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tovibeornottovibe · 2 days ago

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Do You Trust Me?

Eris Vanserra x Healer!Fem!OC

Eris catches Cleo just at the wrong moment; she's on her cycle and she's in agony. For some inexplicable reason, he feels this intense urge to help her, so he does. He struggles to deal with his own vulnerability, and to reconcile how he feels about her with what he expects from himself. [3.9k words]

warnings: menstruation, misogyny, mentioned sexual assault (in Eris' own internal monologue), toxic masculinity (sorta), it's a bit of a heavy one

Prefer to read on Ao3?

read the first part of this series here! (it's much fluffier than this one, i promise)

Cleo is picking pieces of ashwood out of his abdomen as though they aren't bothering her. Each one she plucks out and sets down in a bowl beside her fills him with such relief that he’s struggling to keep his breathing steady. Dart, as repulsed by the wood as he is, has curled himself in his bed on the other side of the living room, keeping a careful eye on the two of them as she kneels at his side, so close he can feel her breath against his too-hot skin. Her focus is almost absolute, her movements so precise that she has not once nicked his skin or poked the slowly healing wound.

But Eris has been trying to figure out what’s wrong with her for the past ten minutes.

When she opened the door for him, her eyes were heavy, like she was somehow exhausted in the early evening, and she afforded him only weak smiles and lazy responses. She hasn’t even asked him how he got stabbed (it was some prick with too much time on his hands and a penchant for spilling secrets. Unfortunately, Eris had underestimated his swordsmanship and thus, here he is). The usual warmth in her eyes is significantly dulled. She wears loose, faded clothes which are clearly too big for her. Every now and then, her jaw clenches and her hands falter slightly. And she’s washed out. Like she’s sick.

Fae don’t get ill. Ill fae die or else live in misery for the rest of their existence. That would be… unfortunate, and just his luck. He supposes slowly and excruciatingly killing one of the few people he actually likes spending time with is the Mother’s revenge for his lack of piety.

Petty, old cow.

He feels the tweezers grip the last splinter left and he lets out a sigh as she pulls it out. Delicately, she brushes her thumb over the skin near the wound, which stings but it’s not nearly as agonising as having ash in his body, checking to see if she got them all. Judging by the fact that he can relax his muscles, even with the bowl of splinters nearby, she did.

“I think you’re good,” she says quietly, her voice rough, as she withdraws her hand and sits back on her calves. “Can you—?” Swallowing thickly, she nods her head toward the bowl, briefly managing to meet his eyes before she looks away again.

Somehow, he’d rather stick all of those splinters back in his body one-by-one than have her endure whatever is happening to her.

With an easy flick of his wrist, he burns the contents of the bowl and the last, fleeting feelings of physical discomfort vanish. Immediately, Dart pads over and, after sniffing at the bowl, as though to check that the ash really is gone, pushes Cleo’s hand up and sits by her side. She pats him tenderly, her kind eyes so achingly tired that the sight makes Eris’ heart clench—he despises that.

When he sits forward, he instinctively clutches at his side and her head snaps towards him. “Can I heal this one?” she asks, already moving towards him, ready to over-exert herself more by using her magic, but, and he has no idea what comes over him to make him think this is in any way acceptable, Eris catches her hands before she can reach his wound.

Immediately, he regrets it.

Cleo has the textured hands of someone who works for a living. It isn’t like he doesn’t know this already, but this is different. It’s deliberate, unadulterated contact which is short, quick, and he releases her as soon as he possibly can. Almost flinches away from it. Even dealing with her hands on his skin when she’s healing him has started to get unbearable and it’s stupid, like he’s never been touched by a female before.

He chalks it up to stress, to needing just this one thing, place, person, where he doesn’t have to restrict. Restraint loses him so often these days. As the Autumn Equinox gets closer and closer, the power boiling in his bones gets hotter and hotter. Something has to slip sometime, and he guesses it’s now.

He doesn’t care that it sounds like she matters to him. She does. Cleo is important to him and truthfully, if it turns out that she is, in fact, sick, he’s going to move heaven and earth to find some kind of a cure. Bribe whoever he needs to bribe and kill whoever tries to get in his way.

“Leave it,” he says, earning him a frown. “What’s wrong with you?”

Cleo cannot die. He won’t allow it, Mother be damned. He’ll take Her out too if he has to.

She blinks like he’s asked her something impertinent then waves him off. “I’m fine,” she says. “Are you sure you don’t want me to—?”

He stops her bluntly. “You aren’t fine. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

At that, she scoffs, and the sound almost thrills him. “Thanks, might as well have told me I look like shit.” She doesn’t. Eris isn’t sure she’s even capable of that. “You’ll have to make sure you keep that clean…”

Okay, he sounds a little panicked. Is he panicking? Or maybe just worried? Yes, that’s it. Just a healthy amount of concern for someone he cares about. Not utter, crippling anxiety at the idea of her dying. Not at all.

“Stop it,” he snaps and she flinches, but he’s so worked up that he continues. “Are you ill? Is that what it is?”

Her face visibly softens. “No,” she says gently, “no, I’m not ill, Eris.”

Dart shifts with her when she untucks her legs from underneath her, stretching them out as she leans against the arm of the sofa, and it hits him. The faintest, barest scent of blood. Not his own. Hers.

The pieces slot together very, very quickly. The tiredness. The paleness. Her discomfort and inconsistent mood. Panic drains out of him almost as quickly as it came and he grimaces, more at himself than anything else.

“It’s your cycle,” he murmurs, bracing his forearms on his knees and rubbing the worry off his face. His wound hardly hurts him as he moves. “Oh, of course it is.”

Cleo lets out a hum of confirmation. “You know,” she says, looking at him, half-smile on her lips, “for a clever male, you are interminably stupid sometimes.”

Probably. He can’t even feel insulted, the overwhelming sense of relief is too strong to get anything else.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” he asks. What little he knows about cycles is informed by the unintentional glimpses of what his mother’s are like, and she practically knocks herself out for a week so she can get through the pain. For the whole day, every day, a handmaiden looks after her and soothes her if she wakes up. Yet, here Cleo is, seemingly not in indescribable agony?

“Yep,” she replies, popping the p, as she turns so her back is against the sofa and a shaky breath escapes her. Increasingly, her voice becomes strained. “But you were an excellent distraction. You don’t think you could get stabbed again, do you?”

In any other circumstance, he would laugh, maybe throw out a snide comment, but he’s quite suddenly gripped by the urge to comfort her. No, to look after her. That knocks him so completely from all his pain and all the rest of the things on his mind and replaces them with this intense need to do something.

She catches him staring at her and, with Dart lying across her lap, barks a low laugh. “It’s just blood, Eris,” she says.

“It’s not that,” he replies quickly. Too quickly.

It’s that he doesn’t know what to do. He always knows what to do. Eris always has some kind of plan, or else he can respond to anything and everything which gets thrown at him, but now, he’s at a total loss. This is not something he had ever considered; cycles are female business, and he figured it would stay that way. He’s never had a long-term lover, certainly not one which would expect him to be available to her for any sort of emotional comfort and if he ever had to get married, it would be to some viper who he could rid himself of as soon as he was High Lord. He would simply take a contraceptive tonic (illegal but useful in Autumn) so he would never have a child, let alone a daughter. So, to say he’s clueless is an understatement.

Cleo lets out a regulated, slow breath, tipping her head back against the sofa cushions and closing her eyes. “Do enlighten me then,” she says weakly.

It’s instinct that makes him move, which is strange, because Eris ignores almost every instinct that occurs to him. Instincts make him do things like flinch and gag and make him feel things such as desire and fear which are plainly useless to him. His instincts threaten the carefully crafted aloofness which protects him from all things.

But Cleo’s house is the place where he can’t afford to do that. Here, their relationship, that protection, is based on instinct, and it is her who provides it for him. She sees how he reacts, and if it’s wrong, she corrects it. He barely appears on her doorstep if he’s of sound mind, only in the direst of circumstances where he has no other option. Being here is a calculated risk that only makes sense to him when he follows those irritating, natural instincts of his.

He pulls himself off the sofa and crouches next to her. He doesn’t dare touch her again; he might find himself incapable of stopping.

“Tell me how to help,” he says quietly, like perhaps if she doesn’t hear him, he might not feel such a compulsion to stay.

She eyes him. “I’m fine. Really,” she says, the way she shifts her legs betraying her discomfort. “I’m a big girl. I’ve been doing this every six months for a couple of centuries now.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look after yourself.”

For that, she shoots him a look. That’s the line she always uses with him when he feels guilty for accepting her aid. Not that he’s ever explicitly told her he does, she just tends to know these things. Annoyingly.

He says, “Let me help you,” and he doesn’t know why.

Maybe it’s because he feels indebted to her. Maybe it’s because he can’t stand the sight of her suffering. Maybe she’s actually been tricking him this whole time and he’ll find out that his brothers are right behind the front door, ready to haul him in front of his father. If that’s the case then she’s done such an excellent job of making a fool out of him that he might even be impressed.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s remembered something.

He’d been wracking his brain for anything he could think of to soothe her and he caught it in the corner of his memories. Sometimes, the handmaidens bring his mother warm towels for the pains. He knows it relaxes the muscles. It isn’t often he uses that knowledge for noble purposes, but he is uniquely talented when it comes to producing heat. He has his uses beyond politicking and plotting, you know.

But Cleo shakes her head. “You don’t need to, Eris.”

“I want to.”

Half-bemused, half-pained, she hits him square in the chest with one single word: “Why?”

His response comes immediately, but it doesn’t feel true. “You heal me all the time. It’s only fair—”

“I don’t help you because I want something in return.” Why do you help me then, Cleo? Because, to this day, he cannot work it out. It’s unfathomable to him. He reasons that he would never, ever do the same, and that’s why Cleo will always be a better person than he is. “You don’t owe me shit.”

“Fine,” he says firmly, “I don’t owe you anything. Let me help anyway.”

It’s exasperation she gives him next. “You can’t do anything. It’s not like pain tonics—why are you looking at me like that?”

Ignoring how his heart stutters in his chest, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

A moment’s hesitation, then, “Cauldron, Eris, you really don’t understan—”

“Not what I asked, Cleo.”

“Gods. Yes, I trust you,” she says sharply, “but it doesn’t matter because nothing will help. I have tried everything! I just have to wait it out. There’s no magic…” Eris lets her trail off while he continues to look at her, totally unimpressed. There’s something to be said for being the most patient male in the world.

“Are you finished?” She tuts at him and he takes that as a yes. “Good. Now stop arguing and tell me where you’re in pain.”

Begrudgingly relenting, Cleo mumbles something that distinctly sounds like fucking asshole, saying through gritted teeth, “It’s here—” she runs her hand delicately across her lower abdomen before going to pet Dart once again, her movements rhythmic, repetitive, “—but I’m serious. You can’t do anything. I wish you could.”

Eris doesn’t think, he just does, or else he’ll stop himself and let her suffer. A muscle ticks in her jaw when he gets closer, but she doesn’t stop him, not even when he pushes the hem of her shirt up with a warmed hand and presses gently against her skin exactly where she showed him. Immediately, she shifts under his touch, lets out a breathy sigh and closes her eyes. Dart moves out of the way as Eris sits beside her.

“Better?” he asks lowly, just a hint of smugness creeping into his tone, because he was right and she doubted him. Instead of glaring at him for it, she just nods and places her hand over his, moving it ever so slightly downward so that his little finger brushes against the waistband of her trousers. Then she keeps her hand there like it’s nothing, like it’s normal, and compulsively strokes up and down the back of his with the pad of her thumb.

After a few, quiet minutes, she seems to relax, but he doesn’t move. He lets her use his heat however she likes, waits it out with her until she tenses again and her grip on him becomes ironclad. The pain comes in waves, sometimes with long gaps, other times with prolonged periods of what seems like total agony. He doesn’t know what he can say to calm her, so he keeps his mouth shut and watches her work through it with a furrowed brow.

This is worse, he decides, than almost everything his father has ever done to him. He hates it, hates that all he can do is sit with her, provide her with only the smallest amount of relief, when she can quite literally bring him back from the brink in a matter of minutes. It looks exhausting. Every time her breath hitches, his heart lurches.

“Cleo,” he says, hoping she might have the strength to look at him. That’s the other thing that gets him. Cleo is disproportionately strong, she can endure hours and hours of using her magic, can manoeuvre him without difficulty. He’s not certain she can even lift her head right now. “Is it getting easier?”

Her eyes stay closed as she shakes her head. The next time she gets a rest, she asks so very quietly, her voice rough, “Do you—Could you—I… my back?”

Again, he doesn’t think. Trusting that she can go without his hand just for a moment, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her towards him into his lap with her knees either side of his hips. He shuffles so his back is against the coffee table and his legs are against the sofa, a more relaxed position so he can hold her better. She offers no resistance when he presses her against his chest, his hand un-demandingly firm on the small of her back while his body heats the rest of her.

She sags against him, her forehead planted on his shoulder while she curls her hands into his shirt, pulling so much that she’ll probably stretch the fabric.

“Comfortable?” Eris asks practically into the shell of her ear. All she does is hum confirmation, so he says, “Okay,” and goes back to waiting with her.

