#...tad smoking weed from bong with his eye...

[yourthoughtsjim]

Kinktober Day 5: Smoke

Cisco x reader, afab/femme

Warnings: daddy kink, intox play, drugs (weed), praise, overstimulation, fingering, use of "kitty"

Words: 1.4k+

Standing at the door of your best friend’s apartment, you knock lightly on the door. You two were meant to hang out that day. Watch movies and whatnot. It was a nice reward. The two of you had been taking on the city practically by yourselves since The Scarlet Speedster and his wife were on a different planet. 

You see the doorknob jiggle a bit before the door opens. With a wide smile, the superhero known as Vibe invites you in. 

Looking around, you see an assortment of nerdy decorations. From posters to figures. On the shelf was a full set of Big Bang Theory Funko Pops. One of which you had gotten for his birthday. 

Later, after you had finished the pizza he bought, he pulled his bong out. Now, you know Cisco smoked weed. It didn’t bother you at all. If anything, you understood why. 

He picks some of the weed up and puts it in the grinder. A few twists of it and the weed is ready to go. Then he carefully packs the bowl before putting it back in the downspout. 

Cisco grabs the lighter. Then you see red hot burning ashes before smoke appears in the neck of the bong. Taking a deep breath, Cisco inhales then exhales.

He coughs just a tad before handing you the bong. You had never smoked yourself but you figure now’s a better time to. Following what Cisco did, you take too big of a hit and start coughing loudly. 

“Damn, girl. You don’t need to show off like that.” Cisco comments with a small chuckle.

“That was a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be.” You reply with a small laugh.

“That’s what she said, literally.” 

“Cisco…” 

“That was funny and you know it.” Cisco remarks.

All you did was roll your eyes. Cisco then grabs the bong and takes another hit. This time, he blows it upwards. You take note of how he looks. How his eyes were half lidded. How his neck looked. 

A heat blossomed down below. You didn’t know if it was just because you were high or if you’ve always felt this way, but you couldn’t help to imagine how good the meta’s fingers would feel inside you.

A small whimper escaped your mouth. Cisco took great interest at how you sounded. “What’s the matter… princess?” Cisco purrs.

Your eyes got as wide as they could. “I… didn’t mean to.” You shyly remark. 

Cisco puts the bong to your mouth. Putting the lighter above the bowl, it once again burns with an orange-ish red glow. You take the hint and deeply exhale. This hit being bigger than your last. Exhaling, you realize just how high you were. 

“That’s it, good girl.” 

You were pretty light headed and the praise only made you even more fuzzy. “Call me that again, please.” You request. 

“What? Good girl? Because that’s what you are, a very good girl.” Cisco whispers in your ear. 

This time you moan. You loved how that sounded coming out of his mouth. “Daddy…” You whimper. 

“Oh, I’m your Daddy now?” He teases.

“Mhm…” 

“Let me hear you say it.” He commands.

A blush appears on your face. “You’re my Daddy.” You reply.

“Good girl.”

Again, the praise makes you fuzzier.

He pulls you into his lap. It wasn’t long before you felt his hand down your pants. He presses against your clothed cunt. “God, you’re soaked, princesa.” He purrs. 

“D-Daddy, all wet for you.” You whine. That’s when you feel him slip inside your panties. He makes long, slow stripes up and down your slit. You moan.

“That’s it, baby. Moan for your Daddy.”

His encouragement only made you moan louder. Which Cisco loved. He could sit here all night, doing exactly what he’s doing now, and listen to your moans. He felt himself twitch at the thought. 

“Gonna cum on Daddy’s fingers? Make them a sticky mess?” 

You nod your head while whining. His fingers felt so good. “Daddy…” 

“Yes, princess?” He coos.

“Put them inside, please.” You once again request. 

He gained a wide smile on his face. Indulging you, he slips in with ease. “Fuck, Daddy. Feels good.” 

“Of course, pretty girl. Let your Daddy make you feel good.” He states. Then he makes his powers known. He lets out pulses of his vibe blast let loose on your clit. 

Each time one came out, you would jump slightly. “Pretty little girl. Looks and sounds pretty, huh?” He teases. 

“Pretty for Daddy!” You scream. 

“Mhm… such a pretty kitty.”

“Daddy… gonna cum.” You whimper.

“Go on. You deserve to cum.”

At his permission, you cum with a shout of his name. “There we go, good girl. Such a good princess.” He comments, letting you ride out your high. Well at least one of them.

Then he pulls his fingers out of your pants. He looks at your juices glistening on his fingers. With a satisfied smile, he licks them clean and moans. 

Your face ran red hot. Then you lay your head in the crook of his neck. “Daddy made me feel so good.” You mumble against his soft skin. 

“You want Daddy to make you feel better?” He questions, nipping at your ear.

Then he lifts you up so he can pull down your pants and panties. Then he lays you down on the couch. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock brush against your folds. 

“Daddy’s going to fuck you now, nice and deep.” He comments as he inserts himself into you.

Your breath hitches as you feel him bottom out. The tip of his cock resting against your cervix. 

Cisco then slowly fucks you, trying to get you used to his size. The fact you were high made you feel more sensitive. It made it all the better too. 

He interlocks his hands with your own. “That’s it, good girl. Taking Daddy so well.” He praises. 

It felt like every nerve ending was on fire. His cock just felt too good. It felt so good stretching you out. 

You were already panting. Your tongue laid flat on your chin. Cisco loved the way you looked. How red and puffy not alone your eyes were but also your pussy. 

Your thighs would tense around his waist whenever a thrust felt really good. Cisco took note and tried doing that every time. 

He was leaving you seeing stars in a matter of moments. You almost start crying at just how good the situation was making you. 

Leaning down, Cisco presses his lips against yours. Pulling back, “I love you. I always have. Ever since the second you walked into S.T.A.R Labs, I have. Seeing you every day made my heart ache for you. You’re beautiful, you’re funny, you’re kind. And this pretty little cunt of yours? I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it. Enough of you.”

The mixture of pleasure and praise was like a perfect cocktail. You feel a coil tighten in your stomach. You were so close and each thrust was slowly driving you closer.

To push you, he lets his hand hover over your clit and activates his powers at a light pace. That’s all it took and you were falling. “Daddy! Feels good. I love you so much!” You scream. 

“There we go, princess.” He whispers. 

He didn’t stop. He continued to fuck you through your finish. Cisco was also trying to finish himself. He wanted to savor this moment, however and intentionally slowed down. 

The feeling of your still spasming cunt around his cock felt too good to the meta. It was like you were trying to milk him.

“Gonna, fuuuuck.” Cisco moans as he spills inside you. The heat of his cum made you feel warm and full.

He slowly pulls out as he watches some of his cum drip out of you. “Good girl. You did such a good job. Daddy’s proud of you, princess.” 

Then he flips you over so you’re on top of him before he lets your head rest on his chest. A hand strokes your head softly. 

After you finally get your bearings, you look at him. “Daddy, I’m tired.” You remark.

“Go on, pretty girl, you can take a nap on Daddy. You deserve it.” He whispers in your ear. 

You soon felt yourself falling asleep listening to his heartbeat. It was the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while.

[tendossidepiece]

bong water

stoner!iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

MDNI | 18+

2.76k words (after revision)

CW: unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), creampie, praise, substance use (alcohol/weed), strangers to fwb kinda, reader is kind of a dickhead but he likes it

author’s note: okay ik im like 3 days late with this but let me tell y’all there were so many problems with this fic that i had to fix. genuinely embarrassed that i was able to write such a monstrosity to begin with. i basically rewrote the whole thing and i’m honestly still not satisfied but i think i’ve improved over the year since i wrote it. anyways i hope it’s enjoyed!

You followed the man up the stairs. You never thought this was how your Friday night would end up. You were walking up the rickety stairs of a trashed frat house, at 12 o’clock in the morning. People flooded the downstairs area, dancing to whatever the DJ was mixing, and drinking cheap liquors.

“Well, I guess it’s actually Saturday” you chucked to yourself, a tad under the influence of a few cups of jungle juice. You were sober enough to know this is what you wanted to do though, this man was fine as hell. 

Your friends had suggested going to the party together and you figured why not be a little spontaneous and go out, instead of staying in and studying like you normally would be found doing. They were away getting drinks when you left and you doubted they saw you slip away with the dark-haired stranger, so to set their nerves you sent them a quick text to let them know you were safe and would be back before the end of the party. By the time you finished sending the message, you both were at the top of the stairs.

“Bored with me already?” He looked at you over his shoulder as he guided you to–what you assumed was–his room. 

“No, no. I was letting my friend know I was alive” you chuckled, trying to assure him you were interested in him. Why wouldn’t you be? He was an attractive man, standing about a foot taller than you, with a toned face and body, and delicious dark brown hair and eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol but you really needed your back broken. You knew exactly what would go down when he’d asked you to go upstairs and smoke with him, and you were looking forward to what would go down once you stepped foot in that room.

“Hajime Iwaizumi'' he spoke as the two of you took a seat on the futon that sat in the corner of the room.

 “Nice to know” you chuckled at his announcement, you weren’t necessarily interested in exchanging information. This would be a one-and-done type thing. He looked like the kind of man who wanted women to be obsessed with him, very much full of himself.

“Ladies first” he politely passed you the bong he had pulled from beside the bed. You had watched him pack the bowl full of the pungent herb, praying it wasn’t any reggie.

“How about we share” you brought the mouthpiece up to your lips and the lighter to the tightly-packed bowl. The flame spread across the herb and inhaled as much as ou could, the thick smoke to filling your lungs. You handed the glass piece back to him and he placed it on the wooden TV tray sitting next to him. You motioning him closer to you, bringing your hand up to hold his scruffy chin and pull him towards you. He let you manuver him so that his lips could hoover right above yours as you used your thumb to slightly part him lips.

“Inhale” you spoke softly as not to waste and smoke until he were ready to inhale it. Closing your eyes, he pulled the smoke from your pursed lips. You could feel as the the weed began taking its effects, making you feel slightly light headed as it mixed with the alcohol already in your system. 

“And that’s why ladies always go first” he chuckled, looking over at you with half-lidded eyes as he coughed out a cloud of smoke. You could see a blush creep up his cheeks under the blue LED lights that lined the bedroom, making you giggle.

“I’m a good time, what can I say?” you feigned a more cocky attitude, playing it up with a sly smile.

“I see, another one?” Hajime looked over at you, holding the bong up again. 

