#ROOT BEER SIGHTINGS

[mugrootbeer]

CAN OF "MUG ROOTBEER" SPOTTED IN SEINFELD SEASON 08 EPISODE 16, "THE POTHOLE"

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[avocado-writing]

Avo please 😔 do the DP&W fandom some justice.

Please please give us a Deadpool and Logan Eiffel Tower fic (or just headcanons whatever works best for you 💜)

rated e. smut & fluff. minors dni.

There are ups and downs to all aspects of the relationship, you suppose. 

The downs tend to be pretty dramatic: Wade says something thoughtless, or goading, or just plain irritating, and Logan tends to react… explosively. The snik of claws appearing has become a sort of soundtrack to your day. Usually you can intercede in time to calm tensions down but when you can’t, well, they usually end up breaking not only each other’s bones but the furniture too. 

At least you only buy the flat-pack stuff. 

You’ll inevitably tell them both off and force them to repair what’s been smashed, and after a couple of hours and a few drinks they’re in each other’s good books again: Wade is cursing at the SKOGSTA and Logan is trying to suppress an affectionate smile behind a beer. 

But when it’s good? Man, it’s fucking great. The three of you have an unmatched synergy. A lot of your friends are jealous of how easy things are for you, how the pieces just sort of fell into normalcy after your time in the Void. Your favourite place to be is with your legs slung up over Logan’s thighs on the sofa, face buried in your mercenary’s lap, some shitty movie on that Wade keeps trying to guess the twist to. 

And then there are nights like tonight, nights where brief touches throughout the day evolve into caresses evolve into gropes. Inevitably you’re thrown onto the bed, and it’s not much of a wait before one of you is between the others. 

Tonight it’s your turn to be spoiled. 

Logan’s hands dig into your hips so hard you’re scared his claws will flick out. Actually, scratch that, you’re not scared; the idea of it makes you so wet you’re pretty sure he can feel it on his cock. You love it when he loses control. He slams into you even harder when you let out a choked-off little moan, your pleasure only beckoning the beast out further. 

Wade cups your jaw in his hand, angling it open a little further so he can press deeper into your throat. When he’s happy with the angle he slides his grip down to your neck so he can feel himself fucking you there. 

“Fuck, aren’t you a pretty sight, baby?” he hums, running his thumb around the seam of your lips where drool starts to spill. “You should see the way you’re taking his cock. People would pay by the hour to watch that.” He tilts his head to the side, a thought taking root. “Hmm, actually, that’s not a bad idea. Think there’s a market for mutant porn? Nightcrawler must have an OnlyFans, right?”

You slap his thigh to get his attention back. This is why you like him in the middle. Logan can keep his mouth occupied with his thick cock, you can fuck him with your favourite strap. Either way it’s difficult for him to talk. 

You do find it pretty endearing though, all things considered. Bastard, you think, lovingly. 

Logan growls, and for a second you’re not sure if it’s in agreement or aggravation. Luckily he’s quick to clarify. 

“He’s right. You take me so fucking well. Pretty fucking pussy was made for me. Us,” he mutters, voice so gravelly it could pave a driveway. You moan around Wade’s dick at his filthy mouth, clutching the sheets so tight they threaten to rip as he doubles his pace. His cock pistons in and out of you making a wet sound which fills the bedroom and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking turned on. With every thrust you’re pushed forward, taking Wade so far down your throat that your eyes start to water. 

Messy and desperate is how they like you, and you kinda agree with them. 

Then Logan’s movement pauses for a second, something you know only happens when he’s been met with something totally astounding. 

“Wha… Wade, I’m not gonna give you a fucking high five.”

You pull back, looking to see where Wade is lowering his hand, pouting. 

“Come on, Peanut. You know you want to.”

“Wade, what the fuck?” you ask. “Don’t be weird about this, I’ll bite your dick off.”

“Okay well you did that before and it made me cum, so that’s not the threat you think it is, sweetheart. Besides this right here? This is the best thing ever. Just wanted to find some camaraderie with my boo in the moment. C’mon, you won’t leave me hanging, will you?”

He holds his hand out to you, and you pause for a moment - well aware Logan is still balls deep inside your soaking cunt - before giving in and slapping it. Yeah. This is pretty great, to be fair. Wade pumps his fist in triumph. 

“Knew it! You never let me down. Not even after the dick biting.”

“You actually asked for that, honey.”

“I did! I’m known for my fat ass and incredible ideas.”

A noise makes the two of you turn around. It’s Logan, but, contrary to your expectations, he’s not angry. He’s laughing. It’s a noise neither of you are used to, especially not during sex. He tries to hide the smile on his rugged features and starts gently rocking his hips back into a rhythm inside of you. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” he says, fondly. You exchange a look with Wade, both jubilant. 

Yeah, you are ridiculous - and he fits right in.

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections

Charles Xavier x Erik Lensherr x Reader

the gender of the reader is not specified // based on X-Men Days Of Future Past, but the scenarios are made up

Summary: You are blind, and you control the earth (you also listen to the plants) you are like a mutant version of Toph Beifong basically. Also you and Charles bullying at Erik for not noticing the obvious.

maybe part 2 in the future? let me know if there are any mistakes because English is not my first language.

Charles "I'm not good with violence" Xavier

"‘Can I know where we are going?’ Charles asks, irritated by the mystery Logan is adding to the situation.

‘You'll see,’ the man replies with a half-amused smile.

In the future, you were a legend, a myth. The original X-Men never stopped talking about you when Logan arrived at the mansion, and over time, their respect for you and your amazing deeds only grew. Something Logan struggled to learn about you was that you had a romantic relationship with both Charles and Erik. He didn’t understand it until Ororo explained that it was a polyamorous relationship, which helped him understand much more about the Professor and his nemesis.

In the horrible future from which they sent him, Erik and Charles ordered him to force a reunion between the two of them and your first meeting with them.

Part of him found the situation amusing, feeling like Cupid but with bone claws instead of a bow and arrows. Another part of him hoped that this forced encounter wouldn’t jeopardize the relationship destined to be in the future.

Once they arrived at what was supposed to be your home, Peter was the first to get out of the car, followed by Hank, Charles, and Logan.

They were in a place slightly secluded from the city, full of forests, dirt, plants, and flowers. There was only one house in sight, well-maintained and decorated on the outside; Charles gave you credit for that.

They walked up the short driveway, and Logan didn’t even need to knock for the door to open by itself. Logan smiled amusedly while the other three men glanced at each other in confusion.

‘Excuse me,’ Logan murmured, entering the house, closely followed by the others.

The house was cozy and minimalist, with the few pieces of furniture placed against the walls, giving the appearance of more space than there actually was. They entered what seemed to be the kitchen, where there you were.

You had your back to them as you did something on the kitchen counter. Judging by the sound, you were preparing coffee.

‘Coffee or tea?’ you asked disinterestedly, creating another round of confused glances.

‘Coffee,’ Peter answered with a smile. Logan sat down at the table on the side of the kitchen, which had three chairs.

‘I suppose the furry guy and the one who's supposed to have paralyzed legs are more into tea,’ you commented as you set the water to boil. You pointed to the fridge next to you. ‘There's beer in the fridge.’

Logan raised his eyebrows at the two completely confused men in the kitchen doorway as he went for the said beer, while Peter took a seat.

Hank and Charles didn’t understand anything. Were you a telepath? Hank was in his human form, and Charles was full of the serum to be able to walk, so… how?

Logan returned to his seat, and that’s when you finally turned around, leaving them all (except for Wolverine) surprised.

Although you usually wore sunglasses, you had taken them off when your plants alerted you that someone from the future was coming to see you. Your eyes were white, lost.

You put your hands in your pockets and leaned your back against the counter. ‘I suppose they want you to help them get Magneto out of the Pentagon.’

‘She’s good,’ Peter murmured in amusement.

‘Are you a telepath?’ Charles finally asked, crossing his arms.

‘No,’ you smiled at him.

‘Then?’ Hank asked this time, while Logan just watched the interaction like it was a soap opera, sipping his beer.

‘I control anything to do with the earth, I understand plants, and I see through the roots of trees, although I can also sense all your movements through the ground we’re standing on,’ you explained, serving the tea and coffee.

You heard Peter whisper ‘cool’ as you handed out the cups.

‘Your plants told you,’ the professor concluded, taking a sip of tea, which happened to be his favorite flavor. You nodded.

‘People have told me you have good reflexes; is that true?’ Wolverine’s question made you smile slyly.

‘Of course it is.’

‘Then catch this,’ he challenged, tossing the empty beer bottle at you.

Hank and Charles looked horrified as he threw the bottle, while Peter was ready to intervene if necessary.

Through your bare feet, you could feel how almost everyone’s heart skipped a beat, but you caught the bottle in mid-air as if it was nothing. The collective sigh of relief that followed made you laugh.

‘So, are we going or what?’

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

After successfully getting Magneto out of prison, you had to sit with Charles and Erik on the plane, according to Logan’s poor excuse, ‘So they don’t kill each other.’

After a tense conversation between the two, during which you just sat in silence, Erik spoke up.

‘Why are you barefoot?’

‘So I can see you'

Erik frowned in confusion, while Charles barely suppressed an amused smile. Erik still hadn’t realized that you were blind, since you were wearing sunglasses, and you hadn’t given any indication that you were. Of course, Erik found it odd that you were always looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone, but he assumed you might be shy.

‘Am I missing an inside joke?’ Erik asked again, noticing his old friend’s poorly concealed smile.

‘No, nothing, don’t think too much about it,’ Charles replied, trying to hold back a laugh but failing, causing you to smile in amusement.

Magneto frowned in confusion, feeling like he was missing something, and he had to admit it made him a bit jealous. He finally reunites with Charles, the man he loves, and Charles has inside jokes with someone he’s never seen before and, as far as he knows, only met today.

‘Explain to me, what’s so funny?’ he asked, hiding his growing irritation, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the two of you, who were still stifling your laughter. Erik couldn’t help but notice that you were still looking straight ahead. ‘Is it something related to her mutation? I thought Y/N only controlled the earth and talked to plants?

‘You can do a lot with the earth, isn’t that right, Charles?’ you replied with amusement. The man in the wheelchair, who miraculously walks, rested his head on his hand, trying to hide his smile as he nodded. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said.

Erik felt his irritation growing, along with his heart racing at the melodic sound of your shared, complicit laughter.

The gears in Magneto’s mind started to turn as he realized.

You were wearing sunglasses that you hadn’t taken off, even on the plane, always looking straight ahead, not having looked at either him or Charles this whole time, and you said you were barefoot so you could see him.

‘You’re blind,’ he concluded, rubbing his forehead in a mix of irritation and embarrassment, earning loud laughs from both of you that attracted curious and annoyed looks from Hank and Logan.

‘Took you long enough,’ you said, patting him on the shoulder in consolation.

‘Something I don’t understand is, how do you “see” through your feet now if we’re on a plane?’ Charles asked once his laughter had calmed down.

‘The earth has metal particles, and metal has earth particles, I suppose,’ you answered.

‘Does that mean you can control metal?’ Erik now asked with curiosity.

‘Sometimes, although it’s not easy at all, it requires a lot of effort,’ you replied, shrugging.

‘Interesting,’ they said in unison, glancing at each other and smiling as if they were thinking the same thing.

‘I sense tension… are you two going to kiss?’ you joked.

The two men rolled their eyes and smiled at each other, definitely thinking the same thing, while you felt confused because they didn’t give you any response."

Pt.2

[55sturn]

✮ SOME TYPE OF WAY

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl fem!reader

synopsis: y/n takes matt up on the offer he proposes after they meet at a party, their tension thicker than their resolve.

warnings: swearing, reckless driving [ matt’s a thrill seeker / adrenaline junkie ], sexual tension, 18+, sexual content [ groping over and underneath the clothes ], making out, choking, spit swapping, open ending.

THIRD PERSON POV

y/n has always been a very organized person, every move she made was calculated and meticulous, not leaving enough room for error or her anxiety to spiral up a storm. some would lean toward calling her uptight, but she would let it roll off her back like water because she found a way for everything in her life to fall in line smoothly without many problems arising.

her best friend, jess, has always been the exact opposite of her. she was chaotic and messy, always running late, often being caught in compromising situations and relying on y/n to bail her out. the two were on the opposites of the personality spectrum, and people would screw their faces up at the sight of the two, but they paid no mind because their bond worked.

jess always joked about breaking y/n, turning into the opposite of her but y/n was stubborn, finding the utmost comfort in the way she lived. she didn't see the appeal of chaos and living without restriction.

but her class load had grown rather heavy, and she felt her impulse control weakening the more jess mentioned this massive influencer party that she had garnered invites for through multiple connections, and jess wasn’t backing down.

“fine. i think it’s time i take a break anyway, jess.”

“wait? are you for real right now?” jess exclaimed, shocked that for once in their friendship, she wasn’t going to a party alone.

WE ONLY MET EACH OTHER JUST THE OTHER DAY

as y/n followed jess through the crowd of people, she felt an overwhelming swarm of different and conflicting emotions, part of her wanted to turn around and walk back to her apartment, while the other part wanted to stick it out, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as she psyched herself out to believe, especially if jess, who was known for being blunt and outspoken if someone was overwhelming, could tolerate it.

y/n felt out of place, clad in a baby pink pleather mini skirt, and a matching pink long sleeve raglan baby tee, both courtesy of jess, and a pair of pink platform converse. she quickly trailed behind her best friend, who seemed to know her way around the house, more so mansion, they were partying at, heading toward the kitchen.

“so what are you wanting to drink?” jess hums, gesturing the otherworldly amounts of alcohol littering the large island in the kitchen.

“just pick something and make a drink for me.” y/n replies, turning back to face the crowd of people, watching as couples and people nearly fucked each other on various surfaces among the house. as her gaze kept flitting about the crowd of people, she briefly met the eyes of some guy across the room.

she felt her cheeks began to warm as he flashed her a lopsided smirk, his blue eyes boring into hers beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair. she returns his smirk, but hers is much gentler before turning back to jess, taking the red solo cup, staring at the dark liquid swirling in it. y/n cautiously takes a sip, while she trusts jess not to fuck her over and get her obnoxiously drunk, she’s still wary of the alcohol mixed with soda in her cup, she’s only been drunk a handful of times.

she swallows the dark drink, the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet, almost foamy taste of root beer filling her mouth, causing her to salivate ever so slightly as she takes another gracious sip.

“thank you for not giving me something other than vodka.” she laughs, watching as jess grabs two more solo cups, pouring two hefty shots of vodka into them, quickly handing one to y/n, who clinks her plastic cup against jess’ before quickly downing the shot, followed by a large gulp of her drink.

the two slowly make their way out of the kitchen, dancing with each other before beginning to talk and mingle with the rest of the people. y/n was shocked at how easily she fit into the world of influencers and content creators. as she made her way toward the deck, she felt eyes watching her, brushing it off she exited the stuffy house, finding solace in the cool april air clinging to her skin as she leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch.

as proud as she was of herself for stepping away from her studies for a night, she still needed a moment of peace, or even just a moment alone.

but her tranquility was interrupted by the sliding door opening and shutting softly, she turned to head back inside but she was met with the same blue eyes she held contact with prior.

“hey.” he nods, pulling a cigarette from the pack that sat in his back pocket, grabbing a black and silver zippo lighter, flicking it quickly.

