cold hands. “Have you been like this all night?”

     You tilt your head back onto his shoulder. And he loves the sight, you in pleasure heaven, your neck on show for him, your body quivering back into his. “Have you been like this all night?”

     “Y-yes,” you manage to make out. “Oh, daddy, yes. All night.”

     “Good thing I came up to you, then?” He asks. “Are you glad I came up to you?” He emphasises the word “came” and he feels you clench against his finger.

     “Not yet, baby, you don’t get me inside of you yet. Just be patient, baby.”

[foli-vora]

my girl

A/N: look, I don’t even fucking know. I saw the reference picture and my mind just went absolutely feral. What started out as what could be a simple threesome, soon turned into this—whatever the fuck this is. I refuse to apologise. I enjoyed this ride and will now throw this out into the abyss like a grenade and run back to the safety of my blankets, ashamed to ever return.

This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writers Wednesday ❤️ such an incredible idea! Thank you for letting me join in!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: this is straight up filth. FILTH. SMUT 18+ NO MINORS!! Swearing, alcohol, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lactation kink—not everyone’s cup of tea, I get it... dirty talk, Dave’s a bastard and Frankie’s a pussy eating king—both things we know by now. Um, enjoy, I guess?

+

“Fuck.”

You laugh lightly, head falling back onto Dave’s shoulder as Frankie drops his cards to the table with a drawn out sigh.

“You can’t lie for shit, Morales.”

He shoots a half hearted glare at Dave, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, York.”

You snort quietly, fingers intertwining with the hand resting comfortably on your thigh. “It’s not a good thing, either. Drink up.”

“Two against one is hardly fair.”

Dave grins, momentarily pressing against your back to reach for his own beer before reclining comfortably back in the chair, pulling you tighter against him as he goes. “You say that like she’s a threat—she’s as hopeless as you.”

“Rude.”

The sun still warms your shoulders as it starts it’s descent below the heavy tree line behind your property, the bright summer glow fading into something softer, more relaxing, and you eye the mess of paper plates, cups and random toys strewn about in the yard—the leftover destruction of your sons first birthday.

Dave’s fingers softly pinch your chin and return your focus to the table and the drinking game currently taking place, coaxing another beer into your hands while he kisses softly below your ear. “Stop looking at it—we’ll do it in the morning.”

“Yeah, when I’m long gone.” Frankie mutters, grinning at you before tipping his head back and polishing off another can while Dave laughs quietly.

He liked Dave. The guy was strange sometimes, what with his out of town work and mysterious friends that made the hairs on the back of Frankie’s neck stand, but Dave was a good guy... adored the absolute hell out of you and that’s all that mattered. He served, too, but unlike Frankie choosing to retire, he took up an opportunity with the CIA. Not too shabby.

Frankie’s checking in with his babysitter a little while later, having lost again, when he hears a little moan. His eyes move towards the sound before he can help it.

What the fuck?

Frankie shifts in his seat, not looking straight at the pair of you in fear of fucking flat out moaning. He chalks it up to just not being with someone for a while but wow. He could see you from the corner of his eye, see Dave’s hands and the way they move to squeeze and pinch at your tits as his mouth practically devours yours. You’re complete putty in his hands, melting into his lap and taking whatever he gives you hungrily.

Maybe he should go.

Fuck. Did you just whimper?

Jesus. He needs to leave now.

“I’ll head off... give you two some space—”

Dave’s low voice stops his rise from the chair, his ass hanging awkwardly over the seat as eyes that match his in colour and depth zero in on him from across the table. “What’s the rush, Morales?”

“No rush. I just don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not. Sit down. Have another beer.”

Say no. Say no.

“Sure.”

He resettles in the chair, immediately reaching for another can as wonders why he suddenly feels so fucking studied under Dave’s watchful gaze.

“So how long have you wanted to fuck my wife?”

You blink in shock, “David!”

Frankie just about chokes. Beer spills from his lips and he hacks a cough in surprise, sleeve catching the drops of liquid that fall from his chin. Fuck. Fucking shit. What the fuck is he meant to do? He’s gonna get his ass kicked, and if he’s being honest with himself, he fucking deserves it.

He should’ve fucking left.

“Man, I swear—” He swears what? He can tell by the way Dave’s looking at him that the man already knows. He’s not angry—not even a little bit. He’s just... smug. And curious. What kind of fucking game is this guy playing?

“Oh god, Frankie, I’m so sorry—please ignore him. David, what’s the fucking matter with you?!”

You bristle when he blatantly ignores you, instead raising a brow in challenge at Frankie. “Am I wrong?”

Frankie works his jaw, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to work out Dave’s play. He doesn’t seem to be looking for a fight. Doesn’t seem to be doing it out of spite or wanting to upset you. He has no idea how to act, what to fucking say.

Dave nods, grinning. “Thought as much.”

His hand cups your chest, squeezing the flesh softly, and you squirm in his touch, cheeks flooding with embarrassment for your friend as Frankie swallows uncomfortably, eyes immediately finding the crushed cans on the table. “Dave—”

“He doesn’t mind—do you, Morales?”

You watch in slight surprise as Frankie’s eyes flutter to your chest, watching the way Dave handles you roughly before they’re moving away again, almost shy.