He stays very, very still. Torn between this horrid need to soothe her and all the things he has been taught to think, Eris knows he needs to remind himself why he can never, ever do this again. Knows he needs to get it all out. So, instead of letting himself rest against her too, instead of allowing himself this moment where it is just him and Cleo in intimate selflessness, something within him snaps; he makes himself think the kind of vile thoughts which make his father proud.

Cleo’s so weak that it occurs to him he can do anything to her. The most stubborn female he’s ever met trusts him so much that he can move her however he likes, touch her wherever he wants and she wouldn’t be able to push him away. Might not even want to. He wonders if she is so desperate to be touched that she’d just take whatever he gives her, whine and beg him to keep going like a bitch.

It would be so easy. She’s already on top of him, already pressing her chest against him. He can tell, she’s not wearing a bra, and even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. She can’t stop him, can’t stop his hand from dipping below her waistband just to see how she would react, if she would object.

He can take and take and take. He already does. He drains the energy from her when she heals him. She makes herself so vulnerable in front of him that he can remind her why she should never, ever allow someone like him access to her like this. If he wanted to take his pleasure from her, use her in the way she unwittingly offers herself to him, he could. He could prove why she shouldn’t trust him at all like everyone expects him to.

But the thought disgusts him so thoroughly that he feels unclean just for considering the possibility.

A choked sob bubbles up from her throat and she fists the fabric of his shirt to the point where she’s pulling it off his shoulder. He can feel her spiking panic as the pain starts again. Eris just tightens his grip, shushes her gently and says, “You’re doing so well. It’ll pass soon. Breathe.” The tenderness in his voice surprises him, but it comes naturally.

The idea of her attempting to go through this alone makes him so upset that he forces himself to think of almost anything else, and his mind takes him back to the worst place it can.

Eris can ruin Cleo’s life if he feels like it. He knows so much about her: he can use her brother against her; blackmail the both of them for information; can turn them against each other. He can paint her as a spy and get her fired. He can plant evidence which will have Thesan arrest her. He can let it slip that he knows her and let rumours run wild. Perhaps even her friends will think she’s a whore for letting him into her house in the middle of the night. No one would be able to dispute him. It’s his word against hers, and he has the prestige to discredit her.

It terrifies him that she has given him such power over her and it’s worse that he can formulate a plan for exactly how he would do it. Step-by-step, he can see it unfolding right before his eyes. He wonders if she has ever thought the same, if she has contemplated using what little he has told her against him, but he knows that she hasn’t. That isn’t the kind of intelligence she has. The Autumn Court would drown her. The Autumn Court will drown her.

Despite himself, even as he recoils inside, Eris pulls her impossibly closer and rests his chin atop her head. Instinct once again grips him and he wants to press a kiss against her hair. He wants to inhale her scent and have it cling to his clothes.

At the same time, he absolutely, unwaveringly wants to get as far away from her as possible. He wants to hurt her and leave her and then come crawling back when he needs help. He wants her to view him just as pathetic as he would feel doing that, and he wants her to help him anyway, for her to prove to him that she needs him just as much as he needs her. Eris wants Cleo to struggle with it like he burns when he allows himself to think of her.

Desires like these are the ones he ignores.

For the better part of an hour—an hour he doesn’t have but gives willingly—they’re locked together. When he whispers soft words to her, she relaxes and lets the pain wash over her, just moves through it like water, and slowly, slowly, it subsides. She doesn’t tell him but he can see just by how she rests against him that she wants to sleep, that the sheer effort of breathing and dealing with it has stolen what little energy she had left.

Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter to him; he’s making the decision for her. He waits for five minutes, listening for a hitch in her breath or for her to tense, but she doesn’t. Cleo’s eyes are closed and she’s halfway to sleep already.

Wordlessly, he hikes her up and stands. She just clings to him and mumbles something unintelligible. Dart follows him as he rounds the coffee table and carefully carries her up the stairs. There are three doors leading from the landing and he guesses which one is for her bedroom first-time.

Usually, Eris would take in every detail, note which books are on the shelves and what fabric the bed sheets are made from, but he has only one concern, and that’s making sure Cleo is asleep before he leaves. He lays her down gently atop the covers—pulling them over her feels far too familiar an act for him to do—and stops Dart jumping up on the bed and jostling her.

When her eyes flutter open, he almost sighs in frustration. “Sorry…” she breathes out. As she talks, a piece of her dark hair falls across her face.

He shakes his head, pushes her hair back behind her ear and says, “Just rest, Cleo.” She nods and closes her eyes again.

By her side, he waits until he sees her breathing even out, then he leaves her door ajar behind him so Dart can get back out. He makes sure Dart has food and water before he winnows back to Autumn.

In his private quarters, he sits and counts.

One.

Two.

Three… all the way to ten.

Then he hauls himself back up, strides to the kennels and sneers at any and every guard who has the audacity to look at him. He takes all twelve of his smokehounds out, heads to a place far enough away from the Forest House, and he has them kill something for him.

a/n: somewhat of a little character study into Eris? not too sure how to feel about it at the moment, but here it is

taglist for the series (let me know if you wanna be added!): @rcarbo1 @corvusmorte

#eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris x oc #eris x reader #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra angst #eris x you #oh my god so much angst #eris acotar

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rafeovermorals · 2 days ago

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CRUSH - RAFE CAMERON PT. 2

he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds it makes me so, uh, and i can’t get enough of it

pt. 1

content: inspired on the song crush by ethel cain. mechanic!rafe au. reader isn’t from obx but she would be considered more kook. includes smut, fingering, oral (m recieving), p in v, creampie, mean!rafe, degrading, age gap (reader is eighteen), MINORS DNI!!!!!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this is the last part to this mini series (at least for now)! but next i want to work on a dbf!rafe series or a vampire!rafe series. if anyone is interested in either one of those stayed tuned xo

“come by the shop tomorrow, it’s time for you to pay up.”

the call ended with a click. no goodbye, no time to meet. rafe didn’t bother to ask you, no, he told you.

he didn’t feel like he had to, he knew you would show up. you were the type to listen to your elders.

you laid in bed with disbelief, fingers still coated in your slick post orgasm. it didn’t take you long to drift off thinking about him— the raspiness in his voice, his dirty words repeating back in your head,

“do you normally get off on strangers talkin’ to you like this, hm? lettin’ them cum to your sweet lil’ voice over the phone?”

you stirred in your sleep as you dreamt of him. rafe was rough around the edges with eyes of a predator— the type that should tell you to run— yet you wanted more.

maybe that’s why he picked you. the perfect prey, too sweet and dumb for her own good.

rafe was nothing like the boys back home. your last boyfriend was a gentleman, clean cut and charming, but he was probably just as clueless as you. he wouldn’t know the last thing about changing out a tire, and certainly didn’t know how to please you the way rafe just had.

just from your short encounters with him, you could tell he had experience well beyond your years. he came from a different world, one that consisted of labor intensive, twelve hour work days— while you had just finished high school, barely ever lifting a finger of your own.

you were restless until the sun came up.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thankfully, today your alarm did wake you up, and you had plenty of time to get ready.

you wore your favorite yellow babydoll dress for the occasion, the one with dainty frills at the skirt that paired perfectly with your brown cowgirl boots. you had matching bows in your hair, clipped at the end of two braided pieces in the front while the rest of draped past your shoulders.

you wanted to look extra pretty for rafe since he caught you so off guard the day before, though you hoped it didn’t look too obvious

butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you went up to the rusted doors of his shop, business card folded in hand.

‘Cameron’s Auto and Body Repair’ was spelt on the glass in aged, faded lettering surrounded by dilapidated brick. you began to wonder how long he’d been there for considering the buildings clear wear and tear, which then led you to question— how old was he?

you hadn’t thought to ask for his age, or really anything else beyond what was on the business card. guess you weren’t too worried about that when he was helping you cum last night.

you walked in, a bell ringing as you did so. even with multiple cars in the lot, the shop itself was empty of customers. there was one person propped up against the checkout register, scrolling on his phone until you spoke, “excuse me?”

“are y’ pickin’ up or droppin’ o— oh.“

his eyes tore away from the screen, bored expression quickly leaving his face as his gaze landed on you. he was suddenly interested, straightening his back and pushing his device off to the side. “sorry about that, how can i help you?”

you let out a giggle at his silliness, standing across from him behind the counter. you would assume he’s close in age with you based on his appearance— youthful face and golden locks peaking from his hat. you saw he had a name tag printed to his coveralls, jj.

“hi, i’m just here to make a payment, actually.”

he stared at you for a bit, eyebrows knitted and chin rested his hand. “and you’re sure you’ve been here before? i would’ve remembered a cute face like yours.”

a blush crept to your cheeks, shaking your head. “no, but i did have some work done yesterday.”

he fumbled through the visitor log, briefly scanning the pages of signatures. “hmm, and what’s your name?”

you weren’t sure if he was asking to actually check or just wanted to know for himself— probably the latter. “i don’t think it’ll be there but it’s-“

you stopped at the sound of a loud slam, finding the source to be rafe standing on the other side of the room. your breath hitched, seeing his eyes bore into you. he was not amused, you could tell.

“flirtin’ with our customers again, maybank?”

jj looked like he was caught red handed, swallowing in his throat. “umm, no, she uh— said she had an invoice and needed to pay. that’s all.” he responded nervously, looking at you with a plea to back his word.

“yes, i wasn’t sure where to go.. i just got here.”

jj flickered between the two of you as the tension was rising in the air. sure, his boss was a jackass, but he could tell he was missing something.

rafe hummed, gesturing his head to the door behind him with arms crossed over his chest. “you can come with me. and jj, go to fuckin’ lunch.”

you gave the younger boy a small smile. you could tell he wanted to speak up— maybe stop god knows whatever was about to happen— but he held his tongue. rafe didn’t take back talk very well, something you would learn soon.

you followed in rafe’s direction where he led you past the bay and into his office. it was a tiny space, smelled of oil and gasoline with just enough room for a few file cabinets. it also had a desk, scattered with various papers and a few tools that weren’t put away.

“sit.” he referred to the worn chair in front of him, leaning on the edge of his wooden desk.

he was wearing a tank top, what used to be white but was now brown from being covered in dirt. it had ripped at the seams from its overuse, making it more like a scrap of fabric. dusted blue jeans hung low on his hips with a belt, his grease stained arms flexing at his side as he looked down at you.

you felt yourself getting warm just by looking at him.

“i brought your payment, sir.”

he smirked at your words, raising a brow as he waited and watched you.

you reached into the cup of your bra, feeling around until you pulled out a wad of cash that you had stuck there earlier. you unrolled the paper bills, handing it over to him.

he counted it out with a low chuckle. “sixty dollars. you think that’s how much i’m worth, sweetheart?” he teased.

you turned red, fiddling with your bracelet from anxious habit. “i wasn’t sure how much something like that costed, ‘s all.”

“i already told y’that i don’t want your money.” he stood up, setting the cash aside. “i have other ways that i would prefer you to pay me back.”

he towered over you, filling in the compressed space. you were eye level with his crotch, the print of his cock made itself known to you through his pants. you could smell him with his proximity— a blend of sweat and cigarettes and musk that made your head spin.

“get on your knees, darlin’.” he told you with that thick, honey southern drawl.

for a moment he took you by surprise, but you didn’t hesitate to slide off the chair and onto the tile floor in front of his feet. you shouldn’t want this. you should want a nice boy, someone your father would approve of, or at the very least take you on a date before he fucked you. yet here you were, cock desperate and mouth agape— practically begging for it.

he started to take off his gloves. “thought you would’ve texted me when you were on the way, i could’ve washed up f’you.”

“i meant to.. i must’ve forgot.”

“it’s okay, sweetheart.” his voice was smooth, but condescending. he began to work his belt free, slow and deliberate as he held eye contact with you. “now you’re just gonna have to suck me clean.”

he tugs his jeans down with his boxers, cock springing out with authority. you nearly whimper at the sight, taken aback.

he was more than just big— he was longer and thicker than you imagined— the weight heavy in your hand has you held it. his tip was flushed, a needy pink that was inviting you in.

your lips brushed the head, giving him a kiss at its slit. he let out a restrained grunt, bringing a hand to your head and grasping at the scalp. “not in the mood for teasing, baby.”

your tongue grazed his shaft, licking up from the base until he directed himself into your mouth. he tasted like a hard days work, sweat and salty precum whelming your tastebuds.

you pushed deeper for more, bracing your free hand on his thigh for support. he guides you, inch by inch into until he hit the back of your throat. you choke, pulling away.

“fuck,” you gasp out, jerking your wrist on his length while you catch your breath. he weaved his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug.

you take him in again, bobbing at a steady pace— not too far or fast— but just right.

he held his other hand on the corner of a cabinet, keeping his balance while you swirl your tongue around the tip.

“you like the taste of dirty cock in your mouth, sweetheart? i’m sure y’daddy’s real proud of you, huh?”

you moaned in response, making him buck his hips further. you could feel his legs trembling as he fucked your mouth, signaling that he was close. you relaxed your throat, ready to take his load.

but he stopped, releasing his hold on you and taking you off.

his once blue eyes were black, dark with lust and something almost evil.