“Why not?” you shrugged, waiting as he took a long pull from it. Once he set it down, he patted his lap for you to sit on. Taken aback by his sudden forwardness, you complied and swung your legs on either side of his so that you were straddling him.

Once you were seated comfortably, his hands began to explore your body, slowly moving up your thighs, over your ass, and finally settling on your waist. Arching your back to move further into him, your lips remained a short distance from his to allow him to exhale the smoke into yours.

“Shit, I might have to keep you around” his eyes were glued to the clevage revealed by your low-cut top as you blew out the remaining smoke. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his possessiveness, but you were too smart to fall for his tricks, he probably said this to every girl he brought up here.

“If I choose to stay,” you were being truthful, but a part of you wanted him to beg you to stay.

“Oh shut up” his tone was playful but his voice was barely above a whisper, eyes darting from yours then down to your lips. Leaning into you, he closed the gap between your bodies, with his lips melting into your own. 

Hajime’s hand roamed your body, traveling under your shirt to cup your breasts and run his palms over them. You felt a tug on the hem of your shirt, indicating he wanted the fabric removed. He quickly lifted the shirt over your head, leaving your chest exposed and wasted no time admiring the sight before him.

The muffled music coming from the speakers downstairs offering a hard bass permeating the bedroom walls, coming in as soft vibrations. Hajime continued his exploration of your body and you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands, earning a soft groan. You began grinding your hips onto the hardness restricted in his black jeans. His hands moved from your breasts down to squeeze at your ass, slipping into your pants and playing with the waistline of your panties. The friction against your clothed core was a sensation that had you begging for more.

Disconnecting your lips from his, you removed yourself from Hajime’s lap and crouched down between his legs. Palming at the growing bulge in his pants, you unfastened the button and zipper, pulling down his pants and leaving him sitting on the futon in a pair of grey briefs. He leaned back on his elbows, watching as you freed his member, letting it come up and slap against his lower abdomen. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, scanning over his length and taking in how pretty he was. You took his length into your hands, wrapping both around his shaft and swirling your tongue around the tip. Drool slipped from your tongue down the entirety of him, serving as a lubricant while your hands twisted side to side, up and down. Strings of curses fell from his lips as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re good at that” his voice was breathy and his moans made your arousal pool in your panties, leaving you a throbbing mess. You looked up at him through thick lashes, having reduced him to a panting mess. To push him closer to his climax, you let his tip hit the back of your throat and let it sit there as you licked at the underside of his dick. Tears quickly coming to prick at your eyes as you gagged slightly on his girth. Your saliva pooled around his crotch, coating his cock and making it easier to maneuver your hands. Lapping up the mess you made as it mixed with his precum, the urge to have him inside of you festered.

Hajime sat up, his movements making you pause as he took your hand in his, pulled you back onto your feet, letting his hands run along your body. He reached behind you to unbuckled your bra, allowing it to fall down your arms and finally hit the floor. He took both of your exposed breasts into his hand and pulled himself closer to place one of your nipples in his mouth. His soft tongue ran over the stiff bud making you shiver as the sensation, while his other hand pinched on your other one. Looking up at you from his seat, he nibbled on your nipple, making you squeak out a noise similar to a moan.

Continuing to suckle at your nipple, he slid a hand down to your pants, tugging them down for you to step out of. His fingers hooked into the seat of your panties, pulling them to the side to drag his index finger along your soaked lips, landing on your clit. Pressing down on it, he drew quick circles to stimulate you as much as possible.

“Hajime please” you pleaded him to continue his effors as your eyes rolled back.

“Please what?” he wanted you to beg him, now looking up at you through his own eyelashes. As much as you enjoyed a flirty back and forth, now wasn’t the time.

“I need you to fuck me” you pled, legs starting to shake as he continued his assault on your clit and you looked down at him. He removed his hand and traded places with you on the futon. He now stood behind you while you bent over, ass up face down in the mattress. He kept one hand on your waist and the other pumping his length and spreading his precum down it. Stroking himself at the sight of you bent over in front of him felt like a dream, all wet and ready to take his cock. Placing his tip against you and slowly pushing himself inside you. He bottomed out against your soft spot, letting out a gruff moan feeling your plush walls squeeze him. The sensation of his tip resting against that spot deep within your pussy pulled a string of obsenities from your throat. The stretch of his cock gave off a pleasant burn as he thrust into you. His hands kept a firm lock on your ass, occasionally massaging and kneading at it as it bounced against him with every stroke.

“God, yes!” your voice was a few octaves under a scream. Between the weed, the jungle juice, and the backshots your mind had run blank. You were just happy you’d decided to go out tonight.

With one of your arms folded under your forehead for support, you reached under you playing with your clit. Quick circular motions with your index and middle fingers brought you closer to your release. Your pussy pulsated around his cock, causing him to groan and pick up the pace of his attack. He reached forward, pulling you back towards him by your throat, putting his chin in the crook of your neck and running his tongue up the side of your neck. Once he reached your ear, he pressed his lips against the outer shell and whispered softly, “on your back, please, and thank you.”

His raspy voice made you tremble under his grasp, but you followed his directions compliantly. Hajime took your legs, placing them over his broad shoulders, essentially folding you in half. He slid his drooling tip over your puffy clit, which produced a moan from you. He quickly reinserted himself into your messy cunt and bottomed out on the first thrust.

“How are you still so tight?” Hajime groaned, thighs shaking as his climax approached him. At that point, you were a babbling mess, eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open, panting like dog. This new position he had put the two of you in gave him easy access to your abused g-spot. 

As your legs grew weaker, you let them come down and wrap around his waist. Grabbing his face with both hands, you pulled him down to kiss you. His arms caged your head as his mouth found its way to your neck. Sucking and biting on the skin, he intended to leave any kind of mark possible. The feeling of his warm breath against your neck made goosebumps errupt along your chest and shoulders.

“I want everyone to know what you got into when you go back down there” he growled into your ear, delivering several particularly rough thrusts, making you throw your head back as the pain mixed with the immense amounts of pleasure. Two can play at that game, you thought to yourself. Lowering his face towards yours, turning his head and repeating his actions against his jaw. Trailing sloppy kisses down his neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin, making sure to leave a few bright purple marks. Between his groaning, your stifled moans, and the loud slaps of his pelvis against the skin of the back of your thighs, no one heard the door opening.

“I wonder if he’s up here” you heard the voice of another man entering the room, he stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the two of you. Hajime’s head snapped towards the door, making direct eye contact with the man.

“Get the fuck out Tooru!” He barked at the bewildered brunette standing in the doorway.

“He’s up here in my room with a girl!!” he turned back to yell at whoever he was talking to, you remained tucked under Hajime, afraid to flash his friend if you stood up. You took a quick glance at the man who you could only assume was one of his frat brothers, you’d seen him before on campus.

“Oikawa, you got 3 seconds to get out before I kick your ass” he growled at him, shooting daggers with his eyes.

“This is my room, thank you very much, Iwa. I need my bong, Issei dared Kindaichi to chug the water because I never clean that thing” he laughed, obviously less phased by the two of you fucking in his bed. Without changing positions, Hajime reached down beside the futon, grabbing the bong and shoving it in Oikawa’s direction.

“Take it and get out!” He shouted, still looking at his friend.

“Thank you kindly. It was nice to meet you ma’am, please don’t get any…fluids on my bed” he paused, getting a little awkward at the end of his sentence. He left immediately after grabbing the bong, slamming the door behind him as he walked out.

“I’m so sorry about that” Hajime laid face down on your bare chest, as you started laughing. You stayed silent throughout the entire interaction but after replaying it in your mind, it was too funny to go unnoticed.

“Your friends seem fun, Iwa” your laughter died down as you looked up at him, a smile growing on his face hearing you mock the way his friend addressed him.

“They’re…interesting, but we can talk about ‘em later. Back to business” A devilish smile played across his mouth and his aura intensified. 

Before you could even get a word out, he was back to delivering those same mind-numbing strokes. Your toes curled and nails dug into the rippling muscles of his back, pure filth spewed from your mouth. 

“Gonna cum. Don’t stop” you whined, gripping at his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Cum for me, princess” the growl in his throat was near primitive as he ravished you. Your body shook under him as he guided you to your release, hearning him huff an feeling his hips shutter as he finally reaching his orgasm. Coming down from your high, you could feel his warm load paint your walls. 

“You’re a piece of work” he exhaled, obviously tired from all the energy he exerted. You laughed at him as he dramatically flopped back on the mattress. Finally regaining some strength, you both began to get redressed.

“Well that was wonderful Mr. Hajime, but I gotta go find my friends”  you pulled your underwear up, knowing his cum would ruin them but not caring in the moment. Thank god for birth control because neither of you were thinking straight going into this without using any protection. 

“You don’t think I’m just gonna let you leave without giving me your number, do you?” he spoke, head down as he tied his sneakers but glancing up to see you hand him your phone,

“I’ll text you when I’m ready” you bent down, grabbing his cheeks in one hand to make his lips pucker and kissing him before walking out the door. Never in his life had he really had to chase a girl, the man was too stunned to speak.

[hops-hunny]

Hello?

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Request: N/A

Summary: Neville and (Y/n) get high together often.

Warnings: drugs( weed lmao), swearing, making out

A/N: This was based on the specific lyric below from Hello? by Clairo ft Reji Snow. Pothead confident Neville is my favorite headcanon dfregfefe. I also felt like writing for Neville bc after reading a lot of @lxngbottom​‘s fics I was DEEPLY inspired.

“Are you into me, like I'm into you?

Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you?

You're so close, and yet so far

I wonder how you look when you're in the dark”

The Weasley siblings all found themselves in absolute bliss when their parents told them they were going on a getaway. Apparently Arthur had learned about muggle spas and thought it’d be a lovely idea to take his wife to one for a much needed vacation after many years she had been caring for her children (and sometimes their guess) without barely any breaks. The gaggle of gingers all found it to be quite a wonderful idea too, but for other reasons. Although they had varying reasons of why they were excited for their parents to leave the house, Ron’s being wanting to invite over the other ⅔ members of the Golden Trio, Ginny wanting to wear that skirt that her mum always told her was ‘just a tad too short, dear’, and lastly Fred & George wanting to try out new and exciting inventions there was that one thing that tied them all together: wanting to get blazed out of their fucking minds. 

However, as quickly as that mischievous glint formed in all their eyes, their mother said something they all dreaded.

“Oh and by the way, we’re leaving Percy in charge!”