“It’s alright. You can watch. Can’t he, honey?”

And then Frankie’s looking at you, eyes unsure and questioning but burning with something that has a thrill running along your spine. You nod quietly, heart beating unsteadily as Frankie’s eyes widen slightly, body squirming in the chair.

“If—if you want to.”

He exhales softly, now watching with rapt attention as Dave brings both hands up, undoing each button of your dress until your modest cotton bra is on show, nipples poking through and straining against the fabric. He feels the air leave his lungs the second Dave pulls at the cups, spilling your tits out to the open air and his wandering gaze. He can’t help but make a noise at the sight of them, cock hardening to the point of discomfort as Dave massages them softly, your eyes rolling a little as he pinches at your nipples.

Frankie stiffens in the chair, breath catching and stomach dropping.

Fucking shit—

Dave hums lowly in appreciation, feeling a warm dribble across his thumb and fingers as you squirm from the familiar tingle in your breasts. “She’s trying to stop and dry it up, but it takes a while, doesn’t it, honey? Not that I care—more for me in the long run.”

Frankie almost whines. Fucking whines. He catches it just before it falls from his throat, close to embarrassment. Dave knows—the bastard. You look so good. So fucking good. Fuck, there’s so much—

“Have a taste.”

You moan softly at the idea, and Dave hushes you softly as he presses a kiss to your throat.

Frankie eyes the milk that falls from your nipple before glancing up and meeting Dave’s gaze, lips pursing in thought despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans. What was the ulterior motive here? Was it a test? Was he just looking for a reason to knock him out? Does he even care?

Dave watches him, expression unwavering, almost teasing as he coaxes more milk from your tits and runs his fingers through the warm stream sliding down your skin.

“What’s the catch?” Frankie eventually asks, voice hoarse, and Dave grins.

“No catch.”

Did he get up too fast? By the way Dave laughs at him, he probably did. He doesn’t care. He can’t get around the stupid fucking glass table quick enough.

Frankie drops to his knees in front of you, attention completely focused on the way Dave squeezes gently at your nipple and draws more milk from your tit.

He wants to double check. He knows Dave would never push you to do something you didn’t want to, but there’s been a bit of alcohol involved, and even though he knows your tolerance level is much higher than a few beers, hell—even tequila doesn’t bring you down, checking doesn’t hurt. “Are you—”

You nod, “It’s okay, Frankie.”

“Go on.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Frankie’s lip attach to you the second Dave opens his mouth, his tongue running immediately over your nipple and groaning when the taste of your milk sinks into his taste buds. So fucking sweet. You whine into Dave’s ear when Frankie increases his pressure, greedy for more as you flood his mouth, and your stomach tightens at Dave’s low hum.

“Feel good, honey?” He asks quietly, other hand cupping and rolling your free nipple in his hand as Frankie moans softly against your skin, the prickle of his facial hair so different to Dave’s clean shaven face, but no less pleasant.

“S-so good—”

Dave’s fingers gently pinch at the hem of your dress, sliding it up along your thighs and pooling it above your waist before coaxing your thighs open a little more, Frankie immediately moving into the free space as soon as he could. Dave pulls your panties to the side, running his fingers through your slick folds with a low groan.

“You’re so fucking wet. Do you like him sucking on your tits?”

You whine quietly, hips arching into the two fingers that swirl around your entrance before they slide in and curl against your hot walls. He moves slowly, dragging them almost lazily in and out of your pussy as he feels more of your arousal coat his hand.

“Yeah, you do like it—so does he. Do you think he can hear how wet you are, baby? Do you think he can hear my fingers move in this greedy little cunt?”

Frankie groans. Loudly. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. He can hear it. It’s driving him fucking mad. He wants to look, wants to watch how your face moves as Dave finds that spot deep along your walls, but he can’t pull away from you. Not yet. If this is the only chance he gets to do this, then he’s taking it and fucking running.

Dave’s gentle as he pulls his fingers from you, swirling his slick soaked fingers around and over your nipple before coaxing Frankie to the other side. The obscene groan that vibrates against your chest sends flutters through your entire body as Frankie laps at your skin with a ravenous frenzy, tongue smoothing over every bit of wet skin he could find before latching onto your nipple without abandon.

Dave picks up on it immediately. “Easy. You hurt her, I hurt you.”

A tongue smoothes over your nipple in silent apology, and your fingers run through the flattened curls of Frankie’s hat hair in acceptance, his face nuzzling against your skin as you bring him closer. Dave’s fingers return to your pussy, leisurely circling your clit, swollen and throbbing from lack of attention.

“Do you want to cum, honey?”

The needy whine that leaves your mouth has him cooing into the side of your face, fingers picking up speed and pressure at the desperate little buck of your hips.

“Maybe if you ask Francisco nicely, he’ll eat this pretty pussy until you cum.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Is he serious?

Frankie shudders against you, cock straining so fucking hard against his jeans he almost wants to cry. He’d beg if he has to. If that tiny little taster Dave gave him was anything to go by, you’d drive him fucking wild.