“not finished with you yet, sweetheart. think i deserve a little more after that stunt you pulled out there.”

“w-what- what do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft and uneasy. you could hardly speak, let alone think.

he tisked, snatching you by the arm to get you on your feet before bending you over and pressing you down to the desk. he cleared it off with one smooth motion, stacks of paper and metal clanks hitting the floor.

“wanna act stupid now? throwin’ yourself at my employee’s, that’s what.” he growled, hands riding up your dress and grabbing at your ass. you stifled a whine as he kneaded the flesh, thumbs digging into your skin.

heat radiated off of both of you, his chest twice your size folded against your back, your cheek smushed to the wood.

“it wasn’t- ah- like that.” you breathe out as his fingers find your panties, swiping over your clothed clit.

“so what was it like then? hmm?” he nudged his knee between your thighs, parting your legs for better access. he rubbed tedious circles, your arousal soaking through the cotton.

“i came here for you.. just you.” you answered in a moan.

“just me.” he agreed, tugging off your panties and tucking them into his pocket. he slipped his middle finger past your folds, sinking into your cunt.

“shouldn’t even be stretchin’ you out first, think you did enough of that when i called you.”

he curled the digit, hooking and flicking it inside you in a spot that makes your knees buckle underneath him. you bite down on a lip to silence yourself.

rafe was impatient. he’d already had a bad day— behind on some repair that should’ve been finished weeks ago— then his lazy ass staff had the audacity to make a move on you. he needed you now.

maybe if he was in a better mood he would’ve taken care of you first, given you an orgasm or two with his mouth— but he didn’t think you deserved that— not today at least.

his cock wedged into your entrance, no mercy with a full thrust. you winced, crying out as he rocked into you, the mix of your spit and slick still not enough to relieve the pain of his girth. you were so tight, your walls gripping his cock as he fucked himself into you.

“such a good girl, takin’ me so well.”

the burn eventually wore off, his thrusts that started off slow began to speed up. you were still squeezing around him, splitting you open farther than you had been before.

your search along the desk for something to grab, getting him to hold both your wrists behind your back. you balled your hands into a fist, your whimpers getting louder as he picked up the pressure. harder, controlled.

he was slamming into you now, the slaps of his thighs meeting yours while he grunted into your ear. “look so fuckin’ pretty today, darlin’, makes me wanna put my babies in you.”

you couldn’t reply, he knew it too. you just had to lay there and let him use you— for pay back.

this was exactly what he wanted. your pussy was so wet and warm, practically untouched. it was as if you were created for him.

you clenched around his cock, like an animal in heat you found yourself matching his movements, your body accepting its purpose.

you were cock drunk, words inaudible as the legs of the desk shifted with each forceful thrust. he was pounding into you hungrily, both of your faces screwing up in pleasure.

he knew he grazed that sweet spot in your walls when you fluttered around his length, stickiness pooling at the base of his cock.

“wanna watch you cum on my cock.” he grumbles, releasing your wrists as he pulls away, flipping you over to be face to face.

he picked up where he left off, plunging into you as he met your hips with sloppy, frantic thrusts. you were so weak by that point he had to hold your legs up, toes curling when his tip connected with your cervix.

“gonna cum- please, rafe- fuck, right there.” you were a babbling mess, mewling like a kitten.

he brought one hand to your mouth. stuffing his fingers in to shush you like a pacifier. his other hand went to your swollen clit, rubbing the sensitive bud to help get to your climax.

he coaxed you through it. “cmon, just like that. i know you’re almost there, sweetheart.”

he rammed into you a few more times, watching his bulge outline your little tummy as you took him.

your core eventually snaps, releasing the flood as you squirm and shake— too much to bare.

“too much! too much!”

“nuh uh. be a big girl, and take it.”

he started to stutter, eventually spilling his load inside of you. your cunt pulsated as you felt him fill you up, like it was trying to collect all of his seed.

rafe moved aside, zipping up his jeans while you flattened your dress. he gave you a kiss on the cheek, like one you would give to a child, patting it afterwards in approval.

“now we’re even.”

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron imagine

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lanaroff · 1 day ago

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House of Broken Hearts- Chapter 2

Paring: Wanda Maximoff and Reader

Warnings: Angst Prologue. Chapter 1.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clink of glass against the counter as you poured yourself another drink. The sharp burn of alcohol helped numb the ache in your chest, though it was only temporary. You stared at the glass, the amber liquid swirling in lazy circles, your mind a thousand miles away. The lights in the compound had dimmed, and the world outside seemed to fall away with the evening, leaving you in a kind of suspended grief.

It was supposed to be temporary.

You kept repeating it to yourself, over and over, like a mantra. The mission had been long, and you'd been told it would take time. Five years wasn't supposed to be forever. But it was. And in those five years, Wanda had moved on. She was about to marry Vision.

You slammed the glass down harder than you meant to, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought you had a future with her. You thought you could come back and pick up where you left off. But now it was just this—her, standing next to Vision, so sure of her decision, while you were left in the dust.

The memories were still there, haunting. The way Wanda's laughter had filled every corner of your world. The feel of her hand in yours as you walked through the streets together, the warmth of her embrace that made everything else feel insignificant. You remembered how she would look at you, like you were her entire world.

But that was gone now.

As you swallowed the bitter taste of your drink, you let your mind wander back to the past, to the soft brush of her lips against yours, the way her touch had sent warmth coursing through your veins. How everything felt like it had been meant to be—until it wasn’t.

You could hear the faint echo of laughter in your mind, a ghost of a time when things had been simple, when love hadn’t been this complicated, this painful.

But now she was about to marry someone else. Vision. The thought felt like a punch to the gut, over and over again.

Your fists clenched as the anger bubbled up. How could she move on so easily? Was everything you had, everything you shared, just... erased? How could she be so sure, so certain about him? About this future that was supposed to be yours? It was like a dam breaking inside you, the fury rising and threatening to overtake everything else.

"How could you do this, Wanda?" you muttered to the empty kitchen. "How could you just forget me?"

You took another drink, the burn only slightly dulled by the alcohol. Your head was spinning, your heart aching, and all you wanted was answers—answers you weren’t sure you’d ever get.

But as you poured yourself another glass, the feeling of being watched crawled over you.

You froze.

In the doorway stood Wanda, her figure illuminated by the dim hallway light, her expression unreadable as she watched you, her eyes intense and full of something you couldn’t place. It took you a moment to register that she was standing there, and when you finally looked at her, your breath caught in your throat. The way she was looking at you—it wasn’t with warmth or comfort. It was something different. Something uncertain.

She didn’t speak at first, but the silence between you was charged, thick with unspoken words. You could feel the weight of everything—every unasked question, every lingering glance, every moment lost to time. It was all pressing on you, and it hurt more than you were ready to admit.

Finally, Wanda broke the silence. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice quiet but sharp, almost accusing.

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. The words stuck in your throat, choked by the anger and sadness you’d been bottling up ever since you saw her with Vision.

It stung.

"I came back because I was supposed to," you said, the words bitter on your tongue. You turned away from her, gripping the counter tightly. "I came back because I thought you’d be here. Thought we would be here."

Wanda stepped closer, her gaze never leaving you, her brows furrowing in confusion. "And now you’re here," she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. "But why? Why now? After all this time?"

"Because I had no choice!" you snapped, spinning to face her. "I didn’t leave because I wanted to, Wanda. I didn’t leave you because I chose to. I was gone because I was forced to be. You don’t think I wanted to be with you? To come back to you? To come home?"

Wanda winced, stepping back, as though your words had physically struck her. "You don’t understand," she said, her voice strained like she was barely holding it together. "I thought you were dead. I thought you were never coming back. I couldn’t—" She cut herself off, swallowing the rest of her words.

"You couldn’t what?" You took a step forward, the anger rising in your chest again. "You couldn’t wait for me, Wanda? You couldn’t wait for the one person who said they’d come back for you?"

The words felt harsh as they left your mouth, and you instantly regretted them. But you couldn’t stop. The grief and anger were overwhelming.

"I never moved on," Wanda whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "I couldn’t. I—I tried, but every day, all I thought about was you. You were the one I couldn’t forget. But I didn’t know if you were still out there, Y/N. I didn’t know if you were alive."

You stared at her, your breath coming in sharp gasps. "And then what? You just... let go? You just forgot? Because I was gone?"

"I didn’t forget," Wanda whispered, her voice breaking. "But I couldn’t live in the past. I had to move forward. I had to survive. And I found comfort in Vision. I—I’m sorry, but that’s the truth."

You felt your heart shatter again, the pieces scattering across the floor. "Comfort?" You laughed bitterly, wiping at your eyes as tears you didn’t realize were there started to fall. "That’s what I was to you? A memory you could forget when things got too hard?"

Wanda flinched, her face contorting with guilt. "It wasn’t like that," she said quietly. "But you don’t understand. I needed to move on. I needed to find a way to keep going. And... and I thought you were gone forever. I thought you left me."

Your chest tightened, the hurt squeezing the air from your lungs. "I didn’t leave you, Wanda. I didn’t. I tried. I tried to come back."

The room was heavy with your words, the silence thick with all the things that had been left unsaid for too long.

Wanda’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought she might say something—anything—to make it better. But instead, she just looked at you, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

"I know," she said quietly. "I know you didn’t leave me on purpose."

"Yet, you moved on. From all the people you chose him. I guess I was too fucked up for you." The anger inside your chest started to rise, and you couldn't control the words that came from your mouth.

"Fuck you Y/N! You keep telling yourself you had no choice, but what about me?!"She said the words burning inside of her, you swear that you had never seen her like that. "What about me Y/N!? You said two goddamn weeks and you were gone for 5 whole years. Not a single call or letter, NOTHING! And what was I supposed to do? You did this to us, not me, it was all you."

You opened your mouth to say something more, but the words felt like they were too much. You were too broken, too hurt. And Wanda... Wanda was just as lost as you were.

The gap between you had only grown wider, and no amount of words would ever be able to close it.

"You don't get to judge me for trying to fix what you broke."

As you stared at each other, the reality of it all settled in—you were both so broken, so far from the people you had once been, that you weren’t sure if there was any way back. Not now. Not after everything.

"You are right. My bad."

As you turned away, the weight of everything pressed down on you with a suffocating force. Your mind screamed at you, but your body refused to move any faster as if every step you took was a betrayal. The words you had just spoken—*“You’re right. My bad”—*they felt hollow, empty like the last fragile thread of hope had snapped in an instant.

You had said them, trying to end the conversation, trying to walk away from the unbearable weight of it all. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t Wanda who had failed. It wasn’t her who had left everything to drift and rot while she fought to survive. It was you. You had been the one to vanish. You had been the one who disappeared without a word, without a promise that you could keep.

And now, standing in the hall, each step away from her felt like an assault on your very soul. You couldn't even look her in the eye anymore. How could you? How could you look at the woman you loved, the woman who had waited, and not blame yourself for everything?

You had failed her. You had failed her in the worst possible way. Not because you chose the mission over her—no, that would have been too simple. You had failed her because you never gave her the choice. You never allowed her to wait. You didn’t come back when you promised you would. You let her wonder, let her mourn, let her move on because you were too damn stubborn to admit that time had passed, that things changed.

Everything had changed, and you hadn’t been there to help her hold on to the parts of herself that had made her whole. You weren’t there for her when she needed you most. You couldn’t even give her the decency of saying goodbye before you disappeared into the abyss.

And now, five years later, you were standing in the ruins of everything you had once believed was a future. And she—she was standing with someone else, someone who had been there for her when you couldn't be. You had no right to be angry, no right to demand anything. She had every right to move on. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault that she had a life now, a life that didn’t include you.

You were broken. So utterly, completely shattered. Your heart was a crumpled, empty thing inside your chest, torn apart by guilt and regret. You didn’t know who you were anymore, not without her. And now you had to watch her be with someone else—someone who wasn’t you. It hurt more than anything else could.

The tears were hot and fierce now, and you didn’t try to stop them as they slid down your face. What right did you have to feel this way? You didn’t deserve her. You didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her, not after what you’d done.

Every step you took away from her felt like a thousand miles. Your heart ached with every movement, and the thought of turning back—to face her again—felt impossible. The pain was so much. So crushing.

"You are right," you whispered to yourself, the words tasting like ash on your tongue. My bad. You had said it in the heat of the moment, a desperate plea for the argument to end, for the situation to just stop hurting for a second. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t just your bad. It was so much worse than that.

You had taken five years of her life and thrown it all away. You had broken both of your hearts without even realizing it. And now, you were left alone in the wake of your destruction.

You reached the door to your room, but your legs were weak. It felt like the floor was moving beneath you, and you had no idea how to stay upright. It was like you were drowning in the weight of everything—everything you had lost, everything you had failed to keep.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands, and it felt like the world had fallen apart. She was gone. She had moved on. And it was your fault.

Everything was your fault.

And for the first time in five years, you didn’t know if you’d ever find your way back to your old self.

Tag list: @seventeen-x @womenarehotsstuff

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst #y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wlw #y/n y/l/n

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dior-luxury · 3 hours ago

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PLEASE DO THE OTHER DORMS FOR YOUR NEW POST PLEASEEEE IM BEGGING IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES

Bullied & Teased

PT.1 .