A collective groan was shared as the boy in question held a proud and cocky smirk that once again, he was the most trusted out of his siblings. However as per usual, Fred and George were not giving up that easily.

“What are we going to do?! You know Percy will rat on us!” Ron whispered yelled at the other three through gritted teeth. They all sat around the quaint little living room, distressed at what to do. Ron had already sent a text (is that what they were called? He wasn’t used to the muggle technology (Y/n) had got them all to use) to both Hermione and Harry telling them to pack their bags. He’d never live it down!

“Oh relax dear brother of mine! Me and Freddie here suspected something like this would happen so we came prepared. Right Fred?” George said with a smirk as he looked to his twin to the right of him. George nodded before pulling out an envelope.

“Exhibit A also known as ‘Blackmail dear Percival Into Leaving the House for the Summer.” he grin grew wider as he opened the envelope pulling out the photos. In the photos, Percy was shirtless during a party in the gryffindor common room. He had a half drunk bottle of fire whiskey in one hand and a blunt in his other which was held to his lips. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if dear ol’ mum and pop anonymously got pictures of their golden boy doing such awful acts?” he cooed, feigning a voice of disappointment.

“While you two idiots may not be helpful for jack shit else, leave it up to you to have a plan to get into trouble.” Ginny said rolling her eyes, a small smile forming on her face. “Well I guess that’s settled then. I’ll hit up (Y/n), Ron you hit up Nev and tell him to bring the loud. Lots of it too!”

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

That’s how they all ended up where they are currently. ‘Exhibit A’ was more than enough to get Percy packing his bags and leaving for a friends house after their parents had left. And of course, Hermione, Harry, (Y/n), and Neville had all shown up at the Burrow bright and as happy as ever. 

Although many people dealt around Hogwarts, Neville’s weed was always the best. He grew custom strains which were infused with other magical plants that had all sorts of properties. You wanted it to taste and smell like cheesecake? Done. Something odorless that packed a mean punch? Also done. He took good care of his product and went through the precautions to make sure it was not only safe but also that he didn’t get caught. He wasn’t always an avid weed smoker though. Originally, a friend had suggested it to him to help with his anxiety which had increased over the years but eventually it became less of an anxiety reducer and more of a favorite pastime. And hell, it left him with a pretty fucking nice amount of galleons in his pocket. It was also how he had met her.

He looked up at her form as she sat across the shed, looking as radiant as ever. She was laughing at something but he didn't know what over the sound of the music. One of his favorite things about her was how beautiful the whiteness of her smile was in comparison to her rich brown skin. It drove him absolutely nuts. It had only been a few weeks since he last saw her but as usual there was something new about her appearance.

He let his eyes wander over the work of art that was (Y/n). Her hair was different, her usual shoulder length black box braids had been swapped our for a beautiful set of honey blonde faux locs that stopped at her waist. In addition to her septum, she now had a nose ring on the left side of her nose and- was that a smiley piercing? Her skin was glowing vibrantly under the different hues of gold of LED lights that corresponded with the music. His eyes shifted down to her chest. 'Hm, she finally got the other one pierced' he noted due to the fact that her crochet bikini top left only the best bits of her breast to the imagination. And then he got to his favorite part. Her legs. Her supple, plush, smooth as glass legs. This wasn’t the first time he had stared at them longer than needed. He couldn’t help it, they were so fucking thick. And, were those his shorts? She must've stolen them from him last smoke sesh. He didn't mind though, she pulled off those denim shorts well and they hugged her in all the right fucking places.

“Bloody hell Nev, what’s taking you so long to roll the joint? Are you already that gone?” Ron groaned as he threw his head back. Neville looked down at the half rolled blunt in his hands, continuing to lick and roll it skillfully.

“Shut up Ron, just hit the fucking bong and leave Neville alone. Ol’ dramatic ass.” there was that honeysuckle voice he loved. God he could listen to her talk for fucking hours. I mean he had before. Her voice was sweet in the center and rough around the edges, a thick american accent still prominent in her voice. He smiled at that, looking up at her to find her already looking at him. As he continued to roll, he licked a fat strip on the wrap before shooting her a wink. 

“Thank you, petal.” he murmured quietly knowing she hadn’t heard as he looked back down at his hands finishing up. He grabbed the same lighter that he carried with him everywhere before lighting the end. As he was about to take a hit, a certain pair of gloss coated lips leaned over his shoulders taking a hit as she wrapped her arms around his upper half. 

Ron groaned again in irritation. “I hate it when you get the first hit! You always leave that damn sticky shit all over the blunt.” as he glared at the girl. She giggled before crawling off the wraparound couch taking her place next to brunette ruffling his long shaggy hair. He had been growing it out recently for no particular reason (definitely not the girl to his right).

“Ron you always buggin on something, nigga shut the fuck up! That’s why when you hit the blunt you leave it wet. Ol’ soppy mouth nigga I swear to god. Share with Mione.” she retorted as she leaned into Neville’s side looking up at him. He smiled down at her before wrapping his arm around her bringing her impossibly close. They both loved each other's touch when they were high. Whenever he’d touch her in one spot, (Y/n) always felt it in another- especially between her legs. She leaned up, kissing his freckled cheek with a smile. “Hey sir, how’s my favorite doing today?” she questioned as he bent down, placing a kiss right below her ear. 

“You know I’m always content when you’re next to me, flower. You don’t even have to question it.” he whispered in her ear before pulling back. She felt her face heat up as she rolled her eyes shoving him lightly. She crawled in his lap, straddling him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He instinctively moved one to her waist, stroking the smooth exposed sepia skin that was there for his enjoyment.

“You always talking some mess, Nev. Why don’t you do something bout it?” she said, motioning for him to hold the blunt up to her lips. He ignored her, looking into her eyes as he took a fat rip. He removed his hand from her waist, gripping her cheeks with it, rings digging into her skin. He leaned impossibly close as he shot gunned the smoke into her mouth. His lips hovered impossibly close to hers. ‘Finally’ she found herself thinking as she closed her eyes. However, the feeling of his soft pink lips never hit hers and she opened her eyes to find him smirking at her.

“And ruin this little game we have? Never.” He said, finally passing the blunt to her. If he had to be honest with himself, he was scared shitless. He was afraid if he actually did make that final move, jumped that final obstacle that she would be gone from his life. Sure, they made out all the time. It was normal for the two of them to get quite handsy with each other during smoke sessions but he found not even that being enough. He didn’t just wanna have his hands on her when he was high or wasted out of his fucking mind, he wanted her all the time. He wanted to sneak into each other's dorms and cuddle till wee hours of the morning. To carry her things to class for her. He wanted to live, breathe, and sleep (Y/n). But, is that what she wanted? He never knew. 

She sighed softly to herself, contemplating. It was very apparent to her that Neville wanted her just as badly as he wanted her. So, why had he never jumped the gun? Did he not want more? Was he really content with this little cat and mouse game they had? He couldn’t be, she knew who he was at heart which was a romantic just as she was. She was pulled from her thoughts as she heard the familiar beat of Hello? by Clairo ft Reji Snow. She smirked at him, leaning her forehead against his as she began to grind softly on his lap.

“Are you into me? Like I’m into you. Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you?” she sung to him softly, her (e/c) eyes meeting his hazel ones. He moved his hands up and down her body as she continued to grind her hips down on his. He let his hands travel to her ass, gripping it firmly. She leaned back slightly as she hit the blunt before returning the favor he had earlier. “You’re so close, and yet so far. I wonder how you look when you’re in the dark.” (Y/n)  continued singing as kissed up his neck, nibbling at the junction of his jaw and neck. He took one of the hands from her ass, moving some of the locs that had fallen into her face. He quickly tossed the blunt out of her hand into the ashtray in the table in front of them before leaning in and kissing her with such strong intensity.

The honey blonde haired girl moaned softly, already putty in the boy’s hands. Neville always knew exactly what to do with his hands. Where to kiss, where to tug, where to bite. Anything but actually dealing with the problem between her legs. She tangled her hands into the back of his hair, matching his lip movement. As he continued holding her ass with one hand, he used his other to stroke her cheek gently. A stark contrast to the kiss they were in which was wet, rough, and fast. He trailed his tongue over her lip which she gladly accepted. Their tongues danced together lazily as sweat began to build up on both of them. She pulled away partly, a trail of spit connecting them.

“Take this dumb ass jacket off. It’s the middle of July.” She grumbled as she began to unzip it, leaving him in some muggle band shirt she had gotten him one year from the states. She leaned back in, continuing to move her hips to the beat of the song. Neville began to move his hips up to match her movements. “Oh? So you got moves now huh? Who taught you those?”

“Don’t play dumb petal, you know you did.” He responded before gripping at her neck with his ringed hand. She gasped softly, looking into his blood shot blown out eyes. The music, the lighting, his touch? It was all much too much to handle. Her senses were overloaded by pleasure, the jane in her system. He tightened his hand some, leaning in closer. “You’re driving me absolutely mad, darling. Do you know that? I’d do anything you asked me to.” the movement of her hips had stilled but he kept going. She could feel the imprint of his member through his pants. Suddenly it was the only thing (Y/n) could focus on.

“Them Ravenclaw girls weren’t lying then, huh? You packin like that Nev?” she said suddenly. She knew he had asked her something a second ago, but the weed was really starting to hit. Her brain was foggy and hazed, the only thing she could think about now was him. She took one of her manicured hands, trailing it down his shirt till she reached his crotch. She gripped it in her hands, eyes widening slightly. He chuckled softly, catching her attention.

“Don’t act so surprised. You know I used to get around quite a bit.” He said, moving so his tent was resting against her inner thigh.

“Used to?” she questioned, laying her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. She took in his scent sighing softly. Neville always smelled like a mix of lavenders, cologne, and that loud. She knew it from anywhere, especially when she smelled it in the amortentia they brewed during potions that one time.

“Yeah I don’t really pipe girls like I used to.” He moved his hands up, embracing her close as he kissed the top of her head. “Ever since a certain pesky little American girl started making their way into my life, she’s all I could think about.” she rolled her eyes some, punching him on the arm as he began to laugh.

“Don’t fuck around like that, that shit aint even funny.” she grumbled, pouting as she crossed her arms. “I thought you had an actual answer!”

“On god that was my actual answer, (Y/n)! You asked why and I told you why. Absolutely anyone could tell I’m mad for you.” Neville said as he uncrossed her arms, holding her small delicate hands in his large ones. He intertwined their hands, her sharp acrylic nails digging into his hands slightly. “Did you know when Keaton Willis asked you to Hogsmeade, I was so mad that I wouldn’t sell to him for 3 months?!”