“P-please Frankie—”

Dave tuts lowly in your ear, “‘Please Frankie’—you can do better than that. He can’t hear you.”

“Fuck. Please—”

“Please what?”

“Please eat my pussy—please—”

Dave winds his fingers into Frankie’s hair and tugs sharply, the other man detaching from your tit with a wet smack of his lips. He eyes the small trail of milk sliding into Frankie’s beard and scoffs quietly, “Messy.”

Frankie’s already flushed cheeks darken even further, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is how fucking stunning you look, legs spread and face morphed in ecstasy as Dave rubs over your clit with a shadow of a smirk—the man knew he drove you crazy.

God, so fucking wet—

You’re dripping. He can see it. He watches the way your entrance flutters, pussy clenching hungrily around nothing as Dave slows his movements.

“Well? You heard her.” He parts your folds, baring you in all your slick fucking glory, and Frankie all but fucking loses his god damn mind. He dives in, uncaring that Dave’s fingers are there and his tongues probably running over them more than he cares to count. Dave doesn’t seem to mind.

The cry that falls from your lips has Frankie pressing forward, mouth pressing greedily against you as his tongue works at your pussy, lapping at your weeping entrance before lathing attention to your clit, tightening his lips around the nerve and letting his tongue massage over it.

“Oh fuck, Frankie—”

Dave hums, curved nose trailing softly along the side of your face as you thrash in his arms, bucking into the mouth that all but fucking devours your pussy. His tries to ignore the way you shift on his lap, the way your ass drags so fucking nicely over his hard cock straining under you, tries to ignore the delicious fucking sounds coming from both you and Frankie, but he can only endure so much.

He bites into your shoulder, eyes tightening as he fights off the waves of tempting bliss tingling at the base of his spine. Not yet. He wants more.

“Come on, baby. He’s been so good—cum on his mouth. Give it to him.”

Your body thrums with waves of electricity at Dave’s words, each swipe of Frankie’s tongue driving you further and further until you’re stiffening, Dave cooing quiet praises and quickly slapping a firm hand over your mouth as you find your peak, crying out and shaking in his arms as Frankie holds onto your thighs, tongue burying itself in your fluttering pussy to take everything you give him.

Your cries turn into whines, and soon you’re squirming, trying to get away from Frankie’s mouth. He takes the message before Dave can intervene, pulling away with a shaky exhale and desperately trying not to blow his load in his fucking jeans. He had a feeling Dave would never let him live it down, but it was so fucking hard not to. You were wrecked.

He watches you come down from your high from the floor between your thighs, heart hammering as Dave softly runs his fingers along your skin, voice almost silent as he murmurs in your ear. Dark eyes are soon on him and Frankie briefly worries he’s overstepping his welcome, until Dave speaks.

“That’s what you get when you lose, Morales. Imagine what you’ll get if you win. Deal ‘em.” Dave nods to the cards on the table, acting like he didn’t have you still trembling in his arms with your tits out, and dress bunched around your hips with your pussy still spread and quivering.

Frankie swallows, nodding silently and moving back to his seat, reaching for the cards with a sudden urge to win and wipe that fucking smirk off of Dave’s face.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @mouthymandalorianalso @frannyzooey @wyn-dixie @intu-witch-tion @amneris21 @mad-girl-without-a-box @pinguinstudiert @sergeantbannerbarnes @betterthanbucky @kat-r-in @starlightmornings @randomness501 @antisocialthat70sshow @buttercup--bee @sleep-tight1 @spideysimpossiblegirl @greeneyedblondie44 @hope-for-the-best-98 @bunniwarrior @fangirl-316 @acourtofsnakes @leaiorganas @princess76179​ @mamacitapascal @221bshrlocked @danniburgh @lv7867​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @julesorwhatever​

[katmoonz]

Tell Me Your Dirty Secret

Pairing Bill Weasley x Fem!Reader (slight Sirius Black x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: Smut, Jealousy, choking kink, possessive!Bill, Dom!Bill, Sub!Reader, use of pet names, aftercare, slight degradation, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, slightest bit of violence, unprotected sex. if I’ve missed anything out plz let me know!

It’s midnight and there is not a soul in sight. Spending the holidays with the order in Grimmauld place sure was exciting from Sirius’ drunken shenanigans and Molly's incredible cooking to the twins' pranks, there was never a boring moment within the household.

Currently, you were sitting in the kitchen nursing a cup of hot chocolate thinking about your boyfriend Bill Weasley. You had met Bill through his brother Charlie, whose year you’d been in at school, the crush you had on Bill started from the moment you met him but you waited until you had left school before trying to get closer to him.

At the moment Bill was away on order business he was due back in the morning, this left you unable to sleep out of concern for his safety and with time to collect your thoughts.

Bill is the most handsome man you’ve ever met, his piercing blue eyes and his strong muscular form are all perfect but his kind and charming personality made you even more attracted. Bill is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for, always checking up on you asking about your day, complimenting the meals you make, running a bath when you don’t feel well. His warm embrace makes you feel so safe and secure among other things... The sex is amazing Bill is always so attentive, always taking care of you first before carefully making love to you but it wasn’t enough. For the past few weeks, you had been wanting him to be a little rougher with you but you didn’t know how to tell him what you wanted.