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] savanaclaw . octavinelle .

- [𝐩:𝐬] mentions of bulling ofc

Note: Here you guys go, part 2!!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had been lounging under a tree, eyes half-closed in that trademark lazy way he had, when the sound of muffled voices broke through the calm afternoon. Something in the tone struck him as off, pulling him from his sloth-like rest. He glanced over toward the courtyard and spotted a few of his dormmates surrounding you, making cruel remarks.

His sharp golden eyes narrowed. The casualness vanished from his posture in an instant. Leona didn’t need to think twice. His pride burned at the sight of anyone daring to make you feel small.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” Leona’s voice was deep, laced with an authority that demanded attention.

The bullies froze. They knew that tone. That was the voice of someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense, especially from those in his territory.

“Don’t you know better than to mess with her?” Leona’s growl was low and menacing. He stood up, taking a few deliberate steps toward them, his presence alone more than enough to make them shrink back.

Without waiting for their response, Leona flicked his tail, a signature move that signaled his growing frustration. “I’ll make this simple for you. If I ever catch you harassing her again, you’ll regret it. Now get out of my sight.”

The students scattered, nervously avoiding his gaze as they made their way off. Leona approached you, his usual indifference replaced by something softer but no less intense. He placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his voice quieter but still tinged with frustration. “You okay? Don’t let those idiots get to you.”

Jack Howl

Jack was just heading back from a training session, his body still warm from the exertion, when he heard the hushed whispers and laughter echoing through the hallway. His keen senses picked up on the situation immediately—you were being harassed by a couple of members from his own dorm.

His eyes narrowed instinctively, and the weight of his protective instincts kicked in without hesitation. The next thing he knew, he was marching towards the group, his jaw clenched, his wolf-like instincts taking charge.

“What’s going on here?” Jack’s voice was stern, and his posture was rigid. The bullies froze as they turned to face him. “You’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.”

The students stammered, not expecting the normally calm and composed Jack to confront them like this. His muscles tensed, and his eyes were sharp, a wolf’s protective gaze that left no room for doubt. Jack didn’t take threats lightly, especially when it came to the people he cared about.

“Listen up,” Jack said, his tone cold and unwavering. “If I hear any of you say another word to her, I’ll personally make sure you regret it. Got it?”

The bullies, now visibly intimidated, hurried off without a second glance. Jack turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You alright? Don’t worry, they won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His protective nature was as solid as ever, his loyalty never in question. He offered you a warm, reassuring smile, making sure you knew you were safe.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie had been watching the scene unfold from a distance, his usual mischievous grin replaced with a rare frown. He’d been hanging around, as he often did, waiting for a chance to lend a hand in some kind of scheme or get out of work. But when he saw you surrounded by a few of his own dormmates, teasing and making you uncomfortable, he felt his blood boil.

“Hey, hey, what’s all this?” Ruggie asked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked over nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, but there was an edge to his voice that made the bullies hesitate.

“You all know better than to mess with my girl,” he continued, his voice sharp and his usual playful tone gone. Ruggie wasn’t one to cause trouble, but when it came to the people he cared about, that was a different story entirely.

The bullies exchanged uncertain glances, trying to figure out how to talk their way out of this. Ruggie didn’t give them the chance. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing into a sharp, calculating gaze.

“I don’t care if you’re from my dorm or not,” he said with a sly grin. “You ever make her feel like that again, and I’ll make sure it’s not just a few words you have to deal with. I know a lot of ways to make things uncomfortable for people, and I’ve got time.”

The bullies, now visibly nervous, quickly backed off. Ruggie didn’t move, watching them until they were out of sight. He turned back to you with a smirk, though his eyes were soft.

“You okay, princess?” he asked, his usual charm back in place. “Don’t let those jerks get under your skin. They don’t know who they're messing with when it comes to me.”

He gave you a playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood, but there was a genuine concern in his eyes. He might act like a troublemaker, but when it came to protecting the people he cared about, there was no one more fiercely loyal than Ruggie.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had been going over business plans in his office when the sound of raised voices reached his ears. Frowning, he adjusted his glasses and stood, curiosity piqued. When he made his way down the hall, he froze at the sight of a few of his dormmates laughing cruelly at you, their words laced with mockery.

Azul's expression darkened, his normally composed and charming demeanor shifting to something far colder. His blue eyes narrowed as he made his way toward the scene, his voice smooth but carrying a dangerous edge.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Azul’s voice was sweet, but there was no mistaking the venom in it. “Is this really how you behave in my dorm?”

The bullies stammered, clearly uncomfortable under Azul's cold gaze. He leaned in, his sharp smile growing as he continued. “You seem to have forgotten your place. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how things work around here.” His voice dropped lower, more threatening now. “You’ve disrespected someone I care about. And that, my dear students, will not go unpunished.”

The bullies took a few steps back, clearly intimidated by the power Azul wielded, both in charm and authority. With a final, scornful glance, they hurried off.

Azul turned to you, his expression softening instantly, though his usual polite smile never quite reached his eyes. “Are you alright, my dear? I do apologize for those imbeciles. Rest assured, I’ll be taking care of them.” His voice was still warm, but there was a glint in his eyes—a promise of retribution, one that made it clear no one would dare cross you again under his watch.

Jade Leech

Jade had been nearby, observing with his usual calm detachment, when he noticed a group of his dormmates bothering you. His eyes glinted, and his ever-present smile slowly turned into something more sinister. Jade wasn’t the type to rush into confrontation, but when it came to protecting someone he cared about, he knew exactly how to handle things with precision.

He approached the group with deliberate slowness, his presence unnerving in its calmness. “My, my... what’s all this commotion about?” His voice was smooth, almost playful, but there was an underlying chill to it.

The bullies looked over at him, hesitating as they noticed the dangerous edge to his demeanor. Jade’s eyes twinkled, his smile widening ever so slightly as he studied them. “I’d recommend you leave now, before this becomes more... unpleasant.”

The group of students shifted nervously, unsure of how to react to Jade’s composed threat. They knew all too well that his reputation for handling things with a calm, calculating approach was nothing to be underestimated.

“You wouldn’t want to make things worse for yourself, now would you?” Jade continued, his voice laced with a subtle threat. “I’d suggest you apologize to her and then go. Quickly.”

The bullies, now visibly shaken, murmured apologies and hurried off, not wanting to risk facing Jade’s wrath. Jade turned to you, his smile returning to its usual charming self. “Are you unharmed, darling? I must admit, I find it rather distasteful when people forget their manners. Rest assured, I’ll ensure they don’t bother you again.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd had been slinking around the dorm, looking for something—anything—to spice up his day. So when he saw a group of his dormmates picking on you, he couldn’t help but grin, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. This was exactly the kind of entertainment he’d been waiting for.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on here, huh?” Floyd's voice was upbeat, but the undertone of menace in his words was clear as he sauntered over, his long limbs stretching out in exaggerated, predatory motions.

The bullies froze, taken aback by Floyd’s sudden appearance. His smile was wide, but it didn’t reach his eyes—it was all teeth and malice. “What’s the matter, did you think you could have some fun at her expense? Bad idea, real bad idea.”

Floyd’s grin widened, and he took a step closer to the bullies, his playful energy suddenly turning dark. “I could have a lot of fun with this, but I think I’d rather have a little chat with you about respect. How about it?”

The students looked nervously between each other, unsure whether to stand their ground or back off. But Floyd was already moving too fast for them to react, stepping closer and putting a hand on one of their shoulders. “If I ever catch you messing with my girl again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

The bullies quickly muttered apologies, stumbling away in a panic. Floyd watched them go, chuckling lightly to himself, before turning to you with his usual mischievous grin.

“You okay, sweetie?” Floyd asked, his tone much softer now, though there was still a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “You looked a little bored with them, so I had to step in. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone pick on you. Not while I’m around.”

His wild grin returned as he ruffled your hair. “Let me know if you ever want me to spice things up again. I’m always ready for a little fun!”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #disney twisted wonderland #x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst fanfic #twst headcanons #leona kingscholar x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader

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noorpersona · 2 days ago

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Favourite Positions: Aone

It always starts slow with Aone.

Not because he’s hesitant—no, he knows what he wants—but because he treats you like you’re something he’s afraid to break. Like you’re porcelain in his calloused hands, delicate and precious. Every movement he makes is calculated, controlled, like he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his touch.

He looms over you, body heavy and warm, eyes so intensely focused it makes you squirm beneath him. But he doesn’t move until you nod, until you reach up and brush your fingertips along his jaw, silent permission passed between you.

Then he breathes.

Like he’s been holding it in this whole time.

His hands slide under your thighs to pull you closer, gentle but firm, fitting your hips against his like puzzle pieces that only ever made sense when pressed together. And the second he’s sheathed inside you, it’s like the entire world stills.

“You okay?” It’s the first word he’s spoken since his mouth met yours.

His voice is rougher than usual—breathless, already wrecked—and the weight of his body above you is grounding. Comforting. You nod, and he leans down to kiss your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to calm himself down.

You can feel how tense he is. Not from discomfort, but from restraint. He could take you fast. He could chase his own release and be done in minutes. But he never does. He moves slow. Deep. His strokes drag like honey, hips rolling into yours with deliberate pressure, drawing out your pleasure with an intensity that’s overwhelming in the best way.

And all the while, he never stops looking at you.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it.

It’s not like him to speak, but tonight there’s a flush high on his cheeks, a fire behind his eyes that he can’t hold back. His forehead presses to yours. His nose brushes along your cheek. His fingers find your hand and lace between them, anchoring you to him as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

“Don’t look away,” he says softly, thumb stroking over your wrist.

Like he wants to memorize the way your face twists when you moan, the way your eyes flutter when he hits that spot just right. And when your breath hitches and your legs tremble around his waist, he doesn’t pick up the pace—he slows down. Drags it out. Holds you tighter, kisses you deeper.

It’s not just sex with Aone.

It’s connection. It’s adoration. It’s devotion.

And when you finally come undone, back arching, nails clawing at his shoulders, he doesn’t let you fall apart alone. He follows seconds after, burying his face in the crook of your neck like he needs to hide the sound of his own release.

The silence that follows is warm. Safe.

He doesn’t pull away.

Just rests his weight on you, arms locked around your waist, holding you close like he never wants to let go.

“You’re okay?”

The same question again, but this time it’s softer. Sleepier.

And when you nod, tangled up in his arms, you hear the smallest, faintest exhale.

Like he’s home.

#fanfic #writing #haikyuu #drabble #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu time skip #hq smut #hq aone #aone x reader #haikyuu aone #aone fluff #aone takanobu #haikyuu smut #request #reqs open #send reqs #favourite positions

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lilianne-tarot · 2 hours ago

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PICK A CARD: Your First Kiss With Your Future Spouse?

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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PILE I

Okay, GODDAMN. so FIRST OF ALL—this kiss is long overdue. You and your future spouse, you’ve been circling each other with this temptation, but something was holding things back. Evertime this tension builds, and SOMETHING happens that yall fail to achieve your goal each time. There’s already a deep, nurturing connection between you two—like, emotionally safe, comfortable, and there’s this unspoken understanding, and i think this would create problems to make things spicy😭(SO RELATABLE) . But. The 8 of Cups is right next to it, Babes. I just confirmed what I said. One of you was hesitating. Maybe you or your FS were lowkey scared of ruining something beautiful, or maybe one of you was running from your own feelings (cough avoidant tendencies cough). This wasn’t just a casual, “oh we should kiss” moment—no, this was some “if we cross this line, there’s no going back” energy. And YOU’LL SEE HOW MY CARDS CONFIRMS THIS IN THE READING AHEAD.

And that Makes this so much more intense. You both knew this kiss meant something. And I bet the tension before it happened? WHEW. Charged AF. Glances held too long, breathing a little heavier, both of you being hyperaware of every move the other person makes. It’s a hunger but mixed with caution. It’s “do we dare?” energy. AND THEN. YOU DARE.

I need you to understand: The Tower does NOT play when it shows up in romance readings. This is earth-shattering, paradigm-shifting, WHAT JUST HAPPENED type of energy. Your FS is not kissing you gently—no, this is “I can’t believe I waited this long” passion. The Tower tells me that this kiss absolutely destroys any walls either of you had up. If there was any denial of feelings before? Yeah, gone. This kiss is so powerful it probably leaves you both a little breathless, maybe even a little stunned. This kiss could feel a little fierce like almost eating each other up 😭😭(don’t ask me to explain more; it’s NOT 18+ reading😭)

I see that you have been WAITING for this moment, and you would feel like you manifested this moment. This is “oh, so THIS is what I was missing”. This is “I have been craving this without even realizing it”. If The Tower is the moment of impact the 9 of Cups is the afterglow. It’s that deep, deeply satisfied feeling, like your body and soul both just went, oh. we belong here. OH IT REALLY MATCHES THE LYRICS,” We're getting closer, Inches away, Lose composure, Favorite mistake, Friendship's over Won't be the same” (one of my fav songs😭) You know in movies when characters kiss and then they just stare at each other like “oh shit… we’re really doing this?”—THAT’S the energy I’m picking up yall have after this moment. But not in a bad way. It’s more like the other cards softens the energy so while The Tower makes this whole moment so intense and overwhelming, the emotional security you two already have makes the aftermath feel safe. It’s like… you both just unlocked something neither of you realized you were desperate for. Like, I’m telling you—this is not just a physical moment. This is an emotional realization. One (or both) of you might even be a little speechless, because this wasn’t just a casual kiss, it was a confirmation of everything you both were scared to fully admit before.