“But I didn’t even go with him! Me and you went together to go get ice cream, remember?”

“So?! He still fucking asked you. I’m getting heated just thinkin’ about it.” He mumbled as he looked away from her. He pulled her closer, resting his head on the top of hers. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you dating such a loser. He’s not even a good guy and he’s always fucking short with his galleons when he buys. I have to practically hound the guy for my money. Yknow what? Fuck it.” he looked up at the brown skinned girl before holding her face in both his hands. He took in her features. Her plump lips, edges laid to perfection, face ‘beat to the gods’ as she would say. “Go out with me. Be my girl, petal. I can’t bear you not being mine for another second.” he said. She pretended to ponder for a bit before she looked back at him.

“Depends, will I get free weed? I expect free weed from dating the weed man, you know.” she said with a giggle. He rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“You already get free weed! Don’t pretend you don’t.” he said loudly, catching the others’ attention.

“What? Nev that’s not fair! You always make me pay and we’re mates! What happened to bros befo-”

“Ron you finish that and you ain’t leavin this shed with an eye, I can promise you that boy.” she whipped her head around quickly, glaring at the boy. Ron quickly shut his mouth knowing first hand that her promises were never empty. He gulped slightly before nodding, turning back to Hermione who handed him the bong muttering something about how he looked like he needed it.

“But to answer your question, Nev baby, I’d love to be your girl. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than doing so.” (Y/n) leaned forward, leaving a lip gloss print on his cheek. 

“Well I’m glad you said yes because it would’ve been very awkward explaining to everyone tomorrow where that hickey on your neck came from.”

“Nev!”

[seancekitsch]

Prize Buck

I’m out of my hiatus. I was asked for Klaus Headcanons, wrote a smut fic after work today instead whoops

A/N: drug use, addiction, oral(m/f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap that shit folx), female or nb afab reader, thinking sad thoughts while doing sexy things, sorta sub!Klaus, mental health issues, roughness, unedited, i added a line that only makes sense if you read the comics

———————————————

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never done this? You?” Klaus asks, bringing the bowl and the lighter closer to you. You hadn’t, in honesty. You were the worlds most casual of casual stoners. You’d roll a joint if the mood struck you; meticulously crafted and thin for the perfect little heady time. Or you’d take a hit from a bong at a friends house, only if they offered to smoke you out. Really though, weed wasn’t your thing, it just had to become a part of the routine now because there weren’t other options. You couldn’t get your normal poison, amphetamines, so feeling uncontrollably sluggish instead of uncontrollably wired was the new normal.

A non-committal head shake was all you could offer. He was right to be incredulous at that revelation. You had met in rehab, for god’s sake. Klaus had, no HAS, a lot of problems, some you watched him scream and sweat through during his first week in the room across the hall from you. You were the one that he woke up constantly, because your crash left you near coma and crying when you were conscious. Despite making your recovery hell, he was the only one you could talk to when the tears subsided. Before rehab, you were a a published scholar at the height of your career, working with a newly discovered artifact from an anthropology dig. You’d spent your career hopped up on all of the meds you could find, culminating this research, staying up for thirteen days before having a breakdown in which you break the artifact from shaking so hard and crash your car fleeing the research center with your writing.

Weed was new. It was never your thing. But Klaus was new too, and he was your thing. You’d become fast friends in group therapy sessions, and inseparable out of them. It was unorthodox and frowned upon, but you became roommates once you’d gotten out. Just a small studio above a shop. A couch and a mattress that you’d switch off sleeping on, or you’d just both crash on the flood a hairs breadth away from snuggling. But it was the option that worked. You’d both confided that true sobriety wasn’t an option. So instead of anything hard, it was weed and alcohol. This was something that wouldn’t kill you or get you sent back. Controllable. And maybe one day you’d be able to go into a different field. Get an apartment with an actual bedroom. Maybe he could be able to shut out some of his power. But for now, this is what would work. It was a transition that made sense to you.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never shotgunned a bowl. Don’t all the great writers have their little parties where they smoke each other out? Isn’t that how Mary and Percy had that orgy with Lord Byron?” You wanted to correct him that you were a disgraced anthropologist, not a writer, but his warm thigh nudging yours reminds you now isn’t really the time. You give a weak smile instead.

“I guess since you’re the only person I smoke with, you’d be the only person to shotgun me.” He scooches closer to you, earthy scent already working wonders to entrance you. You wonder if he knew he had this effect on your mind and body.

“So you’ll let me shoot you now?” He asks. You smile, a little anxious, a little toothy.

“Shoot me? What am I, a ten point buck?”

There’s going to be a great feat of self control to keep yourself from jumping the curly haired man next to you, and self control is not one of your strong suits. You were head over heels in lust with Klaus and you didn’t even know if he was into women.

He begins with an unceremonious prodding at the fresh ground bud in the glass bowl with his pinky. Then he flicks the gas station lighter once. Twice. A spark. The flame dips into the bowl and there’s a soft crackle that’s accompanied and fueled by Klaus’ plump lips wrapping around the head of the pipe. It’s almost obscene to look at and you find yourself shifting uncomfortably. Well, not uncomfortably, but not in a way that’s appropriate for this setting. There’s probably more than a slight chance Klaus knows you’re aroused, but he’s being polite about it. Even now, as his lungs are filling up with smoke, and he’s puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk, there’s this ebbing and throbbing between your legs.

And now, for the shotgun itself. You know he’s blowing all the smoke in his body into your mouth, but the last thing you expect is how it feels to actually have his lips on yours. At first he’s methodical, a slow diaphragm push of smoke into your mouth, your lips parted slightly and drinking in the smoke as it comes. But no, that’s not enough; not giving Klaus enough access to deliver the goods. He makes quick work of parting your lips further by a harsh squeeze to your jaw. The way the smoke and his tongue invade your mouth does nothing to help curb the lack of self control you possess as you moan wantonly into the kiss. The shotgun. You could be addicted to this alone.

By the time he pulls away, you feel like a balloon in that you’re floating, and the hand you have securely placed on your roommates thigh is the only thing keeping you from floating out the window and into some electrical wires or into a tree for birds to choke to death on. You start low, reddened eyes looking from your hand on his thigh, up to his chest. Klaus’ chest is almost always bare. His arms and the muscles of his abdomen were littered with the odd scar and tattoo here and there. He told you they’re from fighting in Vietnam in the 1960s and France in the 1400s. When he said it, he was so earnest you could do nothing but believe him. Then your eyes travel a little more north, to his lips. He needs a shave; his mustache and his chin getting a bit too scraggly, but they tickled when you came together for the smoke. And then you finally meet his eyes, unabashed that you just drank him in like lemonade. His pupils are blown wide when you finally look into them; not something weed would do to you. No, this was something else.

“Another?” He asks, voice trembling and breathy, not above a whisper.

“I- I want more.” Your voice coming out a tad huskier than you intended, not masking how his actions had an effect on you. Your skirt feels entirely too open right now. If you were wearing jeans, or tight pants like his, you’d feel some kind of restraint. Like a chastity belt, you think, some real medieval torture. But it would be all too easy to lift this skirt, or even to shift your hips and grind against something for even a tiny iota of relief.

You don’t even watch Klaus take the hit this time, only turning your head back to face him when you hear him stop sucking. This time, he sets the bowl down before leaning in. Your mouth is open and ready for him, already a quick learner from what just transpired. So Klaus doesn’t grab your jaw this time. Instead, he grabs the hand that’s still resting on his thigh.

And he shoves it towards the crotch of his pants.

Where your open palm lands clumsy and hard against the hardness straining at his pants.

He groans as contact is made and almost coughs the rest of the smoke into your mouth, but you’re there to suck it down in stride. There’s only a quick pause for you to exhale this now twice filtered smoke before your lips re-attach to his, the bowl and lighter now forgotten.

His hand drifts to your jaw a second time, before sliding down further to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, until it strains your back. He knows you fell asleep on the couch last night, so he knows how much this burns your taught muscles. All to his advantage it seems, as you shift your weight to your knee before turning and straddling him, all without breaking the kiss or your removing your hand from his clothed cock. Your skirt pools at where both of your hips meet, and he readjusts it -ever the gentleman- for you as you begin to knead and squeeze him beneath your hand.

Instead of smoke now, your mouths fill with the moans and sighs of each other, both refusing to end the kissing first and both running out of air. The onslaught of kissing continues through some under the shirt fondling, through Klaus less than gently pinching at your nipples, through you unbuttoning Klaus’ pants- now much too tight. He only breaks the kiss finally to beckon you,

“Stand up, I’ve got something else I want to show you”

Wobbly, you give his clothed cock one more squeeze before you rise to your feet.

While you move to reposition, standing over him now with your skirt bunched in one hand and your panties in another, he shimmies his pants down to his knees. All of your wondering if he was into more than just men is silenced when his tongue makes first contact with your clit. He takes the time to swirl his tongue tantalizingly slow, then quickly flicking his tongue upward, making your knees buckle until they land at the back of the couch just above his shoulders. You lean into it as he writes letters to you with his tongue, teasing the entrance to your cunt with his fingers and gathering the wetness until his fingers are slick.

You’re about to beg for it, cry for his fingers to penetrate you, but you don’t have to because he plunges in to the hilt. There is no easing into it, he thrusts his middle and ring finger at a break neck speed. Your skin feels white hot and the only purchase you can find is in squeezing the fabric balled in your palms and Klaus skewers you and torches every one of your nerve endings with his hot mouth and fingers.

Your high is coming to a head, literally and figuratively, when Klaus retracts all attention. You whine, pouting and pitiful, when he says something that surprises you:

“You’re gonna cum, right? Order me. Order me to make you cum. I’ll obey.”

So you do.

“Fuck— Klaus. Fuck! Make me cum. Make me cum on your face.”

When he returns to your cunt he’s unmerciful, working you back up to and through your high before you can even realize it’s happening. You barely savor it before you’re convulsing, sinking your knees further until they rest on his shoulders and he has to grab you by the ass to hold you up. You hadn’t been touched like this since before you had met Klaus, and you wanted more. Insatiable and prone, you make your next move untangling yourself from his grasp.

Sinking down, you feel the old wood creak beneath your stiff knees. This would hurt like a bitch, but when Klaus smiles down at you with his face covered in the wetness of your orgasm, you can’t find a reason to care. His smile is genuine, wide and splitting, the same look he gives you when you come home with pizza. Well, this was about to be better than pizza. The tip of your tongue touches the head of his cock first, a tiny testing lick earning a full body shudder from the man in front of you.