“hi.”

“so what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, the dingy light from the fairy lights lining the roof catching his tattoos, completely enamouring y/n as she watched his arm flex and relax, the muscle tee he wore showing off his lean arms. at first glance, you wouldn’t expect him to have any muscle but as he moved his arm, y/n was thoroughly impressed.

“my friend dragged me here. what about you?” she replies, resting her tailbone against the railing as he smirks, his head cocked to the side as his eyes flick across her features.

“what’d’ya mean?”

“just that you don’t seem like the party either, very quiet.”

“and how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“well seeing as i came out here because it’s overwhelming in there, and you did the same, and we’re the only two people out here, i’m assuming you came out here for the same reason.” she laughs, taking a sip of her drink, holding his curious stare over the rim of the flimsy cup, not once dropping his intense gaze.

“what if i just wanted to get you alone?” he teases, watching as she rolls her eyes, laughing to himself.

“then you’d be a total creep. i don’t even know your name.” she laughs, shocking herself at how easily she warmed up to him.

“it’s matt.”

“you look like a matt.” she hums placing her empty cup on the railing beside before pushing herself up, sitting along the wide railing, her legs dangling slightly as matt puffs on his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the grass below.

“what about you? you got a name or am i gonna have to keep calling you sweetheart?”

“y/n.” she whispers, her face warming at the nickname falling from his lips, she normally wasn’t one for slightly condescending pet names, but it sounded so sickly and sinfully sweet coming from the stranger beside her.

“that suits you, a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” he muses, watching as she turns her head away from in a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“your tattoos are really pretty.”

“you think so?” he hums, shifting closer to her to let her see them, watching as her eyes shift from each intricate piece, marvelling at the dark ink contrasting against his ivory skin.

“what’s your favourite one?”

“probably cerberus or the owl. what about you? you got any?” he asks, genuinely curious to know more about the girl beside him, wondering if there was more to the soft and timid appearance.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, crossing her legs, causing her skirt to ride up the tiniest bit, showing the smallest amount of ink on the side of her thigh, smirking as matt’s eyes shamelessly drifted to the exposed skin.

the two keep talking and getting to know one another, even going as far as to get each other’s numbers, the tension growing thick between the two until jess stumbles through the door, violently drunk as she babbles away about some guy she wanted to leave with.

“if she wants to go with him, i can give you a ride home on my bike.”

“we took an uber, so i’ll just order another one but i appreciate the offer.”

“well if you ever need a ride, just shoot me a text.”

BUT YOU ALREADY GOT ME FEELIN’ SOME TYPE OF WAY

over the course of a few weeks, y/n and matt continued to keep in touch, constantly texting one another. the tension never faltering as they bounced flirty and sexual innuendos off one another.

matt has begged for the two of them to hang out, either over facetime or in person, numerous times, even going as far as to ask to take her for a ride on his bike. but she declined every time, letting him know that her studies came first.

normally, if a girl wasn’t really interested in meeting up, whether to hang out or hook up, matt would give up within the first few days. but there was something about y/n that had him inexplicably drawn to her. the soft, delicate, almost innocent appeal to her had him feeling all sorts of ways.

talking to her had him feeling the same way speeding down the seventy stretch a couple blocks from his house on his kawasaki bike did. it was exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying all the same. everything she said, made him feel things he had never experienced, it was like he was speeding down a winding freeway, his arms outstretched on either side of him, letting fate decide what happened.

NOW IF I COULD FIGURE IT OUT, ID TAKE YOU BACK TO MY HOUSE SO WE COULD MEDDLE ABOUT

y/n sighed as she waited on the curb of the restaurant, hoping that the guy from her global economics discussion course that had asked her out would show up. but she knew deep down, he wasn’t going to.

it was another story where she was asked, only to be taken for a fool. she knew he only wanted to fuck, she knew guys were attracted to her pseudo-innocent appearance, thinking they could be the lucky one to corrupt her. but she knew better, and she always made sure the guys put up a fight before receiving what they wanted.

she sighed as she stood, wiping off the back of her jeans before pulling her phone out of her pocket. she opened her texts with jess before remembering jess was at a photoshoot for some clothing brand that reached out to her.

she stood there, glancing and forth between her phone and the sidewalk, torn between swallowing her pride and reaching out to matt to pick her up, or walking home, saving ego from taking a massive blow.

she was stubborn. she wanted to see matt, but she knew what his end goal was and she refused to take another hit to her pride and ego so quickly after being stood up and humiliated by some loser in one of her classes. so, she slowly made her way down the winding sidewalk, but the cold air made the walk somewhat unbearable, and before she knew it, she was pressing the call button, listening to the dial tone. after two rings, matt picked up.

“hey sweetheart.” he hummed into the speaker, that same taunting tone never faltering over the device.

“can you pick me up? i’ll send you my location.”

“aw, what happened? did jake stand you up, just like i said he would?” he laughs, causing her to groan. he was never malicious in the way he poked and prodded at her, he just wanted to prove she didn’t have to be right all the time.

“yeah whatever. can you pick me up or not?” she spits, fed up with the way her night turned out.

“lose the attitude and i can.” he spits back, patiently waiting for her to ask in that sugary sweet voice that had his thoughts drifting to a dark place. he knew he was going to pick her up regardless, but he just wanted to use anything he could as an excuse to hear her beg for him, he wanted hee to be completely at his mercy in every possible way.

“can you please pick me up matt? i’m cold and i just wanna go home.” she pleads, her lips falling into a slight pout, internally groaning at how quickly her resolve had faltered the second he implied and demanded that she beg for him.

“i was going to regardless, just wanted to hear you beg for my help, sweetheart.” he chuckles, he knew the way he was acting was sick and twisted, his desire to see this stubborn but oh so innocent woman crumple beneath his command overtaking all sense of chivalry in his body, his desire for her manifested through such deep desperation.

she quickly thanked him before sending a ping of her location. she pocketed her phone again, and wrapped her arms around her torso as a pathetic attempt to keep her shielded from her the cold air.

as she stood there, she fought hard to keep her thoughts at bay, refusing to let the desperation seep into the depths of her mind, fighting to keep herself from feeling pathetic. she didn’t want to feel that way, she knew her worth, but sometimes it felt impossible to find someone worthy of loving her. she wondered if she should just give up the one the thing guys wanted without a fight, she would be fine, right?

but before she could answer her own thoughts of despair, a low rumble came from her left, causing her head to snap in that direction. surely enough, the sound came from the muffled engine of matt’s motorcycle. and as she watched him swerve to idle in front of her, she couldn’t stop the filthy thoughts from infiltrating her mind. her eyes shamelessly fell to the sight of his hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, the veins in his slender hands flexing as his thumb pressed down on the clutch. she felt her thighs clench tightly as her heartbeat thumped beneath her chest, the thumping slowly travelling down toward her heat as she watched him.

“hey sweetheart.” he hums, his tone thick with arrogance, watching as she shamelessly checked him out. she knew she shouldn’t be thinking of him the way she was, but the way his shoulder blades and muscle tightened and flexed as he shifted forward, leaving space for her to climb on behind him, made her want to rake her nails down the skin, her mind running amok with the possible ways he would react to her touch.

she shakes her head as she steps forward, timidly taking a step toward his bike. he watched her, taking in however scared she was, sighing he, grabs her wrist, stopping her from climbing over and straddling the seat behind him.

“you know i’ll be careful right? i’m not going to do anything that could end with you getting severely hurt.” he whispers, his eyes full of nothing but sincerity as she meets his stare, a meek smile on her face as she nods.

“good girl. now climb on, i’m gonna take my chances and take you on that ride i promised.”

her thighs clench involuntarily at the slight praise that falls from his lips, she could feel her resolve slipping further and further away the longer she was in his presence. and the fact that she would be sitting behind him, with her arms tightly wound around his waist felt much more intimate than it should’ve.

she quickly straddled the seat behind him, her hands began to shake slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, her hands flat against his abdomen as he kicked up the kickstand, leaning the bike to the other side with his foot on the ground as he revved the engine, causing her hands to ball into fists, with his black shirt tightly twisted between her fingers. as matt took off, he couldn’t help but chuckle as her grasp tightened against him, her cheek pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

her grip began to loosen as matt took her around the city, and her head lifted from his back, as she took in the scenery around her. but matt missed the way she felt pressed so tightly against him, so in true torturous fashion, he sped up, causing her to go right back to pressing so closely against him, her hands pressing against his lower stomach so firmly, he was sure there’d be marks.

but he didn’t wanted to scare her too much, so he slowed down, coming to a full stop as the light above him flickered to red. as she pulled away, she felt her adrenaline build up and she wanted to finally tease him the way he did her, so she let her hands wander down his stomach, teasingly drifting lower, only to stop right above his belt and move back up.

as her hand trailed down toward his belt, matt’s breath hitched in his throat. he desperately wanted to feel her touch him where he needed it most, but his ego was bruised, he wanted to be the one in control, and right now, he was nothing putty in her hand. the light was still red and his heart was beating so harshly against his ribcage, that felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.

as the light turned green, she pushed her hand further beyond his waistband, and he had never been more thankful to be driving at night. but before he could feel any relief, her hand was back against his stomach, with her head against his back as he drove her along the coast.

but once again they reached another red light, only one other vehicle a few lanes over from them, and this time she threw caution to the wind as her hand drifted downward again, this time not stopping at his belt. and soon enough, her hand was firmly palming his cock through his jeans, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood began filling his mouth.

he felt his cock stiffen even more as her hand wrapped around his length through his jeans, softly squeezing and applying pressure to it. her hand lifted momentarily, only for it to slip beneath the loosened waistband of his jeans, resuming her teasing but this time, only through one layer of clothing. her thumb traced along his tip, and she smirked to her as she felt the wet spot from his precum seeping through the material. she grasped his semi-thick cock over his boxers, slowly jerking her hand back and forth as best as she could until the light turned green. and matt had never been so lucky that the light turned green when it did because if she had kept up her ministrations, he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there.

he wasted no time in speeding off as the light turned green, taking her to a somewhat secluded turn off. he quickly killed the engine, forced the kickstand down, and ripped off his helmet, moving to stand in front of her before she could ask questions.

his lips were roughly pressing against hers in almost no time as she side-saddled the bike, his left hand pawing at her hips beneath the thin hoodie she wore as he pulled her closer, while his right hand wrapped around her throat, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

the kiss was rough, a clash of teeth, and full of lust. it was desperate and sloppy, their tongues brushing and pushing against one another as spit and drool accumulated along the muscles, transferring from mouth to mouth. her nails scraped against his scalp as she tugged on the soft brown curls, while her other hand held his bicep, her nails digging into the taught flesh slightly, leaving crescent shaped marks along the tattoos. pulling away, matt pulled her bottom lip with him slightly, entrance by the way it bounced back into its natural pout.

“fuck.” he hums, his chest heaving as she watches him, her pupils blown out with lust, the black drowning out their normal colour.

“i don’t know what came over me, i’m sorry.”

“don’t you dare apologize, sweetheart. but that is making it nearly impossible to not take you back to my house and ruin you.”

“what if i want that too?”

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[bunnys-kisses]

hi Bunny! Could you do a croissant and root beer and whatever’s on the house with Lewis Hamilton?

bakery menu

want to put in your own order? hit me up! i'm still accepting orders! we're always serving up smiles! for this, i went with a mafia au route, the idea of lewis in a crisp suit was ratting around in my jellybean brain, haha. i thought of him teasing horner!reader

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + root beer (filming/recording) + on the house (choice:size kink)

cw: smut/pwp, horner!reader, missionary, size kink, photo-taking,

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you looked at lewis before he pressed his lips up against your neck. his hands were palming your breasts as he rubbed his hard cock against you.

"you're really pretty when you're under me." he chuckled, he loved taking you in the missionary position. he loved the small movements in your face as you try to take all of him. it was honestly so endearing that you were trying so hard to get all of himself inside of you.

you two were forbidden lovers! or at least that was what the gossip rags said about you. when the paparazzi got a photo of you stumbling out of a club, or him with his arm around you.

there was a photo that was circulated that was certain you two were together because it was you whispering in his ear at a carnival in some small town, but from the angle it looked like you two were kissing. didn't help the photo right after was you two sharing a sweet smile.

you were the off limits daughter of christian horner. you had spent your entire life around a paddock, so the pretty smiles of the drivers never fazed you. except for lewis hamilton, who came into your life like an inferno.

while a heartthrob across many countries, you started out as friends. but, even forest fires started as a spark. and you were at lewis' for the weekend after lying to your father about seeing a few of your friends from uni.

"does he know? i wonder if he talks about me?" lewis chuckled when he took your weekend bag from your hand and put it to the side. waiting any longer for you felt impossible.

his hands slid up from under your shirt as he pressed a searing kiss to your jaw. you felt hot all over at the feeling of his against your flesh. he was the kind of lover that made you heart hammer in your chest enough that you scrambled to get the shirt off over your head.

"i can see why he's so protective of his daughter, you're beautiful." he said, "pretty thing around the paddock will turn a few heads." he laughed, "but no one knows you're here with me tonight." he kissed at your jaw and held onto your shoulders. he then moved to your lips and kissed you deeply.

"stop talking about my father." you groaned.

"why? i thought you were a proud horner." he chuckled, "don't want to talk about dear old father in the bedroom?" he rubbed himself up against you.

"you prick." you said, your lips close to his.

he chuckled, "you love me." then took you by the back of the head and pulled you in for a hot kiss. his other hand was on the waistband of your pants to get them off of you. he had enough of waiting.

he needed his sweet girl.

the trek to his bedroom felt long because he was trying to get your shorts off before you reached the room. then when you finally got on the bed, you got your pants and underwear off. which left you in your bra and lewis was admiring the sight of you.

he palmed the front of his pants and admired you. you were beautiful, the sight of you left his mouth dry as he looked at you. how did a guy like horner have a daughter so beautiful?

he got onto the bed beside you and got off his sweater before he pulled you close to him and then further onto the bed. you laid tangled up in one another as he kissed down your neck. his soft lips felt so good against you.

his hands massaged your breasts. he whispered sweet praise against your skin as you felt so close to him. it was amazing. he made a heat run through you as you laid there next to him.

"such a pretty girl." he admitted, "i can't get enough of you. they shouldn't let you in the paddock because you're so much of a distraction."

you held the man's face, looked in his eyes and said, "i thought i was your good luck charm?"

he smiled, not the one for the cameras. but one that held a genuine truth, he pressed his nose against yours and with his eyes closed, replied, "of course. i just think you should be wearing my number so no one gets the wrong idea."

"you menace."