Bestie… if this were me, I would be losing my mind over this kind of kiss. Like, this is THE kiss. The one you think about at night, the one that ruins all other kisses for you, the one that marks a before & after in your love life. This is the moment that changes everything. And honestly? I’m so jealous. 😭💀

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PILE II

Whew, babe. I gotta be real with you, this isn’t some casual, “it just happened” kind of kiss. Nah, this is SUPER HEAVY. The Moon and The Tower together tells me The tension is unreal. I wouldn’t be surprised if this kiss happens after some kind of emotional confrontation or a deep heart-to-heart or even them confessing to you. Maybe y’all argued, or maybe one of you just couldn’t hold back anymore. You both have been feeling things but maybe not fully acknowledging them. And then BOOM, The Tower hits. Something triggers this moment where it’s like, “screw it, I can’t keep pretending” and suddenly, y’all are face to face, breathing heavy, staring at each other😭

The Six of Cups here makes me feel like this isn’t some random fling, you and this person have history. Either you’ve known each other for a long time, or there’s this familiarity, like you’re reuniting with someone you were meant to find. It could even be someone with whom you had some serious relationship but it didn’t work out at that moment. There’s also an underlying sweetness in the chaos. Even if there’s tension, there’s a deep level of care, nostalgia, and understanding between you two. But babyyyyy, the Five of Cups tells me that one (or both) of you has been holding onto past wounds. Fear of rejection, Fear of ruining the connection, Maybe you’ve convinced yourself this person doesn’t feel the same way. And yet, the closer you get to this moment, the more magnetic it becomes.

WHEW. Y’all. This kiss is not soft at first. I can’t even lie, it's Explosive. Desperate. Intense. Like, we’re talking "I have to kiss you or I might actually combust" energy. (they way my own writing makes me jealous is crazy😭) It’s that kind of kiss where neither of you are thinking anymore, it just happens, and the second it does, it’s like something inside you both shatters and clicks into place at the same time. Your person is Lowkey shaking afterwards. Cause it is mostly them getting wayyyyyy to impatient to kiis you. They were NOT prepared for how much this kiss would hit. At first, it’s all heat and passion but then—hold up. suddenly it’s like time slows down. It’s not just about the attraction anymore. There’s this overwhelming sense of “oh my god, I’ve waited for this” or even “why did we wait so long?” The tension was crazy, but now? It’s melting into something softer, deeper, raw.

Y’all pull away, but barely. And then the Confusion hits. The Moon energy is strong here, one (or both) of you is probably like “What does this mean??” even though, let’s be real, you both know exactly what it means. It’s giving “...do we talk about it, or do we just keep kissing?” There’s definitely a moment of vulnerability here. Maybe your person is scared you’ll regret it. Maybe YOU are scared they’ll regret it. But then, the Six of Cups saves the day—because despite all the fears, there’s also this undeniable sense of belonging. I feel like this moment is mos likely to take under the moonlight cauxze the moon’s energy is super strong here. At first, expect them to act weird or maybe dramatic af.

The passion? INSANE. But the emotions underneath? Even stronger.

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PILE III

Babes, the way this connection builds s l o w l y has me screaming. There’s a lot of hesitation in the beginning, and I feel like one of you is deep in “I need time to process my emotions” mode. That’s the vibe here. “I know how I feel, but I am too scared to admit” energy. 7 of Swords is telling me that one of you might be playing it way too cool, trying to downplay what’s very obviously real emotions.

Now, the Page of Pentacles here is interesting. It makes me feel like one of you (probably your future spouse) is the type to show love through small but intentional gestures but they are also a little immature when it comes to emotional vulnerability.

I CACKLED because the 7 of Swords + 4 of Swords combo is giving "Wait…what just happened??" vibes. This is not the type of kiss that immediately leads to cloud 9🙂. Nope. The second your lips touch, I feel like both of you internally freak out. Not in a bad way, but in a “holy sht” kinda way. I feel like the moment your lips touch, y’all would really lose control😭.

One of you might literally need to sit down afterward. Like, your future spouse might get so overwhelmed they need a moment to process their entire existence. Meanwhile, you’re there like, "HELLO??? We finally kissed after all this tension and you need a BREAK???” The 7 of Pentacles here makes me think that the kiss is good, but it also opens a floodgate of emotions. You know those moments where you don’t even realize how much you wanted something until you get it? That’s exactly what happens. This kiss was so pent-up that afterward, the both of you are just standing there like, "…so, what now?" OKAY I AM REALLY GETTING that before this kiss y’all might not even be in a relationship, like yall could be casual situationship before this moment😭✋🏻

After the kiss, One of you is LOOSING IT. they might be trying to decipher what this kiss means ( it means you’re obviously in love, but y’all are both stubborn). I wouldn’t be surprised if, instead of immediately talking about it, you both go into your separate corners and start replaying every millisecond of the kiss. Eventually, one of you will take a baby step toward clarification. It might be something small, like testing the waters to see if this is a thing. Expect an awkward, but low-key adorable, post-kiss conversation. HELP. 😭 The amount of emotional buffering that happens here is unreal. This person is not smooth, but their awkwardness is part of the charm. I mean a little awkwardness is SUPER attractive than cockiness. Imo.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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cavernsandcod · 2 days ago

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BELLADONNA - III

SERIES M.L | AO3 VERSION | PREVIOUS | NEXT CHAPTER

CONTENT WARNINGS: obsession. blood. injury. undertones of violence. medical inaccuracies/oversights, i'm sure. NONCON undressing & bathing. strong language. TBI johnny; a.k.a MWIII spoilers by default. not proofread or edited. (stalker!soap x reader)

WC: 3.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: N/A

Ghost arrives faster than he expects.

Headlights flood the cab, forcing Johnny to raise his head from the steering wheel. It’s been pounding the last hour, a thousand knives behind his eyes.

He gives the rearview mirror one last parting glance. She still hasn’t moved an inch.

He climbs out and shuts the driver's door, kicking up dust as he paces the dirt trail. As Simon’s figure emerged from his vehicle, he cast a shadow on his subordinate. The Jeep idles deep in the woods; the sight on its own is suspicious.

“The fuck is this about, mate?” His voice cut through the crisp air, gravel crunching.

The closer he gets, the more scrutiny his gaze has. Soap had let things bother him more than once. Used a sledgehammer on something that needed a chisel. This felt different.

He’s in his civvie clothes, he looks despondent, and frankly, beat to shit. “That yours?” He gestures to the splotches starting to soak into his gray tee.

“No.” The younger replies, massaging his sore jaw. “No’ all of it.” He spits maroon dots onto the dirt.

The fabric of his black K-95 shifts and his crow's feet wrinkle into what Johnny assumes is a facetious sneer.

“Look— I’ve got no bloody time for your problems, mutt. ‘S bad enough that you ping me all the way out ‘ere for whatever the fuck this is. I’m going.”

When his Lieutenant starts to retreat, Johnny feels his chest strangle with panic. He can’t do this alone.

“Wait, Simon. I need—fuck. I need ye to not judge me right now.” He trails off, placing his palm on the back window, gazing inside despite the tint. Seeing something Ghost couldn’t. He turns to face Simon. “I did something. Somethin’ bad.” His eyes well, voice shaking.

“Promise me ye won’t tell Price.” Ghost freezes, and ticks his head.

He’s seen hell and walked through it. Sent people down there, some more deserving than others. Still, there’s nothing rational running through Simon’s brain. Nothing decent or salvageable to warrant intense secrecy and the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Johnny,” his voice drops low, “what did you do?”

Ghost’s body went rigid as Soap pulled open the car door.

Something mangled—no, someone. A woman sprawled against the back seat, thighs, and arms caked in scratches and minor bruising. Blood matted her hair, dried dark against the upholstery.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Johnny.” He curses, taking a sharp step back.

He’d seen hundreds of bodies, sometimes ones with only bits and pieces left from one of Johnny’s bombs. That’s nothing compared to now.

“I can explain, Lt. She’s— I didnae mean to hurt her. She ran, and I….” He raked his fingers through his greasy mohawk, grey-blue eyes wild. “Help me get her inside, somewhere, and I’ll tell ye everything. I need tae ken she’ll be alright.”

“We can’t do this ‘ere.” His tone is cold and detached, despite the anxiety radiating off Johnny. “Get in the car.”

Ghost gets behind the wheel, refusing to look back at the woman. Johnny isn’t entirely in his seat before he reverses to leave the trail, white knuckles on the wheel.

“What about yours?” Johnny asks from the back, shrugging his jacket off to drape over her torso. Words are coming out of his mouth, but it’s obvious he is a man long gone. May as well be a brick wall while he gazes down at her.

“Worry about yourself.” His teeth grit, head shaking. “I’ll pick it up later. Can handle things like that without killing women in the woods.”

The thought makes his throat dry.

She’s not dead. He’d never forgive himself. As if on cue, Soap puts two fingers on her pulse, even though he’d done it a hundred times.

Still there, but thready.

The vehicle rocks when Simon comes to a complete stop at the exit of the footpath. “Where am I takin’ her?” He looks over his shoulder at Johnny; a deer in the headlights. “Choose quickly. Or I will.”

No doubt that Simon’s ideas involve cinder blocks and the ocean. The flat in the city is soundproofed. Was going to turn it into a home gym. No one would hear her.

No, he needs privacy, time, and plans— Then, the idea seeps in.

His throat bobs with a wet swallow before he can answer. “I have a place, ‘s not far from here, was my gran’s. It’s quiet.”

“Hidden enough?”

Johnny nods.

The drive was tense. Only the rattle of the engine and the occasional rustle when Johnny got restless in the backseat.

She shivers occasionally, fingers twitching. Somewhere, trapped in her horrified shell, she knows this is for the best. Knows not to be so afraid of him. As his blue eyes stay glued to her, he wonders what he’ll have to do to make her see it.

The blood flow stopped at some point, beginning to crust and dry around the crack in her head. Scuffs and pools of the crimson had begun to turn rusty, on his clothes and her skin. A right mess.

He turns his attention out the window. Rural, muddy land with a tight path leading to the cottage he finds familiar. His gran moved out here years ago, further from Glasglow when his grandad was still alive. They were sufficient on their own, raising chickens and planting enough crops for the pair.

She left it to him after he died. Insisted on her favorite grandson having something of hers to remember her by.

It’s a shame he hasn’t been there in years. Left the furniture and a few items of his to rot in there, dusty and forgotten because he can’t ever face his grief head-on.

Rain hits the metal roof the closer they get, hard and fast.

It’s a solid home, intact from the harsh seasons. The gate squeals as the wind blows it open and closed on a loop, in need of oil. Moonlight illuminates the wrap-around porch, the wood splintery and aged. Pearl white paint coats the exterior of all three floors. The fence and garden shed need some work, overgrown with thick brush.

When the car is parked, Simon climbs out with his hood up to keep the rain from his lashes. He opens the back door and begins shifting her without paying any mind to the man at fault. One arm snakes around her tailbone to drag her closer, the other on her arm socket.

Simon bends his knees to avoid hitting her head on the frame. Once she’s out of the car, he lifts her over his shoulder, a palm splayed on her bottom. “Ye don’t want me to—?”

“No.” He bites. “Open the trunk, grab my kit, and get us inside.”

Soap fumbles with the key for a beat too long, unusually clumsy. He only hears it click when Si sighs deeply behind him, acting as if carrying her weight burdened him.

The living room smells faintly of mildew and dust. It’s as nostalgic as it was years ago; couch, armchair, fireplace, crank radio, L-shaped staircase beside the kitchen’s threshold. White sheets cloak the furniture, looking like figures that have caught the two of them in the act.

The elder brushes past him in a huff, intentionally knocking his arm into Johnny. As if there wasn’t more than enough room for him to go around.

Simon does not attempt to be subtle, despite the—sort of—sleeping woman on his shoulder. His boots take every step hard, and Johnny relies on muscle memory to follow behind him like a duckling.

He has to take double the stride to keep up with his purpose walk, fingers shaky on the kit strap. “Lt, I’m real worried,” they reach the top, and Simon opens the first set of double doors, the master, both sets of feet making the floor rattle. “She has no’ made a peep in two hours. What if I…? She’s— Is her neck broken?” Johnny pants. He’s out of fuel, choking on his worry.

“She’s still breathing, you bloody idiot.” Ghost mutters in response.

Metal creaks when Simon lugs her onto the mattress, flicking on the bedside lamp. Yellowish, spotty lighting isn’t ideal, but he’s stitched worse in the dead of night.

“I shouldn’t have,” his voice cracks, accent growing thicker. His eyes were feral with panic, piercing the wide back blocking the view of his bird. Her screams echo in his ears, fusing with the tinnitus. “If she’s— Ah’ll never forgive myself, Si. She just kept fighting, and I couldn’t stop my hands—”

Ghost doesn’t look back. Doesn’t comfort the only man who knows him better than anyone else. His trained hands tug off her shoes, then the wet socks to ward off frostbitten toes.