“Please don’t tease. Do a guy a favor. Please baby?”

You’re a sucker for his pleading, and just as he didn’t give you time to adjust, you don’t give him any warning before you sink your entire mouth down on him, only stopping to hollow out your cheeks when his tip hits the back of your throat. You hold it there for a moment, and then only gag as your lungs run out of oxygen. Klaus could be a substitute for oxygen, you’d gladly rather take him in than anything you would have tried before.

He whines, you notice. High pitched and needy. He would probably do anything I asked right now to cum, you think, but you quickly dismiss the thought. In a way you’re glad it’s you sucking his soul out through his cock and no one else, because he’s putting so much of himself into this. You wonder if he’s been taken advantage before. You hope not.

You banish the thought by moaning around the head of his cock. You revel in his reaction, to bury both of his hands in your hair as he all but sobs out “oh god please keep doing that” or something like that, you can’t really tell for sure over the rush his touch sends straight back down to your core.

As much as you want to worship his cock, your own tears from gagging on it start to sting your eyes. So you pull off him, just long enough to ask,

“Do you want me to finish you like this? Or another way?” Pausing to kiss the underside of his cock before adding, “You can have any part of me you want”

It’s like a flip switches, and he’s pulling you back up, pulling your skirt down and off of you in fluid motion, before you take your spot straddling him again. Impatient, he pushes you down onto him, thrusting away immediately finding a groove.

“Oh I’m gonna make you cum— gonna be real good for you. M-make you feel real good.” He’s a stuttering, groaning mess as he thrusts up into you.

“You feel amazing inside me. You’re doing so good, Klaus. Making me feel amazing,” you coo, doing everything to praise and encourage him. “I’m gonna cum, can you feel that? It’s all for you, do you want that— OH”

The thought caught mid air stopped short by a particularly accurate thrust right into a spot that makes you scream, your second orgasm of the afternoon now much closer than it had been. You feel your muscles clench as you bear down on him, trying to make Klaus hit that spot over and over. By the way his rhythm is almost non existent, you can tell he’s almost there too.

Something crosses your mind, and before you fully process the thought, one of your hands is wrapping around his throat, fingers and thumb squeezing deftly so that you don’t close the airway, but that he sees stars. That does it.

Klaus cumming is almost more beautiful than it feels. His cock twitches and paints your insides, and you cum from the sensation as well, but the blissed-out fucked-out face smiling up at you is to see heaven itself. His eyeliner is streaked with tears, his lips swollen and bruised, a smile splitting his face in two.

You move to get up, maybe clean yourself up, but at least put your panties back on. Klaus stops you though with his hands gently but firmly on your hips, holding you in place.

“Just stay. For a bit. I’m not one of those dames you can deflower and avoid their calling cards.”

A snort of laughter. A joke covering real insecurity; you can see right through it.

“Klaus, you were deflowered long before I ever got here, but I’m not gonna go anywhere. You shot me, I’m your prize buck.”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Sensual Soliloquies

A/N: This is the first time in a couple years that I’ve attempted writing any type of fanfiction, let alone smut. This is going to be extremely detailed as well, so try not to cream yourselves too early. I give the credit for the Klaus traveling in time shit to @badsext because of her Klaus x Nathan fic. Go read it, it’s quite lovely.

Warnings: smoking, detailed sexual actions, probably some cussing here or there, unprotected sex (wrap it up before you back it up), and threesome I guess if that counts

 “Klaus, where the fuck are we?” you ask him, confused to no end.

“Um, Berlin, Germany. Some time in the far future, and the apocalypse of 2019 either happened and didn’t fuck anything up, or just didn’t happen.”

  Klaus touched another fucking suitcase (he told you about the previous time, and the previous heartbreak) and somehow ended up transporting the both of you to Berlin. Everything around you is very neon, and drone-like machines fly by, carrying what seem to be food boxes. You two landed in an alleyway of what seemed to be a bigger building. There was an old fashioned looking car, and a concrete overhang type place. The “Only Employee” door gave off the vibe that you weren’t supposed to be there. Well, to be frank, you weren’t even supposed to be in that year.

“This place might be a strip club or a hooker joint.” Klaus points out, closing his eyes, deeply sighing.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, curious as to where he got that outlandish idea from. (Honestly it’s not the most outward idea he’s come up with since you’d met him.)

  He points to the window, where there seemed to be a naked robot with exaggerated female features dancing on a pole. Through the window, there’s also people, presumably strippers, dancing on tables, shaking ass, getting handed money. It turns you on just a bit, because something about cellulite being pushed against tight clothing got you going. That thought process, however, got pushed aside when a person walked through the employee door, outside. They were alone. The person looked somewhat like Klaus for some odd reason, mostly in the face region. Blonde hair swooped into a low-grade emo fringe, what looked like plastic covered their forehead, a kimono with tassels, and a deconstructed suit vest with tight pants.

“Oh fuck, hide.” Klaus whispered as quiet as possible, prompting the both of you to dive behind the old car.

“The suitcase!” you thought, about to reach out to get it, but the person was already swaying their way towards you two. They, however, didn’t seem to notice you two, as they lit what looked to be a cigarette, and took a deep inhale.

  The position that you find yourselves in proves to be quite compromising. Literally and figuratively. You were pushed up against Klaus’ groin area, as you couldn’t be choosers when about to be possible prosecuted. He groans lightly, trying to adjust you off of him, but that proves to be quite stupid as the person stops mid drag and calls out.

“Who’s there?” You have half of a mind to answer, but Klaus was just a tad drunk so he squeaked lightly.

“What the fuck?” they yell, looking to the source of the sound, only to find you and Klaus huddled together behind the car. The person seemed to have a slight accent, German, you suspect, and a higher pitch to their voice. Although that might be due to the fact that they were scared out of their fucking mind to find two people, one who looked like them behind a goddamn car.

  The two of you come out from behind the car, like two children caught trying to steal candy. Klaus tries to put his hands in front of his crotch, as his bulge hadn’t faded yet. You were already willing to formulate the truth instead of a lie, it was Germany for fucks sake, and you didn’t know if they went back to the old ways.

“Please explain to me who the fuck you two are, why the fuck you’re hiding behind a car that isn’t yours, and why you have your hands in front of your pants, hon?” he says, nodding his cigarette over to Klaus, who blushes at those words.

“We-” Klaus starts, but he was drunk, and you didn’t want to cause any confusion.

“We come from the past, and the suitcase you saw on the ground is how we got here. It allows you to go to a specific place and time, typically to kill another person. Klaus, here, um, grabbed one in his stupor and here we are, in front of you. Might I ask, what year is it?” you said in one breath, about to be prepared to start running if this person had a hidden glock.

“It’s 2037 love. For starters, my name is Luba, I work at this strip joint here and as an escort, uh. Sorry, I’m just a little baffled, understandably. You know what, my shift ends in like 5 minutes, and my boss won’t mind if I leave early. How about I order some food for all of us because I can’t cook for shit, and we’ll talk over at my place. It doesn’t seem like you two planned anything ,so I’ll care for you two ‘til then.” he offers, looking at us with curiosity.

“That sounds good, but before that, could I please get a drag of that, might as well cross-fade in fucking Berlin. Maybe we’ll get Amsterdam next time.” Klaus asks, looking for approval.

  Luba obliges, and the two of them make shared eye contact, and hand contact, which ends up being lingering. Oh, the thoughts running through your head at that moment in time. Naughty, very naughty indeed. You just meet Luba though, and he might not even be into chicks. He goes back inside, and tells the two of you to meet him up front, and you travel there, and he shows up exactly when the two of you were about to dip out.

“Come on, my place is just a walk from here, it shouldn’t tire the two of you out too much.” he says, starting to walk in a direction. You two follow him, hungry, cold, and of course horny. 

  The moment you two arrive at Luba’s apartment, the feeling of hippy isn’t uncommon. There were tapestries on the walls, and potted plants decorated the shelves. There was even an old fashioned bong sitting on the table, and it looked clean for the most part. It seemed like a very cozy place, and the serenity was only bound to end. The two of you lurked around very lightly, taking in the fact that the Nazis didn’t find you. Luba presumably went to his room to set his kimono and keys down, then he came in, only to find you and Klaus wandering around his living room, trying to figure out the vintage things from the modern ones.

“Hey, um, what do you too want for dinner? We can talk over it, and it doesn't take too long to order since everything is air-delivered,” he said, in which Klaus mumbled whatever’s fine, and you nodded along. “Chinese it is,”Luba says, typing into a little machine, and opening his living room window for the bot to come through.

    The food couldn’t come soon enough because Klaus started to sweat and get the shakes, a clear symptom of his withdrawals. They’d been getting a little better, but ever since the cult fucked him over, he’d been drinking again. Plus, the 60’s were like the haven for every drug in existence. Klaus wanted to make sure he got the freshest Mary Jane whenever possible. You, on the other hand, tended to stay away from drugs, only drinking every now and then, and smoking weed only when you felt like it. It wasn’t a constant feeling, but sometimes it was stronger than others. All three of you made your ways to the kitchen, and looked out of the window until the bot announced itself, and dropped the food off on the coffee table with the bong on it.

“Thank god! Food’s here. Limes and cherries from cocktails only go so far y’know. And those peanuts, ugh, they’re stale and taste like sweat.” Luba says, ripping the box open on the kitchen island. The box contained what looked like non-cardboard containers filled with soup dumplings, lo mein noodles, a very small order of broccoli, crab rangoon, and a fuck garlic chicken. Luba pulled out a bottle of wine and some water in glasses.

  The lot of you dug in quickly, as you and Klaus hadn’t eaten in a good 8 hours, and Luba had only eaten a small breakfast that morning. Between bites, you and Klaus explained how you two got in Germany, and your lives before that. He mentioned the Umbrella Academy and his siblings, even mentioning their powers. He was truly comfortable around Luba, he didn’t even mention his siblings when he first met you. They both even mentioned the fact that they look very similar, even though they’re years apart. The meal was stretching to a close, but Luba asked a very compromising question.

“What about the two of you, huh? I’ve been trying to figure out, with the small amount of time that I’ve known you two. Are you two friends or fuck buddies, hmm?” he asks, a sly smirk on his face as he sultrily wipes his mouth, and sets his napkin on his plate, steepling his hands under his chin. These words caused a blush to dust across the both of your cheeks, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Klaus adjusting his bulge as well as he could.