"only for you."

once you two were fully naked, you rubbed up against him. you laid cuddled up in each other's arms as you felt him up. he kissed you once more before he got you onto your back and was between your legs.

he gazed at you lovingly as he wrapped your legs around his waist. he leaned over you, hand on your face as he kissed you gently once more. you felt like a dream to him, a perfect woman for him to indulge in. to love.

maybe you two did have a back and forth, but deep down the feelings for you were painfully true. it was now just a game of chicken until one of you admitted to the other.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." he said softly, hands on your breasts.

you wanted to throw a pillow at him as you responded, "enough about my father or i'm going home."

he chuckled and gave you one last, almost sweet, kiss on the cheek before he grabbed you by this hip with one hand and his cock with the other. he maintained eye contact as he watched your face change as he push his cock into you.

he was impressive in size, sort of big compared to you. that gleaming smile and strong arms made you feel protected. your heart leapt as you felt his cock being buried into you.

he liked that he was bigger than you, sometimes he'd press his palm up against yours and point out the difference. it was cute, "it's not your fault you're so small. means that i just have to protect you."

but at that moment, you could really feel the difference as lewis gave you gentle praise.

you tensed up but his soft words against you managed to make you relax a little. he got his cock into you to the base and shuddered at the feeling of your tight cunt around him. you felt so good.

he smiled at you, feeling the sweat already at the back of his neck. he smiled at you. no one could deny that he was handsome, you remember his little fan club. you'd often scoff at it. if they saw you now.

you kissed once more as you began to move against one another. you gripped onto his shoulders as he held you by waist. his lips were on your neck, occasionally dragged his front teeth against your skin, threatening to bruise it.

he thought about making a comment about your father once more. really rub it in, but as your expression started to look more relaxed and blissed out. he couldn't bring himself to say it. call him soft.

he continued to rut into you, his heart hammered in his chest as he held you close to him. his chest pressed against yours, your nails dug into his massive back tattoo as the two of you continued to kiss.

it felt primal and hot, it made you core feel like an inferno as you moved. you moaned a little.

"you should be wearing my number next time." he said, "i'll even be nice and say it doesn't even have to be mercedes branded. i know your dad would have a fit if he saw that. remember the ferrari temporary tattoo."

you rolled your eyes, "what did i say about my father, lewis." you remembered the event quite well. you managed to get a ferrari temporary tattoo on your arm as a joke and your father gave you a stern talking to. especially because it was clearly seen in most photos of the event.

you thought it was funny, but you didn't want your old man yapping at you if you strolled up in a mercedes shirt and lewis on your arm.

you kissed once more, you felt the curl of orgasm in your gut as he moved against you. you held his face as you kissed him. you felt warmth pool in your gut.

you held onto him tighter as you felt the orgasm swirl in your body. you panted close to him and said, "i'm close. shit, lewis."

he nodded, "perfect. cum for me, pretty girl." he made it his mission to make you finish. he tightened his grip onto you and really put in the work.

it wasn't long before you were holding onto him as tightly as you could. you tensed up around him and let out a cute, almost pathetic moan as you came.

you still held onto him as you relaxed and let him continue to fuck you. his orgasm was close behind as he really thrusted up into you. your pussy was a wet heat that made his head spin as he finally got to his peak and finished inside of you.

he admired the sight of your face as he moved through his orgasm. he eventually slowed down to a stop and panted heavily as he looked down at you. he admired the sight of you for a moment, he kissed you once more and said.

"i really wonder if your father knows. about all this. that you'll one day be my mrs. hamilton." he smiled as he gave you a soft thrust in effect.

"shut up, hamilton." you said as you reached to his face and covered it with your hand.

you laid there in a sweaty mess. you watched lewis get out of bed to grab his phone from his pants pocket. he came back and knelt between your legs. earlier he wanted to film the entirety of you fucking, but thing moved a little too fast for that.

he did however prod at your pussy with his fingers and watched his pearly cum ooze of your fucked hole. he filmed it briefly for his personal collection. how he ruined horner's daughter for any other man.

when he finished filming, he took a few photos of you naked body. he'll be needing this in the weeks to come. in fairness, if he ruined you for other men. then you ruined him for other women.

one last picture of your pretty pussy and he was content.

"lewis." you said.

"yes?" he asked as he got a close up photo of your face as you still panted heavily, coming down from your high. the sight made him hard once more.

"oh, you pervert." you said as you reached for him.

-

the following weekend you were around the paddock as usual. you had greeted your father earlier and he was happy to see you. you kept your hands behind your back as to make sure your old man didn't see what was around your wrist.

but when lewis saw it, he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut. he even went as far as to take your wrist and looked at the gold bracelet. on it was a charm that was two simple numbers, '44'. lewis kissed your wrist and looked into your eyes.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you something a little more noticeable. that you can't hide from your dad." he chuckled. he really was a menace. <3

[eclipseslayer]

SIT. DRINK.

➭ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ SUMMARY: Your dad calls you over to sit in front of him, and he orders you to finish off his beer. Enthused with your obedience, he takes advantage of that.

➭ CW: DARK CONTENT. Incest, forced drinking, cockwarming, deep throating, Toji is meanish, Toji calls you 'kid' and 'sweetheart'.

➭ WC: 1.5kish

➭ A/N: Hello! I've done a drabble with icky!dad!Toji before, and honestly I really like doing them... so I'm wondering if I should make a series/compilation or something with icky!dad!Toji?? 👀 lmk in the comments or my ask box!! :) N e wayz enjoyyy.

"Come 'ere. Sit."

Toji points at the floor in front of him with his beer bottle, and you look up from your book you're reading.

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, knowing your dad wants something. It always puts a little fear in you, because your dad is disgusting. He's a grumpy, divorced, old man who got stuck with some kid out of wedlock, who happened to be you, so now he treats you like some sort of object, something to be used.

As much as you loathe him for it, a part of you actually loves it, though you don't think you'd ever admit that to yourself, at least, not out loud.

You close your book, and you get up. You slowly walk over to him, carpet brushing against the soles of your feet as you drag them, trying to take your time as you walk over to the old man.

Toji sees you taking your sweet time and he scoffs. He points to the floor again, and his beer sloshes in his bottle.

"I said, sit," his tone is harsher this time, almost spitting out his words.

With a huff, you nod and you pick up your pace. You then plop yourself onto your knees in front of your dad, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, already knowing what he wants.

He leans back against the couch to get a good view of you. A wry grin appears etched onto his face as that scar of his quirks up, and those green eyes of his darken while a drunken gaze drinks in the sight of you.

His gaze makes you nervous, as you hardly ever know what he wants from you. You know you're here to be used, but you just don't know how, and that's what makes you so nervous. His jade eyes always make your heart thump in your chest as they always have something conniving cooking.

Suddenly, he thrusts his bottle out to you and he presses the glass opening of it against your lips. You blink quickly as you catch a quick whiff of the beer—cheap, and wheaty—and look back up at him.

"Drink. Finish this off for me."

"I—" You're about to try to defend yourself, as you're not looking to drink tonight, but your dad tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. He reaches out and grips the root of your hair with his free hand and pushes your mouth against the tip of the glass bottle, forcing it into your mouth.

"I said, drink. Jesus, are you having a hard time hearing me tonight?" He mutters, and his words slur, clearly drunk.

You let out a whine and a grumble and you tilt your head back, allowing for the liquid to pour into your throat. There's about a half of the bottle left, so Toji makes you chug it, and he watches with narrowed as eyes as you drink.

"There we go... good girl..."

Fuck. You hated it when he praised you. He only praised you whenever you did his "evil" bidding, which is why you didn't mind doing it so much. You loved the praise, and he knew it, which is why you're so obedient to him. It's a constant cycle of you needing praise, and receiving it after you do something for him, and, you couldn't get enough. Sometimes, some of the things he made you do felt so good that you truly hadn't minded at all.

It was toxic, but... you honestly couldn't get enough of it, which is also why you hadn't moved out of the house yet.

His praise was addicting.

Once you finish the beer, your mouth leaves the bottle with a satisfying pop, and Toji hums. He runs a hand through your hair and sighs as he places the empty bottle with the rest of them, on the stand next to the couch.

He pats your face with a large, calloused hand and sighs, leaning against the couch again. His large frame takes up the majority of it, and his thick long legs are spread out in a man-spread.

He reaches down into his pants and you hear the faint sound of scratching. He yawns, looking at the TV briefly before turning his head back to you. You look at him, awaiting further instructions, and he chuckles, and you assume another idea has popped into his head.

"You got an oral fixation, right, sweetheart?" He slurs, and, honestly doesn't care if you do or not as he starts pulling down his sweatpants, the hem of them fits around his thighs so well.

"I... yes, I do," you reply, watching him as he now takes his hand and slides down his underwear around his thighs, as he reveals his, big, hard cock, sitting heavily on his stomach.

Toji raises an eyebrow and he hiccups. He nods and sighs. "That's right... I knew ya did, kid. I know you like suckin' on my dick, but you just don't wanna admit it, right?" He grins, and he watches as you shift on your knees, your gaze averting his. His grin widens.

"Ah, knew it," he sighs, and he leans forward with his cock in one hand, and presses the tip against your mouth, and, so willingly, you open it up for him, accepting him into your mouth.

He groans once he feels your warm, wet mouth, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back. He takes a minute before he looks down at you.

"Just keep your mouth like this for me while I watch TV. I'll get you a fuckin' candy bar or somethin' if you suck me off," he chuckles, and you furrow your eyebrows because he still treats you like a little kid, rewarding you with dumb shit.

Nevertheless, you sigh, accepting this as you keep him in your mouth. Not like you're going to complain anyway. This was one of your favorite things to do for your dad, simply because it just felt so good to have something so thick fill up your mouth.

So, you sit for awhile as he leans back against the couch, watching TV. You don't move your mouth—just enjoying how good he feels—for about ten minutes until you feel your jaw start to hurt.

That's when you start moving your head, pushing your mouth all the way to his pelvis, and then pulling back until you're suckling on his tip.

Toji groans at this and turns his head back to you. He sighs, and he grips your hair, and begins guiding your wet mouth along his cock.

He revels in the feeling of your mouth, enjoying how tight and warm it gets when you hallow your cheeks, and when you do that little thing with your tongue.

His head leans back, looking down at you as he admires how good you look, sucking on his cock. Sure, it was wrong, but that was why he drank, to get the mental block out of his head so he could easily get his dick wet. You were never one to say no. Hell, he wasn't sure why you were so easy, but he wasn't going to knock the opportunity.

You, on the other hand, are having such a good time as you moan softly on his cock, loving the feeling of how good he feels in your mouth. He feels so good that you're drooling on his cock, making a mess of it all over his length. You soon add your hand to the mix, pumping the length of his shaft while your mouth drools all over the tip, licking and sucking so fervently that it has Toji cursing under his breath.

"Shit, kid, fuck, your mouth does such a good job..." He groans and a big hand grips your hair tightly once more, guiding you along his cock, except, he decides to cruelly change the pace up, making it so his cock hits the back of your throat.

You let out a gag in surprise, your eyes widening and your hands quickly move to grip his thighs. His thick cock bullies into the back of your throat as you let out choked moans.

Saliva coats his dick, and drips down to his balls as you're uncontrollably salivating all over him, simply because that big tip of his bruises the back of your throat, allowing for no control over your mouth.

He groans with almost every thrust, and his breath gets heavy. He chuckles as he sees you struggle to take him, your hands gripping his thighs so tightly that he finds it so hilarious as he lets out yet another mean chuckle.

"That's right... gonna cum in this mouth, yeah? How's that for ya?" He grins wickedly, and, with one, two, three more thrusts, he slams your nose against his pelvis, leaving you choking on his dick as his cum suddenly spurts into your mouth. Load after load fills your throat, and you swallow it quickly.

Your nose scrunches up at the taste, as it damn near tastes like battery acid from the amount of beer he just had. You want to choke it up, but you know better, and so you swallow each spurt of cum until he rips his cock out of your throat.

He watches with a satisfied gaze as you choke for air, leaning over his thighs.

"Good girl." He reaches down into his pants pocket and fishes out a couple yen bills. "Go buy a candy bar at the corner store or somethin'. I don't fuckin' know."

[oukabarsburgblr]

Bite Me [Hybrid AU]

FEATURING : AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

In a world of hybrids, one man stands out amongst the others, a human. Enjoy one night stands with two very popular hybrids!

a bit of worldbuilding, more focused on the hybrids pov, short fic

Find out more under the cut!

It was the year 2095, technology had advanced far past, dismissing the human morale. Tall buildings began to spread more in countries, bearing a sore sight to some, an opportunity to others.

Flying cars one said, that humans would have invented the ability of having cars flew in the sky despite the obvious safety risks or legality protocols. Instead however, in the recent breakthrough in Russia back in the 2010s, human genetics have been modified, successfully producing the first hybrid through artifical insemination.

Albeit the abnormal features, its ability to even live for three years was a breakthrough for humankind. The first step was for military combat, humans gaining the genetics of animals, the ability to suppress fear, increased sight in low light or even the ferocity of violence.

An agreement was drafted, to dispose the use of these experiments, that were called hybrids. Although at first, were revolted against, slowly it was accepted into the public which had first charmed the upper class. More people had wanted these animalistic features, injecting neurological modifications into their spine to which they call 'hybrids'.

As more and more hybrids began to integrate into society, it began a trend to engrave those modified genetics into families. Humans began to marry hybrids and hybrids began to breed more hybrids.

It had gone to a point where the population of a pure human was 5% globally. The animals that were adopted into the human brain ranged from herbivores to carnivores, but the most worshipped ones were the predators, the top of the food chain.

Due to the fact that humans were slowly dissipating off the face of the earth, any pure human would receive protection from the government. Even a monthly subsidy just for existing, since these hybrids had dominated the workforce.

Even a human marrying a human could receive a yearly pension that would allow them to retire at an early age, that was how severely endangered humans were.

This didn't apply to a particular man. Black small rounded ears, barely noticeable yellow spots just located at the roots of the man walking into a bar with his companions. His long red hair, tied up into a bun, tucked behind his two pairs of ears. Brown irises that had flicker of yellow scanned the occupants of the bar, sitting at the counter with the barista.

In just a fleeting moment, the man had marked in his head who was his natural prey or his formidable opponent. Aito Sousuke, a college student studying physiological education, had the features of a black panther, mixture of the more famous leopard and jaguar combined with the rarely occuring recessive allele to produce his black ears between his locks of red.

His noticeable large fangs flicked off the cap of the beer bottle, slugging it down his throat, cheered by his similarly hybrid friends.

Sousuke was used to their Friday evening outings, although the main reason they had came here was to have fun, preferrably a feline or a bunny.

His friends had suddenly whispered amongst each other, glancing at the entrance of the bar and Sousuke was weirded out by the shift in atmosphere until he looked closer to the person walking by him.

A warm smile was present on his face, his hand swiping his locks of (h/c) back as he sat on the far corner of the counter beside Sousuke with distance between them, ordering a glass to the barista. But the most odd thing about the (h/c) was that.

He was a human. A pure human.

No noticeable animal ears on the top of his head, no gills nor abnormal nose. And his scent was different. It was blank, empty of undertone. But it was easily stained as Sousuke stared at a few other hybrids approaching the (h/c), asking to drink together as the latter declined. Their suffocating aroma mixing in with the blank slate.

There was a rumour that the humans were different than hybrids, more ways than one. Other than the physical and emotional changes, the other rumour was that the sex was much more pleasureable, especially for the hybrid.

When he saw the (h/c)'s approachers not backing off despite his rejection, Sousuke grabbed the cap of the bottle and flung it to the direction of the other hybrids, the cap embedded into the wooden wall beside (m/n).

"Stop making a fuss, ya' mutts." He bared his fangs, flashing his long retractable claws at the harassers who meekly stepped away, mumbling curses to themselves.

The human stared at him for a while, before snapping out of his own stupor. "Thank you." He mentioned with the same warm smile on his face. "I'm (m/n)."