“Hush.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the unoccupied space beside her. Soap rounds the bed in haste, setting the kit down and unzipping it.

Now, they both can truly see what’s been done, one more sickened than the other, which isn’t saying much.

Her clothes were a lost cause, the faded band tee ripped off at the shoulder, sleeve barely hanging on. The sleep shorts had ridden up, smeared with grass and dirt stains. Bruises had formed on the fat of her thighs, kneecaps, her collarbone where he’d grabbed her. Their discolorations varied in stages, some more green than purple yet. Her ankle gave Johnny a phantom pain in his own, how it twisted into the scraped, swollen mess it is now.

Chapped lips parted ever so slightly, her cheek pressed against the pillows. Strands of hair clung to her sweaty forehead like they’d been dipped in honey. Tendrils matted with grime, twigs, and crimson surrounded the head wound, making it impossible for him to gauge it from the right side of the bed.

“Get the fireplace going. She’s ice.” Simon’s calloused fingers prod the bottoms of her feet. His tone is clinical, kicking Soap’s anxiety into overdrive.

Cold. Stiff. Ice means dead, even when her lungs are still functioning.

His eyes zero in on the dusty logs, crossing the room in two strides. Start a fire. Warm and safe. A warm lass, that’s what he needs— By some miracle, it’s still dry enough to ignite. Amber flames bloom quaint at first before they blossom and illuminate the rest of the room, creating a haze of warmth in their vicinity.

“You ‘ave her phone?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Toss it in.”

Johnny, kneeling in front of the fire, clenches his cheeks as he reaches into his shirt pocket.

It’s not contemplation over the morality of the situation. Not second thoughts. Just the feeling of overhauling all his plans, taking a one-eighty in only a few measly hours because of his stubborn girl. He rises once the screen begins to warp and break completely, shifting his focus to what Ghost is doing with her.

Simon digs through the bag without looking; pulling out instruments and supplies from their assigned places.

When Johnny crosses the room again, he’s got a clamp in one hand, and the other gathers through her locks, pulling them apart to tend to the source of all the blood.

“How bad is it?” He probes, rubbing his scar. “When will she…?”

Simon sighs, still refusing to look back as he inspects the laceration. “Have a drink and shut your mouth. Fuckin’ sit down, too, you’re giving me a migraine.”

Clear, antique bottles glimmer from the fire on the chiffonier in the corner, filled with various spirits. It’s not in his nature to question his Luitenant’s word. Supposes he deserves to be barked at right now.

The first toss of whiskey punches his tongue, but he doesn’t grimace. Finishes it in one go to cope with the aftermath of his temper. It’s not quite grief, not quite guilt, either. A feeling he can not make any sense of. After pouring himself another measure, he lowers himself into the chair by the lamp.

“She’s concussed,” Simon finally speaks, peeling open a package of sterile thread and needle. “Gash needs stitches.” He gets to work, the same way Johnny had seen him do in the field a million times. A needledriver held steady, while a tissue clamp manipulates the flesh. Part of him is glad she’s not awake, screaming and tossing around from the agony. Something is bothering him, even though he’s got an intense focus on the state of the sutures. His posture is off, fingers harsh when he tosses excess supplies aside.

Friction stirred in his chest as he examined the rest of her skin, disinfecting each scratch with swabs. “Look, ‘m not going to ask, mate. I don’t want to know. But—”

“Been following her,” Soap professes quietly, watching the brown liquid in his glass rather than holding eye contact. “For weeks now. She… she got scared. Almost called the police. I couldnae let her.”

The occupied hands still momentarily before resuming. Johnny’s always had a few screws loose, often being too much for his partners. Too possessive after a few hours of fun. He’s never gone this far. Watching some woman, obsessing over her until his polluted mind believed she was his.

This wasn’t some date gone wrong, nor a hookup gone sour. It was unbridled violence. Something Simon knew more than the back of his hand, and yet, the taste in his mouth was pungent.

“You’ve gone bloody mental,” Ghost snarls, rounding the bed to stand at her feet. “She’s a civilian, Johnny. Not like us.” With more force than necessary, he tears away a long strip of bandage, the tear accentuating his words.

He fists her calf, raising it as he swirls the synthetic fabric tight around her twisted ankle. “And now, you’ve turned me into a goddamn accomplice.”

“I didnae want to, Lt,” Johnny tiffs, before setting his glass aside and wiping at his lids. “She’s in my head, Sir. All night, all damn day. I tried to stay away. Tried to just… watch.”

“Yeah? And what about her? You think she’ll keep her mouth shut when she wakes up here, with you, of all blokes.”

His head lifts, hand curling into a fist. “I’ll handle it, Sir.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, Johnny.” Simon grabs his kit, taking out a small jar and syringe. “You need to think this through. Soon.” He stabs through the seal and draws a small dosage.

“What are you giving her?”

“Field sedative,” he caps the needle, before gathering the other remnants and zipping up his kit. “It’ll buy you a few hours.”

“You need to clean this place up, and her. Secure all the weapons, or anything she’ll use as one.” Simon’s footsteps retreat toward the bathroom, water running, followed by cabinets opening and closing.

Johnny sucks in a breath, heading toward the wardrobe beside the crackling fire. There are some boxes here, old PT shirts and track pants left in a forgotten go-bag; they’ll do.

With trembling hands, he peels the dirty, torn shirt off her limp form. Liquid sloshes beside him when Simon returns, setting down a small wash basin and cloth on the nightstand.

“Just need to change yer clothes, bonnie. Clean you up.” He mutters tersely as if she was lying there expectantly with her eyes open.

After blindly soaking the washcloth, he drags it along every inch of her skin. First, the rust on her forehead and down the apples of her cheeks. Her neck until he reaches her sternum. Under each breast and armpit, dragging southward to the mossy, cracked knuckles. Until her skin smells of stale soap and something uniquely her, instead of musk and metal.

She slumps when he maneuvers his shirt over her head. It falls mid-thigh, dwarfing her shoulders and torso. The sleep shorts came next, one leg at a time, and extra cautious to not disturb the tight gauze on her foot. He replaces them with baggy sweats after scrubbing her irritated knees, thumbing the waistband when he finishes.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Simon murmurs, noting the linger of his hands on her flesh.

“I can do this.” The whiskey took the feral edge of his voice, but not the rest of him. “When she wakes, I’ll…”

“She’ll have one hell of a headache. Probably disoriented. Might be sick. Might panic.” His voice hardens, “might scream. You ready for that, Johnny? One hiccup and this fantasy of yours is going to get you—get both of you—killed.”

Under scrutiny, he shuts down. Ignores the pungent validity of Simon’s concerns. “I ken, Lt. But she’s worth the risk.”

“If she dies, or if Price gets wind of anything—”

“Ye’d turn me in.” Soap growls, but only with resignation in his tone.

“In a heartbeat.” Simon crosses the room in only a few strides, pulling a bottle of painkillers from one of the pockets. Rattles them before setting them next to the bed. “I’ll be back, Johnny.”

That could mean any frame of time in his language. Days, weeks, months. Maybe an hour.

He’s truly on his own to face the possible consequences. How difficult will it be to make her see clearly? To force her into a mellow mold?

Johnny places a pillow under the bandaged foot to keep it elevated. Gives her head a turn to see if she’s bled through the gauze, but there’s only a few specks. Her skin looks less sickly than before, at least. More like she did.

Following, he begrudgingly shuts the door to the master and heads downstairs. Sorts through all the drawers and cupboards to see what he’s working with. All the canned food is unsalvagable, leaving only his gran’s china plates and mugs. There’s not much in the way of boxes or trash, leaving the place barren when he removes all the sheets off the furniture.

Silence cloaks the room as he sweeps away all the dust and filth. Brings the clutter up to the attic on the third floor and locks it away.

He’ll need a blank slate if there is any chance of this going off without a hitch.

A bead of sweat cascades down his temple when he’s finished with his third trip, morning light coming through the stained windows.

The sound of an engine ebbing in the distance makes him turn solid, hand hovering over his piece. Perhaps someone was watching the place, or Simon had a change of heart to save his skin.

It takes a few moments for him to gather the courage and open the front door. His shoulders drop when nobody is standing there, no armed service police as he was expecting.

Only a box occupies the mat. It’s lidless with handles on the side. Fresh cuts of meat wrapped in paper with dates scribbled on them, a stack of canned vegetables and beans, toothbrushes and paste, and painkillers you can’t get over the counter.

No doubt who brought it without knocking. He said he’d be back, and he’s a man of his word in the strangest of ways.

The stove clicks when he fires it up, channeling the memories of watching his grandmother’s process. All the ingredients begin to simmer in the tall pot, mixing into a perfect meal for someone bedridden and nauseous. Chunks of meat and veg, a carton of broth, and the few seasonings that were still sealed. Once he places the lid on, he takes note of the hours that have passed on his watch.

It’s time for him to get back up there and prepare accordingly for the hell-storm brewing when she opens her eyes.

The steps creak under his feet. All the knives need to be locked away. He’ll probably need to replace the vases and lamps with metal. Everything has to be shatter-proof, all the hard edges of the place need to be soft. Not to mention keeping her here, which will be a task in itself. Based on the very recent past, he’s sure a hurt ankle and head gash isn’t going to prevent her from running.

Unconsciousness begins to fade from her features.

Smaller fingers twitch against his. A raspy exhale comes from her lips. Her eyelids flutter. Johnny goes rigid, scooting closer to prevent any flailing.

Her eyes snap open.

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mrsreynolds32014 · 2 days ago

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Dirty Pretty Things

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

An Eddie Munson Fanfiction

Chapter 1

Summary: Things pick up right where they left off—Eddie’s not even close to done with you. In the back of the van, he takes you harder, filthier, rougher. He makes you come on his cock, calls you his dirty little slut, then flips you over and takes your ass for the first time. It’s raw, intense, and absolutely filthy, and by the end of it, you’re wrecked, dripping, and more addicted to him than ever.

Author’s Note: Here’s Chapter Two and yeah… it’s a filthy one. We’re talking backseat sex, anal, and enough dirty talk to short-circuit your brain. Eddie is unhinged in the best way, and this is just the beginning. Thank you so much for the love on Chapter One—I hope this one fucks you up in all the right ways. Let me know what you think, I love hearing your thoughts!

Word Count: 1,200 words

Disclaimer: 18+ Mature

Chapter 2

Ruined and Reeling

Your knees are burning against the leather seats, the cold biting at your nipples through his shirt—still the only thing you’re wearing. Eddie’s got one hand fisting your hair, the other gripping your hip tight enough to bruise as he fucks into you like he’s lost control of everything but this. But you don’t want gentle. You want him like this—wild, messy, filthy.

“Fucking hell,” he growls, snapping his hips forward again. “You feel that? How fucking soaked you are for me?”

All you can do is moan. Loud, desperate, wrecked. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the van, raw and rhythmic, drowning out the Metallica still humming in the background.

Your fingers grip the seat in front of you, nails digging into the old leather, body rocking forward every time he thrusts in deep. His cock stretches you so good, so full, and when he leans forward to bite down on your shoulder, you cry out his name like a goddamn prayer.

“Eddie—fuck—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, baby,” he pants, tongue tracing the curve of your spine. “Not till I’ve come in this tight little pussy and watched it drip down your thighs.”

You clench around him at the sound of that—fuck, you love how filthy he gets. He notices. Of course he does.

“Ohhh, you like that, huh?” he laughs darkly. “You like me fucking you dumb like a dirty little slut?”

You nod frantically, mouth open, drooling onto the seat. “Yes. Yes, fuck, yes.”

“Say it. Say you’re my dirty little slut.”

Your thighs are shaking. You’re so close. “I’m your dirty little slut.”

“Damn right you are,” he growls, pulling out and slapping his cock against your pussy before thrusting right back in. “Tightest fucking cunt I’ve ever had. Gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

He pulls out entirely, and you whimper, weak and fucked-out and twitching.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his soaked cock up between your cheeks. “Still gotta fuck this pretty little ass, remember?”

Your breath stutters.

“You serious?” you whisper, voice shaking.

He spreads your cheeks, spits, then presses his thumb to your tight, untouched hole.

“Dead serious,” he mutters. “Wanna see your face when I slide into your ass for the first time.”

Your body jolts. The idea of him back there—thick and hot and unrelenting—makes your head spin.

“You trust me?” he asks, softer now. Not sweet, not innocent, but real. Like he’d stop if you asked. Like you could say no, and he’d respect it.

You nod, voice shaking. “I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He leans down and kisses the back of your neck as his slicked-up thumb gently works you open. You whine, biting your lip as the sting turns to pressure and pressure turns to heat.

“Relax, baby. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

He slides another finger in, spreading you, teasing you, taking his goddamn time—and you’re already close again from just that. The stretch, the burn, the filth of it all has you grinding your hips back, needy and fucked out.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me come just from watching you take my fingers,” he breathes. “You ready for my cock now?”

You nod like you’ve never wanted anything more.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Eddie—fuck my ass.”

And he does.

Slow at first. Gentle. Letting you feel every inch as he pushes in, stretching you until your jaw drops and your nails tear at the seat.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans. “So goddamn tight. Shit, baby.”

