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skiiyoomin · 7 months ago

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Can you make Kenma,Oikawa, Hinata, Sugawara, Nishinoya, Akaashi with a sub! Girlfriend that has a personality that remembers a Golden Retriever?? (Can it be NSFW?)

ღHq boys with a sub!golden retriever gf

ʚft: Kenma, Oikawa, Hinata, Suga, Nishinoya, Akaashi

ʚCont: SMUT CONTENT, fem!reader, fingering, slight corruption kink, mirror sex, use of good girl, riding, oral sex

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a/n i think i outdid myself with this one 😁

Kenma

There is a clear difference between your personalities. He´s passive and calm whereas you´re always a bundle of energy. Many joke you have all the energy Kenma doesn't. And that fact proves right in moments like these.

He was slumped on the couch when you skipped into the living room. Your eyes darted to his hands holding the controller. His long fingers were moving across the buttons with a speed only a chronic video game player had. A flash of thoughts that were anything but holy crossed your mind. They were pushed back almost immediately.

They were hard to ignore now that those same fingers were pumping up into your dripping cunt. Your hips moved on their own, rolling instinctively to find the same spot that had your head throwing back with whiny moans. The clutch your fisted hands had on his shirt tightened when you bounced on his fingers, riding them like you would with his cock. "ken mmgh fuck m´ tired" He wasn´t sure if his actions were out of sympathy or torture, but his free hand gripped your hip to stop their movement. His other hand, drenched in your juices, moved upwards at a fast pace, curling inwards to hit the plushness of your g-spot. "tired? already? well, I suppose I´ll help" Though he didn´t seem to mind with how hard he was in that moment, his erection begging to be freed from its restraints. The fast pace of his fingers brought your orgasm closer than you thought. Your mind blanked, body shaking as your walls clamped down on his fingers, imprisoning them inside your warmth.

His lips on your face landed you back from cloud 9. "such a good girl, wanna keep doing a good job for me and make me feel good?" He murmurs against your skin, to which you nod without hesitation.

Oikawa

Oikawa absolutely adoresss you. You´re his little puppy, his sweet innocent baby girl. He dies and revives every single time your doe eyes stare up at him with those bright irises. They shoot straight to his heart, tightening in his chest to the point where his breath is lost in the air. He doesn´t know what he´d do without his pretty girl. He could spend countless hours naming all the things he loves about you. But he was certain that what he loves most, is your willingness to please him. Like a puppy does with its owner.

Deep down, it isn´t just for the simple innocent reasons one may imagine. Your willingness to please applies to the bedroom too. And there was nothing that turns him on more than to have you on all fours, ramming his cock into your abused hole for hours on end.

Tears were falling down your pretty eyes, your back setting into a mean arch the longer you stayed in that position. Even then, your breathy shaky voice asked "m´ i making you feel good?" Call it a possible corruption kink, but seeing your head lifting to meet his gaze from the back with those teary doe eyes, your lips pouty as you concern yourself more over his pleasure than your own, god that just makes his dick harder than ever.

If anything, it keeps his cock pounding into you relentlessly, forcing orgasm after orgasm from you, all just to see you with that same look in your eyes. Yeah, he definitely has a corruption kink.

Hinata

You´re both bundles of sunshine. Your relationship is as radiant as the sun, a constant source of joy in each others lives. You´re both the same golden retriever energy and anyone can see that from a 20 mile radius. In terms of dominance, well, it´s hard to say. Or at least, that´s how it is for anyone outside the relationship. However between you two? It´s pretty clear.

The sight in front of you is sinful really. No porno you had ever watched was as erotic as this. Hinata is sitting on the edge of the bed with you sitting snuggly on his lap, your back pressed against his toned chest. You´re convinced you´d have bruises on your hips the next morning from how tight he was gripping them. Though your focus in that moment is on the dirty view from the mirror of your tight hole getting stretched open by his thick cock. While Hinata is setting the pace and keeping you balanced, you´re tasked to hold your legs wide open with your hands under your knees, giving you the perfect view of his cock connecting with your cunt.

As much as you wanted to throw your head back on his shoulder from the painful pleasure, you couldn´t look away from the sight. The way your puffy lips parted in an accomodating motion for his dick to pound up into you relentlessly is an addicting sight you can´t get enough of. The fast pace is dizzying along with the view of his fluids mixing with yours and coating his cock like a second skin. His pace sped up even more, though you hadn´t thought that was possible, when your impending orgasm resulted in the clenching of your gummy walls. "hold on f´me sweet girl, can you do that?" He asks sweetly into your ear despite the vicious pace of his tip kissing your cervix. "mhmm" Is all you can manage to say. "good girl"

Sugawara

Suga is often seen as the sweet calm boyfriend whereas you´re the energetic girlfriend whose always bouncing around with energy. It´s a balance that makes the relationship work very well. But what nobody expects is the 180 Suga does in bed.

A foot is balanced on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around the plushness of the back of your thighs. Suga loves this more than anything else. When your body goes limp from the pleasure, reducing all that energetic behaviour that you had before to nothing. You never resist him, no, instead you encourage him to keep going. To keep stretching your body into positions you didn´t think were possible. To keep your walls continuously stroking his cock, pulling countless orgasms out of you until you had nothing left to give. And even then, you keep your legs spread wide open like the good little thing that you are.

He groans into your ear "fuck. You like that? like how good my cock is making you feel?" He growls into your ear. One hand moves to rub your swollen clit, intensifying the pleasure. The result of your moans urged his ruthless pace to quicken. He chuckles breathlessly. "can´t even speak. am I fucking my baby dumb? Is that it?" The mocking tone of his voice was far more arousing than you thought and he knew it. How could he not when your walls were clenching so tightly around his aching member?

"wanna loosen up for me baby girl? I can´t make you cum if you´re squeezin so tight" He smirks "Yeaah that´s it, good fucking girl" He says in that low raspy voice you love so much. You´re in for a looong night.

Nishinoya

You´re both equally energetic. His energy rubs off on you and yours rubs off on him. You two together is utter chaos in the best way possible. Though when it comes to dominance, Noya is always sure to prove he´s the dominant one. Not like you mind anyway.

It´s movie night and of course, one thing leads to another. Now you´re on Noyas lap with his cock fucking up into you. If this isn´t heaven, Noya wasn´t sure what is. You´re always so eager to take him, to be fucked into submission. He groans lowly when you squeeze particularly hard. His eyes trail from your pussy to the swell of your breasts that bounce every time he thrusts up into you, his grip on your hips controlling the pace. The sight is so enticing, so breath taking that he can´t resist getting a taste. His mouth latches onto oneperky nipple while his fingers play with the other, giving them equal attention.

"aaah ngh noya" You moan, the sounds like music to his ears. His mouth latches off your breasts with a pop. "hmm? is my baby girl feeling good?" You whine, trying to speed up the pace. His gaze darkens with a primal lust. His feet plant on the floor and with a sudden boost of energy, he fucks your hole with a roughness he had never used before. He has no time to worry if he´s being too rough, becuase you´re instantly arching your back into a mean curve and throwing your head back. It´s overwhelming, the intense pleasure, the throbbing of your cunt the more he keeps his cock inside you.

A loud smack resonantes across the room, a gasp following it afterwards. The sting from his slap on your ass strangely adds to the pleasure, making your cunt throb more. He seems to sense this as well because he does it again and again. By the end of that night, the skin of your ass was a painful tomato red. Though you can´t stay mad at him when he fucks you so good.

Akaashi

Akaashi seems to attract the most energetic people ever. First it was Bokuto, now it´s you. He doesn´t complain one bit though. He adores you so much and makes you feel so loved too. He especially loves showing his love for you through intimate acts. It´s too tempting for him after all. When you´re always so greedy to please him and make him happy. Or especially when you´re so submissive for him. You trust him blindly and know he takes good care of you and nothing can ever make him more turned on than that.

Like now, he´s laying on his stomach on the bed. The thickness of your thighs are wrapped around his head, pulling him closer to your aching core. This was the thing he loves most. Worshipping your body over and over like you´re a goddess and he´s your most faithful worshipper. A shiver crawls down your spine when his warm breath tickles your bare skin, coming in contact with your heat. You gasp when his warm tongue slips out and licks along your slit until it hooks on your clit. Akaashi is a patient man, but even his own patience wears thin under the temptation of ravishing you whole.

He wastes no time in wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking the bundle gently while slipping a finger inside. One finger turns into two, then three. Soon enough his fingers are thrusting into you while he continues to busy his mouth with your clit. It´s not long before your body shakes from the force of a mind blowing orgasm.

He doesn´t wait a single second. Your legs are forced to spread open, giving him space to slip his tongue into your sensitive hole. You whine and squirm from the overstimulation. "aaah kashi" Said man lifts his head up, your juices smeared all over his chin and lips. They press wet kisses to your inner thighs while looking up at your flushed face. "you know the safe word, don´t you darling?" You nod meekly under his intense gaze. He smirks "good" Is all he says before going back to fucking your throbbing hole like a starved man having his last meal on earth.

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orchidseason · 1 month ago

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ꕥ Pro Hockey Player!Ellie ⌇ How You Two Meet Again

pro hockey player!ellie x fem!reader

You’re walking your niece to her figure skating lesson, distracted by her excitement, when you almost bump into Ellie in the hallway. She’s as confident as ever, but the flicker of recognition in her eyes—one that hints at the unspoken history of that night you shared—freezes you both in place.

warnings ⌇word count 1k, suggestive, previous one night stand between you two discussed, r used to be a figure skater

It was a quick mention, a sly quip into the conversation by your sister. Though teasing, she was half serious–wondering if you really would drive her daughter to her skating lessons. Out of your love for your niece—and your sister—you agreed. Having a kid in this day and age required a lot of money, so to combat that both your sister and her husband worked. They didn’t wish to be at work so often, it proved difficult to try and work but also take their daughter to all of her events.

So, to take the load off of their shoulders a bit, you agreed. You’ll take your niece to the ice skating rink for her skating lessons. Issue is—this is the same rink you used to practice at. Your history with such a building—despite the six year gap—felt fresh, like it happened yesterday. You’re doing this for your sister, her husband, and your niece—not yourself.

Today was her first day. You’ve driven her to the facility, walking beside her with a grin. She’s been yapping since you picked her up from elementary school. Every conversation with her makes you smile, your heart full of love for her. You open the door, letting her walk into the place first—following behind her.

“I have my own skates,” she says, rambling as you walk the two of you to the reception desk, “they’re white. Mom got them for me.”

You take the sticky name tag from the receptionist, smiling at her before turning your attention onto your niece. “Well, I’m very excited to see them in a second.”

She then jumps in place, gripping your hand, “please, please, please can I have a muffin. They have a food thing. Please.”

You match where she’s looking and sure enough there’s some form of a confession stand. With your heart so weak for her, despite your low bank account, you nod with a sigh. She cheers, dragging you towards it.

“Which kind,” you ask her. She just barely reaches the counter, eyes looking over each of the kinds of muffins. She picks chocolate chip. You buy it for her and settle down to sit at the many tables and chairs in the room. Similar to you, other parents and guardians are here with little ones—all awaiting for the lesson to start.

She sits there, grabby hand shoving the muffin into her mouth while her eyes are fixated on a random tv. You’re kneeled on the ground, helping her put her ice skates on.