It started one morning when he’d walked into the bedroom to find you struggling to tie your shoes, he’d bent down and tied them for you. You watched as his fingers, which were laden with rings, quickly but efficiently tie your laces before he stood up to kiss you on the cheek.

That was only the start of your fascination with his rings, he would often massage your shoulders for you after a long day at work before retiring to bed. When he kisses you he often holds your face in one of his hands, the cold metal of his rings against your face would cause butterflies in your stomach.

But you also wanted him to choke you. You’d started imagining him choking you after going out to a bar with him, a guy had been harassing you and you’d been trying to ignore it but he grabbed your arm tightly within his hand in a bruising grip trying to talk you into going home with him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and before you knew it the man was being held up against the nearest wall by Bill, his hand around the pervs throat as he gave him a gruff warning to leave you alone.

Since that moment you’d constantly been fantasising about what it’d be like to have Bills hands around your neck whilst you had sex. The only problem with this being that Bill was ever so gentle whilst having sex with you, he’d never been rough in the bedroom.

You sigh as you finish off your hot chocolate before walking over to the sink with your mug to wash it out. *there must be some way to get him to be rough with me* you think longingly, suddenly the idea strikes you like a lightning bolt *Bill only had his hand around that man's neck because he pissed him off, perhaps if I make him jealous enough and then try to seduce him he will be rougher*

With that thought in mind, you decide to head up to bed not wanting to wear yourself out before tomorrow’s order meeting which would be the perfect opportunity to put your plan into action.

-

The weekly order meeting at Grimmauld Place was due to start in a few minutes, the house bustling with order members. Bill spots you from across the room and starts making his way over to you, “y/n” he shouts over the crowd.

Looking around you, you notice that the seat next to the owner of the house Sirius Black is free so you quickly seat yourself next to him.

“Alright love,” he says arching one brow before taking a sip out of the goblet in front of him.

“Yeah good,” you say looking around the kitchen for Bill, you spot him speaking to his mother who must have accosted him before he could get to you.

“trouble in paradise?” he asks before leaning back in his seat.

“No, no, nothing like that” you hastily reply, “I just um…” you look him up and down before taking a quick glance at Bill across the room.

“Y/n?”

You decide to give in and ask Sirius for help with your plan considering that he seems to be one of the few people in the room who would agree to it. “Would you help me with something?”

“Sure doll, what?” he asks, leaning in closer to listen to you.

“I need to make Bill jealous”

Sirius smirks before looking over your shoulder for Bill, he turns back to you and looks you up and down “what’s in it for me?”

You consider backing out for a second but at the thought of potentially having Bill's hand around your neck, you decide to go for it. “I’ll get you a bottle of firewhiskey”

Sirius smiles before taking your hand in his “deal” he doesn’t release your hand and whispers “don’t turn around he’s watching us, play along.” He raises your hand to his mouth before placing a chaste kiss upon your knuckle, you giggle both out of nervousness and to keep up the act.

You place your hand on the table and continue your conversation with Sirius.

“Why are you trying to make him jealous? If you don’t mind me asking?”

You look into his eyes and contemplate whether you should tell him or not. “I just want to piss him off,” you say, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Mhmm, so you don’t just want some rough passionate make-up sex” He replies cockily picking up his goblet again.

You look at him sheepishly “how’d you know?”

He places his goblet back on the table before putting his hand on top of yours, “you don’t look like an angry woman trust me I’d know from all of the women- well also men that I’ve angered in my lifetime and every time you look at him you look as if you want to jump his bones.”

“I um-“

Sirius cuts you off, “it’s okay, you don’t need to explain yourself, maybe give me a few details tomorrow if you’re still able to walk, oh and my firewhiskey but I’m glad to be at your service doll”

You hit him on the shoulder before letting out a laugh, a tear falls from your eye as you laugh.

Dumbledore walks into the room getting ready to start the meeting, “Let's hope that Bill sits reasonably close to us” you say getting visibly excited.

Sirius lets out a chuckle, “Have fun I suppose but don’t come crying to me in the morning when you need a pain-relieving potion”

Bill walks over to you and leans over your shoulder to kiss you but you dodge him at the last second so that his kiss lands on your cheek. “Hello love, you look like you’re having fun” instead of turning around to speak to him you continue to look at Sirius, “mhmm,” you say dismissively. Bill gives you a look of confusion before walking away, he sits down at the opposite side of the table to you just as Dumbledore starts the meeting.

The meeting is relatively boring. It mainly consists of Albus talking about the upcoming patrols, you can feel Bill's eyes on you as you try to concentrate on the meeting and decide to shift your chair closer to Sirius’. Your hand is still on the table and after a few seconds of sitting closer to Sirius you can feel him place his hand on top of yours, he starts to stroke your knuckles with his thumb. You look up at him offering him a smile, he smirks back at you and leans into your ear. “We’ve barely done anything and he looks irritated already, follow my lead” he whispers before he leans back into his chair he strokes your cheek lightly with his free hand.

A couple of minutes pass by before Sirius shifts his chair even closer, he takes one arm and wraps it around you, you lean into his side with your head resting on his shoulder. You hear an angry huff from the other side of the table and take a glance up to see Bill with an angry expression upon his face.