Sousuke nodded to him. "Good to know." And the redhead returned to his drink, his friends egging him on beside him. (m/n) only chuckled to himself, the bear barista checking up on him and giving him his drink.

The night ensued, Sousuke's friends going off to dance to Latin Pop and he brushed off some felines that were asking him for a dance.

"Not feeling it tonight?"

The panther's ears twitched, Sousuke turning to the left to see the (h/c) smiling at him again. His eyes downturned, hazy from the drink with his arms crossed across his chest as he leaned on the wall behind him.

"...not really. Just came to diffuse." The hybrid replied with a slur in his voice, heat creeping up his neck. (m/n) stared at the hybrid beside him before asking again.

"What's your name?" "...Just call me Sousuke."

(m/n) tested the name on his lips. "Sousuke...Has a nice ring to it." He hummed, finishing his glass.

The redhead groaned, a heating buzz in his stomach flaring as he slumped over the counter. "Is that so?" He numbly mumbled, red hues rising to his cheeks, his long fluffy tail swishing behind him.

"Care to test it out?"

The (h/c) had a tilt to his head, as he scooted his chair closer to Sousuke's, who took a second to consider the question, the offer as he stared at his (e/c) eyes.

-

"Urmmff mmnn!"

Sousuke wasn't sure how he ended up taking the human home with him. Kicking the apartment door open, the redhead stumbled into the living room while messily making out with the (h/c).

Sousuke's tongue was noticeably longer and wider, easily licking (m/n)'s mouth, caressing his teeth, lapping up his tongue and his fangs clashing against the (h/c)'s normal ones.

(m/n)'s eyes were rolling to the back of his head. His breathing was heavy, his mouth full of the redhead's wet muscle, it was rough compared to his soft ones. Little spines on the surface that looked like tiny hooks.

Pulling out of his mouth, Sousuke placed his tongue flat on (m/n)'s neck and dragged it up to his jaw, earning a hiss from the human. It felt rough, coarse against the (h/c)'s skin, brewing tingles in (m/n)'s stomach.

As they continued to drunkenly stumble into the bedroom, Sousuke immediately ripped (m/n)'s shirt, his claws digging into the fabric and pulled it apart, exposing (s/c) skin.

The panther was heaving, sweating buckets and drooling like a madman. He could smell his own scent filling the room's, more distinct than usual. Sousuke sniffed into (m/n)'s neck, pressing his nose against his jaw before sinking in his teeth. (m/n) screamed, pushing against the panther as he shuffled his pants off.

The foreplay was rough. Sousuke's hands were thick, his knuckles had a clear curve and his palms had a padding like texture. He kept licking (m/n)'s jaw, his teeth hovering over his cheeks. There were squelches amongst (m/n)'s incoherent moans, his hole being fingered by the panther.

He was careful to avoid jamming his claws into his walls but there was a fervent burning curling in his lower stomach. Sweat accumulated at his back and his forehead. Eyesight getting hazy and his head was getting foggy.

(m/n) pushed his hand away and spread his thighs further, panting at the redhead to slip his cock in. Sousuke pulled the rest of his clothes off before mounting the (h/c) who was admiring the spots on his sides, the redhead pushed (m/n) on his back as he hooked his thighs on his waist.

The (h/c) choked on his own spit when Sousuke fucked his cock inside him, his hair splayed on the bedsheets as he moaned incontrollably. (m/n) groped his own chest while getting drilled by the hybrid.

Sousuke's heaving was getting deeper as he pounded his dick inside of the human, mushing his tip against his prostate, feeling his precum leaking all over his base. The amount of lube paled in comparison to his own bodily fluids.

"Your- mmnn! Face is red- ahn! A-Are you okay?" (m/n) placed a hand on Sousuke's cheek, directing his gaze to him and the panther felt something burst inside him.

Glossy (e/c) with fat tears brimming the the edge, drool slipping past his lips, and his messy hair from all the thrashing of his head. Unbeknownst to Sousuke, he was going into an early heat, accidentally cumming inside (m/n).

The (h/c) only made a confused noise while mindlessly jacking himself off, squirting onto his own stomach. As he regained his breathing, he sat up thinking it was over but inevitably was pushed back down as Sousuke began to rut his cock inside him again.

(m/n) mewled loudly, fat beads finally slipping down his cheeks as Sousuke began to desperately thrust his penis inside his senstive asshole. The human called out to the panther above him but he was in a feral state, growling to himself as he kept burying his nose into his crevices, desperate to find a scent.

Sousuke even tugged his arm upwards, licking (m/n)'s pit just for a whiff and the (h/c) pulled back, feeling full of the twitching cock around his walls as he tried to crawl away. The panther bit his nape as he dragged him back to the center of the bed with his claws.

Helplessly whimpering, (m/n) could only take the desperate humps Sousuke was giving him as he laid stomach down on the bed. He could feel his tail coiling over his leg. The panther was sweating buckets, his skin burning as he began to even knead his paws into the human's back.

The (h/c) cried out from overstimulation when Sousuke kept biting and chewing on the skin of his nape. He could hear a confused growl from him, the redhead was trying to mate with him by biting his scent glands but since he wasn't a hybrid, his efforts were essentially useless.

It wasn't until the seventh round where (m/n) woke up since he had passed out around the fifth, he noticed his hole was still being fucked raw, cum spilling out of his puffy rim. The (h/c) pulled on Sousuke's red hair, trying to gain his attention out of his heat.

He eventually smacked the side of his head with his palm, yelling at him to calm down. "Tone it down!" Sousuke growled back, baring his fangs at the (h/c) who slapped him again.

"Play nice, kitty." (m/n) stroked his hair, his fingers moving to scratch under his jaw as Sousuke stopped his thrusts, purring at his touch and swinging his tail. The (h/c) managed to push him to the side and the panther didn't realised how exhausted he was because as soon as he hit the bed, he passed out.

Sousuke woke up alone, his sheets damp and empty of a human. His head was hurting, the aftermath of yesterday's drinking sinking in and he remembered bits of the (h/c) but his body remembered the intense pleasure he was bestowed. The human's, (m/n)'s touch was so pleasureable to him that he had gone into an early heat in one night.

He muffled his screams with his pillow, trying to forget about his one night stand with the human as he tried to recreate the same effect with random cats he picked up at the bar but it paled in comparison to (m/n)'s flame.

Sousuke could only sulk to himself, constantly glancing out of the corner of his eyes, trying to find the same human that had bewitched his body as he prepared himself to began his studies at his college for the new semester.

-

"Yes, father. I'll check the offer letters as soon as I get back. It's just a coffee run, I don't need this many bodyguards."

His calm voice contradicted with his father's lecturing tone as he rambled in his ear about how he needed to be safe as his child. White fluffy ears perked up at the chatter of birds flying above them, a dark indent on the corner of his eyes flicker as he glanced at the soaring crows.

Daisuke Yuichi was walking downtown, in the dimming evening with five men in suits surrounding him, guarding his perimeter as they prevented innocent passerbys from standing in his way. His bushy shiny tail dimmed low, embarrassed from his predicament.

The family of Daisuke was famous for having the blood of an arctic wolf. The genetics were plucked clean from the body of a white beast and imbedded into the members of the Daisuke family, and ever since then, they had tried to keep the bloodline pure by marrying humans or other white wolves.

Daisuke Yuichi was a fresh highschool grad, still hadn't made his choice for college despite not being in school for a good a year and a half now, his father wasn't too temperamental on his education. He could afford his son's lifestyle in anyway he liked.

The man had dark black hair, in contrast to his white thick fur on his prominent ears and large bushy tail that matched his deathly pale skin.

Amongst the random pedestrians he encountered, his sensitive nose felt itchy when he and his barrage of guards had walked past a specific person.

He looked past his shoulder to see a man with (h/c) hair going about his day. It wasn't until he saw that he had no prominent animal features that he realised something was different about him. It was then that he had remembered of his family's ways of keeping the blood line clean.

The next day, he decided to walk down the same path again, now with lesser bodyguards as per his request. Almost passing by a coffee shop, he stopped in his tracks, alerting his bodyguards when he noticed the same person from yesterday, sitting in the middle of the cafe typing away at his laptop on the table.

"...I feel like buying coffee again." He shooed away his bulldog bodyguards as he swiftly entered the cafe and lined up at the counter while glancing at the mysterious (h/c).

Daisuke wasn't sure why he felt the need to go up to the human, but he felt attracted to. As he got his order, he silently went up to the table that seated the lone human. "...Is this seat empty?"

The human who took off his headphones, offered him the seat and Daisuke gladly took it, giving him his thanks and worked his charm with the (h/c).

"Oh, I just finished my foundation studies out of town. Got a scholarship offer to continue college here so I moved." (m/n) told the wolf, sipping to his latte while Daisuke haven't touched his drink.

"Interesting...so where is this college, you speak of?" His tail was swishing wildly, knocking against the tile floor in excitement as he continued to chat with the wonderful human who he learned his name of.

"Hey, I really enjoyed our talk. Is it okay if I take you out for dinner? I'll make reservations. All you have to do is show up!" He held out his phone for (m/n) to punch in who was more than happy to get a free meal as he gave his number to the wolf.

The ravenette even called the number immediately, checking the veracity as he laughed it off jokingly. Pointing out the bandage on (m/n)'s neck, the latter brushed it off assuringly as they bid their goodbyes.

That night, he suddenly felt nervous as he pulled at the collar of his neck with his expensive three-piece suit at the five-star restaurant he managed to 'nepo' his way through.

White ears fluttered excitedly when he saw the (h/c) arriving at the door as he ushered the human excitedly to their table.

-

Their last-minute dinner went really well, both of them enjoying the meals with a few flirts here and there. The ravenette didn't feel anything going off in his gut.

So how come Daisuke immediately went into a rut when he brought back the human home with him that night?

Drool was writhing down his teeth as he clenched them tightly together, Daisuke seeing red as he gripped (m/n)'s waist while pounding his hips, slamming his cock inside the writhing human.

Cries and pained moans came from the (h/c), who was squirming on the bed, trying to peel himself away from the wolf. But Daisuke grabbed his wrists and pinned them onto his bed, the ravenette pushing his pelvic against his ass, forcing the (h/c) to bend his stomach.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, in contrast with the feral look on his face. Daisuke leaned into (m/n)'s neck and ripped off the bandage with his teeth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Muttering empty apologies, a sane part of him felt sympathetic with the human but his animal counterpart was eager to claim him for his own.

Daisuke shot his cum inside the (h/c)'s hole, (m/n) yelping in shock as he squirted on his stomach. The wolf's base throbbed and swelled, forming a knot inside him as he mumbled more apologies, hugging the human underneath him.

"I-It's okay. Can you pull out?" (m/n) didn't expect Daisuke to go into a rut as he tried to adjust his bottom half but hissed in pain as his walls stretched against the knot in his hole. He let out a cry of pain as Daisuke cooed at him, growling deeply while continuously nudging his neck.

The wolf's knot deflated and as soon as he could move, his rut came back and his animal instincts took over, breeding the (h/c), or attempted to as he manhandled the human onto his lap. Sitting while thrusting his cock upwards into the human.

(m/n) whined, his legs circling around Daisuke's waist but flinched every time the wolf fucked his cock up into him while mindlessly stroking his own. The only sense of grounding was the tip of his cock driving deep inside him, mushing against his prostate as he clenched around the dick, painting Daisuke's abs with semen.

Daisuke wasn't himself at that moment, continuously slamming himself inside the human over and over, swelling and knotting him until it deflated and another round occurred. He even bit his neck at one point, his tail swishing when he saw a faded teeth mark, laying new ones over the old mark.

His ears were tense, flickering every time he came and his tails flapping against the sheets when he started a new round of sex. Daisuke was sure (m/n) had passed out at one point, his mind went blank, only his body rutting himself into the unconscious (h/c), his body moving on its own to breed the human.

Daisuke woke up to an empty bed, stumbling over in his robes as he ran to the entrance of his home, asking his guards where the human went. His ears laid flat against his head when he found out (m/n) had left early in the morning and he was more devastated when he found out the (h/c) had blocked him.

"Yeah! I definitely want to enrol here....No no. It's just, I'm suddenly interested in the course. And it's close to home."

Daisuke was busy persuading his dad over the phone, trying to assure that he was fine with studying in a not-so-prestigious college. It was the same one that the human had told he had transferred to.

Unbeknownst to all three, they were bound to study in the same college, all three with different aims in mind. Sousuke trying to achieve the level of pleasure with his one night stand, Daisuke desperate to find and woo over his ghosted date and (m/n) whose intentions were left concealed.

[END SCENE]

How mad will you guys be when i say theres no part 2 for this

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever @pato-spoiler-27 @citrusequalsfrogs @animefan106sposts @bensontrechic @partywalker @gaynesspersonified @yanrandom @theorye @jentlesoldier @apotatoishereee @blepp0c @g0ldencl0ver @mazunzunne @basketbaal

[thriftedtchotchkes]

a matter of time

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, late boston qz era, joel's pov, smut, porn with a twist ending, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, slow/intimate sex, finger sucking, premature ejaculation, nostalgia, internal monologue, tess doesn't exist

word count: 2.4k

It's been a long time.

Joel's all but forgotten what it feels like when it's this gentle. There's almost a tenderness to it, even though he doesn't know much of anything about you at all. Not your name or how you ended up here in this hellhole of a safe haven.

Nothing but the sweet, tacky taste of your 20-year-old Lip Smacker gloss and the tang of sweat and something sweeter lingering on your skin. But he's learning.

And he likes this new knowledge. Even if he never gets the chance to use it again, he'll devour it hungrily because it's a worthy distraction from the monotony of life in a quarantine zone. Day in and day out, he returns to this shitty apartment with its peeling floral wallpaper and rotting mahogany furniture—memories of a distant past that aren't his own and, yet, sting just as viscerally.

Tonight, the space hums with a different energy. Highlighted by the soft rays of the setting sun, the room's only purpose is to serve as a backdrop to you, and that alone changes everything. Your beauty, your responsiveness, as he lays you across his moth-eaten duvet is reminiscent of a different time, and he'll happily accept that reminder.

It's one of the few pieces of nostalgia that doesn't ache or eat away at him the longer he lets it in. No, you feel good. You're warm against his fingertips, soft and pliant under the path his lips follow from the sticky smear across your cheek, past the breath hitching audibly in your bared throat, down to your soaked, coarse curls.

You want him. More than that, you want to take your time with him, and he's surprised at how much he wants that, too. Trapped within these walls, what else does he have but endless, empty time? And there's nothing he'd love more than to spend it taking care of you, just like you asked him to.

He hovers above you, refusing to part his lips from your body as he urges you up the bed to rest against his pillows. They're flattened and scratchy from years of use and abuse, but they smell like him, and you like it. He can tell. The moment your hair fans across them, rich and lively in contrast, you bury your face into the fabric to breathe him in, and your body's reaction is instantaneous.

Your back arches with a heavy sigh of contentment and your legs fall apart naturally, welcoming him closer, but he waits. Reverently, he slowly leans back onto his heels to appreciate the sight in front of him, and he can't help but feel grateful. You're already glistening for him, preening under his undivided attention as your delicate fingers trail up to your breast to tweak a nipple.

As your eyelashes flutter and a gasp escapes your parted lips, his hand quickly drops to squeeze his twitching cock over his boxers and he keens, nearly doubling over at the pleasure that overcomes him. A coy, knowing smile quirks at the corners of your mouth, and he decides he needs to taste you again. Now.