“What’s that,” she asks, pointing somewhere.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you comment, pinching her leg softly before looking, “that’s hockey.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your eyes, standing after having finished tying her skates, “it’s a sport on ice. You basically hit a little circle around.”

She tunes out after, continuing to watch some game on the tv as well as the ads. Then, of course, five minutes before she has to be on the ice she murmurs, “aunt, I need to use the restroom.”

Of course. You reach your hand out for her to take, “okay, but you gotta go quick okay, hon?”

You walk her down the hallway that’s between the two skating rinks. The left rink usually being for the hockey teams to practice while the right is where figure skaters generally go. With your attention down on your niece as she rambles about some friend in her first grade class, you’re unaware of the other woman walking the opposite way—towards you.

The side of your body rams into her, the impact laving you twisted towards her. You glance over, attention brought away from your niece so you can apologize to whoever it was—but you freeze. She continues to walk away, but she’s twisted her head back to look at you—a smirk on her lips and recognition laced in her look. Momentarily you get a flashback, a memory of that night. Of how she made you feel, of how rough her kisses felt on your lips, of how loud you were—her name spoken like a mantra.

Your niece tugs on your hand, “come on, I need to go!”

“Right,” you say, moving along again—eyes still stuck where she was, “right, let’s go.”

When she takes your hand and drags you toward the rink, you can’t help but feel that rush—this little moment, her excitement, and your own flood of anxious memories. But for now, you're here. And that’s enough.

She ends up being like two minutes late, but it’s fine. She’s found her group and her coach, apologizing and explaining to her coach why she was late due to her last-minute bathroom break. Thankfully her coach is sweet, laughing it off and telling you to stop being so concerned—that she fully understands.

You settle into a seat among the other parents, your elbow propped on your knee, chin resting in your hand as you watch your niece skate across the ice. But even as you focus on her, your thoughts keep slipping back to the woman you just saw.

Just then, your gaze shifts to a poster on the wall nearby. Your heart stops. There, in bold letters at the top, is her name. Your expression falters as the realization hits you.

She’s not just a woman who plays hockey in her spare time. She’s made it pro.

pro hockey player!ellie m.list

taglist // @kaykeryyy, @vxsellie, @vahnilla

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cod-indulgences · 16 days ago

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hey… this might be crazy but … CoD men and pegging? it’s just… i need it 😞

TF141 x female!reader, pegging; soft sex, marking, husband material John Price; light degradation, spanking, ass slut Kyle Garrick; pillow princess Simon Riley, light feminization, lingerie; power bottom Johnny Mactavish, topping from the bottom, overstimulation; can be read as single events or reader with poly!141

John Price getting pegged: this is married sex. This is John Price on his side, leg pulled up and reaching back to hold you up against his body, moaning and swearing into the pillow as you thrust into him. You're wet and sloppy between your thighs to match the mess of lube leaking out around his hole, the dildo in your pussy moving into you with the same rhythm.

Both your bodies are sweaty and flushed, and you dig your teeth into his shoulder when you come, humping and grinding onto the dildo and harness hard enough it shoves John over the edge, spilling over his fingers as he strokes his cock through it.

The bite mark is just high enough a t-shirt can't hide it, and how it's clearly from the back, but he doesn't try and cover it up. In fact he seems to enjoy showing it off around you- which of course means next time you give him a matching one on the other side.

Kyle Garrick getting pegged: he's curious, eager to try it, and the first time is slow and careful. Nothing special, you jerk him off while fucking your strap into him and it's nice enough he wants to go again.

The next time though, he's on his knees, and you're feeling a little more frisky with it- you fuck in hard, letting him feel the whole length of your cock before pulling back enough for his hole to cling to the head, and ram in again, and oh. He's moaning and melting into the bed, ass raised up for you to bounce off your hips. You spank one cheek and he humps the sheets, the other and he starts fucking himself back onto you. Bottom bitch, taking your cock like a whore, and when he groans and comes without a hand on his cock you swear you're never letting him go a day without something in his ass again.

Kyle asks to please only save it for special occasions because he can't handle his mind and back being blown out like that too often. You make no promises.

Simon Riley getting pegged: this is a hulking behemoth of a man, scarred and scary, bass rumble of his voice and huge cock stretching your pussy until you're fucked stupid.

This is also your princess, your sweet baby who blushes and whines when you finger his hole, begs you to touch him, takes your cock so sweetly you can't not cover him in kisses, tease his nipples until they're perked up and pink, play with his cock until it's drooling on his belly. You tell him you bought some cute lace panties and a bra for him and he moans as his cock throbs, you drag him as close against you as possible and promise you love him, your precious thing, going to fill him up and keep him with you forever- and when he comes it's with the sweetest little moan and stripes of come shooting high enough to catch your chest.

He returns the favor the next day where he does, in fact, fuck you stupid and fill you up. You are so fucking happy.

Johnny Mactavish getting pegged: you think you're in charge and you've never been more wrong. This is a man who delights in fucking up down and sideways. You bring out a strap-on and he's on you, working himself open on one hand and eating you out, slurping on your clit so you're extra sensitive for the strap harness to rub you. Puts you on your back and rides you like a pro, groping your tits and angling himself so your cock rubs his prostate perfectly, making you moan as each bounce of his ass rubs your clit, but it's not enough- he promises to get you off when he's done enjoying the pretty little dick you've got for him, and takes his time teasing himself until you're begging him to please come on you.

He's a nice guy and comes all over your tits, before climbing off and getting his hand under your harness to rub your clit, bruising it with his thumb, licking his come off your nipples as you shout and clench around his fingers. When he helps you get the harness off and shoves his face in your pussy you just sob and hope he's satisfied soon.

#tf141 x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #captain john price #an indulgence #asks

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justblades · 2 years ago

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⌕ THEIR FAVORITE POSITIONS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTERS : dan heng, gepard, sampo, blade, jing yuan, luocha x gender neutral! reader

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI.

DAN HENG

— 's mind breaks whenever your face levels with him, straddling his lap as you lap his erection by rocking your hips. his lust imbued eyes struggle to choose where he should look at, but it always ends up locking a gaze with you, adoring your facial features.

"f-faster . ." his voice shakes as he catches his breath meanwhile your arms hooked around his neck struggle to keep themselves in place, fatigue gnawing at the both of your bones. "dan heng . . help me." you mumble and try to bounce on his dick faster and higher, earning you mewls of exhaustion and ecstasy at the same time from the male. dan heng's fingers then sink into your hips' skin, providing support for your body in order to catch the feeling of climaxing.

dan heng's face tells it all for you when he's nearing his orgasm, it's when his eyes squint into two crescent moons and lips parting open— lastly, his moans become a string of unending noises, letting it all out while he plants all of his seed into your walls. not to mention this position makes great use of little space, perfect for quickies or marathon sex sessions.

GEPARD

— isn't one to be dominant as he usually gets flustered in the midst of sexual sessions like this, eyes unable to focus so he tries to shift his gaze, feeling embarrassed of being bare naked in front of you. this is where you learned that he adores it when you're on top of him, riding his dick starting at a slow pace, eventually picking it up and building momentum.

for a captain, sure he has lots of stamina but how come he's panting so much whenever you're in control? one thing's for sure: he goes weak whenever you're dominating him. as you observe every single detail of his body language that signifies he's about to cum soon, you'll edge him and tease him more, delaying his climax which lead him becoming more sensitive than ever. that way, he'll cum loads more, satisfying your yearning when you lap him all in.

"do you like it this way?" you ask as you trace the depths of his naked chest, muscles flexing everytime he tries to thrust in you faster. naturally, his dick fills you to the brim that you couldn't help but let out a gasp of pleasure. "oh geppie . . eager to cum that badly?" he grits his teeth, blonde locks all disheveled from how much he's been shifting with his back laid on the bed's mattress. gepard nods in depravity, "well then." you affirm him, finally giving him what he wants as you intertwine your fingers with his.

JING YUAN

— gave off the impression that he's vanilla in bed at first given how you're always in a missionary position whenever you two do it. but then, the sessions only leveled higher— he's making you lock your legs around his snatched waist as he gives you impactful thrusts, eventually leading to him hooking your legs on his shoulders, delving deeper in your walls.

the general smirks, golden eyes gleaming from how he can see so much of your face and body underneath him. concurrently, you were losing your mind's sanity, baffled from how such a basic position like this can feel immensely gratifying. not just that, but he adds pressure on your lower abdomen with his hands and placed a pillow on your lower back; making you feel more of him than before, and after that, he grinds on your hole while he's inside, stirring your insides. his techniques, his ways: even though a basic position to be in, it felt pleasuring.

"wait, please!" you protest but he heeds no attention to your pleading. he continues to ram in your entrance making such sloppy noises while his cock is already climaxing. as he pushes in and pulls out, his foreskin is already coated with his own cum— "shh. quiet down, you'll take all of it in obediently, right?" he coos as he presses a peck on your ear, making your body tingle from his feathering touches.

SAMPO

— is always clingy for the person he loves, therefore, he loves it when he's physically intimate with the person. he's always the big spoon and you're the small one; not for long until you realized the reason why. he goes berserk when he pounds into your hole in this position, spooning you with his muscular strength and pistoning into your hole simultaneously.

you could feel ticklish from the way his hot breath brushes past your nape, huffing every minute as he ravages your entrance. the bed creaks along with sampo's rhythmic movements, making loud noises to which you were certain the neighbors could hear already.

"i told you, we should've gotten a new bed frame first before this . ." you complain to the male, but his hand only travels to your chin and makes you face him. his lips eagerly come in contact with yours, salivas mixing that in due course, trickle all the way down to your bodies. sex with him felt lazy but hot at the same time, it required minimum efforts but it also drains all of your energy inside your body— gradually becoming shockwaves of pleasure as sampo's breathy moans chime into your ears. "let's do that after this."

BLADE

— takes pleasure in any position as long as you're bending yourself over for him: usually doggystyle that becomes a prone bone when he's feeling greedy. the complete control he has on your body strokes his ego in a passionate way, so that he can do whatever he wants, like what you always tell him to. he'd lean down on your naked back and nibble on your shoulders, painting your skin with his bruises of ownership like it was a canvas of his own.

he usually grabs ahold of your wrist, forearms or hands, just so he can make you match his animalistic pace when it comes to his thrusts. although several minutes later your knees already start to go weak and give in, that's when he pushes you flat on the bed and forces your legs close, he was just getting started after all.

both his hands caressing the cheeks of your ass, he swiftly prods through your hole, now tight given the position that you're in. "ah— blade . . slow . . down, you're being so rough." you beseech, but your pleas are nothing but additional factor of pleasure for the male. his sneering smile grows wider as he pushes in further, letting out a guttural moan bubbling from his throat. "fuck . . you're so tight, when was i not?" he cusses and immediately incorporates immense force as he withdraws and rams back in, not letting your slutty hole rest at all. "blade . ." you sounded stupid calling his name repetitively, but he only chooses to leave hickeys on the nape of your neck as a response.

LUOCHA

— has a penchant for sex whenever you do it while the both of you are standing up, towering over your stature. he starts it off with his gloved fingers on your chin, lolling you for a deep french kiss while he removes his erect cock from the confinements of his clothing. the blonde male swiftly strips you off your undergarment swiftly everytime and proceeds to rub his tip at your very entrance.

with your hefty leg draped around luocha's dominant arm and the other standing still for support, he slowly bucks his hips, slipping the tip in a teasing way. as he does this, he forces you to look up at him and show the face of perversion you've been making - deprived of feeling him all in. "what is it that you want?" he asks, honeyed voice resounding like a sweet alarm for your approaching mornings.