“We’re lovers, but started off as friends.” you answered, leaning forward, letting your cleavage become slightly visible. Sticking your ass out just enough to get Klaus riled up from beside you.

  Luba nods in acknowledgement, then also adjusts himself from what you can see. You all put your plates away, making quick work of rinsing them, then placing them in the deep sink. Luba moves to the living room, sitting on his couch and spreading his legs just enough to make his bulge visible in those oh-so tight pants. You both sit on the side of him, trying to edge those naughty thoughts from your heads.

“So, are we gonna fuck or what?” Luba asks casually, looking between the two of you, glancing at your lips and Klaus’ little problem.

“Yeah, why not. When in Berlin, I guess.” you say, leaning across to catch Luba’s lips with your own, catching his braided hair with your hand. His lips are surprisingly soft, and his tongue fights for dominance with your own, slowly becoming more of a stalemate, settling for pleasure.

   You move into Luba’s lap, softly grinding against him to take the edge off of the simmering pleasure in your lower abdomen. Klaus turns the two of you lightly, only so he could catch Luba’s neck, gently kissing and nibbling it, leaving red marks in his wake. He licks the prominent carotid vein in his neck, biting it to draw a high moan out of Luba, causing him to draw away from the kiss to dust your neck with kisses, stopping at your collarbone to bite there, and to continue to grind against you, and Klaus pushes up against the blonde haired individual, trying to rub his dick slowly against the rough material of Luba’s vest.

“We should move somewhere more….accomodating for three people, some would say.” Klaus says, breathing lightly on Luba’s neck, licking along the length of his earlobe. You shudder at the ending of your session, but oblige, knowing that Klaus could get a little squirmy when he was being pleasured substantially.

  The bedroom is somewhat different from the couch..or should I say love seat. You sit on the bed making out with Luba, but Klaus is sitting on the edge of the bed, sneaking a hand behind his navy blue bell bottoms, and slowly rubbing himself to get that constant source of endorphins moving. You moan lightly at the sensation of Luba rubbing himself against you, giving you just the lightest of clitoral stimulation. Wet smacks fill the air as you move down Luba’s form, biting at his smooth chest, and he moans beautifully next to your ear, giving it a nice bite to punctuate his gyrations against your pelvis. He pulls away from you just long enough to catch Klaus about to cum, only to stop him in his tracks.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I haven’t even sucked you off yet.” Luba says, making his way over to him.

  Klaus sheepishly stands up with his prominent boner not being even close to hidden in those pants of his. You take your pants off on the bed, along with your shirt, and slip a hand into your panties, getting ready to enjoy what was about to be placed in front of you. Luba lands a kiss on Klaus’ lips, gropes his ass once, then kisses the loathed bulge put before him. He pulls Klaus' pants down, just so he can see his project, then gets to work. Luba takes Klaus’ cock entirely, balls in all and moans around the length, Klaus replying in earnest. He pops off of Klaus’ balls, focusing on the head of his dick. He gives little kitten licks to the tip, making prolonged eye contact with Klaus. He takes him inch by inch, savoring every little bit of his dick that he could get his plump lips on. You also saw Luba’s tongue making work of the vein showing on the underside of Klaus’ dick.

   Luba reached his hands around and groped Klaus’ ass, kneading it between his hands, paying special attention to it. All while looking at Klaus with the biggest, brightest doe eyes the world did see. His emerald pierced the identical ones Klaus owned, sending him into a fit of moans and whimpers. He starts bobbing his head around the length, hollowing his cheeks to get that perfect feeling Klaus wanted deeply. He pulled off with a delicious pop , Klaus giving one last perfect moan from his lips. You’d been touching yourself heavily, not yet letting the slick fingers fully penetrate your hole. Just barely getting there. Luba strips himself clean, leaving his dick standing proudly against his flat stomach, small beads of precum falling from the tip, slowly making their way down to the base of his dick. Klaus also strips himself, moving over to where you were sitting on the bed, catching your lips between his own, then making quick work of your bra and panties.

  He catches each nipple between his mouth, suckling lightly on the buds. Luba also joins in on the fun, and starts slowly fingering Klaus’ asshole, drawing a low moan out of his busy lips. Klaus draws himself away from you, just long enough to also draw Luba away, who drags you on top of him. Klaus takes his spot behind you, jacking himself off lightly. You don’t know where this is heading, but it looks like it’s about to be beautifully seductive and erotic. Apparently condoms didn’t exist in the future, but that was the least of your worries. Luba sat patiently, waiting for you to slip onto his cock, hands ready to catch you if you fall.

  You slowly climbed onto Luba’s cock, stretching yourself deliciously, drawing a surprisingly strong moan from yourself. Luba’s dick is just about the same as Klaus’. It’s thicker than it is long, and light stubble covers his pelvic area. It’s not much pain, but lots of pleasure for you. Luba closed his eyes in pleasure, and lets out a loud grunt, putting his hands on your hips, grasping onto you. You slowly start to move on his length, moving up and down very slowly, then very quickly, as you’re used to Klaus being rough with you, and that’s what you took best.

And apparently so does Luba.

   He moans and yells underneath you, moving his hips up to meet yours at every interval you move. Your breasts bounce wonderfully to each movement, and whenever Luba opens his eyes, it’s all he can see. Every now and then, his eyes go to Klaus, who attacks your neck and jerks himself off to your pace with his near lookalike. As well as that, Luba likes to look at where your pussy and his dick meet, being the source of this delicious pleasure. Things start to get a little calm, but Klaus gets a very, very naughty idea. He leans into your ear and fucking dirty talks you while you’re riding Luba into the goddamned sunset.

“Fuck yeah, you like riding that cock huh? Oh, such a dirty fucking girl, getting me all riled up. Yeah, clench that sweet pussy of yours around his fucking cock. Feeling it reach deep into your fucking love tunnel, banging up against your womb. Such a fucking slut. You know you want that cum painting your insides.” he says into your ear, humping a pillow from Luba’s bed. He moans in deep pleasure, grunting and whimpering at the noises you make. Klaus reaches forward to grope your tits, harshly squeezing them so that you can feel each finger rubbing against that skin.

  Luba hears what’s going on, and it only brings him closer to his own orgasm. He moans louder now, confident in his ability to pleasure you. Him speeding up his own thrusts makes you clench your wet pussy around him, squeezing with all the might in your being. Klaus also speeds up his humping, and his words get dirtier and hornier. 

“Yeah, make him cum hard, just like you milk me whenever you can. He’ll be saying your name like a mantra when you’re done with him. Oh, good girl, riding him like a fucking champ. Don;t you feel him getting closer and closer while his dick gets harder, yeah? Want him to pump your fucking womb full of cum, yeah? Make you want more.” he says, reaching his own peak, moaning sensually in your ear as he releases onto his stomach and your back.

That action may have given you the best orgasm in the history of your sex life.

  You moan loudly and clench the hardest you’ve ever done so, sparking you to squirt messily all over Luba’s stomach. He cums after you, pumping you full of his cum. He covered his face when he came, and he moaned into oblivion. The three of you slowly recover from your orgasms, very slowly. Luba went to go fetch a wet washcloth, but not after kissing the both of you on the lips. You recover the slowest, and Klaus rubs your back as the aftershocks start rolling in. Luba cleans you up, and places his pillowcase in the wash. He also changes his sheets, but not after handing you a morning after pill, because in the early conversation over dinner that seemed so far away, you mentioned that you’d wanted kids much later in life.

  You three sleep soundly, cuddled up against each other for warmth. You feel like you’re on Cloud 9 with that day and it’d only go downhill from there.

Masterlist

[1-975-1975]

a cliche love

“You’re here almost everyday anyway… Do you just want a job here?”  Mousy brown hair, thick rimmed glasses, dull blue eyes looking down at you.    

And you look up at her, wide-eyed, holding a stack of albums, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, splashes of Amy Winehouse.  She was offering you to work for her, here, at your favorite record shop.  And it throws you so off guard that instead of even giving her a yes or no, you drop everything and jumped into her arms, almost knocking her glasses off from the force your tiny body rammed into hers with.

Your first job, you were beyond excited and so thankful that the manager was kind enough to let you have a job at her dad’s shop.  Her name was Erica, and she always wore clothes that were too baggy for her, long skirts draped under oversized sweaters, hair in a messy bun always, and she sometimes smelt of old bread but she let you dance around the shop and grew fond of the way you could get any customer to sing with you, even if they didn’t know the lyrics.  

And you always dreaded the thought of getting a job, but this was your favorite place to be, so you didn’t mind it too terribly.

And then you got your first paycheck.  It wasn’t a grand amount or anything but you were well pleased at the thought of getting paid to be at the place that were at everyday regardless.  Erica asking you what you were going to do with the money you started earning, asking if you had anything you were wanting to save for.

Shaking your head, smiling, instead reaching over behind the counter to a box you put on hold, telling her you wanted to buy this.  It was a gift for someone.

“Oh, Matthew...you really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like this.”  Whispering to yourself, chuckling when you got to Matty’s flat.  He was awful about locking his door, you always told him one day he’d wake with all of his shit right missing, earning you a scoff.  Matty retorting back that he has nothing worth taking anyway.

Gently closing the door behind you, slipping your boots off at the door.  Weed and cigarettes, the smell always lingering in the air, and you think that Matty hasn’t even had the flat for very long but the smells are already permanently hung in each room.  Especially his bedroom.  

Pushing the door open quietly, moving aside piles of shirts and trousers strewn across the carpet, careful not to hit the bong Matty had on the floor.  

And he looks almost angelic when he sleeps, even though his hair is in every direction and you think he’s drooling a bit, he’s still for once.  Unmoving.  Inching closer, trying not to wake him, admiring his face under the soft lighting through the blinds.  

Attempting to set the bag in your hands down gently, trying to kneel beside the bed onto the floor, but the slightest rustle of the bag and you see Matty’s body shift and little grumbles coming from his mouth.

Stifling your giggles with your hand pressed to your lips, gently whispering his name.

Hearing a few louder mumbles this time, and you take the opportunity to put your hand on his arm and try to keep gently coaxing him awake, shaking him softly, lips closer to his face now.  His eyes starting to flutter open.

And you think at first he might get mad, seeing you sneaking into his flat, but the little smile that tugs at the side of his lips when you whisper his name again tells you otherwise.

Cigarettes, his hand and yours held outside the window, stacking some of his pillows under you so you could actually get more of your arm outside, resting your elbow on the ledge, watching smoke dance through Matty’s hair.