He lurches forward, and you let out a surprised squeal as he licks into your mouth and commits to memory the faint taste of artificial root beer and mint on your tongue. The familiar fight for dominance he's so used to after years of quick fucks and one-night stands isn't there, and, instead, you set a languid, passionate pace that makes his head spin. It's a slow, deep caress—wet and warm and all-encompassing—and it's everything he hopes fucking you will feel like.

He's so hard it hurts. God, when was the last time he was this fucking hard? He's leaking messily through his boxers, desperate to be touched and enveloped and claimed.

And how could he not be? He's kissing the perfect woman. A patient goddess who's leading his hands across every inch of bare skin, showing him exactly how you like to be stroked and gripped, sighing encouragingly when he heeds your lessons just right.

You're one hell of a teacher, and he thinks he might just be your favorite student. He separates from you with a lewd smack and a string of saliva keeps you connected for a fleeting second before you lean up to lick it off his bottom lip. Your eyes lock with his and they're dark, almost completely consumed by desire, and it's further encouragement to continue on to his next assignment.

This one might just send him over the edge. You guide his hand down to cup your wet heat and you're drenched, dribbling and smearing slick patterns onto his sheets that he'll probably trace with his tongue while he jerks off to the thought of you long after you're gone.

Bathed in the dwindling embers of twilight, your silhouette—the plush slope of your breasts and soft curve of your belly and thighs—is cast around the room in artful shapes and shadows, and he wishes you were a permanent fixture. That your visage covered these walls instead of false depictions of growth and life. It's a dangerous train of thought, but he's too lost in the haze of your warmth and wetness to think about anything else.

He needs to feel you. He needs to fuck you.

He barely even realizes he's already slipped inside you as if he's been there all along, stroking your walls with the rough tips of his middle and ring fingers and honing in on that hidden, spongy spot with such precision, you'd think he'd done it a million times before. Thick, cording veins strain against his forearms as he tenses with the effort of keeping his thrusts long and purposeful, and he watches, captivated, as your cunt sucks him in greedily and fruitlessly tries to hold him inside you.

Tight—fuck. You're so tight. He's bucking into his unoccupied hand, jerking himself off over his boxers, and he doesn't remember when he started, but he can't stop. It feels too good...you feel too good, and the steady, simultaneous rhythm he sets for both of you isn't nearly enough.

Faster. Harder. Still so goddamn tight. He'll never be able to stretch you out enough to take him, and he's starting to worry he'll cum before he even gets the chance to try. His cock throbs violently against his palm, and he bites back a groan at the vision beneath him. Christ, how did you get here?

You can't possibly be real. Your thighs are quaking on either side of his waist and your pussy clenches dangerously hard around his scissoring fingers. There's a thin sheen of sweat matting the wispy hairs around your temples and pooling everywhere your body connects with the mattress, your searingly hot skin an addictive, sticky trap he willingly and faithfully succumbed to.

And those sounds.

You need his cock. Fucking hell, you need it. Greedy, patient, needy fucking woman. He can hear it in your soft pants and hitched breaths. You're quiet and subtle in your pleasure, so unlike any other woman he's ever been with, but when you whimper—fuck. Fuck.

He's going to give it to you. Right now, after taking the time to map and explore and discover, he's going to use his newfound knowledge to hollow you out, then fill you up until you're overflowing with him.

He slows to a stop and pulls his glistening fingers from your cunt, and there's that faint, perfect sound again. A stuttered, broken whimper that lilts with each knuckle that catches on your entrance. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and adds your taste to his list of all-time favorites, right alongside your Barq's root beer-flavored lip gloss.

Then, he offers you his middle finger, and he swears he can feel your lips sealing tightly around his cock as you wrap them around it. You work your mouth up and down, bobbing your head eagerly like he's about to blow his load down your throat, and—

He's going to fucking cum.

With his finger still nestled between your lips, he wrenches his boxers down his thighs and lines himself up with your entrance, ignoring how close he's suddenly teetering on the edge. His balls are already taut between his legs and it worsens as he inches in his aching, neglected tip.

"S'time, beautiful," he grits out, still tender in his touch as he splays his hand across your waist to stroke your heated skin. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, humming your affirmation around him, and he gives you another shallow inch. He was right. No amount of preparation was going to ease the stretch. You're gripping him so hard, it almost hurts, and the thought of how tight you'll be when you cum—he feels delirious with it.

Yes. Yes. Squeeze him. Let him feel you wringing him fucking dry. Let him pump you so full of his release, you'll be dripping him for days, an intimate, lingering reminder of this night. You have no fucking idea how long he's been waiting for this, for you. He doesn't even know your name, but that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is this.

This deep-seated, unspoken connection. It's been a long time. And, right now, his time is up.

He slides home in one long, deep thrust, the tip of his cock tenderly nudging your cervix, and your body struggles to accept him. He lights up every nerve ending like a live wire, drags against every sensitive pressure point in perfect succession, and your walls begin to mold around him as if they recognize the sensation. Like your body's remembering him.

Sharp nails dig into his side and drag from his shoulder down to his ass, urging him closer. You're trembling beneath him, your breasts thrumming with sharp, rapid breaths akin to a hummingbird as he fucks you further up the bed, one slow thrust at a time. You're fluttering around him, a delicate spasm and, then, an indicative clench, and it forces a sob from his chest that he barely recognizes.

That's it, beautiful. It's right there. C’mon, give it to me.

He doesn't speak it aloud. He hasn't coaxed or rushed you with his words this entire night and he's not about to start now. He knows, for some inexplicable reason, that he doesn't have to.

But you do. It's barely a whisper—a single, hushed syllable that trembles and passes your lips like a plea. A prayer only he can answer.

"Joel."

Christ. He knows you.

Christ, he's cumming.

His vision whites out, and he's only vaguely aware of his tightening grip on your hips and the long, drawn-out groan that tapers into something devastatingly familiar. Your name.

Now, it's his turn to pray. He repeats it like a mantra, breathing it into your lungs as his lips crash onto yours. It's almost as if he's afraid he'll forget it again if he stops, but your body's response quickly convinces him otherwise.

You bear down on him harder, driven closer and closer to your peak each time he calls out to you, for you. You're molten hot around him, searing each letter into his skin with every pulsing clench of your cunt, and he does the same, thick spurts coating your walls.

He can't help himself. He stays deep—he knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous the consequences could be, but he needs to—and your ankles digging painfully into his back to hold him in place wordlessly tell him you need it, too.

So good, you're so good. You're perfect. You're his. You're—

Gushing, squeezing, finally moaning for him. You’re cumming.

With it, your orgasm brings every memory of you flooding back at once. Late summer afternoons spent in bed while Sarah visited her grandma. Champagne-flavored kisses on New Year's Eve, soundtracked by Dick Clark and cheers from the crowd in Times Square filtering through the plasma TV in his living room.

He loved you. He loved this. He should've known the moment he kissed you, the moment he saw you, but he's been surviving for so long. He can't remember the last time he lived.

Your limbs surround him, pulling his entire weight down to rest on top of you, and you continue to swivel your hips into his pelvis, riding out your high as his name falls breathily from your lips. He works you through it, frantically blinking away the sudden blur that engulfs his vision so he doesn't miss out on another moment with you. Not ever again.

He's...he's crying. He didn't even know he was capable of that anymore. Sensitivity starts to set in, in more ways than one, but he doesn't want to leave the heat of your embrace. He thinks he might break at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and seeping into the undeserving fabric of his co-opted sheets, far away from where it belongs.

But, then, your lips meet his tanned, weathered cheek—a stark contrast to the young man he was when he was yours—and you kiss away his tears. He feels more fragile than he has in decades, and that's surprisingly okay. Because you're here to protect him, now.

Trailing from the apple of his cheek to his lips, up to the years of tension creasing his forehead, back down to kiss him tenderly, you establish a comforting repetition. He chases you every time you part, but, after a while, he's struck with a realization. What you've been trying to convey with your actions all night.

You always return to him. So, maybe this was just a matter of time. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful face he hadn't allowed himself to think about since the outbreak, and you huff out an affectionate laugh, your fingertips curiously running across his back and tracing raised lines and jagged shapes you've never felt before.

"Hi, Joel," you murmur fondly, still close enough for the tacky remains of your gloss to catch his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out to taste you.

It's real—it's too vivid not to be real. His eyes dart between yours, and he can still see everything your future together was supposed to hold. He still sees forever.

"Hey, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with tears and disuse, and something unidentifiable that sounds a lot like hope.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you.

thanks for reading!

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | prologue

Summary: Meet The Avengers, the infamous friendship group. Known for causing trouble all around town, and being feared by all. Expect the youngest member of the group, she was different and she was protected.

Warning: Smoking. Alcohol. Crying.

Word Count: 1179

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A/N: The final results of the poll were 68.4% in favor of posting this now so here you go. I really hope I did this idea justice and you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think <3

Tags: buckys0whore |

The bar hummed with music, laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional roar of a motorcycle outside. In the corner booth, among the haze of cigarette smoke and the dim glow of neon lights, sat a group of friends, claimed as The Avengers. 

Bucky Barnes leaned back in the booth, his eyes constantly scanning the room with a gaze as piercing as the edge of his knife. His presence commanded respect anywhere he went, without raising his voice. He was an enigma wrapped in leather.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he observed the scene at the bar. Your presence was a stark contrast to the rough ambiance of the bar. Dressed in a delicate flowing dress, out of place amidst the leather and tattoos, you were the embodiment of vulnerability in a world that praised itself on toughness. Your gaze darted nervously around the room as you waited for your drink. 

Bucky’s grip tightened around the beer bottle he had been nursing as he watched the bartender lean close to you. His jaw clenched with a quiet intensity, some instinct urged him to intervene, to protect you from whatever the guy was trying to do. But, before he could make a move he noticed Steve, your older brother and his best friend, standing closer to you. It was obvious from Steve’s expression and assertive stance that he was telling the bartender to step back.

Turning back his attention to the booth, he caught Natasha’s knowing smirk and Sam’s amused glance. They also had been watching the scene at the bar and offered small nods of approval toward Steve as you both made your way to the booth with the drinks. You were a tight-knit group, and there was an unspoken understanding that you would always protect one another. Mostly, it was you that they were protecting.

Your emotions began to bubble to the surface, tears threatened to spill over. The reasons for them, you were unsure of. Was it the presence of the new bartender? Perhaps Steve’s protective demeanor had caused them. Or maybe it was simply the atmosphere of smoke and dust. Regardless, as you settled back into the booth, the sight of Bucky’s eye-rolling toward you only worsened the urge to cry.

“Spill the beans, crybaby,” Bucky’s voice cut through the chatter of your friends around you. “What’s the verdict today? Tears of joy or sadness?” his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned forward.

Your cheeks flushed, and you tilted your head up hoping gravity will stop the tears from spilling. “I, I don’t know,” you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

As the night wore on, the bar grew increasingly rowdy and you found yourself retreating into the safety of your thoughts. No matter how hard you tried to hide your teary eyes, you couldn’t escape Bucky’s watchful gaze. 

~

As closing time drew near, there was a subtle shift that settled over the group, a silent acknowledgment that their night was coming to an end. With reluctant sighs, you began to gather your belongings. The rest of your friends picked up their packets of cigarettes and leather jackets, as you picked up your sketchbook and pencil. Preparing to leave the warmth of the bar for the cold embrace of the night, you begin to make your way to the exit. 

Bucky remained rooted in his spot in the booth, his gaze fixed on some unseen point around the bar. “Hey, Buck, you coming?” Steve called out, his voice tinged with concern as he glanced back at his friend. 

You could almost see the cogs working in his mind as he hesitated, clenching his jaw. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer,” he finally replied, his voice low. 

Wanda arched an eyebrow, confusion took over her features as Natasha spoke for you all, “Everything okay, Barnes?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity. 

He offered you all a tight-lipped smile, a silent reassurance that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah I’m fine,” he beamed at you all with an uncharacteristic glee. His gaze flickered over to you for a brief moment before returning to your friends. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” 

With reluctant nods and murmured goodbyes, you and the rest of The Avengers made your way out of the bar, leaving Bucky alone. As the door swung shut behind you, Bucky let out a heavy sigh before making his way over to the bar.

~

With a heavy sigh, Bucky climbed the stairs to your apartment door, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. An hour must have passed since you would have gotten home. As he reached the familiar door, he hesitated for a moment, his already grazed knuckles hovering over the wood before finally summoning the courage to knock. 

The door swung open, revealing your concerned expression as you took in the sight of him standing on her doorstep, a black eye already began to form. 

“Bucky? What happened?” you exclaimed, your voice filled the air with concern as you ushered him inside.

He offered you a weary smile, his gaze met yours with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. “You should have seen the other guy,” he replied, his smile turning into a playful smirk. 

You arched an eyebrow skeptically, as you gestured for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. “Let’s just get you patched up,” you sent him a reassuring smile as you moved around your kitchen to fetch the first aid kit. 

As you began cleaning and dressing his wounds, he couldn’t help but marvel at the tenderness of your touch. Your hands moved with practiced precision while you stood in between his tights. Despite his attempts to downplay his injuries, he winced slightly as the antiseptic stung, his jaw clenching. 

A wave of emotion washed over you, and tears began to well up in your eyes, a silent testament to the guilt you carried from causing him more pain and discomfort. 

Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears, forgetting about his own pain momentarily as he reached out to gently cup your cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her distress. A gesture as gentle as it was instinctual. “Hey, what’s wrong?”  he asked softly, his hand never leaving your cheek.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering away from his as you struggled to find the words you wanted to say, “I, I don’t like when you’re hurt,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

A pang of guilt twisted in his chest as he realized the hurt he was causing. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret as he felt your tears dampen his skin. “I’m sorry,” 

In the warmth of his embrace, you found comfort, and the weight of your worries subsided by the rhythm of his heartbeat. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, calming your emotions with every passing second.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[pricegouge]

cw: tradwife training, bondage

john price tradwife fantasy but it's blouses undone down to your waist constantly, your rope harness keeping your tits perky for him, so tight around the root they're engorged and tender. not that he cares, sitting you at his feet while he watches the match so he can rub you inflamed skin with rough, calloused hands when the sweeper's making rookie mistakes. you'd whine about it but he keeps you gagged, says a woman's place isn't to talk. he only lets you up to fetch him another beer, more snacks; focus momentarily distracted from the telly by the sight of you stumbling away in your hobble skirt. he's working you up to torture heels but in the mean time, he enjoys watching you wince every time you forget yourself and put weight on the spiked heel pads he keeps tied around your ankles all day

[bbokicidal]

Smile For Me .:. Hwang Hyunjin .:. 10/10/2024

Genre : Smut Pairing : Ghostface!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Warnings : Height difference, mention of Hyunjin being physically bigger, stronger, taller, etc., face fucking (hard), rough sex, mirror sex, tiny surprise at the end !!

Notes : Again, a bit of a shorter post but I did my best here. I really had no motivation to write this bc of my brain feeling fried but I wanted to get it out for you guys. Ty for staying tuned. <3

Kinktober Day 4 of 10 : Size Difference w/ Hyunjin

Word Count : 3.3K

Next Post : 10/16/24

"What's a sweet thing like you doing at a party alone?"