"i want you, i want all of it." you reply, eyes twinkling with even more lust than before and that's what he absolutely loves when you're in this position. it's your body getting weak from having to stand still despite his tease play and also to show him what your true nature is, being lewd when presented the opportunity. luocha watches carefully as he inserts all of his remaining length in, reveling at how your eyes roll far back once he fills you to the brim. "good, that's more like it."

my masterlist !

#honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #gepard x reader #dan heng x reader #luocha x reader #sampo x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut

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bookshelf-dust · 2 years ago

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healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?”

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make.

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes.

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table.

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around.

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.”

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment.

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down.

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro.

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money.

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way.

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are.

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?”

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy.

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up.

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch.

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment.

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge.

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.”

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her.

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say.

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is.

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice.

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation.

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek.

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it.

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together.

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale.

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win.

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door.

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do.

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do.

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger.

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side.

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him.

“Besides what?”

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself.

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless.

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again.

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it.

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there.

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims.

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom.

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…”

You and Billy.

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room.

Sharing a bed.

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall.

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything.

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them.

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh.

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that.

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you.

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether.

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him.

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win.

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back.

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby.

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”.

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.”

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips.

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind.

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them.

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one.

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out.

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card.

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger.

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can.

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask.

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.”

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass.

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder.

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions.

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either.

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing.

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way.

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you.

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in.

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you.

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own.

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this.

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side.

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined.

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?”

“Yeah.”

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before.

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him.

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck.

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break.

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous.

It’s just me.

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean.

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed.

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them.

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop.

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look.

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in.

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on.

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction.

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble.

“Sleep okay?” she asks.

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.”

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up.

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet.

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says.

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.”

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.”

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being.

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water.

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down.

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool.

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you.

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does.

“Okay.”

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do.

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.”

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see.

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say.

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water.

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with.

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest.

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child.

“You motherfucker!”

You get him back, and he’s laughing.

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder.

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water.

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating.

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so.

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it.

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them.

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks.

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat.

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you.

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy.

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this.

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.”

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again.

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content.

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up.

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before.

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro.

You’re healing him. You.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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ourzeui · 2 months ago

Text

please don't be a snitch!

PAIRING caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

TYPE oneshot

NOTE this is in modern setting! reader has a twin, and they have opposite personalities (reader = a lil' shy; twin = brazen)

CW mature themes, alcohol use, suggestive content, strong language (cursing!!), anxiety/stress

11:59 PM — Friday night.

This was definitely a bad fucking idea.

You repeatedly glance at your wrist watch, legs fidgeting as you try so hard to not leave your twin sister alone. Heart ramming against your chest, you desperately hope your sister will soon get tired from dancing around the room and decide that both of you will just go home and rest. Because, anytime now, your strict parents would realize that both of you still aren’t home and would go berserk once they find out you’re out clubbing. In other words, you and your sister would be killed. Both metaphorically and literally.

This wasn’t your idea in the first place. The thought of random people just eating each other’s faces out, touching each other’s bodies where one thing leads to another… it, uh, just rubs you off in the wrong way. You just can't shake off the feeling that there's a big possibility that something bad might happen, with the alcohol driving people mad crazy. If your twin sister didn’t force you to go with her, you’d probably never step foot in a club. Ever.

You can’t help but cringe as you see your sister flirt with another guy for what seems like the twentieth time today. Both of them giggle on the corner of the room, shamelessly checking each other out. A minute later, the guy drags your flushed twin to one of the random rooms, no doubt going to do…whatever it is that they’re going to do.

Upon realizing what’s happening, your heart immediately drops to the floor. Despite having absolutely zero hook-up experience, you definitely know where that is going.

“That shithead,” you curse under your breath as you hurriedly try to follow your sister and her partner. Squeezing through the sweaty dance floor, you see your twin giggle as the guy playfully pushes her inside the room, followed by the door slamming with a loud thud despite the blasting disco music. You wonder how desperate could your sister be for deciding to follow a random man alone in a closed room knowing what could possibly happen.

Well, your sister did repeatedly say she was "dying to get laid" months prior. Maybe today was the day she was finally getting that.

But maybe today was also the day she’s going to die because she’s about to do something she might regret for the rest of her life (+ your parents will, again, definitely k-word both of you if she’s caught).

Before you could even approach the door, you spot a familiar blue-haired woman, sitting down cross-legged near the bar counter.

Caitlyn.

Upon seeing her, your heart drops the second time, beads of sweat forming on your temples. Both you and your sister should get out now, because if Caitlyn sees you and asks where your sister is, both of you should be prepared to never see the light of day again.

Here's the thing: Caitlyn's parents are close friends of your parents, so it's inevitable that you'd often meet each other. Both of you had never shared a proper conversation before though, just a few hello's and a "Can you please pass me the sauce?" over the table during family dinners.

One thing you know about Caitlyn though is that she always does what she thinks is right.

…She will be a snitch if she wants to.

The reason why her presence right now is so unnerving is because you can't forget the day how your mother made her promise that she should tell her immediately if "one of her daughters are caught doing crazy things", and Caitlyn always keeps her promises.

And just your luck, Caitlyn looks up at the perfect time, her piercing blue eyes locking on yours.

You freeze.

She tilts her head slightly, the corner of her mouth curling in what looks suspiciously like amusement. You can already feel the lecture forming, not from her but from your parents, the second she makes that phone call.

She picks up a glass, takes a sip, and then—oh no—stands up, walking through the crowd until she’s standing right in front of you, effortlessly poised despite the chaos around you both.

“Funny seeing you here,” she says, her voice smooth but carrying a note of dry humor.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like,” you stammer, hating how defensive you sound.

She raises a brow. “Isn’t it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like your sister just disappeared into a room with a guy who probably doesn’t know her name, and you’re about to have a heart attack trying to figure out what to do about it.”

You wince. “Okay, maybe it is what it looks like. But—”

"But you didn’t want to be here in the first place,” Caitlyn finishes for you, crossing her arms. “And now you’re stuck cleaning up the mess.”

You nod, a little surprised she understands so easily.

“Let me guess,” she says, her smirk growing. “You’re worried I’m going to tell your parents.”

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The rate of your heartbeat increases each second, and you fidget your fingers.

Caitlyn sighs, shaking her head. “Relax. I’m not going to snitch.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” she says simply. Then she leans in slightly, her voice quieter but firm. “But I am going to help you.”

“Help me?” You blink, confused.

“Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes slightly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because if you go barging into that room on your own, you’ll probably make things worse. So, let’s handle this together before your sister does something she regrets.”

You hesitate, unsure if you can trust her, but something about her calm, confident attitude is reassuring.

“Why would you help me?” you ask.

She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Because I’ve been in your shoes before. And honestly? It’s better than having your mom yell at me for not stepping in.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

Caitlyn’s smile widens, just slightly, and for the first time, it feels genuine. “Follow my lead.”

Instead of heading toward the room, Caitlyn gestures toward the bar.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, looking between her and the door where your sister disappeared.

“Relax,” she says, grabbing two stools. “We’ll give it a minute. If we charge in too quickly, your sister’s just going to get defensive and make things worse. Trust me on this.”

You hesitantly sit beside her, tapping your fingers against the counter. Caitlyn orders herself a soda, which surprises you. “Not drinking?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “I like to keep a clear head in places like this. Too many people lose theirs.”

You nod slowly, watching her as she takes a sip. For someone who’s in a club, surrounded by chaos, she seems so calm, like none of this fazes her.

“So… do you come here often?” you ask awkwardly, desperate to fill the silence.

She laughs softly. “Not really. A friend dragged me out tonight, but she ditched me for some guy about an hour ago.”

You wince. “Sounds familiar.”

Caitlyn smiles, her eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, but at least I ended up with better company.”

You blink, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh.”

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, her voice softer. “You’re a good sibling, you know that?”

You scoff. “I’m just trying to keep her out of trouble.”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head, studying you. “Not everyone would go through this kind of mess for someone else. It says a lot about you.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you find yourself fidgeting under her gaze. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” she insists, her tone warm but firm. “And I think it’s admirable.”

Before you can respond, Caitlyn glances toward the door where your sister disappeared. She sighs and stands. “Alright, I think we’ve waited long enough. Ready to be the hero?”

You nod, your heart racing as you follow her. But as you walk beside her, you notice the way her shoulder brushes against yours, the way her presence somehow makes you feel less panicked and more… safe.

Your heart flutters again, and you stare intently on Caitlyn's back. BUT, your heart drops for the third time today as your phone rings.

Mom <3 Missed call (34) Slide for more

Shit.

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #arcane #arcane x reader #caitlyn

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 months ago

Text

Stirred and Spiced

15/12: Mulled Wine and Mutual Masturbation - Michael Gavey Word Count: 3.3k~ | Warnings: thigh riding, being slightly drunk, handjob

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: fully intended for mutual masturbating but this came instead 😘

Three words.

Oxford. Christmas. Market.

A staple, she thought with glee. Yes, there was nothing quite like the christmas market in your hometown, but being away at university with absolutely no reason to go back home for break, Broad Street would be just as good, if not better.

As expected though, it was rammed. And her puffed up coat, adding a good three inches to her width, did not help in bumping shoulders with all the festive market-goers. Every whispered ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ and she felt herself in desperate need of something to take the edge off, something to make her feel like coming here at the height of the season was worth it.

“Mulled wine please,” she requested breathily from the employee working the front, fake smile and flushed cheeks and all.

They nodded unenthused, punching in the numbers, “it's £3.50 on its own but a fiver if you get two.”

Ooh.

Two is pushing it.

She thought for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. Two would get her absolutely rat-arsed since she hadn't had anything to eat. Hell even one would. And everyone back at the dorm had gone home.

Except…

She smiles a bit with a nod, “yeah, please!”

She was almost grateful just to have two because it meant they kept both her hands warm on the walk home. She sipped hers periodically, the waft of fruity, musky wine seemed to wrap around her like a warm hug. The only thing that filled her with nerves was the proposal she'd made herself to give one of them as a sort of peace offering, to him.

They were never her mates, not really anyway. It was convenient that she’d fallen into their group, but she always found them a bit shallow, narrow-minded. Perhaps all understatements. She had, however, revelled in their acceptance. Wanting to be a part of the group somewhat outweighed her common-sense. And even though she spent the better part of first semester laughing, drinking, fannying about with the crew of Felix Catton and his little plaything, Oliver, they ran their course with her quite quickly. Got bored, or tired of her. And once again she found herself in the same position she’d been in the first week of Freshers.

Alone. A bit desperate. And hopelessly bored.

It was not that long ago, she remembers, watching from her table in a state of shock and half-disgust when Oliver abandoned Michael Gavey at the pub for Felix-fucking-Catton. She grimaces even at the memory of not only Oliver’s blatant brown-nosing. But at her behaviour.

She watched as Michael gave a sad, resigned wave, pushed his cute little glasses up his nose and left. She just watched. Didn’t say or do anything. Didn’t chastise. Simply gave Oliver a dirty look he didn’t even see and carried on, business as usual.

Until they’d abandoned her too, that is. Now she felt shitty.