Mad-eye starts giving his report on the happenings in Hogsmeade and you can feel yourself start to drift off to sleep as he continuously rambles.

You open your eyes at the feeling of someone lightly shaking you, “y/n love, you fell asleep the meetings finished” you look up to see that you have fallen asleep on Sirius, the rest of the order are starting to get up out of their chairs. Bill walks Molly and Arthur over to the floo giving yourself and Sirius a minute to yourselves.

“I don’t think we’ve pissed him off enough,” you say whilst trying to think of what else you could possibly do.

“You’re staying for drinks with us aren’t you? Perhaps we could flirt a bit more or you touch me up” suggests Sirius and before you can put up even the slightest protest at his suggestion Bill returns to the table with Charlie, Remus, Tonks and drinks in tow.

For a while Bill ignores you but you can see the slight frown upon his face every time he looks down your end of the table.

After a while of sitting back and listening to Charlie's stories about his encounters with dragons, you hear someone’s stomach rumble. Tonks giggles “sorry, I guess I’m still hungry”

Bill stands up “I’ll see if I can find any food, I’m sure Mum left some cookies a couple of days ago”

As Bill walks around the table you reach out to Sirius and put your hand on his thigh. You hear Bill let out a low growl as he notices how close you are to touching Sirius’ crotch. Before making his way over to the pantry he leans down over your shoulder, you can feel his warm breath behind your ear. “What are you doing?” He asks angrily.

You turn around to look at him and notice the red tinge on his face. It almost matches the shade of his hair due to how angry he is. “Nothing babe, I’m just talking to Sirius, am I not allowed to speak to my friend?” You reply innocently.

Bill lets out a huff before wiping a hand across his face trying to calm himself down, he proceeds to walk over to the pantry to find the cookies and upon returning he practically throws the plate onto the table. Everyone bar yourself and Remus takes one. After a couple of minutes you reach out to grab a smaller one but Sirius stops you by grabbing onto your hand. “I’m not sure you’ll want one love, they’re a few days old so they are quite hard.”

“That’s okay, I like it hard” you reply cockily before grabbing one.

There's a stunned silence for a moment before everyone starts laughing, that is everyone except Bill.

Sirius stretches in his seat before standing up, “c’mon let’s go sit in the library it’s much warmer up there” Sirius reaches towards you taking your arm in his before leading the way up to the library.

Upon reaching the library, Sirius backs you into a bookshelf and cages you in with his arms. “I’m sure you’ll get what you want soon, love” he whispers down into your ear. Instead of withdrawing after whispering into your ear, he keeps his face close to yours so that if anyone were to walk into the room it would look as though the two of you were making out.

Sirius has the most breathtaking eyes you’ve ever seen, you can feel your breath hitch as you gaze into his face. Sirius due to his lineage has sharp aristocratic features upon his face, his lips voluptuous and full. If you weren’t already with Bill you definitely would have jumped Sirius’ bones.

A couple of minutes go by, you hear the sound of the floo signalling that someone has left. Another minute flies by and you feel your heart flutter in your chest with anticipation. A stomping noise comes from the staircase before the door is abruptly opened,

Bang!

In a matter of seconds, Sirius has been roughly pulled away from you and pinned into the wall by an angry Bill.

Bill has his hand wrapped around Sirius’ throat and you can feel the anger radiating off of him. “Hands off my girl” he growls. You whimper but Bill ignores you so that he can focus on Sirius who is currently pinned to the wall smirking.

“Trust me I’m not interested in your girl” replies Sirius cockily despite having a muscular hand around his throat.

“Then why were you all over each other?” Asks Bill, his hand on Sirius's neck slightly loosens

“Because she asked for it” Sirius replies cockily. Bill tightens his hand around Sirius’ neck yet again and you whimper even louder than before. Your panties are completely soaked and you’re rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the arousal that you are feeling. Both Bill and Sirius hear your whimper and look over to you watching as you non-discreetly rub your thighs together.

“She planned this Bill, look at her, she’s getting off on it,” Sirius says with a hint of laughter in his voice.

Bill watches you for another second before letting go of Sirius.

“Is that true princess? Did you plan this?” asks Bill, with a strange look on his face. You don’t respond to him so he walks over to you and tilts your head up to look at him.

“Answer me when I talk to you” he growls dangerously, his eyes have darkened slightly, possibly due to his anger or arousal. You whimper again before nodding. “come on love, let’s go to bed” he firmly grasps your arm and marches you over to the door, he stops and turns to speak to Sirius from across the room “we still okay to stay tonight?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure mate” replies Sirius leaning against a bookcase with a smirk on his face. The last thing you see before you are dragged out of the room is Sirius winking at you.

With a tight grip on your arm, Bill marches you up the stairs of Grimmauld Place towards one of the guest rooms. You can feel butterflies in your stomach both excited and nervous at the prospect of getting what you want. Bill drags you into the guest room and closes the door. Bill turns around to watch you for a minute before beckoning you forward with his finger. “Come here love”

Cautiously you walk towards him till you are standing right in front of him.