The voice is enough to startle you into turning fully around, the drink in your hand sloshing aggressively in your cup and spilling over white knuckles. A gasp escapes your lips to show just how surprised you are by the man suddenly talking behind you. The voice changer definitely flipped a panic switch in your body.

"Well?" He questions.

The man is - well...

He's tall. Very tall, in fact, compared to you. Six foot at least if you had to guess. With broad shoulders and arms hanging down by his sides as he stands before you. The only reason you can even tell he's looking at you is because of the way his head tilts when you still fumble to answer; Though he doesn't seem to understand just yet that it's from both fear and arousal jolting through your limbs at the sight of a Ghostface costume looming over you.

The man's head cocks once more, a gentle nudge in an attempt to get an answer. Subtle prying.

You fumble, spit coating your lower lip as it escapes your teeth. "Just - came to drink."

Stupid answer to a genuine (?) question. Now this man - potentially.. dangerous - knew that you actually were alone and drinking by yourself.

Then again, even if he was potentially dangerous; He was undeniably sexy.

Or maybe that was your inner mask kink screaming.

The man leans in further to close the distance between your bodies, taking one step forward in a heavy combat boot that nearly stepped on the pink of your heel. Your eyes stay on the mask glaring down at you and as he leans in, you get the slightest glimpse of dark eyes hidden beneath the black mesh.

A soft tug pulls on your skirt, and when you look down you realize it's his hand pinching the fabric.

"You got a boyfriend hangin' around here, doll?"

You swallow, every word you thought to say somehow lumping in your throat. What about him was making it so hard to speak?

"I..."

His head tips upwards when someone calls for him, but with your ears ringing and head spinning from the closeness of his warmth - and his heavy cologne weighing down on his costume - you'd never even heard the name called that had summoned him.

He lets out a breath that you swear you can almost feel even if it's trapped behind the mask. Straightening up, looming over you once more, he takes his leave in slow and planned steps around your frame. His hand drags over the soft skin of your thigh as he passes, the leather glove making goosebumps raise in pink.

"Coming..~"

.

The alcohol had taken its toll whether you liked it or not - and it was time to break the seal. Unless you wanted to piss all over the couch.

The drunken contemplation makes you chuckle to yourself, eyes rolling back as your lips split in a silly grin, while your hand escapes the frosted - and spiked - root beer float sitting on the end table. With a soft excuse of your body, you slip off of the couch cushion that had held your weight to make way for the restroom just down the hallway.

It's a little wobble here and there, but you manage to make it to the bathroom door with the sturdy support of the pretty blue walls adorning the campus home. And just as you reach for the doorknob, you realize it's - very close to you. The door is shut, locked actually, and you blink a few times in realization that someone was already in there.

The knob twists once, then jerks away from your hold. You step forward and lull to look up at the poor person you'd disturbed - only to be met with the sight of the familiar slasher from earlier - buttoning the black jeans that he adorns underneath the costume he wears. And you just can't help but stare at the way his long fingers prod at the fabric of the gloves, pushing the button through the hole in the denim and seeing the way the visible bulge beneath the fabric seems to grow more defined.

He sighs out behind the mask, head tipping closer to his shoulder as if analyzing you and just why you're there - yet again in front of him. You can't see it - but his brow cocks behind his mask.

"Pervert."

And you jolt, nearly jumping out of your skin once again at the voice changer. You shudder out a breath, looking up finally at the mask once more. There's a person underneath there, you have to remember. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." His voice lulls into a soft growl at the end, coming closer to where you stand in the hallway, frozen. You think he'll close the distance once more - but he stops short in the doorway. And you think you're safe.

Until he's lifting an arm to rest against the frame, making himself look even taller than previously. His free hand tucks down into his pocket, pushing up his costume so you can clearly see where it goes.

"But did you need something?"

Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and as you breathe out you end up whining. "I really need to pee."

The man behind the mask pauses. Visibly halts. Before a rumbling chuckle escapes his chest, distorted and cracking with the voice changer. "Alright, can't deny you that right." He steps aside from the frame and gestures into the bathroom. "To your throne, my lady."

It was at that moment that you realized - even if he was a hot masked man at a Halloween party - he was definitely a loser in a hot body.

.

One hour later is when you finally spot it.

You see him; out of the corner of your eye, lurking by the kitchen island and facing your direction as to see if you'll catch him looking directly at you. He's making it blatantly obvious that he's staring and that's what he's trying to do - wanting to gauge your reaction, see if you'll notice and catch on.

And when you do, you stare back for a moment as your friend babbles to a man beside her about some group drama happening the week prior.

He doesn't move.

Your head slowly tips to the left, his mirroring to the right. And you're very sure then that he's keeping his eyes on you and waiting for you to make a move.

The buzz in your chest could be from the alcohol - or the bubbling arousal that had already begun to seep towards your core.

Turning from your spot and gently slipping past your friend, you make your way back towards the hallway you had previously met him in. Pausing at the entrance, you turn to look over your shoulder and see him slipping away from his own friends to trail after your retreating form.

Like he'd let you get away that easily.

.

Your body is so compliant with him - bending to his every will and leaning into his touch even if it's not skin to skin. Your throat burns from where he had his hand wrapped around it, fingers tight enough to make you worry about the lack of air slipping down your trachea and into your lungs. But nothing - can draw your attention away from the heat pooling between your thighs - and the way his free hand had already slipped down to caress the softness of your center. It's as if he's attempting to ease the ache, even if he's only making it worse.

Your hands had just found home on his sides when he had begun to push down on your throat; But not in a way that restricted breathing. He was guiding you down towards the ground and your body, ever wanting, once again complied.

Sinking to your knees and letting your hands drag from his sides to his hips, the man above you looks - far larger than he ever had that evening. Looming? No. Towering over you now. With thick, heavy thighs right in your face and a bulge pressing against the denim of his jeans, he bunches the length of the costume in one hand and tucks it into the sides of the denim waistband so it's out of the way. Easy access, he's sure, watching as you sit so patiently in front of his pulsing cock.

He sighs out once more and lowers his head in a sharp nod, gesturing for you to do the work. You seem happy enough to do so - fingers fumbling with the button you'd stared at earlier in the night and tugging at the fly of his jeans. It rips downwards and he has to sway forward at the way you so eagerly pull the denim down his thighs, revealing tight briefs that outline his cock so perfectly.

And you can tell even without looking right at it that he's big.

He's almost surprised at the way you tug on his waistband, yanking the black fabric down as far as you can without completely stripping him. Hovering just above his knees, the fabric pulls at the simple mass of the muscle it wraps around.

The sight of his cock is godly.

Perfectly straight, pink at the tip with a slit leaking pre that just begs to be touched by your tongue. Thick and so heavy that it weighs down, refusing to touch the fabric covering his lower torso.

"What are you waiting for, slut?"

The moment he spots your tongue sliding out along your bottom lip - the softest hint of parted lips - he's pushing his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

The back of your head bumps the wall as spit drips from your pretty, plump lips - pooled on the back of your tongue just from the earlier sight of his cock waiting to be smothered by your walls; Your throat. You huff out and a soft whine of pain rings from your vocal cords, but he can't truly be bothered too much to care.

The feeling of his cock weighing heavy on your tongue is enough to drown out any pain you'd felt from the simple bump and grind of his hips pressing your head into the wall behind you. He rolls forward, slow, the tip of his pretty length rubbing against the back of your throat in an effort to make you gag. And when you do, he chuckles - the sound still distorted and crackling with use.

And though he'd just filled your throat without care for the ache that the stretch created against your cheeks - He did care about your safety, and was kind enough to slide a gloved hand down the back of your skull. It's resting there, gentle at first; Before he's fisting locks of your hair between his fingers and using it as leverage to thrust his hips right up against your face. Over, and over. And over. Until you're choking on his cock and spit is dripping down your chin in a foamy froth that, to him, proves just how much you're willing to give

He may be playing nice for just a moment, but it doesn't last too long as he pulls you in closer to him and buries your nose against the dark, coarse, curly hair bunched at the base of his length.

He grins behind the mask, chuckling again when he finally lets go of you and allows you to remove yourself from his cock. Your gasps fill his chest with -- pride? The feeling swells, feeling as though it might burst from the way you sit back against the wall and look up at him with glossy eyes that silently beg for more.

"Come here, pretty girl."

Reaching down, large hands grasp at your sides to pull you to your feet. Your knees ache, bruised from the ground you'd been pushed and pulled against as his cock violated your throat for what felt like at least twenty minutes - even if it had really only been just over five.

"Right there. That's right." He maneuvers you with ease, turning your body away from him so you can bend yourself over the side of the mattress in the middle of the room. The scent of the sheets is wildly familiar - a sudden memory of your friend Chris entering your head. He'd worn a cologne just like this at a party the previous weekend. And as you peek open your eyes, you realize you've seen these sheets before.

Of course it was his room you'd wandered into so blindly.

The memory of your dear friend escapes almost as soon as it comes, washed from your mind as the man behind you - above you - around you - leans down close enough so his chest can press against the swell of your back. His hands snake around the warmth of your sides, feeling over the pink of your dress as he hums in a low tone behind the mask. The sound is muffled - muted, to you - but it's made so painfully obvious by the way his chest vibrates with every low sound that escapes him.

His hands press further, running over the expanse of your ribcage before gripping at your body to pull you back. It's a quick jerking motion, one that makes you tumble back into him and fall to your elbows on the sheets you had spent nights in before. A sound escapes, a gasp of shock and relief as his bare cock slides against your panties from behind.

The man seems fond of your body, as if appreciating it while his hands run over your form. They leave your abdomen to lull higher, cupping the swell of your breasts and giving a subtle squeeze that leaves you wanting more - just as he pulls them away. He removes himself from above you, the lack of warmth making you lift your head and whimper in soft complaint.

You find yourself staring into a mirror - directly across from where he had laid you on the bed. Perched on your elbows, back arched, ass up for him. You can see clear as day the way his hand slides over your rear and down your thigh, reaching to hook a finger in your panties and pull back on them until he can let go and let the lace snap against your dripping slit.

The sound that leaves your lips is to die for.

His finger hooks back in the lace and pulls, this time to the side so he can move his hips in and press the tip of his cock to your pretty little hole. Waiting for him, dripping slick that leaks down your thighs and clenching around nothing as your body aches for him. Yearns for him.

You don't even know who he is and yet you're so desperate.

"Fuck -- Yes," You breathe heavy, your body gently lulling forward in a sway as he presses into your gummy walls with ease. It's a tight fit for him - he can't deny that - and it really is something he'd never forget. His body aches for more; Craves for more. So he snaps his hips forward almost immediately in a way that causes you to cry out louder than before.

He huffs, chest rising and falling in quick motions underneath the costume he wore. He couldn't help the way he breathed so heavy, especially with the mask on and wanting to keep it for a while longer so you would remain guessing and wanting to know who he is.

His hips snap in quick succession. His hands, rid of the gloves after he'd thrown them aside in anger that he couldn't properly feel the curves of your body with them on, grip tight at your his. His fingertips dig in and he uses his hold to pull you back onto his cock as he rocks forward, every motion so quick that even watching in the mirror is one big blur for you.

The way he snaps his cock into your walls, tip pressing to your cervix and kissing at it every other push; The way his body begins to drop down closer to yours the more he ruts into you in desperation for release.

He's nearly flush to your back now; Moaning and huffing and panting out in want for more, even if he's rutting his hips against your own as fast as he possibly can, the poor bed frame squeaking beneath the force he places down upon you.

But he refuses to give in so easily. That - or he gives up.

Sitting up and lifting a hand to the mask, his fingers curl in the black fabric and pull hard, ripping it from his head and shoulders. The reveal renders you speechless - the soft moans previously leaving your lips now silent as you stare up at him in admiration.

Hwang Hyunjin ; A quieter, kinder boy you'd only known from a Biology class the two of you shared. He sat kitty-corner to you at a table next to Chris, bumping their knees together to annoy the senior and giggling when Changbin - another senior of his - threw paper balls at the back of his head during class.

He always seemed so... booksmart. Nerdy. Dorky.

The reveal of his perfectly structured face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat really proved the fact that he is a loser in a hot body.

But you'd be straight lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love the way sweat began to bead and drip down the sides of his face, pooling and falling from his chin in a way that proved his effort.

"Oh my -- God," You choke on your words, staring up at your classmate through the mirror painting the wall across from you.

Plump lips curl into a knowing smirk. You hadn't suspected it to be him - Had you? You'd never seen the confident, sexually charged side of him that came out when he was outside of class - partying or dancing or rapping with his friends at karaoke. The cocky bastard that wanted the girl no one could get. (Oh, wait. That's you.)

"No need to keep staring, baby," He chuckles, his voice finally cleared of the distortion and truly his own. Low, raspy. As if he'd just woken up. "I'll find a way to make this moment last forever."

While your lips part in questioning and a soft sound leaves your throat to give him a shy reply, his fingers curl into your hair from behind. The locks, thick and heavy with sweat from the events of the night, tangle between thick knuckles that grip so tight you're sure he's never going to let go. Hyunjin tugs - no, pulls - back on your head to let your back arch in a way that made you nearly scream in pleasure as he continued pounding his hips into your own.

"C'mon. Come here, baby."

Pulling just a little more taught, Hyunjin lets himself slump forward. HIs chest presses just barely to your shoulders as he leans down, free hand slinging around to your front holding a small black camera that looks as if it'd come straight out of 2009.

As the camera clicks to life and the red light blinks in warning that the flash is coming your way, Hyunjin snakes his hand down from your hair to wrap around your throat instead. Your face, flushed and painted red with want and admiration, is in clear view of the small screen on the opposite side of the camera. "That's it..."

Hyunjin coos, biting into his lower lip as his thumb presses a bit harder down on the shutter button.

The red light blinks again and the flash springs to life, blinding you momentarily as if your sex-ridden haze wasn't enough.

"Smile for me, baby."

Taglist : @crybabykurominho @softkisshyunjin @minniesverse @dwaekkicidal @lixies-favorite-cookie @bookheadeily @jeonginsleftcheek @madkati @jisunglyricist @millseyes-world @warpedspirit @lovetaroandtaemin @ka0ila

@jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Player Number Forty-Four

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Tittyfucking, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sitting amongst thousands of baseball fanatics makes you realize one thing: You fucking hate this sport. You don’t get the point, you don’t know what’s happening half of the time. Maybe you’re just refusing to get the point because you didn’t want to come here in the first place. You were dragged here by a friend who got some last minute tickets– She claimed she got the best possible seats for a low price, and her date canceled on her. She didn’t want to come alone, and now you’re watching the game from what you assume is a great seat.

Too bad for you, you don’t understand much of what’s happening. You’re yawning in boredom because there’s not one interesting thing catching your attention. Baseball just isn’t the sport for you, you much rather would’ve liked sitting in the stadium for any other sport. Maybe soccer or tennis. 

You’re just watching Shoko sip on her beer, occasionally yelling but overall, her team seems to be doing well; you wouldn’t know if they weren’t doing well. She’s dressed just as you expected. She wears a jersey for the team that she’s supporting, the “Demon Dogs” (You found the name so fucking funny), and jeans.

“Shoko, when does the game end?” You ask, but she isn’t paying attention to you. Her eyes are staring at the pitcher that’s walking to the pitcher’s mound, and you watch her expression change. The back of her hand is slapping your collar bone, her eyes widening. Your eyebrows are furrowing as you look at her, extremely confused. “What the hell is up?”