Yeah, mulled wine wasn’t exactly the best peace offering, but it was all she had right now. Whether it would be enough she wasn’t sure.

She’d known of Michael since week one, though they never shared the same classes, they did attend the same College. And even though Balliol College was literally right around the corner from where she’d bought the aforementioned wines, she was so fucking freezing she felt she could keel over and die. But yet the thought of approaching Michael and apologising, felt somehow worse, from the sheer embarrassment she’d feel alone.

With a soft groan she pushed the doors open into the dorm, the warmth a welcome one, masterfully not spilling a drop of what would be Michael’s wine (if he chose to accept her truce). She’d not asked him why he didn’t go home yet, just assumed that he was so academically inclined that he’d chosen to stay behind and make use of the quiet.

Blowing a wayward hair out of her face, she stood before his door, taking a deep breath. Only now realising she was making use of both hands and couldn’t knock.

“Fuck it,” she whispered to herself. Downed the rest of hers, her brain spinning a little from the fruity kick, and raised her fist to knock.

She waited a bit, kicking some snow off her boot, before the rush of central heating rushed towards her feet as the door opened.

Michael stood there, slouched against the doorframe, wearing a red and green Christmas jumper so ugly it nearly made her laugh. A reindeer stared back at her, its googly eyes slightly askew. But the tight press of his mouth and the tired, sharp look in his eyes quickly stole any lightheartedness in the air.

"Hi," she said, trying to soften her voice. Her smile faltered as his gaze dipped to the cup in her hand. "I, um—mulled wine. Peace offering. Or bribe. Dealer’s choice." She tried for a grin.

He didn’t take the cup.

She swallowed, the cheap smell of spiced wine suddenly turning sour in her stomach. “I just—thought I’d come by,” she tried, failing to sound casual. “Say hi. Merry Christmas and all that.”

He took the cup without comment, holding it like it was some foreign object, stood defensively in the frame of his door.

“Catton and his merry band finally kick you out, so now you’re slumming it with me?”

Her stomach twisted, the heat doing nothing to chase away the cold suddenly clawing at her insides. She casted a quick glance down the hall, knowing nobody was about, but also wanting an opportunity to at least explain herself.

“Can we chat?”

Michael hesitated, his eyes narrowing. When he finally stepped aside, it was with a sigh heavy enough to make her feel like she’d just asked for the world.

His room was predictably orderly but with a certain student flair all the rooms had. Textbooks were stacked on his desk, papers strewn about like he was in the middle of something, and a few empty mugs were stacked precariously on the windowsill. It made her think of her dorm, where mugs were instead empty beer bottles.

Michael didn’t say anything as he closed the door behind her with a sharp click, like he was already regretting letting her in.

“Nice jumper,” she said, a weak attempt at humour, “it’s got...character.”

He looked down at himself like he forgot he was even wearing it. And she was sure embarrassment briefly rose to his face before he schooled it once again to cold indifference.

She cleared her throat, “Look, I…I came here to apologise really. For not saying anything that night at the pub, it was really shitty, what Oliver did–”

“Spare me,” he scoffed bitterly. “I know how it works. Catton finds a new toy, someone gets left behind. Happens eventually.” He shrugged, the motion stiff. “Not my problem if you’re suddenly the one on the outside. Besides, you didn’t exactly leap to my defence.”

Her cheeks burned. “Yeah I know I should have said something. I should have done something. I just...I didn’t know what to do. And I hate that I didn’t.”

“Yeah, looks like it’s tearing you up inside.”

“It’s hard enough I’m here, Michael, can you not.”

Michael stared at her, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m not here because I want something from you,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I just...I feel awful about it. And I wanted you to know that.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “Right. So this is your redemption arc? You apologise, and suddenly I forget that I was the butt of the joke for the night?”

“No,” she said firmly, surprising herself with the strength in her voice. “You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to be honest. For once.”

Michael tilted his head, studying her like he was trying to decide if she was worth the effort of a response. Finally, he sighed and took a sip of the mulled wine, wincing slightly as if the warmth caught him off guard, his glasses fogged up at the bottom slightly.

“Well,” he said, his tone still clipped but less venomous. “At least you brought wine.”

She let out a small, shaky laugh, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. It wasn’t forgiveness, not even close, but it wasn’t the outright dismissal she’d feared, either. She glanced at him, at the faint lines of tension in his jaw, and decided it was enough for now.

Michael took another sip of the mulled wine, the warmth seemingly taking the edge off his sharp demeanour. She watched as his posture relaxed, just barely, his shoulders dropping a fraction. He gestured vaguely toward the only chair in the room, and she took the invitation, perching on its edge, pulling her coat off now that the heat was beginning to feel a bit stifling.

“So...” she began, fumbling for something neutral to say. “You’re a Maths guy, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a question or an accusation?”

Her lips twitched at that, the tiniest hint of a smile breaking through her nerves, she shrugged. “Someone mentioned it once.”

“Well, guilty as charged,” he replied, setting the cup down on his desk and lowering to sit on his bed, arms crossed again. “And you?”

“History and Economics,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair.

“Ah, so you prefer your equations with drama.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock offence. “Excuse me! At least my equations are about real people.”

He snorted. “And here I thought this would be polite conversation.”

“Well, you opened the door,” she shot back, though her voice lacked any real bite. The warmth from the wine she’d downed earlier was still buzzing faintly in her veins, making her words looser, her inhibitions a little less secure. Evident by the way she rocked back and forth at his desk chair, the wheels dragging on the carpet.

They fell into a rhythm of idle chatter, nothing deep, nothing important, but just enough to make the awkwardness start to dissipate. She asked about his classes, and he told her about a particularly painful group project and she tried to explain her last essay topic but trailed off when she realised it was too boring to even finish describing.

But beneath it all, there was something else, an undercurrent she couldn’t ignore. It was in the way his eyes flicked to her mouth when she spoke, how his gaze lingered just a beat too long when she shifted in her seat. She caught herself doing the same, noticing the way his ridiculous jumper stretched across his chest, the rough edge of his jaw, the slight smirk tugging at his lips when she stumbled over her words.

It made her feel reckless, like maybe she wasn’t here just to apologise anymore.

“So,” she said, leaning back slightly in the chair, her voice a little more casual than she felt. “Do you...have your eye on anyone? At college, I mean.”

Michael blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You know.” She gestured vaguely, trying to sound nonchalant. “Anyone you fancy? Or are you just here for the academics?”

He stared at her for a moment, then huffed a short laugh. “That’s bold, coming from someone who downed her wine before knocking on my door.”

Her cheeks flushed. Was it that easy to tell she’d had a bit? Fuck. “I was nervous, okay?”

“Clearly. But since you asked...no. Not really.”

She nudges forward, the wheels of his desk chair dragging on the carpet as she nears him, her eyes flickering down to his silly Christmas jumper. She saw him flinch slightly when she reached out and pressed the nose of the reindeer, pressing her lips together as the garment lit up in a dancing array of colours.

“Cute.”

“Is this part of the apology?”

“Is it working?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze returned to hers, hesitant but sharper now, like he was trying to figure out if she was serious or just teasing.

“Michael, can I ask you something?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he nodded.

“Have you...you know.” Her eyes searched his face, her voice dipping. “Been with anyone? Like, properly.”

His eyes widened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. For a second, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he nodded again, just once. “Once,” he said, so softly she almost missed it. “Back home. Before I left.”

“That’s it? Just once?”

He nodded again. “Yeah. I mean...it’s not exactly something I’ve been focused on.”

“Right,” she said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “All academics, huh?”

Her hand moved before she could second-guess herself, reaching out to rest lightly on his knee, and she manoeuvred herself so she was sat beside him on the bed, sides touching. His whole body went rigid, his eyes darting down to her hand and then back up to her face, as if unable to believe she could exist sat atop his bed.

His eyes were wide, alert with nerves and something else. And she couldn't help but smile.

“Don't look so terrified,” she grinned. Teasing.

He didn't like that.

“I'm not.” He said quickly, but the crack betrayed how the simple touch of her hand on his knee, trailing upwards, was affecting him.

She leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His eyes stayed locked on hers, even as his breathing grew uneven, even as her hand slid a fraction higher on his thigh.

Her lips brushed against his, soft and unhurried, tasting of spice and wine. He froze for half a second, his breath catching against her mouth, before he kissed her back. It was tentative, almost shy, but there was something sweet about it, something entirely Michael. His lips moved against hers in a way that was a little clumsy, a little uncertain, like he was figuring it out as he went.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment before finally settling awkwardly at her waist. The other made its way to her hair, letting the strands fall between her fingers as he stroked the lengths. Something about the little act made her stomach flutter. Not at all sexual in its nature, but churning her desire for more all the same.

They shifted, her pulling him down gently as she leaned back, until they were lying on their sides, facing each other. His knee knocked against hers as they adjusted, and she smiled against his lips, feeling the faint heat of his embarrassed laugh.

The moment her cold fingers brushed his stomach, Michael flinched sharply, breaking the kiss with a startled gasp.

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he exclaimed, his voice high with genuine shock. He grabbed her wrist, holding her hand away from his skin as if she’d just doused him with ice water.

She laughed a little and then replaced the offending hand with her other one, warmer now. His body jerked slightly, but this time he didn’t stop her, his lips parting in a soft, shaky exhale.

“Better?” she murmured, her lips hovering just above his.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Their lips found each other again, more insistent now, the earlier hesitance melting away as their movements grew bolder. Her hand slid higher beneath his jumper, exploring the lean lines of his torso.

Sliding her tongue against his lips, her hand slid to the button of his jeans, undoing it with ease before moving the zipper down. His hips rolled up into her touch, if not to let her know that he wanted it but yearned for more.

He broke the kiss just long enough to shift, his leg sliding between hers, his thigh nudging up against her core. The movement was hesitant, almost shy, but the pressure was enough to make her gasp softly, her breath catching in her throat.

Her lips curled up into a smile, cheeks flushed as she rolled experimentally against the muscle of his thigh. He could feel the warmth of her through her jeans, and his hand slid up her side, guiding the pace of the movement.

Emboldened, with warmth starting to lick up her spine, she slid her hand into his boxers, taking him into her palm to match the pace he was giving her to her hand around him.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice breaking as his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut.

She watched his face as she continued, squeezing the girth of him until he was roused fully, all the way to the tip, where he borderline whimpered at the contact.

If she were in a clearer state of mind, without the constant drag of his thigh pressing between her legs and catching against the damp fabric of her underwear, she might have paused to be...impressed. But the way his thigh nudged perfectly against her clit, combined with the ragged, needy sounds he was making, left her thoughts hazy, consumed only by the need for more.

The whimper he let out was almost enough to undo her completely. She pressed her forehead to his, their breaths mingling, hot and uneven, as her movements quickened. Her hips rolled against his thigh with increasing desperation, the friction hitting her perfectly, again and again, until she could feel herself beginning to spiral.

Her body tensed, her breath hitching as a wave of pleasure crashed over her, making her shudder against him. She gasped, her hips stuttered, her grip on him loosening momentarily as she rode out the sensations, the release leaving her trembling in his hold.

Michael cracked open his eyes as if he thought it was over, but once she had cleared the haze over her brain, she continued, stroking him more firmly. And she could tell by the way his hips jerked and lips parted that he was surprised, but not complaining.

“Your turn,” she murmured with a smile, her voice coaxing, her thumb grazing the sensitive head of him.