Your body shakes with the fullness, but it’s so fucking good you can’t even form words. He starts moving, small thrusts building into a rhythm, one hand wrapped around your waist to keep you in place, the other snaking beneath you to rub your clit.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, high and broken. “Eddie, I’m gonna—I’m gonna come—”

“That’s it, baby,” he pants against your back. “Come for me. Come on my cock while I fuck your ass.”

Your orgasm rips through you like a fucking freight train, eyes rolling back, mouth open, screaming his name as your pussy clenches and gushes around nothing. But he’s right there—rubbing your clit, pumping his cock in and out of your ass while your entire body falls apart beneath him.

“Gonna fill you up,” he grits out. “Gonna come so deep, baby, you’ll feel it for days.”

“Do it,” you gasp. “Fill me up, Eddie, please—”

With a final, brutal thrust, he groans—loud, guttural, fucking feral—and spills inside you, cock pulsing deep in your ass as your body trembles beneath his. He stays there for a minute, both of you panting, sweating, ruined.

Then he slowly pulls out, watching with a filthy smirk as his cum drips down your thighs and ass.

“Look at you,” he mutters, brushing your hair out of your face. “Wrecked. Messy. Mine.”

You nod, lips swollen, body boneless.

“Yours,” you whisper.

Eddie chuckles low in his throat and kisses your temple.

“Round two in the shower?” he asks, already dragging you up against his chest.

You laugh—hoarse, dazed, aching—and whisper, “Only if you eat me again.”

He grins, already carrying you inside.

“Oh baby,” he says, “I was gonna do that either way.”

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #smut #fem reader #x female reader

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toxic3mmy · 1 day ago

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prompt: your childhood friend deflowers you

warnings: tis pure smut, but it’s lowkey sweet lovin

haiiii :3

it’s been a while my lovelies

this was just something i was inspired by a show i was watching and well yerp, sorry if its too short!!!

i hope u guys enjoy <3

you sat in the corner of your home, the smell of fresh laundry and sweet candles wafting through the air. you picked at your fingernails, lost in thought.

you and alexis were very close friends. it was weird, to be honest, mostly due to the indifference to your personalities. you had always been the shy one, the brainiac, the one with the dark humor that only a few really got. your long, dark hair fell soflty around your face, framing your deep brown eyes that often held a glint of mischief when you felt comfortable enough to let it show. alexis, on the other hand, was the charming, flirty type that could make anyone laugh, yet he had this underlying seriousness that only you saw. he was outgoing, confident, and everything you wished you were. here’s what had you so lost in thought; you were in love with him. you didn’t know when or even how but it just clicked in your brain on a random sunday afternoon that you really wanted him in a romantic way.

suddenly, alexis strutted into your home, as if he lived there, too. his dark hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, only accentuated the sharp angles of his face and the smoldering intensity of his eyes

spotting you, he walked over with a smile that could brighten even the darkest of days

“what are you doing here all by your lonesome?" he teased, sliding into the chair opposite of you

“oh hush, i literally texted you to come over"

your voice small but full of sarcasm paired with a sassy, playful eyeroll. you slid a book across the table beside the two of you, one of your romance novels with a particularly steamy cover

“I needed a break from life and i also wanted an excuse to see you, of course."

alex picked up the book, his eyes scanning the title before bursting into laughter

"still reading these, y/n?" he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval, "for someone who advocates for sex with deeper meaning, you sure do like to read juicy smut"

“hey, a girl can dream. plus, it’s my alternative to watching porn" you murmured, taking a sip of your water to avoid his gaze. the truth was, the books were an escape for you, a way to experience the passion you hadn't yet felt in real life. alexis had no idea that you had never been with anyone, that you had saved yourself for someone you trusted implicitly

alexis set the book down, his laughter dying down to a gentle smile. he reached out and placed his hand on hers, giving it a comforting squeeze

"you know, y/n, you don't have to read about it. it's okay to let your guard down once in a while and explore those feelings with someone you care about” his voice was softer than you had ever heard it, and you felt the weight of his words in the air around them

you took a deep breath, your heart racing. this was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment you had built up in your mind a thousand times. you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of judgment or teasing, but all you found was genuine concern and warmth

"i know," you said quietly, "but i've never felt ready before"

“are you saying that you’re still… a virgin?” alex asked almost incredulously

“you say it like it’s the worst thing in the world” you yelped, your face creeping with redness from the embarrassing topic at hand

“no! no, it’s not a bad thing. i know you don’t want to give that part of yourself up for just anyone. i just thought you were being careful, never did i imagine that you were still a pure little lady” he joked lightly with all the best intentions

“yeah, well, i guess i brought this up because i have been feeling ready as of lately” you murmured, leaning forward to alex

alexis leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for your hand to hold

"ready for what?" he asked dumbly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand

you swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to your joined hands

"ready for...for someone to take my virginity," you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. you felt your heart thumping in her chest like a drum, echoing in your ears

alexis' smile faded, his expression turning serious. he didn't pull his hand away, instead, he squeezed hers tighter

"y/n," he said, his voice a soft whisper, "are you really sure? i mean, who even is the guy?"

you nodded, looking up at him with a mix of hope and fear

"yes," you paused, "but is it crazy for me to admit that… i haven’t felt the need to look for the right guy because i just needed to take a look at what’s right in front of me"

his eyes searched yours, the weight of your confession palpable between the two of you. he had always had feelings for you, but he had never pushed the issue, not wanting to risk your friendship

“y/n" he began, his voice thick with emotion, "you know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?"

"i know, alex, that's why i've been thinking about it, and... i want it to be with you. but i also really dont want you to feel obligated to do this. what im trying to say is that i dont want you because its convenient for me… ive really thought it over and i … i love you, alexis"

he stared at you in awe, the air thick with unspoken emotion. he had known you since you were kids, watched you grow from a shy, bookish girl into a beautiful, intelligent woman. your confession didn't just take him by surprise, it also stirred something deep within him. he had never seen you so vulnerable, so open. his chest tightened as he felt the gravity of your words

"y/n i've loved you for so long. i've been waiting for the right moment to tell you” he said in one go, almost too fast to understand

“what?" you asked, voice trembling

alexis leaned in closer, his hand still holding yours firmly

“you heard me, y/n. i love you, and if you want it to be me, i would be honored," he said, his voice earnest

"are you sure, alex?" you whispered, your heart racing

"i am more than sure, y/n. you're my best friend, and i want to be the one to make your first time special"

you eyes searched his, looking for any hint of hesitation. as if reading your mind, alexis leaned in, closing the gap between you, and kissed your lips. it was soft, tentative, but filled with all the emotion that had been building inside you for so long. alexis responded, his arms wrapping around her, pulling you closer. the kiss grew deeper, your hearts beating in sync

you pulled away, breathless, your faces flushed. your eyes sparkled with excitement and a touch of apprehension

"is now, um… appropriate?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper

“if you're sure, y/n. i want this to be perfect for you”

you nodded, your heart racing faster than ever before. alex stood up, offering his hand to help you up from the chair. he led you to your room, the soft glow of the evening sun setting the mood. the walls were lined with books and the faint scent of your favorite vanilla candles filled the air. it was your sanctuary, and now it would be the place you’d share your first intimate experience with the person you trusted most

“are you okay?" he asked, his voice steady

“i'm more than okay," you whispered, your eyes shining with excitement

alex pulled you into a warm embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you. you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat against your chest

you stood there for a moment, savoring the feeling of your bodies pressed together. then, gently, alex began to undress you. his hands moved with care and reverence over your clothes. each item that fell away revealed a new part of you that he had never seen before. you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration, but mostly, you felt safe

"i’ve always thought that you were the most beautiful person in the world y/n” he murmured, his eyes taking in every inch of you

you blushed, self-consciousness trying to creep in, but his gaze was so genuine, so filled with adoration, that you couldn't help but believe him. he helped you onto the bed and you watched as he undressed as well, revealing the strong, muscular body you had often admired from afar

you laid side by side, your eyes locked as you touched each other for the first time in a way that was more than friendship. his hands were gentle, exploring your curves with a tenderness that made you shiver. your hands were less sure but alex guided you, showing you how to touch him in a way that made you both feel good. his skin was warm and smooth under your fingertips and you marveled at the sensation

"you're okay, we go at your pace, yeah?" his breath hot against your neck

you nodded and soon felt his hand trace the line of your jaw and then move down to cup your face. he leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second. his lips were soft and firm as his tongue delved gently into your mouth, coaxing you to respond. you felt a warmth you’d never felt before spread through your body as he kissed you with a gentle passion that seemed to consume you both

"you're sure?" he whispered against your skin as his hand moved to unbutton your bra

"i’m positive" you replied, voice breathless with anticipation

alex took his time, his nimble fingers working the clasp of your bra with the such care. he slid the fabric away, revealing your full breasts to his gaze. you felt exposed yet protected, as his eyes took in your newfound vulnerability with nothing but adoration. he leaned down, his mouth finding your nipple, and you gasped as his soft lips sent electric jolts through your body. your hands gently found the back of his head, urging him closer

"does that feel good?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through you

you nodded, unable to find the words to describe the sensations he was eliciting from your body. you felt like a new person but you were now alive with sensations that had been lying dormant. alexis' touch was like a master key, unlocking door after door of pleasure you had only ever read about in your novels

he kissed his way down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. his hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve and dip with the tender touch of a sculptor

"you're perfect" he murmured and it made you feel so loved

your breath hitched as his mouth found your other breast. his tongue traced circles around the sensitive bud before taking it into his mouth. you felt your core tightening and your legs trembling ever so slightly. you were so lost in the sensation that you barely noticed when he slid your panties off, leaving you completely exposed

“you're everything to me, y/n" he said, his voice thick with need

he kissed his way down your stomach. your breath came in gasps as you felt his mouth move closer to your center. you had read about this moment in countless books, but the reality was so much more intense than you could have ever imagined

"alex" you breathed out, hands tightening in his hair

you felt a rush of heat between your legs and a strange, delicious ache that grew with every passing second. alexis looked up at you, a question in his eyes

"it's okay, i trust you" you managed, giving him a shaky nod

with that, he kissed you again. his mouth moved lower, his breath hot against your core. his tongue flicked out, teasing your sensitive folds before delving deeper. your body arched off the bed, a keening cry escaping your lips. it was nothing like the fumbling, tentative explorations of your own hand. this was something else entirely, a symphony of pleasure

"oh, alex," you moaned with your eyes squeezed shut and your fists tangled in the sheets

he took his time, savoring you taste. he explored every inch of you with a gentle thoroughness that left you trembling and slick with desire

“oh, fuck, you feel so good," you gasped, your hips rocking against his mouth as the tension grew

“you're so responsive, y/n" he said sweetly, "but we're not there yet… i want to make you feel good. i want your pussy dripping wet and begging for me, okay? i want to make sure you’re ready" he kissed his way back up your body, his hand sliding between your legs to tease you further with his thumb brushing against your clit with expert precision

your eyes rolled back in your head as the pleasure grew, your body moving in time with his touch. you had never felt so alive, so wanted, so...right

"i-i am," you panted, voice shaky with need "please, lex"

alex took a deep breath, his own desire warring with his need to be gentle with you. he reached for his jeans, fumbling with his zipper as he slid them down. your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him, his erection thick and angrily leaking between his legs. he saw the nerves in your eyes and leaned in to kiss you again, reassuring you with every stroke of his tongue

“look at me, y/n" he whispered, his voice hoarse with need, "i'm right here with you"

your eyes locked with his, the trust shining through. you felt him guide your hand to his cock, showing you how to stroke him with the same tenderness he had shown your body. his eyes fluttered closed, a hiss escaping his lips as your soft hands explored him

“that's it, sweetheart" he breathed, his voice hoarse, "you’re such a good girl for me"

your bodies moved together, a dance of touch and pleasure that was as old as time itself. alexis took his time, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his fingers playing with your wet, throbbing folds. each stroke, each kiss was a promise of what was to come. you felt your walls crumbling, the fear you had held onto for so long slipping away as you gave yourself to him completely

you leaned into him, it was the first time you initiated a kiss with him and he was elated. your tongues tasted every inch of the other’s mouth as his fingers danced around your puckering hole and your hand worked his shaft. his thumb would press against your clit at the same time as yours was rubbing circles around his tip. your breaths intertwined as you swallowed down each pant and moan that left his mouth

"are you okay?" he asked after pulling away gently, his voice a panting mess

"more than okay," you whispered

“y/n, i need you to tell me if it’s too much or if you want to stop or even take a break”

“o-okay, but i don’t think i’ll ask you to stop anytime soon” you laughed lightly and alex positioned himself above you, coaxing your legs to bend at the knee and allow him more space

your breath hitched as he positioned himself between your legs. his eyes searched yours, seeking your full consent. you nodded, heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves

"easy now" he murmured, his voice soothing as he guided himself to your entrance. you felt a twinge of pain as he pushed in, but it was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming sensation of being filled, of being connected to him in a way she had never been with anyone else. his movements were slow and deliberate, giving your body time to adjust to his size. you bit your bottom lip, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt yourself stretching around him

"look at me," he said, his voice a gentle command that you couldn't resist

you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and the love and tenderness you saw there took your breath away. he slid in deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed within you. he held himself still for a moment, allowing you to get used to the feeling before he began to move again

"is it too much?" he asked, his voice laced with concern

"it’s just a bit of pain" you admitted through a shuddering breath, your eyes never leaving his

"we can stop if you want" he offered, his voice was so gentle you thought you might cry

you shook your head, a tear sliding down your cheek. "no, I want this," you said, “i want you" your arms wrapped around his back, hugging you tightly to him.

alex kissed your lips, a gentle kiss filled with so much love and passion. he began to move slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you took a sharp intake of breath, but you never once asked him to stop. instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you, your nails dug into his back as you encouraged him to go on

"god, you're so tight, and so p-perfect" he panted, his voice strained with pleasure

"alex," you moaned, eyes fluttering open, "don't.. don’t fucking stop"

he didn't, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that grew faster with each passing moment. the initial pain had given way to something else, something you couldn't quite put into words. it was as if every nerve in your body was on fire, each stroke of his cock sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. you could feel your orgasm building, something you hadn't been prepared for so quickly

"alex" you panted, her nails digging deeper into his back as you tried to get closer, to feel more of him. “i’m so c-close"

he groaned, his own pleasure building. "cum for me, y/n" he urged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back

"let me feel you cum around me, sweetheart" he said as he reached down to play with your swollen clit, simultaneously biting gently at the skin on your shoulder

your body responded to his touch, your muscles tightening around him as his movements continued

“alex… i—" you moaned desperately

“tell me, baby," he leaned in, his voice low and needy against your ear, "what do you feel?"