“Why’re you here so early, love?”  His voice still a bit scratchy, as per usual when he first wakes up in the morning.  Taking another drag of his cigarette, ashes floating back in through the window, scattering on his pillows.  

“Matty, it’s not even early.  It’s like half noon or...something.”  And you hear him start to whine that it’s early for someone who drank their body weight in rum last night but you tell him to shush and hold out his hand.  

Reaching behind you and bringing the bag up off the floor, amusement painted over your face at the look Matty gives you when you plop the bag in front of him.

Asking what it is.  Telling him to “open it and see, you knob.”

And he opens the bag and pulls out the box, looking down, looking back up at you, then back down again.  Trying desperately not to smile like an idiot and he’s shaking his head and very obviously trying to suppress the grin spreading across his lips.

Guitar strings.  New ones because he keep plucking all of his into oblivion.  Breaking too many of them, and you remembered him saying something about it before.  

Trying to tell you that you honestly didn’t have to buy him new ones, but you insisted that you wanted to, and your manager gave you a good price on them.

And the look on Matty’s face continues to grow more and more bemused, because what did you mean “manager?”.  Idiotic grin growing wider and wider on yours.

“I got a job.” The record shop, you explain to him.  The one that’s near that weird adult store on the edge of town, the record store where “bread girl” works as Matty affectionately referred to her as before.  “And I wanted to get that shirt we sa-”

Lips on yours, cutting you off with a quick kiss.  Sleepy whispers in your ear, telling you “Thank you, Teddy” and that he’s proud of you for getting a job.  Little blush creeping across your lips, diverting your eyes away from him and staring out the window, wisps of smoke from your cigarette floating away in the breeze.

Living room, the old couch from his parents he took with him when he moved, begging him to get rid of it because the color was right awful.  

And you’re sitting on his lap, back pressed up against his bare chest, little body boxed in between him and his guitar.  And he’s strumming mindlessly, tuning, making sure everything sounds the way it should.  Telling him this time to be careful and try not to break all of them in 3 minutes like the last time.

“Shut it.”  Lips pressed to the back of your head, muffled by your hair.  And you know he’s not really focused on you right now, but you’re stuck in the feeling of his skin on yours, the way his hair smells of cigarettes and that rum he kept going on about last night.

That feeling creeping up over you again.  Sometimes it starts in your stomach, right under your lungs, other times you feeling worming its way up your throat.  But it’s warm, and it’s comforting, and it reminds you of how much you love Matty.  How much you need him, and how much you hope that he gets these little spurts of emotion over you in the way that you do him.  

Shifting on his lap, turning your head just a bit to glance up at him, your big eyes, and his sleepy ones look over at you.  His smile, it’s tender, and that feeling you have is washing all over you now, down to your toes when he presses his lips to yours again, using the body of his guitar to pull you closer into him.

Matty, Matty.

He’s everything to you.

“I love you.”  Quiet squeak, cheeks turning bright pink again when you two part.  And he presses smaller kisses to your temple, your forehead and nods.  Smiles, and nods, and starts plucking at the strings of his guitar again.

Taking you a second to process the song, because you were too stuck in your own thoughts about him, and it seems possible that if the whole building were set on fire that you wouldn’t notice, because all you were thinking about was Matty, and his lips, and his hair, and how one eyelash looked like it was going to fall off his lid and you wanted to tell him to make a wish on it.

“Is this… when did you learn this?”  The song, you know it.  And you start laughing when you realize what it is because he always said it’s the most cliche song ever whenever you would put it on and dance to it.  The Rolling Stones, Beast of Burden.

“I thought you’d like it.”  Soft chuckles in response, and he mouths the lyrics as he plays.  “Even if it is too overplayed.”

Shaking your head, humming along, feeling content. Singing along. “All I want is for you to make love to me.”

A few hours later and you both are still on the god awful, puke orange couch, horror movies.  Arguing over what to watch, you wanted something scary, he wanted karate, like always.  Rock, paper, scissors to settle it like, but you more than not coming out victoriously.  His body laying across the cushions, you on top of him, head pressed to his chest.

“Mum wants you to come over this week.”  Fingers tugging through your curls as he speaks.  Supposing she probably told him when she rung him on the phone a little earlier.

“Why?” Curious.

“She wants to make you a ‘congratulatory dinner’.”  And you’re actually really curious and a tad confused now so you turn your attention from Scream to look him in the eyes, lips curving into a smirk.  Asking you if it’s really that odd that his mum wants to congratulate her son’s girlfriend on her first job?

Girlfriend.  

Did he really say that word?  The word, besides “love”, you thought you’d never hear him say to you.

Laying your head back on his chest.  Warm feeling crawling up over you again, from your toes this  time, listening to his heart beat in his chest.  Trying not to scream at the top of your lungs, your first job and your first boyfriend all in the course of a week.

“Okay.”  You murmur, nodding.  Feeling his lips on the top of your head again, his hands on the sides of your waist, warm. Gentle, loving, and very warm.

[1-975-1975]

an unyielding love

HOLY SHIT THIS IS LONG

It wasn’t the first time that you and Matty hadn’t spoken for a while.  There were times previous to this where you two went on about your lives without talking, without seeing one another, but you didn’t feel as awful about those times that you did now.  Weeks and weeks passed by like absolute torture, like salt being poured into the bleeding, gaping hole that Matty tore into you, misery.  

But you were too stubborn to cave in to him, to be on your phone trying to give him a ring,hopeful that one day you might wake in the middle of the night to a text from him or a missed call.  Hopeful that the night of your fight he would have turned around and came back to you, apologizing, but it never happened.  And it ruined you.  You craved him, his touch, his voice, his taste.  It was an insatiable urge that getting drunk off your ass off cheap bottles of wine or fucking your neighbor’s son could no longer sate.  

Deciding one night you needed fresh air and away from your parents who were driving you mad, you made your way to your brother’s flat he moved into with his girlfriend.  Bridget swinging open the door and pulling you in for a tight squeeze before you could even mutter out a “hello.”  

“Teddy my little doll, I’ve missed you!”  And she’s dragging you by the hand into the flat, empty beer cans scattered around, something smelling of weed and patchouli floating in the air, Pearl Jam playing in the background.  And your brother greets you with another squeeze once you get into the flat, totally blown away when you tell him that you’ve picked up smoking weed, him practically tossing you into the couch and shoving the bong into your hands.  Bridget climbing up over the side of the couch and grabbing at your hair, insistent that you let her plait it because she “can’t believe how long your hair is now and needs to play with it.”  Telling her that you quite like what she’s done with hers, the startings of dreadlocks on her bottom layer of hair, a mix of turquoise and brown beads placed through her long, blonde locks.  Vibrant orange streaks adorning her hair and you tell her that she should put pink in yours sometimes, and she’s too busy plaiting to really hear what you say so she just kind of hums in response as you take a big rip from the bong.

Small talk between the three of you, how’s mum, dad, that boy you’re always with…”Matty was it?”  Your brother fiddling with the cap from his beer bottle, not noticing your head slumping a bit at the mention of Matty’s name until he’s not hearing your voice start rambling on about him.  

“Ooh, trouble in Paradise I take it, T?”  A little chuckle falling from his lips, tossing the cap onto the floor, and you try to keep it together while you tell them both about how you two just ran your course, that’s all.  But you think it might be a mix of the few hits from the bong you’ve had and the disgusting shot of Black Velvet Kenny gave you but you feel yourself start to lose it.  A little tear swelling in the corner of your eye, tiny sniffles that make the both of them look up at you.  But you don’t come clean about the full blown argument you and Matty had, just sat there looking rather pathetic with your head down, tears stinging your already red cheeks.  

Bridget tells you she has just the cure for you, getting up from the couch and walking over to their stereo, fiddling with the stereo, and the music switches from Pearl Jam to Britney Spears in an instant, Kenny rolling his eyes but you giving Bridget a sly smirk, you’re favorite album, Oops!... I Did It Again.  Attempting to dry your tear-matted lashes with the back of your hand.

“We’re still having a party, right T?”  Your brother, yelling over the music from inside the kitchen.  And at first you’re confused as to what he’s talking about, but remembering that your mum and dad have their anniversary coming up, and they always take a trip for a week when each year.  

“That’s perfect, Teddy!”  Bridget bouncing up and down a bit next to you on the couch, giving you a wild look in her eyes, very reminiscent of the hazel that Matty’s eyes are painted with.  “You should invite one of Matty’s mates to the party, make him jealous, yeah?”

Kennedy poking his head out from the kitchen, telling you both you’re right bitches for even thinking that.  And although you couldn’t help but be a bit taken back by Bridget’s suggestion at first, you did admit to her that you thought the drummer in Matty’s band was proper fit and you surely wouldn’t be opposed to him showing up at your party.

“Do it! Shag him, Teddy, hard!”  Shoving your hands of Bridget’s mouth before she could spew anymore vulgarity out of her mouth. 

 And although you didn’t really plan on getting off with George the night of the party, you were hoping that the text you sent inviting him would make it’s way to Matty somehow.  And if it did you knew that Matty would surely come over to throttle you and make a scene about you trying to fuck his best mate, but at least it would give you the chance to have some sort of interaction with Matty.  But George didn’t reply back to you with anything more than a “Thanks, love”, giving you random bouts of anxiety that anytime someone opened the door, it would be Matthew, fucked off and ready to start another argument with you.  Instead it mostly ended up being your brother's friends, giving you eyes as they came in, Kennedy having to make a public service announcement to the whole house that if anyone touched you they would have their fingers plucked off one by one and hands sliced off at the wrist.  

Part way through the night, after two rounds of you failing miserably at beer pong, you became less and less anxious.  Forgetting even what you were so worked up over in the first place, stumbling around your house in a drunken haze, eventually wandering your way up the stairs into the bathroom connected to your room.  Trying to concentrate on your reflection in the mirror, fixing bits of smeared eyeliner, trying to smooth all the frizzy hairs on your head, tiny fits of giggles realizing you were much more drunk than what you thought, having to sit on the side of your tub to stabilize yourself.  And you told yourself repeatedly throughout the night to not pull out your phone while you were drunk, but the urge to check and see if you had a text from him was killing you.  But there was nothing, and your heart sunk just a tad at seeing that.  Wanting so badly to call Matty up and beg for him to come over, tell him you missed him and wanted to see him, but knowing that your fantasies wouldn’t come true.  Matty wanted nothing to do with you.