He bucked into her hands, his body trembling as she worked him expertly. His breaths were short and erratic, until finally—

"Oh God," he gasped, his voice breaking as his head fell back against the pillow, his entire body shuddering. He gripped her hips harder as his release hit, his hips jerking involuntarily, completely undone beneath her touch.

She watched him, her own body still buzzing as she slowed her movements, her hand gentle now as he came down, the warmth of his release coating her fingers. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes squeezed shut, and his lips parted as he tried to catch his breath.

When he finally opened his eyes, his gaze found hers, soft and dazed. A moment of silence passed between them, their shared heat lingering in the air, before the corner of his mouth twitched into a small, lopsided smile.

“That,” he said, his voice hoarse and unsteady, “was quite the apology.”

She laughed, cheeks flushed, “so…am I forgiven?”

His smile grew, eyes crinkling beneath his glasses, “Hmm—”

She rolled her eyes, but her grin betrayed her amusement as she leaned in closer, watching as his lips parted on instinct.

“Don't push your luck, Gavey.”

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gogobootz1 · 9 months ago

Text

An American in London

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: One of Benedict's old schoolmates enlists his help with wooing his American penpal, but when Benedict (literally) runs into her travel companion, things take a turn

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: blood (nosebleed)

"Why, exactly, have you dragged me here?" Benedict bemoaned, looking around the nearly empty hotel bar. There were plenty of better places to drink in the city.

"Because tomorrow morning we are meeting my hopefully lovely pen pal here," came the arrogant voice of one of Benedict's old school friends. Charles had made no effort to continue their friendship into adulthood until earlier that day.

"We?" Benedict asked, skeptically as they sat.

"Yes, we," Charles nodded, motioning for drinks to be brought over. "You are to help me impress the girl and play chaperone."

Benedict squinted at him, "Why would I do that?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" Charles shrugged. Benedict blinked at him for a minute. The truth was, after dropping out of the academy, he did not. He had actually been rather bored as of late.

"Fine," he swallowed bitterly.

"Excellent!" Charles sprang up from his seat, "I'll be by Bridgerton house at ten tomorrow to pick you up."

"Where are you going?" Benedict asked as the man began walking off.

"I have an appointment," Charles called back, and Benedict rolled his eyes. He polished off his drink before putting some money on the table. Of course, Charles had left that to him. He made quickly for the side exit and frustratedly shoved the door open.

A pained cry drew his attention as he stepped out, and he found a young woman with her hand clapped over her nose. All previous annoyance seeped from him instantly. Guilt and shame flooded into its place as he rushed to check on you.

“Are you quite alright miss?”

“Not quite,” the muffled American accent caught him off guard.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he rushed out, eyes full of earnest regret. He grabbed the handkerchief from the pocket over his chest and reached toward your face with it. You reared back, hand still firmly covering your nose, though he swore he could see deep crimson starting to leak out.

“Will you let me have a look?”

“Oh, no,” you firmly shook her head, laughing without any humor, “I have had enough embarrassment for one night. I will not end my evening by bleeding on some random English gentleman.”

You began walking in the opposite direction, but he was quick to follow.

“Please, allow me to make amends, I feel at fault for-“

“You are at fault!” You stopped in your tracks to fix him with a glare.

He blinked back at you, “Well, yes, but I-“

“Unless you’d like to ram a door into your own nose, I’ve seen more than enough of you tonight, thank you,” you snapped, turning to leave. Before you could, you felt a drip of blood fall from your hand onto your dress. You let out a frustrated groan and turned back toward the stranger, snatching his still-outstretched handkerchief.

Working fast, you wiped your bloody palm, then your face. All the while, the concerned gentleman looked on in worry. Once you’d wiped the excess, you held the cloth up to your nose to catch any more.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” He nervously straightened his jacket.

“Perhaps not,” you shook your head, “if you introduce yourself we might just meet again, and you should pray for that not to happen.”

You might’ve laughed at his expression if your nose didn’t ache like hell. “Goodnight!” You said with faux cheer, as you left him standing in confusion.

“Goodnight?” You hardly registered his weak reply.

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

Benedict woke up on the floor after being violently tugged off the small sofa in his room. He'd been so absorbed with his sketch he hadn't even made it to bed last night.

"Come on then, Bridgerton," Charles' voice taunted from above him, "up and at 'em."

Benedict rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off of the floor, catching sight of the prior night's labors as he stood. A pair of intense eyes stared back at him, and since you'd kept the rest of your face closely covered, a swath of ruby replaced everything below the bridge of your nose. He tried to casually cover the piece before Charles could butt in and ask about it.

"I thought we agreed upon ten," Benedict told the man, stifling a yawn.

"It is ten," Charles snapped, and Benedict winced.

"A moment, then," he requested.

Charles rolled his eyes, "Make it fast, Bridgerton." Benedict rushed to dress in fresh clothing and fix his hair as quickly as possible. Being late would be an early point against him in making both England and Charles seem appealing. Not that those were easy tasks to begin with.

Luckily, he managed a quick turnaround, and a carriage waited outside for them. The grey sky, however, promised rain, yet another factor working against him.

Thanks to a hefty tip to the driver, the men were no more than five minutes late.

"Remind me of her name again," Benedict asked as the two exited the carriage.

Charles glared at him, "I swear to God if you-"

"Just tell me her name," they breezed through the door to the cafe within the hotel.

"Sarah," Charles said, scanning the room, "Sarah!"

A young woman had raced over, and likely would have embraced Charles had she not been held back by the elbow. The woman who prevented the social faux pas was instantly familiar to Benedict when he met the same pair of fierce eyes he'd stayed up too late sketching. Then took the time to examine the rest of your pretty face, though it was marred by a bruised nose. He had to hold back a wince at his own accidental handiwork.

When Charles elbowed him in the ribs, he tuned back into the conversation. Charles not-so-subtly nodded towards Sarah.

"Very fine to meet you, Sarah," he said, hoping he'd assessed the situation correctly. Pleased laughter from the lady told him he had.

"And you," she nodded, "I'd like you both to meet my dearest friend." Sarah introduced you, nudging you forward a bit.

You smiled reluctantly, "Nice to meet you, gentlemen." When you locked eyes again, your smile grew wider yet more mocking. Charles dipped his hat, but Benedict bowed to kiss your hand. Doing everything possible to enter your good graces couldn't hurt.

"Might I ask how you injured your nose?" Charles ventured. Benedict tensed and he saw your jaw clench.

Sarah, however, laughed good-naturedly, "Oh, you'll laugh at this Charles," she turned to you, "go on."

"Silly me, I walked right into a door," you said, tone bordering on teasing. To anyone else, it might’ve come off as humorously self-deprecating. Anyone else might’ve thought you clumsy or perhaps a little ditsy, but Benedict knew better. Benedict could see the threat behind your eyes.

"Well, that's not funny," Charles admonished Sarah, "I'm sorry you're hurt." Sarah seemed surprised but mildly impressed. You, too, seemed content with his answer. One point for Charles.

"Are you in much pain?" Benedict asked, hoping the answer would be no.

You blinked at him, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Only when I breath," you nodded, deadly serious, but he saw the way your mouth fought a grin.

"That's awful," Charles said, sympathetically. "You couldn't find some medicine or some powder to cover the bruise?" He asked that to Sarah, and Benedict saw your expression shift. One point against Charles.

"I wear my wounds with pride," you challenged. Benedict was once again reminded that your wound was his fault while Charles seemed to struggle for a reply.

"Shall we sit?" Your well-mannered question seemed to Benedict to be the first victory of inevitably multiple challenges to Charles. He wondered if that was your purpose in accompanying Sarah from the States- to determine if Charles was up to snuff.

The four of you were nearly finished enjoying tea and scones when you pulled out the handkerchief you'd taken last night. It was pink, presumably from you trying to wash out the blood. Benedict choked on his sip of tea as you wiped the crumbs from your lips with it.

"When did you buy that?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, I'm only borrowing it until I get the favor I'm owed," Benedict gulped at that. You weren't kidding last night when you said he should hope to never run into you again. Though he did have trouble agreeing at the moment, and somehow, even still.

Sarah easily dismissed your comment and reengaged Charles in conversation. Benedict's attention remained on you, however, and you cheekily tilted your head at him.

Your eyes remained locked with his before you started speaking, "Perhaps you two would like to take a stroll of the hotel gardens before we leave for whatever plans you've made for the day."

Charles nodded at this, "An excellent idea." He walked around the table to offer Sarah a hand. When the two were out of hearing range, Benedict turned back to you.

"Will this favor earn me your forgiveness?" He asked, "Because I really do feel terribly about-"

"Stop," you said, "It's fine. Sarah had no problem believing I still have sea legs and tripped into a door."

Benedict's shoulders drooped as he breathed in relief. "But are you in pain? I couldn't tell if you were serious earlier."

Your expression became softer, "Only a little." He was relieved by that answer. "But I wasn't kidding about the favor," you reminded, sternly.

He froze, "And what favor do you require?"

"I'd like a full report of Charles' background, personality, what he does in his free time," you listed off, "anything of the like."

The questioning glance he gave you encouraged you to elaborate.

"Look," you said with a huff. "Sarah's mom is over the moon about this. Marrying her daughter off to an English lord will boost her social status by leaps and bounds. Her father, however, is not so convinced. Mr. Du Pont has always been kind to me, so when he asked me to assess this potential marriage, I gave him my word."

Benedict nodded, "And you'd like me to inform you on Charles, so you can inform Mr. Du Pont on Charles."

"Exactly," you said simply.

"That's rather funny, you know, Charles asked me to help woo Sarah and convince her he's worth a permanent trip across the Atlantic," he said, and you raised a brow.

"Are you trying to repent for hitting Charles in the face with a door?"

Benedict blinked, "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Help me," you snarled.

He raised his hands defensively, "All right! How am I meant to do that?"

"Have pertinent information sent to my hotel suite," you shrugged.

"Fine," Benedict assented after a minute.

"What's fine?" Sarah asked, having just returned with Charles. Her tinkling voice took him by surprise, and he laughed nervously.

"These biscuits," he said, standing, "they're very fine, I may even take some to go." Benedict stuffed two of the shortbread biscuits into his pocket and regretted it soon after. He regretted it even more after catching Charles' nasty glare at him.

Taking a sharp breath, he turned to offer you his arm, "Shall we?"

You politely took his arm, repressing your laughter. As Sarah and Charles walked on ahead, you leaned in, "Save one for me." Benedict lightly snorted before catching himself, but you seemed pleased at his laughter.

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

As weeks began to pass, notes from Benedict began to pile up. They were originally only about Charles, but as you started sending replies, the notes grew more conversational.

Sarah certainly only grew more besotted with time, and you were beginning to worry she'd rubbed off on you. The more time you spent with Benedict by way of monitoring Sarah and Charles, the more you found him positively charming.

His good looks were apparent from the beginning and made the door incident all the worse for you, but you'd recently grown fond of his personality.

Last week's art gallery found you admiring him while he spoke passionately of the use of light in one of the paintings you'd come across. You'd only snapped out of it was he asked your thoughts on the piece. The most you could muster up was that you absolutely agreed.

As the two of you chaperoned countless walks and lunches, you conversed about any and everything. Benedict told you of his artwork and promised to eventually show you some of it after you asked a few times. You told him of your own passions, and how they were often trampled by society's expectations. He confessed that since both his older and one of his younger brothers had been recently married, his mother had been nagging him about finding someone.