“They’re bringing in Fushiguro.” Shoko informs you, but you have a big issue… You have no idea who Fushiguro is. You assume it’s the pitcher that spits onto the dirt as he walks to the pitcher’s mound that is outlined with a white circle. You blink slowly, getting her hand off you. You slightly shake your head, raising your eyebrows.

“I have no idea who he is.” You end up chuckling. It’s the man that’s about to pitch, you don’t know why she’s upset. The man that holds the baseball mitt is certainly a sight for sore eyes. At least from this distance. You just know that you nearly cry when his back is turned to you, leaving you to look at the number forty-four that’s on his jersey. 

“He’s their best pitcher. Maybe the best pitcher in the whole league.” Shoko answers. The little hope that the team that she’s rooting for would win, is now completely gone. Her arms are crossed and her lips are now pouty. “Probably were testing the waters with a new pitcher since Fushiguro can’t play forever… But that clearly didn’t work.”

“What was even happening?” You question, and she tries to explain how awful the first pitcher was: throwing bad pitches, which kept resulting in balls– You didn’t quite grasp the concept. You were too scared to ask anyway. You watch as the man turns his body forty-five degrees, raising his left leg before he throws the ball, and your eyes widen because that’s the fastest you’ve seen a ball travel. You hear Shoko huff, probably accepting that her team is going to lose. It happens two more times until the player is finally out, and another one walks up. “I’m no genius but you were right about Fushiguro.”

“I hate him.” Shoko rolls her eyes, causing you to laugh. You certainly don’t feel the same. You throw your arm over her and then lay your head on hers. 

“Why don’t you root for the better team? I think they’re selling their jerseys.” You joke, and she pushes you away. Before your conversation is over, Fushiguro has striked out another player.

“Why don’t you buy a jersey for that other team since you’re clearly rooting for them.” She says, and you’re nearly about to get up to do what she tells you. You feel awkward since you’re wearing a tank top and a push up bra, so you’ve definitely been getting stares. 

“I just might.” You answer. You almost miss the moment where the batter finally hits the fast ball, if you hadn’t paid attention, Shoko wouldn’t have gotten up to catch it and she would’ve gone home with a bump and bruise on her head– Or, the more likely outcome, someone else would’ve caught it. There’s a grin on her face as the batter runs from home, goes through all bases, and returns, without a sweat, back to the home base. 

She shows off the ball and hands it to you. You examine the ball before turning your attention to her. She looks smug before she tilts her head and asks, “Think you might change your mind?”

“Does your team have handsome players like Fushiguro?” You respond before you turn your attention back to the field. She taps your shoulder and then points at the player who just hit the homerun. He doesn’t look that bad, but you’re not too close so you can see him

“Don’t you think he looks good? He does have a girlfriend but–” She begins, and you roll your eyes. You block her out, watching the game at hand. You watch how Fushiguro does the same thing again, and even though you were expecting to see the ball move ridiculously fast, this time it seems like it curves. The batter hits it though, and it makes Shoko grip to her seat with a smile coming to her face. She shuts up about what she was talking about, but before the ball even hits the ground, it’s in Fushiguro’s hand. You almost laugh at how Shoko’s expression changes. She ends up sighing before saying, “Oh yeah, I was saying I wanted to fuck his girlfriend.”

“Who? Fushiguro’s?” You ask, making her click her tongue. She doesn’t bother reiterating, so you’re left clueless. You don’t care all that much either. You keep watching until Shoko’s team is on the pitching side and your Fushiguro’s team is on the batting side. You lose focus when you don’t see the man that you’re rooting for up there and batting. The man that’s pitching is the same man that Shoko was talking to you about earlier. What makes him stand out is his head of white hair. “How long is this game?”

“Why are you in a rush to leave?” Shoko sounds offended as she asks the question. You can’t even believe it because you thought you had made it obvious how you weren’t into the game at all. She doesn’t seem to pick up the cues though.

“I want him to sign the ball.” You keep it brief, and you assume that she immediately knows who it is. The same man that you’ve been talking about the past couple minutes. It amazes you how Shoko can sometimes… Completely miss the point.

“Who? Gojo?” She replies, and you exhale, holding back your laughter. You don’t even have an idea who Gojo is, but you assume it’s the pitcher, the one who hit the homerun. You shake your head.

“Fushiguro.” You answer, and she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t even hit that ball.” She reminds you, but you so clearly don’t care. Before you can defend yourself she points to the field and informs you, “Speak of the devil, he’s coming up to bat.”

That’s what makes your eyes go to the field again, and then to the big screen that displays the field and allows you to look at the game better. Fushiguro’s brows are furrowed, his lips downturned as his eyes focus on the pitcher. You don’t care about his stance– Or maybe you do when you notice how big and muscular his arms are. Maybe you understand why people become fanatics of this boring sport because if you were to see a man like Fushiguro in every game, you’d devote yourself to the sport. 

Fushiguro gets a strike, and you almost groan disappointedly. You’re not into the game enough to actually express any sort of disappointment though. If he loses, he loses. He won’t stop being hot. But the second time around, Fushiguro hits the ball and almost knocks it out of the field. It makes you turn to Shoko and ask, “Do you know what his type is?”

“Why would I keep up with that loser?” Shoko responds, and sometimes she makes it so painfully clear that she’s into women. You try to keep up with the rest of the inning, but it’s hard when all the attention isn’t on Fushiguro. You attempt to speak with Shoko but she’s focused on the game, probably praying that a miracle will happen for her team. You have a couple comments about Fushiguro but it’s best if you don’t share. They’re too vulgar to share right now. 

You don’t even notice a break begin, until Shoko begins to talk more, focusing her attention on you. “I heard he’s a deadbeat. Some shit like that. He has a twelve year old son and according to the mom–”

“I don’t want a relationship with him, I just want to fuck him.” You cut her off. You really don’t want her to ruin your source of entertainment tonight. Once you know that Fushiguro is a horrible person, you won’t find him as hot while he plays. You feel ashamed for admitting that out loud so you try to correct yourself, even when Shoko knows what you mean. “I mean… I just don’t need to know all that about him.”

“Of course you– Oh my god, you’re on the kiss cam.” Shoko points out, and you look at the big screen to find yourself there, with the guy that sits next to you. He’s awkward, unsure of how to approach the situation. He looks like he wants to kiss you… But you don’t want to kiss him. Maybe it makes you shallow but you’re not kissing a random stranger because he has a great personality. He just isn’t your type. 

“Save me Shoko…” You mutter, and she laughs before her hands cup your face and she pulls your head in. Her lips meet yours, and just as her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, she pulls away with a smile on her face. You end up chuckling, before thanking her.

You keep your eye on the field, watching player number forty-four closely. Fushiguro is the real star in all of this. He apparently seems to be doing well in his field, but you consider him the star simply because he looks so damn good. You keep your eye on him until the game ends. 

Shoko is clearly mad at the fact that her team lost, and as the great friend that you are, you begin to comfort her until you remember your great idea. This is the only opportunity to do it, after all, you doubt that after this you’ll find Fushiguro again. This isn’t their home town, and you’re not putting yourself through the torture of sitting through another baseball game in the upcoming season just to get his signature… or well, to get him to notice you. You can comfort Shoko some other time, either way, she’s a sore loser so nothing you do will bring her spirits up.

You still have the ball in hand, and you get up from your seat and run down– Admittedly pushing some people out of the way, until the railing stops you so you can’t go further. Fushiguro is walking to the dugout, baseball mitt under his armpit, wiping the sweat on his chin with his shirt. He won’t notice you if you just stand there, especially since people are walking behind you. You yell his name as loud as you can, and it causes his eyes to dart your way. You show off the ball that’s in your hand and he walks over to you. 

“Do you have a marker?” He asks, and you feel your face get warm as your brain processes the question. Of course not, you weren’t planning on getting anything signed. You bite down on your lips before you shake your head. He ends up chuckling before he yells, “Kong! Get me a marker!”

“You were really good out there.” You comment, slightly tilting your head, giving him a sweet smile. Fushiguro knows that look in your eyes– Well, he thought he did because he’s pretty sure you’re into chicks. He saw you kiss that girlfriend of yours or whatever… He can still do some harmless flirting. He smirks at you, and he’s so focused on you that he nearly misses the marker that’s being thrown at him. He opens the black marker and takes the ball from your hand.

“Really? Did you enjoy the game, pretty girl?” He licks his lips, his eyes focused on signing the ball that he has in his hand. His gaze shifts though, from the ball to your cleavage. He tries to disguise it, but it’s clear what he’s doing. You hum in response, trying your best to keep an alluring smile on your face. 

“I loved watching you play.” You respond because you really don’t know what else to say. Should you ask him out? Would he reject you? He keeps looking at your cleavage so maybe he’d accept, but that also doesn’t mean anything. He probably gets asked out a lot, so it’s best if he makes the first move so you know if he’s really interested.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you the ball, and you’re hesitant before you take it. You have to say something before he leaves but you don’t know what; something that’ll really stick in his mind. You take the ball, and you’re biting your tongue, you have an idea but it isn’t prudent. You bat your eyelashes before you ask him,

“Will you sign something else?” He raises his brow until he realizes what you’re talking about. You’re pretty much shaking them right in his face… Will your girlfriend get mad or something? His eyes are on your boobs and he’s tempted. His eyes search for your girlfriend in the sea of people, and when he doesn’t see her, he shrugs.

“You sure you want me to sign your tits? It doesn’t come off easily.” He warns you.

“Do it.” You nod your head, and with that assurance, you feel the marker on your cleavage as he signs his name across your breasts. He doesn’t keep it small, he wants to make it as big as he can. He smiles when he sees the work of art, his name on your chest. You bite down on your lip before saying, “Thank you, Fushiguro.”

“Please, call me Toji.” Toji says, a smug smile on his face as he puts the cap back on the marker. Is he immoral enough to ask a woman that seems to be in a relationship out? Oh, he is. He definitely is. “Will you–”

You know what’s about to leave his lips. He’s going to ask for your number. But he knows that he just wants to fuck and for some reason his conscience is telling him not to ruin a perfect relationship just for an hour or two. Since when did he become a good human being? You’re clearly throwing yourself at him, for fuck’s sake, he just signed your boobs. 

You tilt your head, “Will I what?”

“Will you tell your girlfriend to root for the better team?” He ends up saying, and the word doesn’t fully process in your head. Before you can get a word in, he’s walking back to the dugout and it hits you. Does he mean girlfriend as in your romantic partner or your friend? 

“I’m convinced that he would’ve asked me out if I hadn’t kissed Shoko.” You tell your friends, who aren’t all that interested in what you have to say. Shoko invited you out to a bar along with another mutual friend, and the date that canceled on her. The woman probably feels awkward as you keep babbling on how you kissed Shoko. Admittedly, you’re not attracted to each but it’s still awkward to hear about how your date kissed someone else.

“He’s not all that great anyway. Maybe you could try to hook up with Gojo so I can–” Shoko begins and when her eyes land on her date, she shuts her mouth. She chugs half of her drink, wiping her mouth when the glass hits the table again. “Move on, drink something and–”

“And?” You ask when Shoko stops in the middle of her sentence. She’s glaring at the entrance of the place, and it makes you turn. She’s gripping her bottle, asking what the hell they’re here. You realize that this is your chance.

A couple days after you last saw Toji, he walks inside the bar with three other friends… Or teammates, you’re not sure which word describes their relationship better. You smile at your friends before saying, “Maybe the universe has other plans for me.”

“You’re not going there.” Shoko sounds clearly annoyed. She can’t believe how you’re a traitor. You want to flirt with Fushiguro even though she’s a fan of the opposing team? You’re not much of a friend. “He’s a whore. If you sleep with him, he’ll give you a disease.”

“There’s always treatments.” You’re saying under your breath as you stand up. You smooth out your skirt before walking toward the man who wears a navy blue sweater and jeans. You won’t lie, you like the baseball uniform better but he still manages to look so good in his outfit. You’re not exactly sure how to approach him, so you tap his shoulder, causing him to turn around to find you with a sweet smile on your glossy lips. He smiles back at you.

“Nice to see you here, pretty girl.” Toji’s words make you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It makes your face warm. The people who he came with are also looking at you. “She’s the girl I was telling you guys about.”

“The lesbian?” A short woman with long dark hair speaks up, asking the same question that everyone in the group has. When Toji nods, you chuckle. They end up walking away, the short woman intertwining her fingers with the blond man’s that accompanies them. You recall seeing him, he’s a catcher in Toji’s team. They’re gone before you can correct them.

“I’m not a lesbian.” You tell Toji, and he raises his brows as a smirk comes to his lips. He throws his arm over your shoulder and instead of going to the booth that his friends are at, he heads to an empty booth. You take a seat across from each other, and you ask him, “Care for a drink?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Toji jokes, and you end up laughing. He clears his throat before saying, “I’m going to get a glass of water, do you care for anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him walk to the bar to get himself a drink. You wonder why he’s sticking with water, but it’s not that hard to decipher that he’s probably the designated driver for the night. The more you think about it, the more special you feel. He came here to spend time with his friends, yet he sat down with you. 

It’s clear he wants a hookup, and he didn’t do anything at the stadium because he thought you were a lesbian; you find it ridiculous though, considering he signed your tits. He sits back down and you smile at him. He takes a sip of the water before he asks the inevitable, “Was that your girlfriend? The woman you kissed?”

“We’re just friends. Friends kiss sometimes.” You answer, and he purses his lips, wondering if that’s true for girls. Certainly not true for him and his friends. While he stays quiet, you add, “Kiss cam landed on me, there was an ugly guy next to me so I asked Shoko to help.”

Toji would judge, but he gets it. He wouldn’t kiss an ugly girl even if she had a great personality– He doesn’t know when he became so shallow, he wasn’t always like this. But that doesn’t matter anyway since the woman that sits across from him is anything but ugly. 

“Nice to know you’re into men. Only reason I didn’t steal you after the game was because I thought that was your girlfriend back there.” He shares, and you end up laughing. You could gather that by the way he reacted when he saw you, but it’s nice to hear him actually say it. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You introduce yourself to him. He makes sure to compliment your name, a comment that’s insignificant so you don’t pay much attention to it. You still mutter a thank you. He then asks a question that leaves you confused, “So what do I have to do so you become a mako shark fan?”

“A what?” You almost burst out laughing when you hear that. When did baseball team names become so ridiculous? You’re laughing as you respond, “Is that the name of your team?”

“Yeah…” He awkwardly responds, trying to laugh it off. He scratches the back of his neck, and he swears it’s the first time that he feels embarrassed about the team that brings him so much money each year. “I take it you’re not a fan of the team.”

“Nor the sport. My friend was the one that dragged me.” You share. It makes Toji feel better, less insignificant. You bite down on your bottom lip before you blink a couple times and you ask him, “Maybe you could… Explain the game to me, maybe it’ll get me interested.”

“I know that trick, in the end you won’t care and I’ll waste my words.” He replies, and you find yourself laughing more. You end up nodding, agreeing in response. You just want him to engage in a conversation, and the only subject that crossed your mind was baseball. “Tell me about… Did you grow up here?”