“Why did you do that?” asks Bill, the strange but intimidating look remains on his face.

“M’sorry” you reply, slightly embarrassed.

“No love, I didn’t ask you to apologise. I said why?” He steps forward so that there is no space between you. You can feel his breath on your face.

“Just wanted to make you jealous” you reply, sheepishly.

Bill puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head to make you look at him. “Why’d you want me jealous princess?” his mouth is right next to your ear and you can feel his warm breath against the side of your face.

“S’hot” you reply putting a hand on his chest

“Mhmm, and what else?” Asks Bill, starting to kiss and suck on your neck.

You let out a quiet moan, “want you to be rough”

“Rough? how’d you want me to be rough?”

You pull back from him slightly to look into his eyes, his pupils are wide with arousal, “Well?” He asks arching a brow

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you say breathlessly, you can feel the tingle in your pussy from just admitting to your desire to be dominated.

“Good girl” he whispers before kissing you, Bill brings up one hand to start massaging your breast as he backs you up to the closest wall. Bill presses you up against the wall and softly bites your lip before backing away from you. You whine, Bill stands in the middle of the room with his arms crossed looking slightly amused at how desperate you are. “strip” he orders. You look up at him and don’t make a move to take off your clothes.

“Are you dumb princess? I said strip” Bill gives you a stern look as he orders you to take your clothes off. After a few seconds more of staring at Bill blankly, you start to remove your clothing. Just as you are about to remove your panties his voice reaches your ears again. “Leave them on”.

You look at him and rub your thighs together, your panties damp with arousal. Bill comes closer to you and puts one hand on your shoulder to push you down “Be a good girl and suck my cock”

You get onto your knees and wait patiently for him to unbuckle his belt, you watch as his ring laden fingers pop open the button on his trousers and push them to the floor alongside his underwear. His cock, long and hard now revealed to you.

The sight of his cock has what one might describe as a Pavlovian effect on you, your pussy throbs with excitement and your mouth suddenly feels as though it has too much saliva. You lean forward and spit on your hand before enclosing his length in your fist, you run your hand up and down it, getting him harder with your hand. You bring your face closer and look up at Bill, his face expectant. “Well?” He asks.

You bring out your tongue and give the head of his cock a lick, Bill shudders and lets out a pleasurable moan, you grin before taking him slightly into your mouth, sucking on the tip like a lollipop. Bill starts to moan a bit louder, you take him deeper into the warm cavern that is your mouth. You bob your head up and down whilst using a hand to work the rest of him off as he has a rather generously sized cock. Bill puts a hand in your hair, his eyes are shut revelling in the pleasure that your mouth is giving him. “Yess, good girl” he hisses, trying not to succumb to the urge to just cum in your mouth.

After a few minutes, Bill pulls on your hair, you release him from your mouth and look up at him before whining in disappointment. “Up,” he says, you stand up slowly trying to adjust to the blood flow getting back to your feet after being on your knees.

Bill reaches down to help you and pulls you into his chest as you rise, “are you gonna be my good girl?” He asks with a smirk on his face, without giving you a second to reply he lifts you off of your feet and carries you to the bed, throwing you down and settling himself over you. Roughly, Bill pulls down your panties before chucking them across the room, he brings himself back up to your face grasping your jaw in one hand. Your pussy throbs as you stare into each other’s eyes.

Bill has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen, the blue orbs a stark contrast to his ginger locks which are tied back in a bun at the back of his head. As you distract yourself with your boyfriend's beauty he sneaks a hand down to your pussy. You gasp as a lone finger suddenly fills your aching core, he pumps it in and out a few times before stopping causing you to squirm, “Bill, please” you whine.

Bill smirks and leans down to take a nipple in his mouth, he waits until you let out a little moan before releasing your nipple with a pop. Not wasting another second he pushes his cock into you, letting out a groan at how tightly you are gripping him, he starts with gentle thrusts before steadily speeding up. You can feel the tingle in your pussy and let out little moans every time Bill pushes back in.

As you get closer to your release Bill starts to slow down, he slows till you start to whine having been pulled away from the brink of orgasm. Bill moves one hand to rest next to your neck and continues slowly thrusting, he leans down and takes your ear lobe between his teeth for a second before letting go and pulling back to look into your eyes.

“So princess,” he starts “did you think it was fun to make me jealous?” he punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust causing you to let out a gasp.

“M’sorry” you whisper back at him.

“Sorry? So you don’t want me to be rough with you?” He asks with a smirk on his face, this time he ceases all movement. You whimper and buck up your hips to try and get him to move, he chuckles. “Look at you, acting like such a desperate slut” he starts to move again, this time with slow, hard thrusts.

“Is that good baby?” he asks

“Not enough” you whine back at him

“Not enough?” he asks “maybe my desperate whore would get what she wanted if she asked for it”

He wait to see if you respond before continuing, he looks you dead in the eye, “Tell me” he whispers huskily “tell me your dirty secret”

Without thinking you end up blurting out what you want, “want your hand on my neck”

Bill takes one hand and gently wraps it around the front of your neck, pressing down lightly at the sides. Bills rings feel cool against your skin, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your sweaty body. You moan loudly and your pussy clenches around his cock drenching it even more.