"I think it's important to be comfortable alone," you'd told him on one particularly breezy walk. "You shouldn't make do with someone else's life when you can't be content with your own."

"Come again?"

"I only mean it's unfair to put certain expectations on a spouse," you shrugged, "No one is who anyone else wants them to be, and trying to force people to be what they are not leads to unhappy marriages."

"In that case, I'm glad no one expects a thing from me," Benedict said.

You laughed a little, "I don't think people expect much of me either. At least we won't let anyone down."

"Setting the bar low," he nodded, smiling, "I like it." Your laughter drew a smile to his face.

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

A few months had gone by, and Benedict was overjoyed when Charles proposed to Sarah. He was happy for the two of them, sure, but mostly, he was glad your stay had been extended. You'd become such a fixture in his life that he struggled to imagine a time after your visit.

Your return tickets were canceled. Instead, Sarah's parents had booked their spots on a ship sailing over to England. They wanted to plan their daughter's wedding and see her well-adjusted in her new homeland.

"What will your first report to Mr. Du Pont entail, then?" Benedict asked you. The two of you had been tasked with greeting Sarah's parents upon their arrival, and you sat opposite each other in a carriage.

"What makes you think this will be my first report?" You raised a brow at him.

"You've been exchanging letters across the Atlantic about Charles? He's nowhere near interesting enough for that," Benedict told you, inspiring a grin.

"They're mostly about mine and Sarah's time here. She's not great at staying in touch- yet another reason they sent me along," you said. "But you're right, I have yet to form a full opinion on Charles. I go back and forth, but I trust your judgment."

Benedict's eyes widened at the admission as you pulled up to your destination. He exited the carriage first to helpfully offer you his hand. To his displeasure, you pulled away all too soon when you saw the Du Ponts.

Mrs. Du Pont cheerfully called your name as you rushed excitedly towards them. Benedict smiled as he watched you greet the older couple. They were clearly quite fond of you.

It took a minute before they registered his presence.

"Where is Sarah? And who is this gentleman?" Mrs. Du Pont asked you, trying to lower her voice for the latter question.

You perked up, "This is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton." You grabbed his forearm and pulled him closer to the conversation. "He's a friend of Charles. They've both been showing us the best of England!"

"So this is Benedict!" Mr. Du Pont said happily, "I've read a lot about you."

Benedict shot you a questioning look as he shook the older man's hand, "You have?"

"Oh yes," the man nodded despite you shaking your head at him. When Benedict turned to you again, you stopped and let an angelic smile grace your face. His smirk told you you'd been caught. Oh well, if he asked, you'd simply tell the truth. He was by far the most interesting part of Great Britain.

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

Wedding preparations had been running smoothly, and soon enough Benedict was out with a group of high society men to celebrate the impending nuptials.

The men were a few drinks deep when Charles made a toast, "Soon, lads, I will no longer be a free man, so you best believe I will enjoy it while it lasts."

Benedict was not sure he appreciated that sentiment, but let it pass as his other companions gave cries of, "Here, here!"

Drinking eventually turned to debauchery, and Benedict soon felt crowded at the table slowly attracting more women of the night. He excused himself to find another drink. Upon his return, however, he found Charles happily skipping off with one of them.

"Charles?!"

The man's attention turned to him, "Don't wait up, Bridgerton!" Charles laughed, and Benedict felt his face drop.

"Don't tell me..."

"Oh lighten up mate," Charles shrugged, "it's not like it counts."

Benedict blinked as his old school friend sauntered off with the woman. Every time he drank with men of the ton, it became more apparent that Violet Bridgerton's parenting methods were not widespread.

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

When he woke up in the hotel suite the next morning, Benedict spent a few blissful moments without the memory of the prior night. When he did remember, he tried to brush it off as a drunken illusion. Only, logic won out in the end. He hadn't drunk that much, and he had very clearly seen the scene with his own eyes.

Why did Charles have to go and make a mess of things? Everything had been going swimmingly. Now, just because the man couldn't keep it in his pants, countless hours of wedding planning would go down the drain. Sarah would be inconsolable, her parents would be furious, and they'd all be going back home. You'd be going back home. Shit.

He agonized over the situation, pacing the floor for an hour before Charles waltzed in.

"Are you only now getting back?" Benedict asked him, taking in the disheveled clothing Charles had been wearing the night prior.

"What can I say? I certainly enjoyed myself," Charles said smugly. He walked off, presumably to freshen up, but Benedict called after him.

"Charles?" The man turned, "You wouldn't... engage in that sort of behavior as a married man?"

Charles chuckled a bit, "Bridgerton, prostitutes don't count," that was concerning, "That sort of revelry was a one-time thing." That was... a bit better? Benedict let out a miserable groan.

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

Your bright eyes at the wedding rehearsal made him briefly forget his troubles. Once you were both in the proper position, Benedict didn't bother to pay attention. In fact, he pretty much just stared at you from across the altar. You looked good up there. He liked seeing you at the altar. He liked being across from you at the altar.

He was in trouble.

You whispered to him as he escorted you back down the aisle when the faux-service was over. Being best-man did afford him some benefits. "Guess what?"

"What?" He smiled down at you.

"The Du Ponts are thinking of staying indefinitely," you said, secretively, "they bought a house here. They've invited me to stay with them."

"Oh," he said, sense suddenly knocked back into him.

"It's looking like I might be in your hair a while longer."

Benedict quite nearly told you to stay in his hair as long as you cared to but felt it might be too forward. He also felt you'd make a lice joke at his expense. Your sharp sense of humor was one of the many things he found charming about you and one of the many reasons he did not want to let you go.

But if Charles and Sarah were getting married, you were staying. The Du Ponts were staying.

Just how bad was some debauchery at a stag party, really? In the grand scheme of things?

"Oh, how was the gentlemen's party?" You asked, excitedly, "I hope none of you behaved too poorly."

A nervous laugh bubbled from his mouth, "No. No, just the usual level of poor behavior." Fuck.

"Glad to hear it," you nodded. "Was Charles drunk out of his mind?" You laughed a bit.

"Quite possibly," Benedict said, smiling uncomfortably. The man was definitely out of his mind. Whether it could be attributed to the drink Benedict wasn't sure.

"Well, thanks for keeping an eye on him," you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

He was in big trouble.

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

On the morning of the wedding, Benedict was jittery. In a hallway of the church, he kept nervously adjusting his collar. A steady pair of hands pulled his away, and he looked up to find you fixing his collar.

"Stop touching it," you told him as you worked, "it looks good."

"Right," he breathed stiffly.

"And try not to look like you're attending a funeral," you reminded him, smirking. "Oh! I have something for you," you pulled the handkerchief he'd given you when you first met out of a small bag. Pressing it into his hand, you smiled up at him, "favor complete. Consider us even."

He could only nod at you as you began to retreat.

"I'm off to help Sarah. See you soon!"

Benedict gazed after you, guilt creeping in.

"I'm relieved she's kept such a close eye on Sarah," Mr. Du Pont suddenly appeared beside him, "but I should've expected it. The two have been like sisters ever since..."

"Since?' Benedict asked him curiously while straightening his bow tie.

"Well, we took her in some years back when her family passed," the older man explained.

As much as Benedict thought he'd gotten to know you, it seemed you'd yet to feel comfortable enough to tell him that, "I hadn't known."

"No," Du Pont shook his head, "she doesn't like to talk about it. Hates having to bear people's pity."

That, Benedict could understand. He had found that to be one of the worst parts of the aftermath of his father's death.

"But it's been a pleasure to have her in our family. I'm only happy it's expanding! Hopefully, she'll have nieces and nephews soon," Sarah's father looked around before leaning in a bit, "I'm hoping for lots of grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy when both my girls have good, loyal husbands at their side. It seems we're almost there!" With a pat on Benedict's shoulder, Mr. Du Pont walked off, "I'll see you in there."

Benedict nodded absently. Oh. He had mucked things up. He had really, really mucked things up.

Benedict paled a little. In his bid to keep you by his side as long as possible he'd neglected all other considerations. Including the life and happiness of your sister in all but blood. This wedding was very real and very imminent. And despite the time he dreamt it was the two of you getting married, his feelings were not nearly the most important of those involved.

Sarah was about to marry a man who had cheated on her only two nights prior.

But Charles had said it was a one-time thing. A last hooray before settling down. He'd said that prostitutes do not count anyway and- oh.

Benedict sharply inhaled when he realized his own foolishness. How had he not seen this? The bars they'd visited in the past months were all down the street from the one they'd entered two nights ago- the one next to the brothel. Each time he would excuse himself to retire to his home, Charles had stayed.

A fool, indeed. He'd been so enamored and distracted with you that his spy work on your behalf was entirely lackluster. Worse yet, when he did find pertinent information out, he had lied.

He had to make it right.

Benedict raised his fist to knock on the door of the room Sarah had taken over. Before he could, it swung open. You smiled at him, a little confused.

"You know you're only supposed to escort me down the aisle," you joked, "You don't have to start this far back."

He shook his head grimly, and your face fell. "I need to talk to you," he looked up to find Sarah behind you, "both of you."

You stepped aside and let Benedict in, nervous at his shift in attitude.

"You cannot marry him," Benedict had summoned all of his nerve to say the words and looked Sarah square in the eye when he did so. She deserved that much. She deserved the truth.

"What?" Sarah asked skeptically. She was already in her wedding gown. She had no idea what was happening.

"Benedict, what are you talking about?" Your question was quieter, but you were deadly serious. As soon as he said it you knew something was wrong, and he was right in bringing it to Sarah.

He swallowed when he looked into your eyes, "I lied to you." You felt like he'd just slammed a door in your face again. "Charles did behave poorly the other night. In fact, I think he's been behaving poorly for months and I've been too blind to see it."

"What? He was drinking?" Sarah asked, "I knew that would happen."

"No," Benedict shook his head, "He was with- with other women."

And with that, Sarah was out the door. You, however, could not bring yourself to follow. You were frozen to the floor, looking at the man you'd trusted with glassy eyes.

"You lied to me," you whispered.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head, laughing a little. The sound was sad, "I guess I broke my own rule." His eyes pleaded with you, but it was far from enough, "I expected too much from you. You couldn't help but let me down." His heart sank.

Finally, you turned to race after Sarah. Benedict was hot on your trail, "Please-"

"Oh, this is not over," you called over your shoulder, "but we have more pressing matters to deal with."

You stopped dead in your tracks after rounding a corner. It was so abrupt that Benedict could not slow his own pace enough not to bump into you. You both stumbled a bit but recovered in time to see Sarah slap Charles in the face. She then marched out of the church with her head held high.

Mrs. Du Pont followed her straight away. And Charles rushed after them both. Mr. Du Pont stopped only to briefly speak to you, "Would you both be so kind as to handle-"

"Consider it done," Benedict said. You sent him a sidelong glance before begrudgingly nodding at the man who had taken you in. Mr. Du Pont left to chase after his wife and daughter, leaving you and Benedict to dismiss guests and try to cancel vendors.

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

A long and tiresome day of working to undo weeks of wedding planning and avoiding the sad blue eyes that followed your every move ended in your hotel's garden. More specifically, eating the wedding cake that could not be returned in the hotel garden. You had very generously given most of it to the hotel staff. But you saved the top tier for yourself.