Pulled from your thoughts when you realize someone is knocking on your bathroom door.  Thinking it was probably Bridget or your brother, yelling at them that there’s a million other bathrooms in the house “So go use one of those.”

“Well, that’s rude, Teddy.”  Deep voice from the other side of the door, soft chuckles between words.  And you kind of recognize the voice, tripping over your feet as you open up the door, brow furrowed, thinking you knew who it was but…

“George!”  Tall frame on the other side of the door, warm eyes looking down on you.  Tossing yourself into him, not able to wrap your arms around his neck because you were well over a foot shorter than him, so you just kind of hold onto his shoulders as he puts his hands on your sides.  

“I didn’t think that you’d show up!”  Excited to see him, trying to not act wrecked but you were failing.

“Of course I was going to show up.  Your house is massive, by the way!”  And you can already smell subtle hints of alcohol on his breath, asking him when he got here and he says he showed up a little over an hour ago, not realizing how long you had actually been in the bathroom for.  And he has this look on his face that’s a little unsure, taking your hand and leading you out of your bathroom, back into your bedroom.  Giggling and staring wide-eyed at him, asking him what’s wrong.

“Matty’s here…”  Not making much eye contact with you.  Wave of nausea flowing over you, feeling like your heart was going to fall out you ass.  “And ehm...he’s brought a girl.”  Buzz you had going on from your drunk almost completely diminishing at his words.  Wanting to rip open your door and run down your stairs to go look, go see what type of girl he had with him this time and watch him do whatever he could to make you crazy, just the thought of him being in your house now with someone else was driving you insane.  Instead, deciding that being in your room was the better option right now.  Quiet, away from everyone else, and even though you had initially texted George to piss Matty off, you were really quite fond of George and happy the he came over.

Trying to play it off like you were upset, shooting George a toothy grin and changing the subject, asking him what record he wants to listen to, name it and you’ll play it.

And his lips turn to a smile asking if you have any Fleetwood Mac, rummaging through your collection, shooting a “duh” over your shoulder at him.  

 Sitting on your bed while George sits on the floor, reassuring him that he could come and sit on the bed with you, giving him a wink.  Telling you he doesn’t mind the view from down here, realizing that your skirt you had on was slowly riding up higher and higher, quickly adjusting it before telling him that he could fuck off.  

And you were fully aware that the two of you were being a bit flirtatious with each other, not sure if it was your state of sobriety that was compelling it, but you two weren’t doing more than sitting, chatting, and discussing music.  Listening to George talk on and on about how he idolized Mick Fleetwood as a drummer, and you admired how passionate he was about music.  Like Matty.  You could see why the two of them were such good friends. Resting your chin in your hand, watching how he would get really invested in a topic then start laughing, eyes crinkling when he smiled, taking hits from the blunt he rolled.  

Getting up and telling him you’d be back, you were going to sneak downstairs and try to get a bottle of whiskey without Matty and his little bird seeing you, George saying he’d go with you.   And in truth, you kind of wanted Matty to see you, wanted him to see that you were still happy and smiling, arm locked with George’s as you two teetered down the stairs together, giggling and trying not to lose your balance.  

Parting from George once you got down the stairs, guiding yourself to the kitchen, holding onto the walls while he went to try and go snag another bit of weed from your brother, wherever he was.  Coming to terms with the fact you might actually not see Matty at all because your house was a tad on the enormous side.  But as you near the kitchen you hear a familiar raspy giggle and your heart starts to crack again.

Matty.

Mentally running through the scene in your head.  How he would look when you saw him, telling yourself to act like he isn’t there, just walk to the counter, grab the whiskey and then go.  But it was hard not to notice him once you walked in, standing in a little circle with a few of your brother’s friends, arm around the waist of some girl you didn’t know.  Sandy brown hair, short, really itchy, ugly looking jumper on.  Matty’s head perking up when you walked in, tightening his grip around the girl’s waist when he saw you.  Keeping your eyes focused on the bottle on the counter, feeling Matty’s gaze burning into you, but you didn’t look at him.  Fingers grasping the bottle, hugging it in your arms and quickly turning out of the room, hearing one of your brother’s mates calling out your name, but it only made you shuffle faster out of the kitchen and back up the stairs into your bedroom.  Locking the door behind you, trying to keep yourself from crying by taking a big swig from the bottle, sting in your throat, sputtering some onto your shirt.  Crawling into your bed and laying your head into your pillow, sniffling, telling yourself not to cry, he’s not worth it.  

Feeling sorry for yourself, playing the imagine of that girl in your mind.  Taller than you, prettier than you, obviously closer to Matty’s age.  Little sting in your chest.  Telling yourself he’s right, you are a child, getting upset over him like this. Feeling the tears dripping down the side of your face onto your pillow.  

And you think that you probably passed out for a little bit, because you woke up to your doorknob jiggling furiously, banging at your door.  

“Stop, stop it.”  Mumbling, barely able to process what was happening, hauling yourself up from the bed and opening the door.  And before you can even open your eyes wide enough to see who it was you feel a hand grab at your shoulder and push you back into your room, a slam of the door behind you.

Matty.

Reeking of booze, pupils blown out.  And you’re still half asleep so you’re not quite sure what’s going on, but Matty’s shouting at you, pushing you further into your room, one arm gripping his shirt to try and keep him from shoving you over and you’re trying to talk over him to get him to stop but he’s not listening.

“Heard you and G were having a nice little party of your own in here, huh, love?  You shag him too?  That’s why you invited him over tonight, right?”  His words coming out like poison shooting into your veins, absolutely livid with you.  Trying to hold him steady, eyes wide with panic, he was obviously high and that was prompting his attack on you.

Backing you into the corner of your room, incessant shouting and you can feel yourself starting to panic even more, lungs feeling like they were going to cave in because you could barely breathe.  You’d never seen him this angry and it was scaring you.  Trying to raise your voice over his but it wasn’t working, wanting to fight back and ask him what he was on about with that girl in the kitchen, but there wasn’t a chance for you to speak.  His voice roaring, calling you a whore, a childish whore like he always knew you were.  Telling you you’re not good for anything but a quick shag and the whole town knew it.  Every lad nearby’s probably already had a taste of you. Feeling the tears starting to brim in your eyes again, Matty’s voice getting louder and louder, and you couldn’t even feel your body react until you felt your hand connect with the side of Matty’s face.  A hard, quick slap, and he shut up quicker than he started screaming at you when he first pushed you into your room.  

Realizing what you had done, rush of pain shooting through your fingers because you did smack him quite hard.  Your hand trembling, his moving up slowly to grab his cheek, face already starting to turn red.  His eyes the size of dinner plates, face totally blank, almost looking more terrifying than he did before.

“Liar.”  A quiet whisper, your voice shaking as you look into his eyes.  

“You’re a liar, Matthew.”  His hand still holding onto his face, but you can see his eyes twitch when he looks into yours, wet with tears, sticking to your long eyelashes.  “You told me that you loved me, and you lied.  And I’ve given you...everything.” 

 Trying to choke back tears but you’re struggling to even formulate sentences at this point.  Telling him that you love him so much, and you would do anything for him, that you don’t ever feel this way about anyone.  Asking him why he’s doing this to you.  Why, if he thinks you’re such a child, did he even make it a point to place himself in your life in the first place?  Your voice raising now, Matty’s eyes still wide staring down at you.  Not saying a word.  

“You’re fucking awful, Matthew.  You don’t care about anyone but yourself, and it kills me, it really does.”  Wiping the tears from your eyes, sobs raking over your body, shaking under Matty’s gaze.  Telling him that he doesn’t get to do this to you, he doesn’t get to be the one to destroy you when you would do anything for him.

And you feel your hand wind up again to give him another slap to his face but he must have snapped back to his senses because his hands fly up to catch yours and push them to the wall behind you, his body flush against yours now.  Thinking it was your body that was trembling, convulsing wildly, but it was Matty’s.  His head slumping forward, falling into the crook of your neck, hands letting go of your wrists and wrapping around you.  His grip was tight on you and you could feel wet heat on your shoulder, he was crying.

And you can barely understand him through his whimpers, inaudible cries, only making out certain parts of his sentences.  Telling you he did lie, he fucked up.  His body going limp, and you can’t support his weight, ending up sliding down the wall onto your floor, your arms gripping his shoulders, holding him.  

Looking up at you, his eyes red, watery, probably about as miserable looking as yours, and he’s struggling to keep his breathing steady, not breaking eye contact with you, hands quivering around you, and he whispers

“I fucking love you, Teddy.”  

Words gushing from his mouth, telling you he’s a fucking idiot, and he didn’t mean to say any of that to you earlier.  

“You’re not a child, you’re amazing and darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

Reaching up, running your thumb over the visible hand print you left on his cheek, and it’s sudden but he closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours.  Muttering into the kiss over and over that he loves you, he’s in love with you.  Unable to keep the words from flowing out of his mouth.  Sliding your hands around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pulling him closer to you.  

Peace, finally, his body stops shaking under your touch, hands a bit more steady around you now.  Sweet, tender kisses between the two of you, still clutching onto each other, not ready yet to let go of him, just wanting to live in the feeling of his body pressed to yours, forgetting how terrified you were just minutes ago.  Lips parting, his head resting against yours, whispering again that he loves you, he promises.  

Limbs tangled in your bed, sheets bunched around you, quiet chuckles passing between the two of you, telling Matty that you had forgotten that you had this in the fridge, but you’re glad you remembered before everyone ate it.  

“Yeah, but it’d be much better if the raisins were hot.” Stealing the bite of sticky toffee pudding you were about to shovel into your mouth.  Telling him that raisins are gross no matter what, earning you a little flick to your nose.  Humming to the Fleetwood Mac album that was still playing in the background between bites, content.  Euphoric, sure you both probably looked like hell, Matty’s cheek still puffy from where you hit him, but you were happy, missing the feeling of the boy you loved sitting in your bed next to you.  Telling him you wanted him to stay the night, forcing George to take Matty’s random girl home, deciding it was probably best to not ask him about who she was, just enjoy the scene you two were set in.

Body pressed to yours, warmth, Matty’s arms pulling you into his chest.  His lips by your ear, planting soft kisses to the back of your neck.  

“Teddy, love, I’m well pissed at you for hitting me but you’ve got a damn good arm.”  

Snuggling further into his hold, smiling contentedly, and you giggle a little under your breath and tell him that if he ever brings another girl to your house that you wouldn’t hesitate to throttle him again.  

Soft laughter, a little squeeze to your sides.  And now you’re almost positive, pretty sure, he loves you.