Bill feels himself getting close from the grip you have on him so he starts to thrust harder “good girl” he hisses.

It feels like a dream, how could this delicious demanding man be your Bill, you are in such disbelief at how easy it was to get him to be rougher with you that the next words that fall from his mouth seem almost unreal.

“Touch yourself” he huffs out mid-thrust

You reach a hand down and start frantically rubbing your clit, desperate for release. You feel the tingle in your navel grow and your moans get louder. Bill senses that you are about to cum and presses down slightly against the sides of your neck pushing you over the edge. You see white and feel Bill release your neck as he gives a few more thrusts before releasing inside of you, he manages to stay on his arms long enough to pull out and drop down next to you.

Half asleep from the powerful orgasm you hear someone moving around the room, you let out a groan and shift slightly to get more comfortable.

“Shh baby” Bill whispers, he moves your legs to start cleaning you up and you let out a whine at being moved from your position. Bill gently strokes your cheek, “it’s okay, I’m just cleaning up the mess, good girl” He takes a wet cloth and carefully wipes up the mess between your legs.

The mattress shifts slightly as Bill returns to you, he pulls you into his chest and softly kisses your forehead, “my good girl” he whispers into the top of your head just as you drift off to sleep.

-

The soft glow of sunlight coming through the dusty old curtains is the first thing to greet you upon awakening. You stretch out your limbs which are sore from last night and try to roll over but find that you can’t due to the strong arm that Bill has wrapped around your torso.

Bill softly snores and you peer up at his face over your shoulder, his features even more beautiful in the glow of the morning sunshine. His skin has a pretty sheen to it, the freckles on his arms and face stand out against his pale skin.

Carefully so as not to awaken him, you slip out from under his arm. As you stand up you almost lose your balance and have to hold on to the edge of the bed to steady yourself. You notice Bill's shirt from the previous day abandoned on the floor so you pick it up and pull it on buttoning it up before shuffling out the door.

You head to the restroom and then start to make your way down to the kitchen, the trip taking almost twice as long as usual due to your aching muscles.

Finally, you get to the kitchen which is empty, you make yourself breakfast before sitting down. After a few minutes, you hear the floorboards creak signalling that someone is approaching the kitchen. The door creaks open and you are greeted by Sirius who is grinning from ear to ear, “morning love, wasn’t expecting to see you today”

You roll your eyes and finish your breakfast. You slowly stand up and make your way to the sink with your dishes, you lean against the counter after ridding yourself of them. “Soooo” begins Sirius, “how was it?” He leans against a nearby wall and takes a sip of his coffee waiting for your answer.

“Good” you respond not giving anything away

Sirius looks you up and down before putting his mug down and crossing the room to stand between your legs, he’s so close that you can feel his breath upon your cheek. You close your eyes as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, you feel him shift away from you and as you open them again you find him softly smiling at you his eyes have a mischievous twinkle.

Sirius walks back towards the door pausing before turning back towards you. “I have a present for you” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle, he throws it to you, you catch it. It’s a bottle of pain-relieving potion. He winks at you before leaving the room.

Tags: @crystal-dee @fredweasleylittleslut @padf00ts-l0ver @divanca2006

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[rayshippouuchiha]

HELL YEAH I LOVE THIS SUIKAWARI MY HEART THING SHOUTA'S SO T H I R S T Y ok real talk deku absolutely knows who eraserhead is right??? hes an eraserhead fan right???????

"These seem kind of ...short," Izuku can't help but point out, hands coming down to tug futilely at the swim shorts that had somehow replaced his standard blue and yellow Mighty Swim Shorts(TM) he's had for years now. "And tight."

"As god Herself intended," Hitoshi mutters from where he's laid out on the concrete of the changing room floor. "Praise be to Yaomomo."

"Praise be," Izuku automatically echoes out of longstanding habit.

A beat of silence passes between them

"You know that floor is beyond filthy, right?" Izuku can't help but ask.

Hitoshi just peels one bleary eye open and stares up at Izuku silently.

"Fair enough," Izuku agrees as he goes back to fussing with his shorts.

"You nervous?" Hitoshi asks a few seconds later.

"Yeah," Izuku admits sheepishly. "Seems kind of dumb huh? Being so nervous over a charity event like this? But ... what if I look stupid?"

"Not possible," Hitoshi immediately denies.

Izuku loves his friend so much. Getting arrested together with Hitoshi at a rally really was the best thing to happen to him in a long time.

"Very possible," Izuku counters. "Highly probably in fact. Everyone else participating is super cool with super cool moves, with or without their quirk being involved. I'm just ... me."

"Look," Hitoshi says as he eels his way across the floor until he's laying right beside where Izuku's standing. "Just go out there and do exactly what you did at practice. Trust me, it'll go perfectly. Especially since Todoroki's not here to catch the vapors or the drapes on fire."

"Still don't know why the entire group had to come to that practice," Izuku grumbles just a bit. "Or why Momo had to host it. Or why Uraraka recorded it."

"Kirby's making mint by now," Hitoshi mumbles under his breath.

"What?" Izuku asks.

"Nothing," Hitoshi waves his question off lazily as he finally rolls over and pushes himself up onto his feet.