Draped across a bench, you stabbed into it with a fork. As you did, the charming figurine of Sarah and Charles fell from its place. You did not hesitate to grab the miniature and toss it into some shrubs.

"Rather harsh, don't you think?" A familiar voice drew your attention. You huffed when you saw who it was.

Benedict Bridgerton slowly made his way over to your bench. He gestured towards your legs, silently asking you to make room for him on the bench. When you didn't move, he simply sat himself parallel to you on the gravel floor.

"I am sorry," he said after some silence, looking straight ahead.

"I know," you nodded, not yet looking at him, "I suppose I am too."

"Whatever for?" Benedict's surprise broke the quietness of the moment, and he gazed at you questioningly.

You shrugged, still not looking at him, "I should have known better than to think you'd prioritize me over him. Charles is your friend."

"Maybe," he spat defensively, "but you're-" He cut himself off.

"What am I? To you?" You asked, now looking intently into his eyes, trying to discern his thoughts.

Benedict inhaled a large breath before telling you the God's honest truth, "When I realized what Charles was doing, I also realized that you would leave England with Sarah almost as soon as you found out. And I wanted you to stay." He paused, " I want you to stay."

Your lips parted as if to say something in return, but he barreled on, "I behaved selfishly, and I am a beast for it, but you were always my priority. Do not dream of thinking otherwise."

You swung your legs off of the bench and leaned forward towards him. Stabbing a bite of cake with your fork, you stuck it out to him in a gesture of peace. He cautiously ate the cake from your fork, waiting for you to say something. You took another bite before you did.

"A ship sets sail tomorrow," you said lightly, "back across the Atlantic." And with it, his hopes would sink. "I secured three tickets on it this morning."

Benedict blinked. That didn't add up right. "Is Mr. Du Pont stay-"

You quickly shook your head, and things started to click in place for him.

"Mrs. Du Pont?"

Your smirk started to grow.

"Sarah?"

"Now you're being deliberately obtuse," you mocked.

He grinned up at you, "Then...?"

"The Du Ponts need someone to mind their new manor in the English countryside. Who better than their favorite non-daughter?" You shrugged happily.

"Will you not get lonely in such a large estate out in the country?" Benedict asked teasingly.

You smiled playfully at him, "Then I should hope someone will be kind enough to call on me." Benedict looked rather self-satisfied at that. "I should only hope they clean up before they do."

His confusion was answered when you took a handful of cake and smeared it down the left side of his face. He stuck his tongue in his cheek to try not to laugh. It was well-played and deserved.

"Now we're even," you whispered close to his face before standing and walking away.

"Jokes on you," he shouted after you, "it tastes better like this!" Your laughter filled the night air, and he was happy to have made such sweet amends.

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

I love Benedict sooo much!!! I wrote this super quick after watching the new season, so sorry if anything didn't make sense

Thanks for reading <3

(also sorry for any historical inaccuracies or whatever but this is Bridgerton we're talking about )

#benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

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badbtssmut · 11 months ago

Text

Where you go to a host club for a distraction and meet hottie host Kim Taehyung who makes you forget all about your problems when he takes you to the VIP rooms to fuck.

Contains: fingering, hitting it from the back, missionary , drooling, rough sex, Tae is kinda an escort

Inspo x links NSFW: missionary, behind

“Mmm…” You couldn’t believe that you were actually doing this; naked from head to toe, your legs spread, getting fingered by a man you met at the host club. You had told yourself you needed a distraction— and it wouldn’t go further than a kiss, at most.

But there was something about Taehyung that made you eager to follow him to the VIPs rooms.

“Oh..!” You shuddered as he pushed another finger in.

The room was quiet, save for the lewd noises of your wet pussy sucking his fingers in.

“Such a pretty pussy you have here. Is this what you wanted to show me when you followed me back here? Hm, beautiful?”

His voice was soft and gentle, yet the words that came out of his mouth were dirty and sinful. You didn't mind it, though. In fact, it turned you on even more.

You found yourself nodding, not even sure if that was the truth, but you went along with it.

“That pretty pussy would look even prettier when it's filled to the brim with cock, wouldn't it? Would you like that, beautiful?” Taehyung asked, pulling his fingers out, only to push them back in a few moments later.

It was embarrassing, really, having someone watch you squirm underneath their fingers, but the feeling was so good, you couldn't complain.

“Yes… please.” You replied, eyes locked with his.

Taehyung didn't break eye contact, not even when he was leaning in closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

You closed your eyes, and the two of you just stayed there, his lips against yours, while his fingers were still moving inside of you. Then he pulled away, replacing his fingers with his cock.

"I can't wait any longer." Taehyung admitted, pushing his cock into your dripping pussy. “So wet, my cock just slides in, what a good girl…”

"Oh, oh..." He was bigger than you expected, filling you up nicely. Your walls accommodated him, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief, finally feeling the pleasure you craved.

"That's right, baby. Just lay there and take it." Taehyung hummed, resting his hands on either side of your head. "So tight, such a obedient pussy, knows how to take big cocks, hm?"

He started off with slow, shallow thrusts, pulling all the way out, until only the tip of his cock was inside, before he was back in again, going slow, just enough to drive you crazy.

"Taehyung… please." You stammered.

"Yes, beautiful?" He looked down at you.

"I can't.. Please, I can't take this anymore." You whined, hips bucking upwards to get more of his cock inside.

“Yeah? Want more?” And he did give it to you, his pace becoming faster, thrusts harder, until he was fucking you into the sheets, and all you could do was moan his name and beg him to keep going. You couldn’t think, couldn't focus, not with the way he was ramming into your pussy.

The man was burying your body into the bed with his thrusts, his cock pounding into you so deep that you started to drool. You were a mess, a complete and utter mess, but you didn’t care, not when the pleasure was so intense.

“You love that huh? That pussy is sucking me right in, taking me so well, so wet and needy for my cock. I bet you want more, don’t you, baby? Wanna cum on this cock, hm?” He whispered, his focus not faltering as he trusted you in the same rhythm.

“Yes, feels so good…” was about all you could say, your brain melting at how good he felt inside of you.

Taehyung trusted into you one last time, letting your pussy savor the taste of his cock, before he pulled out. Taehyung then directed you on all fours, spreading your legs open and pushing himself back into your warmth.

Your back arched in pleasure, your ass sticking out towards him. You didn't expect him to go harder than before, but he did. It was almost as if he had a sudden boost of energy. His thrusts were mind blowing, a steady pace causing your body to bounce back and forth, before he’d finish off the series of thrusts by firmly gripping onto your hips and snapping you back harshly against his cock, causing you to let out a pleasurable cry each time it happened.

Your arms collapsed under you, your face down and your ass up as he continued to fuck into you. His thrusts were hard and merciless, and he showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. Heck, you weren’t even sure how you were holding on considering how he was abusing your pussy like a maniac.

Your fingers dug into the sheets and your mouth gaped open, drooling into the sheets below. You could hear him cursing, his groans growing louder as he picked up the pace.

You could feel it coming, the build up. The tension in your lower belly, the feeling of your toes curling and your thighs quivering, you were so close, and he knew it.

“It’s okay, baby, if you got to cum, then cum, let me see that pussy come undone for me.” Taehyung cooed, running his fingers down your back.

That was the final straw. Your whole body trembled and you came on his cock, moaning his name into the pillow. He wasn’t far behind either. His thrusts grew sloppy, his breaths becoming uneven. He gave one last thrust, burying his cock deep inside of you before he spilled his seed, coating your insides with his cum.

You didn’t move, and neither did he, and the two of you stayed still for a few more seconds, before Taehyung grabbed your arms and pulled you up, your back resting against his chest. His fingers dug into your cheeks before he pulled your head to face him, pressing his lips against yours.

#bts smut #bts x reader #bts requests #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #bts smut fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung x female reader #taehyung x reader

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aluciahaz · 11 months ago

Note

may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.

Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!

once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3

oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)

greed never stops

—vox x f!reader

—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage

vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.

he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.

but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.

but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.

and you were the one he needed it from.

your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.

“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”

those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.

“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?

“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”

“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.

he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.

vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.

he just didn’t deserve it.

he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.

“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.

his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.

his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.

which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.

“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.

“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.

“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.

“such a good boy.”

those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.

he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.

sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.

it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.

it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.

“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.

vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.

but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.

(i totally didnt forget to tag)

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

#hazbin hotel #dom reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel dom reader #sub hazbin hotel #bottom vox #sub vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Surgery III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Mami wants another one

Because of your superpower, Mami says that you make a lot of assumptions. She says it's because your brain makes lots of different connections that other people wouldn't. Sometimes you just assume things because of it.

You don't know what that means but you just nod and smile because Ingrid says that's what you need to do to get Mami to stop talking sometimes.

You're completely enamoured with the washing machine spinning when Ingrid swears. Or, you think she swears. Sometimes she says stuff in Norwegian that she tells you not to repeat because it's naughty so you assume those are swear words.

She doesn't swear a lot but you know to ignore it anyway, focussing on the way the washing machine spins. You'd tried to get in it once with Bagheera so you could both spin but Mami got angry at you and talked for ages for you smiled and nodded as your mind wandered to whether or not you could fit in Bagheera's cat tree.

"Cub," Ingrid groans and your name makes you turn.

She's holding one of your toy trucks. It's big and yellow and it's like the ones that the people building the apartments down the street use to move all their big rocks.

You smile toothily at Ingrid and reach your hand out for your toy.

"I asked you to clean up your mess a while ago, cub," She says, not giving your toy to you.

You frown. Ingrid did tell you to do that but you'd gotten distracted by Bagheera and then the rumble of the washing machine. You like the washing machine so you sat in front of it.

"My toy," You say.

"We need to clean up," Ingrid says," It's very messy."

You don't see the problem. Your things are strewn all over the room but you know where everything is so it shouldn't be a problem. But Ingrid likes things neat and tidy.

You think that's why Mami is dating her because Mami is messy and she needs someone to organise her things like how Ingrid helps you organise your thoughts.

You like Ingrid though and want to keep her happy because she's the boss in the house.

You get a bit distracted as you go to pick up your digger, making little engine noises with your mouth. You're not really sure how engine noises sound so you just mimic the sound of the washing machine instead.

You ram it into the wall a few times as Mami comes into the room.

She's holding Bagheera.

"Oh, please, Ingrid," Mami says," It won't be much trouble. Please, let's get another one."

You wonder what Mami is talking about. You put your truck away and reach for your lion cub, making it purr like the washing machine as you get out your magic wiggles.

You mull over Mami's words. You don't go to nursery a lot (Ingrid says that they don't accommodate your add with an h somewhere well so you only go when you absolutely have to) but the last time you went, there was a little boy who said that his mum begged his papa for another baby and she got one.

If that's what Mami is talking about, you don't like it. You don't want a new baby because if Mami gets a new baby then maybe you won't be lion cub anymore because the baby will be younger than you so they'll get your nickname.

You don't want a new nickname because you're Mami and Ingrid's cub.

Your thoughts make your magic wiggles a bit worse than better, especially when Mami mentions your name.

"It'd be good for y/n," She says," You've always said it was good for you when you were younger."

Ingrid makes a face. "That's different and you know it. We had a bigger house when I was younger. There's not enough space here."

You're glad Ingrid is speaking up because adults don't always listen to little kids. You know this because sometimes the adults at nursery don't like you running around when you have the magic wiggles even though Ingrid tells you it's the best way to get them out.