“i...i feel like i'm so so full, and it’s just intense" you panted, eyes beginning to well up at the tight sensations at your core

his eyes never left yours as he increased his pace slightly, his own breathing growing ragged

"that's it, you’re doing so good for me" he encouraged, his voice strained, "let go, y/n"

you felt the orgasm inside you break, crashing over you like a wave. you cried out, your body shuddering as alex continued to move. his own need was evident in every tense line of his body. you tightened your legs around him, pulling him closer as your climax washed through you. the feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a cataclysm of pleasure that left you trembling

"oh, alex," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as you rode the crest of your orgasm

his name was a declaration of how much you needed him in this moment. his movements grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he felt you clench around him

"y/n" he whimpered, his own climax building. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you were holding onto him as if he was the only thing keeping you from floating away. his strokes grew deeper, more powerful, as he chased his own release. "i'm close" he warned, his voice low and desperate

you nodded, eyes still closed, lost in the aftermath of your own climax. you felt him tense, his muscles bunching beneath your hands, and you tightened your grip on him. "im here," you murmured a soft reassurance

alex’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours "look at me… i want to see you when I cum"

your eyes widened, but you didn't look away. you watched as his expression grew more intense, his eyes dark with passion. you felt him swell inside you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. and with a final, desperate thrust, he came, his seed filling you. the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a warmth that seemed to spread through your entire body, a feeling of belonging that washed away any lingering doubt or fear.

"y/n" alexis whispered, his eyes still locked with yours, "i love you"

you felt her heart swell in her chest, your eyes filling with tears

"i love you too, alex," you managed to say between gasps for air. the intensity of your shared moment was almost too much to handle, but you didn't want it to end. you could feel his heart racing against your chest, and you held onto him tightly, legs still wrapped around his waist

alex remained still inside you for a few moments, his breathing gradually evening out before gently pulling out. he leaned down to kiss you again, his mouth lingering on yours, tasting the salt of your tears

“what is it? are you okay?" he asked, his voice still thick with emotion

"i’m sorry, just lots of emotions and… well, you were absolutely amazing" you murmured, a soft smile playing on your lips, you trailed off, at a loss for words to describe the intensity of the experience

"don’t apologize, i was only worried that i’d messed up. you were incredible y/n" he laughed, brushing the hair from your face with gentle fingertips before pressing a kiss to your forehead

you felt a blush heat your cheeks at his words, your body still trembling slightly with the aftershocks of your orgasm. you looked up at him, eyes filled with a mix of awe and love

“it was like... nothing I've ever felt before," you admitted, your voice a soft whisper, “i didn't know it could be like that"

"it's because we love each other, y/n, it makes everything so much more intense" he held your face, his eyes full of affection

"you’re right…. so, what now? should we go again?" you asked, chuckling to yourself but also, you wouldn’t mind trying a new position

"as much as i'd love to, y/n, we need to give your body a chance to recover," he said, his voice gentle, “but trust me, we'll have plenty of time to explore each other”

"i'm just so... i don't know, overwhelmed. you turn me on so much, i don’t see why i didnt get you into my bed sooner," you joked lightly, your cheeks still flushed with color

“well, better late than never but let's not rush things. we've got time" he laughed, his face full of affection and admiration

"yeah, I guess we do," you said, snuggling closer to him

you laid there for a moment, your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of this shared experience. "you know, I always knew you were the one," you murmured, your voice barely audible

“always knew it, huh? what was it? my charming personality? my irresistible good looks?" he teased, grinning widely as he poked your side gently

"maybe both but mostly, it was just you. and how close we are and how much we understand one another" you admitted, swatting playfully at him

"and now I've got you, in every way" he said, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with his hand, admiring you

your smile grew, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the aftermath of their lovemaking

"yeah," you murmured, eyes shining with happiness, “you do"

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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kylieistumbling · 2 days ago

Text

Ok since you guys asked so nicely…

A Daring Request

Warning: real person fanfic, no minors welcome

Tags: smut (fingering, m and f oral, piv), a bit of angst, fluff/comfort

Notes: I don’t refer to Joost by name bc I didn’t have the guts to, and this is a first-person perspective shameless self-insert fic. I know this isn’t the usual format of any of the Joost smutty fanfics I’ve found on this site so I hope you enjoy it regardless. I’m super nervous about sharing this especially as he might stumble upon it 🙈

I couldn’t sleep. As much as I tossed and turned, there was one thing that kept me awake that no amount of sheep counting could take my mind off: him.

I usually don’t make advances on guys but I had to act now. He was only in the room next door and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I’ve bottled up this secret love for my friend for so long and now it was beginning to spill out. So against my better judgement, I got up out of bed, and marched over to his bedroom door.

Tap tap tap. I rapped my knuckles on the door, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough as to not garner any attention from anyone else. The door opens. He’s there, with a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

“Sorry if I’m keeping you awake, but can I come in?”

“Sure!”, he replies with his usual friendly tone. He closes the door behind me before asking me if anything was wrong.

“I can’t sleep tonight. I was wondering if you could keep me company…”

“Yes of course! I’m nowhere near close to going to bed myself”, he says in a self deprecating way. He then sits on the bed, picks up his Nintendo Switch and chirps: “I was just passing the time with Minecraft, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to now!”

“But you don’t usually play Minecraft?”

“Boredom does funny things to me, bruv”

“You seem to love that word!”, I say giggling at his random use of English slang.

“What, braaaaaahv?”

“Yes! It’s weird hearing you say it!” My giggle having now turned into a full laugh. Eventually it slowly falls into a nervous smile when I’m reminded of the task at hand. I stand so tall on front of him sat on the bed, and yet I feel so small.

“What’s wrong?”, he says with slight concern. I seemingly can’t hide much from him, he can tell even the slightest turn in the mood around him.

“I don’t usually do this, and I don’t know how you’ll react to this-“

He cuts me off and interjects: “It’s ok, you can tell me anything, I won’t judge you”

I take in a big, deep breath. “Ok… I am really really fond of you. And I was wondering if I could spend the night with you”

His face turns into one of surprise

“There doesn’t have to be any strings attached if that’s what you want. And if you’re not interested in someone like me, I’ll understand…”

“What do you mean ‘someone like you’”? He interjects again.

“I mean… look at me…” I say as I point out my horribly overweight body.

“Please don’t say that!”, he says gently. He then reaches out for my hands and softly pulls himself up towards me. “You’re so beautiful, and I wish you could see that”

“Really?”

“Yes”, he reassures me. He then pulls me in closer and tilts his head forward until his forehead is resting on mine.

“I’m so glad you told me”, said in such a low tone it was almost a whisper.

I almost couldn’t believe that this was happening, I was so used to rejection that I never considered the possibility that he might actually reciprocate. The gentle peck on the lips he gave me served as a confirmation.

After that I couldn’t hold back anymore, I flung my arms around his shoulders and immediately started making out with him. He softly held me by the waist as our kisses slowly grew more and more intense the more we got into it.

My body eventually became so relaxed that I lay flat on the mattress, pulling him on top of me as I went down. Suddenly I could feel the growing bulge in his black boxer shorts align against my crotch, and my legs happily opened up more to accommodate him.

The subtle hip movements he was making went along with his hands exploring more my curves, both of our breathing getting more and more laboured as it progressed. I could certainly feel the rush of blood in my face.

His hands eventually started to wander up my t-shirt, reaching for my breasts underneath. Getting the hint, I immediately pulled it off, exposing my bare chest to him. His eyes seemed to light up upon seeing them as he muttered “they’re so big…” In return he took off his tank top, and crouched down to kiss and fondle my breasts, struggling to fit them in his mouth as he attempted to suck on them, eliciting a few quiet moans from me.

“You like that?”, he asks me. In my already overwhelmed state, I could only giggle and nod to him in response. He starts kissing me on the lips again, before making his way down my neck. This very act causes me to become very weak while at the same time my grip on his shoulders became tighter to keep him there.

Then I could feel one of his hands slide under the waistband of my pyjama pants and gently rub over my underwear on my crotch. I start to feel throbbing in between my legs as I anticipate his next move, and I hurriedly pull down both my pants and my underwear to move things along further.

He slowly slides two fingers between my folds and before whispering “wow, you are so wet right now, expressing a sort of pleasant surprise.

“That’s the effect you have on me”

He could only respond with a shy smile and a giggle, before inserting his fingers. As he curls them in and out, my breathing gets more and more heavy.

“How does that feel?”, he asks

I can barely eek out the words “that feels good” between breaths.

After a couple minutes, he pulls out his fingers and puts them in his mouth, happily cleaning off my wetness from them. He then pulls me up into a sitting position and asks me to get on top of him. He lies his head on the pillow, and says “I want you to sit on my face”.

This daunts me due to my heavier size, and I express my concerns as such: “I’m worried that I’m going to suffocate you”

He lets out a little laugh. “You won’t, trust me”.

He places his hands on my hips as I gently sit myself down on his mouth. Then his tongue starts making languid circles between my legs and immediately the pleasure starts rushing through my bloodstream.

My hips instinctively start grinding against his face and his tongue gradually moves faster and faster in a lapping motion. It gets harder and harder to contain my moaning as it progresses. Suddenly my lower body starts to contract, I’m getting close to climax. I grab hold of the headboard of the bed to stop myself from falling as my body gets weaker.

Finally it hits me like a brick wall, my body convulses and tears stream down my face as I barely manage to stay upright. As my orgasm peeters out, he gently lifts me up off his face, and I allow myself to collapse into a shaking, crying heap next to him.

“Are you ok?”, he asks with a concerned tone in his voice.

“Yes”, I reply, “that was very intense”.

He smiles back at me, and lovingly wipes the tears from my face before he embraces me and kisses me on the forehead.

“Let’s take a break for a minute”.

“Ok”

Once I catch my breath, I tell him to step off the bed as I sit up on the edge. I start leaving a trail of kisses from his stomach right down to his crotch. Then I slowly pull down his boxer shorts and his erection springs free as I do so.

I let out a little smile as he fully exposes himself to me, and I gently grab hold of his shaft as I start running circles around the tip with my tongue. His little sighs encourage me that I’m doing a good job.

I then start alternating the licking with gently sucking the tip, his hand running through my hair as I do it.

After a while, he tells me to bend over on the bed, as he climbs onto the bed on his knees. I grab a pillow and rest my chest on it as I present myself to him.

He grabs me by the hips and he gently and slowly inserts himself inside which immediately elicits a loud moan from me. There was something about this position that made everything feel more intense for me and I couldn't contain myself. As he thrusts more and more, my yelps filled the room to the point where I was surprised that I could be this vocal.

Eventually, he pulls himself out and flips me over as he crawls on top of me and gives me a deep kiss. I open my legs for him and he re-inserts, rocking our hips against each other with every thrust. My hands wander everywhere from his shoulders to his thighs as I ecstatically take in every inch of him.

Out of nowhere, between breaths he lets out a surprising remark: “you’re normally so shy, but now look at you”.

His thrusts start to get more frantic as he gets close to finishing. His heavy breaths turn into moans, though a lot more modest and quiet than I was. Finally he lets out a couple groans as he empties out.

I hold his face in my hands as he catches his breath, and he leans in for more kisses as we wrap each other's arms around each other.

He falls over to the side and I move over to rest my head on his chest. I can hear his heart pounding like crazy. He runs fingers through my hair and lets out a quiet “I love you”

This catches me completely off guard, but I respond in kind: “I love you too”.

He kisses the crown of my head and we fall asleep together, a loving and intimate end to an intense night.

#joost #joost klein #joost klein fanfic #joost klein smut #rpf

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