He throws an arm over Izuku's shoulder and rests his sharp chin on the crown of Izuku's head.

"Like I said before," Hitoshi reaches his hand up to poke at Izuku's cheek, "just go out there and be your regular sunshine broccoli self and do what you did at practice night. You've got this."

And by this point all Izuku can do is believe him.

~~~

Crate of watermelons firmly in hand, Izuku bounces just a bit on his toes and focuses on taking deep breaths of fresh ocean air.

Dagobah Beach is still as beautiful now as it was all those years ago when he cleaned it for Toshi-sensei at the start of his apprenticeship.

On the other side of the small, curtained off backstage area the crowd that's gathered is going wild.

Honestly, Izuku would rather be out there watching the Miruko crush watermelons than here waiting for his own turn to go on stage.

But, eventually, is turn does actually come.

"...the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

Present Mic's announcement ringing in his ears, Izuku takes one last deep breath, does his best to smile, and moves out into view.

The crowd is deafening and Izuku has to admit that it always makes him feel more than a bit awestruck to have so many people cheering for him. Especially over something that's more than a bit silly even if it's for a collection of good causes.

He shoots the crowd a small wave as he sets his crate down.

"Show us what you've got!" Present Mic demands from somewhere to Izuku's right. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd begins to chant "De~ki~ru!" and Izuku picks up his first watermelon, determined to follow Hitoshi's advice.

The first and second melons break easily enough, just as they had at practice, but the crowd seems happy.

So Izuku moves onto his third pose, the one that the others had made him repeat a handful of times a few nights ago.

A flex of his thighs and a twist of his hips and his lap's covered in sweet pink flesh and sticky juice.

"Oh god," a voice, low and husky, cuts across the crowd, "I wish that was me right now."

Even as the crowd goes abruptly silent Izuku's attention immediately zeroes in on the source.

He immediately feels his entire soul leave his body.

Because standing there beside Present Mic, arms crossed over his chest and face blank, is Eraserhead.

The Eraserhead.

The same Underground Hero Izuku's been a huge fan of since the moment he found out he existed. The notorious hell teacher of UA whose very name sends shivers of fear down the majority of his friend group's spine.

The same Eraserhead who was Hitoshi's mentor.

And who Izuku may or may not have a strange, second-hand sort of not-crush on.

In his defense, Hitoshi's stories about his mentor are always highly entertaining to Izuku. And what he's learned about Eraserhead through his friend just makes Izuku think the man is someone he'd really like to get to know.

Which is what makes being here, topless, covered in watermelon juice, and with an actual audience to witness the semi-sexual remark Eraserhead had just made about him, a special kind of torture.

Because Izuku's never admitted it to anyone, and especially not Hitoshi, but Eraserhead lines up pretty closely with what Izuku would consider his type.

The man understands heroics, and according to his capture and expulsion rate and Hitoshi himself, has a lot of personal dedication and drive. The stories Hitoshi tells about him show he's got a soft streak he keeps well hidden and he's intimidatingly smart.

Plus he's tall, has hair that Izuku admits he wouldn't mind getting his hands tangled in, and looks like he'd be mean in all the right circumstances.

All of that is probably why Izuku finds himself speaking without really giving himself permission to open his mouth.

"Ah," Izuku hears himself say, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

For a long moment it's so quiet Izuku's pretty sure he can hear himself dying cell by mortified cell.

Eraserhead's face somehow manages to go even blanker.

And then, he smiles.

'Oh wow,' Izuku can't help but marvel as he takes in the expression he's seen palely echoed on Hitoshi's face a million times, 'that's ... unexpectedly attractive.'

He can feel even more heat rush to his face in response as he chews nervously on his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Eraserhead finally says, "and cats."

And Izuku can't help but grin because yes, yes he does.

But he's pretty sure he's going to end up liking Eraserhead even more than all of those put together.

~~~

"Hell is empty," Hitoshi intones when Izuku finally manages to get free of the semi-rioting crowd so he can rush back into the changing room to clean himself up. "All the devils are right fucking here."

Izuku stalls out for a moment, unsure of what, exactly, he's supposed to say to that.

"You've got a date with Eraserhead," Hitoshi plows on.

The expression on his face is caught somewhere between gleeful and absolutely unhinged.

"Yeah," Izuku can't help the grin that steals across his face as he wipes himself down. "Or at least I hope he was serious."

"Oh he was serious," Hitoshi reassures him. "As serious as the heart-attacks basically everyone we know have probably collectively had."

"Do you think he's gonna like me?" Izuku can't help but fret just a bit.

"He's gonna marry you," Hitoshi snips back. "And we're all gonna suffer. Thank the gods you won't be breeding at least. Whatever the both of you are ends with you."

"That's kind of a quick jump to make but quirk science has come a long way," Izuku says absently as he pulls his shirt over his head. "Most couplings are genetically possible these days you know?"

"That was not a challenge," Hitoshi hisses, horror overtaking his expression. "I swear to god Izuku do not spawn with Eraserhead."

Izuku just waves him off as he trots back towards the door to the changing room.

He has an Eraserhead to track down and, hopefully, date plans to iron out.