You hope Mami listens to Ingrid because you definitely don't want the new baby that Mami must want.

"Please, Ingrid," Mami says," We can make room! y/n would love it! It could share her bed."

You freeze instantly. Your brain screeches to a halt as you work out what Mami's just said.

You're up on your feet, throwing your lion cub to the ground and screeching. It's very high pitched and it makes your ears ring a little bit. You stamp your foot.

"No!" You say," Not in my bed!"

You don't want to share your bed anymore than you want to share your Mami and your Ingrid.

"No! No! No!" You cry.

You couldn't get your magic wiggles out earlier but they're all coming out now as you scream and cry as much as your little body will allow.

"Why?" Mami asks," You let Bagheera sleep in bed with you."

"My Bagheera!" You say through your tears.

Mami tries to go to soothe you but you shriek again and hide behind Ingrid because she doesn't want this new baby either and she won't betray you like Mami is.

"Si," Mami says," Your Bagheera. But you love Bagheera a lot."

You nod.

"Don't you want to have another friend to play with?"

You shake your head. "No! No new baby! Just me!"

Mami looks at you strangely. "I know," She says," You're the only baby we'll have. We know that."

It's your turn to look strange at Mami now and you peek out from behind Ingrid's leg to look at her. You sniffle. "Why're you askin' for another one if you know it's just me?"

Mami laughs slightly, a smiling tugging at her lips. "I'm sorry, cub. I should have been more clear."

"Mapi," Ingrid says warningly," No."

"Oh come on, it'll be good for her. It'll teach her responsibility."

You frown. "What will?"

"I've been thinking." Mami eases down to your height. "You're a big girl now and you love Bagheera a lot but she's technically Mami's, right?"

You nod.

"Well, how about we get you a kitten for yourself? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Mapi!"

You nod quickly and Mami smiles.

"Well," She says," You just have to convince Ingrid. Because she's the boss, remember?"

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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approvedtrash · 2 years ago

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whose kitchen is it?

You had really gotten yourself into this honestly. You know better than to mouth off to Katsuki right after he gets off patrols. Especially when it comes to who owns the kitchen. Obviously, it was his.

"Wanna say that again? Whose kitchen is this?" He growled in your ear. His hips pressed right up against your ass.

"Y-yours.. Katsu.." you whined out. Grinding back against him while your back arched on the counter.

"That's fucking right, and what do you do in my kitchen?" He asked. His hand now yanking your shorts down so his fingers could get to their prize.

"Serve you and Eiji," you're panting out as his fingers find their way to your most sensitive spot.

"Right again Angel, and you know what's on the menu tonight?" He cooed in your ear?

"I'm making -"

You were cut off by the feeling of Katsuki ramming into you from behind. He groaned at the feeling of how warm you were wrapped around him.

"You are. Isn't that right Red?" He asked, now looking at the doorway to see Eijirou had walked in and watched the show unfolding before him.

"She looks delicious, and I can't wait to have a taste," he said as he walked in. Giving Katsuki a kiss on the neck you were still cockwarming him waiting to see where this was going.

"Hi sweets, I see you tried to be tough and claim the kitchen for your own? While you do look wonderful cooking for us, I think Katsuki still runs this," Eijirou said while grabbing a fistful of your hair.

"We-welcome home Eiji - ah!" You said feeling Katsuki slowly moving his hips back and forth.

"Can I sample this wonderful meal baby? Please?" He asked while kneeling down to see where you and Katsuki were connected.

The feeling of both of their attention on you was almost overwhelming. Katsuki had you full and sensitive already while Eijirou's light touches were sending shivers all over your body.

"Yeah Angel, can you ride Eiji's face while I fuck you?" He asked.

"Pl-please. Whatever you want," you said.

That was all the confirmation they needed. Eijirou was on the ground leaning up again the cupboards with his tongue already licking over your clit. Katsuki pulled back and slammed into you just enough to have Eijirou holding your thighs still.

"You must have been working really hard on this Sweets, you taste so good," Eijirou's voice was muffled as he licked and sucked on you.

"She's clenching already Red, must be close huh?" He taunted, grabbing onto your hip with one hand while his hand gave your ass a good smack.

"If she comes while you're still inside though I'm gonna need you to move Kats, want to taste my Sweet. A little dessert before the main course," the redhead said.

"Hear that Angel, tell us when you're close so Red here can have his sweet little dessert," he whispered in your ear.

You weren't even speaking in sentences. The whines and gasping from the amount of pleasure you were receiving were making your ears ring.

"Mm- close, I'm close.." you ended up being able to get out.

Katsuki pulled out but lifted your shirt a bit while Eijirou pulled you closer to his face to fill you with his tongue. His grip sent you over as you came all over his open mouth much to his satisfaction. You felt Katsuki cumming all over your ass and back as he saw how euphoric the scene in front of him was.

Your legs were shaking at this point and you were holding onto the counter for any stability. Eijirou made sure you didn't leave a mess at all and while Katsuki recovered your red-haired knight swept you away to the bathroom. Drawing a bath and cleaning you up a bit to soak while they finished dinner.

"You two are something else with your attitudes," Kiri said as he walked back into the kitchen to get you some water.

"She started it, just had to make sure she knew this was still mine," Bakugo grumbled out.

Laughing at his comment Kirishima filled up a glass of water and grabbed a granola bar. He went to walk out when he heard a grunt at the stove.

"You two looked so fucking good earlier, but I know you're not done for the night," Katsuki said.

Kirishima smiled and turned with a smile, "Well, maybe you could put your mouth to work later while I remind her who owns the bedroom."

#kiribaku #kiribakureader #mdni #mha #bnha #aged up characters #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugo #smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #mha smut #late night thoughts #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader

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brokenpieces-72 · 4 months ago

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Mad Beast

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

“Come on pup, open the door.” You hear Johnny say. He sounds normal, but you know he isn’t. By pure luck you managed to find a place to hide. Even at your normal high speed it wasn't enough to lose Johnny. You remember what Ghost said, don’t open the door for them. You’re shivering, cause you know it isn’t Johnny, not your Johnny. “What did we say about orders pup?”

You stay quiet, pressing against the door to hold it shut. In your weaker state though, your strength is equal to Johnny’s, but he’s also been shot full of blood. You hear the knob jiggle and your heart is pounding. Soap isn't supposed to be affected by blood though, being a werewolf. Something else was going on. You weren't about to try and ask him a personal question or try to solve it now.

“Pup open the door. Let me in.” He says. It’s more firm, like he’s trying to discipline you. You want to open the door but you know the risk and the dangers and you had order’s from Ghost not to. “Ar’nya hungry? Open up and we can go eat.”

Soap shouldn’t be able to break through the door but it doesn’t stop you from feeling it shake as Johnny keeps pounding on it harder and harder as his voice gets louder.

“Open the door! Pup, I need to talk to you!”

“No no no…” you whisper to yourself. Johnny gets more aggressive, and he isn’t holding back.

“Let me in! I mean it! Getting sick of your shit!” He’s almost ramming the door, at least that’s what it feels like. You’re getting flashbacks to the basement, when your mother used a similar tone. Sweet and kind and then demanding and cruel. “Open the fucking door pup! I can hear you in there! I can smell your stench too! Now let me in you brat!”

“Stop…please…” you say softly.

“You want me to stop? Then come out here and face me you rabbit eared freak! Come on!” The banging gets harder and louder, and you’re trying to hold strong. He doesn’t mean it. You know he doesn’t. It doesn’t stop tears from dotting your eyes.

“You little bitch let me in!! Now! Fucking had enough of you! Open the door right now!”

The door shakes and you know you have to find somewhere to hide. Could Soap sniff you out? Maybe. But you couldn’t stay at the door.

“Little rabbit let me in!!” Johnny’s voice changes to some more beastly, and deep. It’s almost a snarl when he talks to you. You can hear something break when he hits the door. You need to move!

“Open! The fucking! Door! You annoying! Little! Bugger!” Johnny barks before he breaks through the door. You’re nowhere in sight. You hold your breath waiting for the chance to flee. With Johnny juiced you don’t know how much faster you are than him. You need as much distance from him as you can and that means waiting for the perfect chance to flee. If that meant being found first then you have to risk it.

“Alright brat where the fuck are ya?” Johnny wonders aloud. “Don’t ya wanna see ya big brother? Been a month.”

You try to make yourself smaller, seeing him in a partial shift, mostly human, but looking almost nothing like one. Soap starts tearing things apart trying to find you, growling at every spot he checks. You hold your breath, praying he can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest. He moves past your hiding spot, getting closer. You flinch when he checks the cupboard next to you. He’s close enough that if you had a flu shot, you could stick him with it and run.

“Little bitch…” he growls and leaves the room. You hear him padding down the hall, and take a second to catch your breath. You meant to run that whole time but fear kept you back. Hell you were behind the bloody door how did he not see you? You take a few moments to collect yourself before slipping out of your hiding spot.

All is quiet. You’re safe for now. You look down the hall towards the medbay, and back at Johnny down the other way.

Shit. You bolt as soon as there is eye contact narrowly avoiding Johnny lunging for you.

“Come back here!” His yell echoes through the halls as your mind focuses on nothing but running. You don’t look back, you don’t even check the other corridors. Your focus is on reaching the medbay and trying to lose Johnny. Unfortunately wolves tend to hunt in packs and you one scared and terrified rabbit. You weren’t going fast enough past another corridor, and you saw a dark shadow. A fast dark shadow.

You slam into the hard stone wall, the wind knocked out of you. You coughed and would have crumbled if a nagual didn’t hold you against it by the neck. Your vision was blurred and your ears were ringing as you tried to focus. Definitely doesn’t help Alejandro has a death grip on your throat, and all you can do is try to pry it open enough to breath. You try to kick him back, disarm him, defend yourself, fucking anything!

“ALE!” You hear Soap yell, and both of you look back down the hall, seeing Soap approaching. Wait is that foam around his mouth? You don’t get much of a look because Alejandro removes you from the wall and instead holds you against him. He doesn’t back away, instead growling and clutching you almost in a possessive way.

“Drop them…” Soap orders.

“Mine.” Alej says. You try to get away but you feel a familiar death grip, warning you. Fucking hell you may as well be prey, fuck it you are prey! Without the wendigo to shift to you are running out of options. Soap is coming closer, and you’re pretty sure he won’t care if Alejandro still has a grip on you or not. The nagual isn’t letting go.

“Alej…please…” you beg quietly. He growls, and tugs you back, focused on Soap. “Please let go…”

Suddenly Alejandro’s body jerks and he roars in pain, while you finally are free from his grip. There’s a split moment where you see Alejandro turn to face his attacker and you see feather blades sticking out of his back. Gaz makes himself known, and throws more, before going for a kill shot with his talons. You take the opportunity to bolt ahead of the nagual, juast as Gaz struck.

You had your back to them when Gaz caught sight of you. Unfortunately that sparring practice with him paid off. For him. You feel a sharp pain in your shoulder before stumbling around the corner. You hold your tongue but can hear more fighting behind you. Eyes forward, keep running! Don’t look back you don’t have time. The sooner you reach the med bay the sooner you can locate Ghost and Rudy and the sooner you can get them cured… hopefully.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @yune1337

#john soap mactavish #cod au #task force 141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #hybrid au #cod fanfic #cod #call of duty modern warefare #call of duty #jackelope reader #jackelope #werewolf #nagual #harpy

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