“I’ve lived here for the past ten years so… Yes but no.” You wonder why he’s keeping up the conversation. Shoko acts as if he’s the biggest whore in the world but he’s trying to engage in a conversation with you when it’s clear that you want to go back to his hotel. “How about you… Did you grow up in whatever city–”

“Yeah.” He answers. His eyes glance at his friends for a moment, they don’t seem to be having too much fun, so he’s glad he’s with you. He ends up rolling his eyes before he comments, “I have to drive those idiots home later.”

“Did you offer to be the designated driver or did they give the role to you?” 

“I don’t really drink so… They just brought me along. Kind of rude though, I had other plans.” He responds, yet he smirks when he looks at you. “I’m glad I’m here though… What do you do anyway?”

“Real estate agent, nothing too fun.” You reply. “Just trying to convince people into buying houses and whatnot.”

“Is that your dream job?” He questions, and your eyes widen a bit. Your eyebrows then come together, your lips pursing as you try to think about the question. You don’t really have a dream job, and you’ve never really thought about it. Other than,

“I don’t know. Maybe a housewife.” You end up shrugging. “How about you? Is being a baseball player your dream job?”

“Yeah… I guess. Never really thought about it.” And before you can dwell on the subject, he clears his throat and asks, “Anyway, I assume you know your way around the city. Would you care to be my tour guide tomorrow?”

“You’re lucky I have the day off.” 

“Is that a yes?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. Around this moment he’d suggest going back to the hotel, but he has to stick around for his teammates. Luckily enough, he can see you again tomorrow. God, he just wishes he could ditch them. “So… Let’s say I wanted to buy a house around here.”

“Ew, why would you?” You end up laughing, and he laughs along with you. You reach into your purse to grab a business card. You slide it to him, and he inspects it when it’s in his hands. “That’s my work phone, but if you have a pen I can write my cell number.”

“Don’t you have a pen in your purse?” He responds, and you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I had one, would I?” You tell him, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Of course you don’t, why would you ask for a pen if you had one. He excuses himself for a moment and stands up from his chair, running to the booth that his teammates are in. The same man that tossed him a marker in the game, is not handing him a pen. For that moment you feel special, although it isn’t much effort to stand up and ask for a pen but some people wouldn’t even try. You can also just put your number in his phone, but the idea doesn’t cross your mind until he’s back with the pen.

“What’s your number?” He asks, more than ready to write it down on the card. 

“I can also put it in your phone…”  You suggest, and he ends up laughing as he pulls out his phone. You’re dumbfounded when you see his old phone– You weren’t sure if they still made phones that flipped, but he’s proved you wrong. “Do they not pay you enough?”

“You won’t believe it. I tried to buy a third house but they weren’t paying me enough.” He shakes his head disappointedly, flipping the phone open, opening the phone app and then handing it to you. You take it and type in your number. “I don’t see the point in getting a new phone. I just need to call a couple people and that’s it.”

“Do you know what a computer is?” You respond as you give him back the phone. He ends up shaking his head, obviously joking. “How old are you anyway? I hope that’s not rude.”

“Twenty– Thirty-something years old. Near my forties.” He answers, not wanting to give specifics to not scare you off; of course, you can just look it up. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but how old are you? It’s only fair for me to ask.”

“Not telling you.” You say, and he cocks his eyebrow. A laugh escapes his lips before he jokes,

“What? Are you a granny that manages to look young?” He jokes, and you nod in response, a smile on your lips. You haven’t talked much but you feel like you’re clicking with him. There’s a foolish smile on your face, a laugh leaving your lips every time he makes a dumb joke. 

“So um… I can’t really give you what you’re looking for tonight.” He brings up after ten minutes of chatter. You slightly tilt your head.

“And what exactly am I looking for?” You question, and you swear there’s a sparkle in his eyes. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him, but he enjoys your presence. He likes the way you put your hand over your chest and you dramatically gasp before you tell him, “Are you suggesting I want to–”

“We both know you want to.” He cuts you off, and he isn’t exactly wrong. The only reason you approached him was to hook up with him– You’ll admit that you enjoy the conversation. “Do you want to join my friends?”

“Well… I’m enjoying this time alone with you, but if you want to join them.” You answer. He glances at them for a moment before looking back at you. He lightly shakes his head,

“Maybe some other time. Tell me more about you.”

Nothing ends up happening that night, but it’s fine because you agreed to meet up the next day. He tells you the hotel that he’s staying at, and you plan on meeting at the coffee shop that’s across the hotel. You aren’t an early riser nor do you like to be extremely early to places, but you find yourself with a coffee and a pastry almost an hour before the time that you agreed to meet up.

You’re scrolling through your phone, and you almost miss the man that walks into the coffee shop, extremely early just like you. Your eyes meet, and a smile comes to your face. If you believed in love at first sight, you’d say that’s what this is. But you aren’t in love with Toji, you just find him handsome– And you feel like you can spend hours talking to him.

“Toji.” You say. He walks over toward you, his hands in his pockets. When you’re in front of him, his eyes go straight to your chest since your dress is showing your cleavage.

“Didn’t really notice that my name isn’t on them.” He awkwardly chuckles, and it embarasses you. If you knew that you’d be here so early in the day to meet up with him, you wouldn’t have asked him to sign your breasts; on the other hand, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your boldness. You try your best to act confident, putting on your best smile.

“You can always sign them again if you want.” It’s meant to be a joke, and he laughs, but he’s about to ask the barista to borrow the marker. You clear your throat before saying, “Anyway, you should get your coffee so we can start.”

“Yeah.” He responds before he walks to the line. You walk back to your seat, and you finish your drink and coffee before he’s ready to go. He only gets a coffee, and he gloats about how, “I got it for free. Barista knew who I was.”

“You’re so lucky. The rich get richer and poor people like me still have to pay for their coffee.” You point out lightheartedly. He chuckles as you stand up. You walk out of the coffee shop together, and you begin to walk to your first stop: the aquarium.

You’re tired since the previous night you stayed up looking up places to take him. You’re not too sure about the downtown area, you’ve only been here a couple of times. You’re determined to give him a good time so maybe when he comes back to the city, he’ll think of you. 

“So where are we going?” Toji asks, following your lead. You decide to stay quiet as you continue walking. He won’t really push it, trusting your judgment. He sips on his coffee before asking, “So… Have you gotten married before?”

“No. I assume you have.” You respond, and he raises his brow. You’re not really paying to his facial expressions, so you completely miss it.

“So um… Are you trying to call me old?” He sounds offended. You bite down on your lip as you hold back a laugh. You end up humming in response– And as you do so you remember Shoko’s words. She called him a deadbeat, something along those lines. And you shouldn’t care, you try to not let it bother you. After today you doubt you’ll ever see him again. “I have been married before. Twice.”

“Don’t want to ruin the mood by talking further about it.” You tell him, not wanting to hear something that’ll possibly scare you away. Not before you have sex with him at the very least. Having sex with a celebrity is on your bucket list and you want to check that off; although you aren’t too sure if he’s considered a celebrity. You’ve never heard of him before, but you don’t keep up with sports and additionally people recognize him. 

“The aquarium.” Toji doesn’t look all that surprised. He still follows, and when you’re about to pay for two tickets, he pulls out his wallet and slams his card on the counter before you can do it. He definitely makes more money than you, he will offer to pay. Especially since he wants to get into your pants. When you’re inside, you smirk,

“Maybe we’ll see a mako shark.” He ends up rolling his eyes before he laughs. His hand goes to the small of your back as you begin to walk around. He isn’t all that interested in the fishes and sea creatures but it seems like you like to look around. You’re interested in the stupid variety of fishes.

Maybe he’s entertained when he stares at the sharks. His lips are pursed together, his hands in his pockets as his eyes follow the sharks. You’re walking around, looking at all the sea life around you until you’re back next to him. You poke his arm and you keep your finger pressed on his skin as you realize just how strong he is. His eyes finally fall on you. He doesn’t know what to say. Toji feels weird… He’s known you for a day or even less, and he thinks he likes you. 

It certainly isn’t love, he knows what love is. But he enjoys spending time with you, and he knows that he’ll like to have you by his side as he grows old. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed as much as he did last night. He’s just trying to get into your pants. 

Toji has a cold demeanor that a person really has to work through to get him to be nicer. He doesn’t know why he didn’t put that up with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like making pretty girls work for his attention.

“So did you find your team in the water?” You joke, and it’s so fucking dumb that he laughs along. He shakes his head. He throws his arm over your shoulder and begins to walk elsewhere because the sharks have gotten boring. He hears someone call his name, and he turns to find a random kid. He excuses himself, and you watch as he takes a photo with the young fan.

The young fan is grinning and telling Toji just about anything he can think of, and your heart softens just watching Toji pay attention to the young kid. It reminds you of Shoko’s words though, and this question rises in your mind. Toji looks so sweet with the kid. When Toji finally gets to your side you ask the question that bugs your mind,

“Do you have kids?” It catches him off guard. It’s nice to know that you haven’t looked him up though. A weak smile appears on his face before he nods in response.

“I have a twelve-year-old son.” His arm is over your shoulder again, and you’re walking elsewhere. You follow his lead, just staring at his face as you wait for him to elaborate. It doesn’t seem like he will until he clears his throat and adds, “His mom has full custody.”

“Okay.” Your lips form into a thin line as you nod. You know you can’t really ask more, you’ll definitely be crossing a line that you don’t want to cross. You’re walking to a darker area, and he comes to a stop which makes you stop as well. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am.” He answers, and you look up at him, meeting his eyes. You have no idea why but you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It’s weird considering you just met, for all you know, he means danger. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel your face get warm. You stare at each other for a moment until Toji notices the jellyfish behind you, and he points at them. “That looks… Pretty.”

“It is.” You blink slowly as you take in the pretty sight. You look back at each other at the same time. He scratches the back of his neck.

“So does this count as a first date?” He asks, and you giggle.

“Yeah, I think so.” You respond. “As long as I get into your pants.”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” He says, and he covers his mouth, his eyes widening when he notices a child walking by. He looks at the parents, “I did not mean to say that.”

“You need to watch what you say. There’s children around.” You tell him, and he scoffs.

“Fuck you.” And you pout your lips before dramatically turning. 

“I guess since you don’t do the hanky panky after the first date, this date is over.” You do so more to see his reaction. You’re actually enjoying your date with him so you don’t care if you have sex or not. Your arms are crossed and your head slowly turns to see his reaction. You watch as Toji’s hands are on his knees, and he’s wiping away a tear. He silently laughs, and just watching him makes you chuckle as well. 

When he calms down, he cups your face. “The hanky panky? Really?”

“Whatever you want to call it. You know what I mean.” You try your best to keep a serious face. It’s hard to. Especially when his words sound so funny even though they aren’t supposed to be. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Toji. See you on the second date.”

“You know I was joking.” He tells you, his face inching closer to yours. He isn’t going to throw in the detail that he’s leaving tomorrow and he probably won’t see you again. You’re leaning in for a kiss, and he comes to a complete stop. He’s never seeing you again after this– Maybe in a year or so but so much can happen in a year. When you realize that he’s stopped, you ask,

“Why did you–” You begin and before you finish your sentence, his lips land on yours. It’s a short but sweet kiss; you swear you hear fireworks when you feel his soft lips on yours, and you dismiss it because it’s over as fast as the kiss is. 

“Is the date really over?” He asks as you gather your thoughts. 

“No. It’s far from over.”

You get some lunch after and while the food was awful, you had a great time with him. You kept talking for hours until you realized the sun was setting, and that’s when you realized that you kept talking for hours. Toji offered to go back to his hotel to watch a movie since neither of you knew what else to do. You agreed, knowing that you aren’t going to watch a movie.

“So what movie do you want to–” Toji begins as you step into his hotel room, yet before he gets to finish the sentence, his hands are lifting up your dress. He’s been thinking about this all fucking– For days, he’s been thinking about fucking you ever since he signed your tits. He throws your dress elsewhere when his lips land on yours. 

His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours while his hands roam your body. He’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this for centuries. There’s so much passion in his kiss, and your legs begin to grow weaker and weaker. You swore you had no chance when he walked away after the game, and god, you’re so fucking glad that you were wrong.

Toji’s hand unhooks your bra, and he slides it off before throwing it elsewhere, just like the dress. Toji pulls away from the kiss, and kisses down your neck. His lips feel so hot on your skin, and you’re burning up.

When he gets to your breast, he licks across the area where he signed. His thumb and index finger begin to pinch your nipple while his tongue circles your other nipple. His tongue flicks your nipple before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck.

“I liked them better with my name on them.” Toji says when he unlatches. He kisses your breasts until he gets to your other nipple, and he latches again. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he plays with your sensitive nipples. 

“You can write your name on them again.” You tell him. His lips go to yours again and he kisses you multiple times, his hands cupping your breasts. His lips then go to your ear and he whispers,

“Let me fuck your tits, baby.” His teeth nibble on your earlobe, your hand going to the buckle of his belt and undoing it. You grow more and more desperate by the moment. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do. You unbutton and pull down his pants. He completely takes them off and your hand palms his cock. God, he grows more and more impatient with each passing second. He needs some relief.

You grab his hand and you lead him to the bed before you push him down. You pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to be free, before you get on your knees. Your hand wraps around his length, and you bring your lips together to spit on it a couple times before you put his shaft in the middle of your chest. You squeeze your tits together and he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan. You begin to move your breasts and he watches you, taking everything in him to not loudly moan into the air. He’s been waiting for this for what feels like forever.

This is better than what he imagined. How pathetic would it be for him to come fast? He hates that you’ve taken over his thoughts, even though he hasn’t even known you for a week. You’re just so fucking pretty. 

“Fuck– I love your fucking tits.” He finally moans. Your head leans down and you’re licking the tip of his cock, and maybe he should’ve abandoned his drunk friends to fuck you last night; it definitely would’ve been much better than dragging too many drunk people back into a hotel room, keeping them from yelling into the streets and embarrassing themselves. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re still here, fucking his cock with your boobs. “It’s so good.”

Your boobs keep moving up and down your boobs until his dick finally twitches, his cum making a mess. Some of it lands on your tongue, most of it on your chest. You make sure to swallow the cum that’s on your tongue, while his finger goes to your chest, gathering some of his cum before he traces his signature on your chest again.

“There we go.” He smirks as you get up from the floor. When his finger gathers his cum from your chest again, he brings it up to your lips and when you open your mouth, he shoves his fingers in. You gag on his fingers, and it sounds like music to his ears. 

He takes his fingers out, your saliva coating his digits. You get up from the floor and force him to lay down on the bed. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him. Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and you begin to pull it up. He helps you get his shirt off, and you swear there’s a god in your bed. Fuck he looks good.

“You wanna ride me?” Toji asks as his fingers begin to play with your clothed cunt. You bite down your lip as you hold back a pathetic moan in your throat.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. You sound so fucking pathetic and Toji loves it. He’s loving everything about this. 

“I just need you wrapped around me.” He answers as he pushes your panties to the side. You lean down, your mouth kissing his. Toji takes the opportunity to run his cock through your folds before he pushes himself inside of you. He lets you adjust to every inch of his cock.

Your hands go to his chest for support as you begin to move on his cock. Toji swears he’s in heaven when he feels you wrapped around his cock. Your pussy just feels so fucking good. This feeling is euphoric, and he swears he’ll forever remember this because god– He’s fucking moaning. He’s moaning so fucking loud too but you’re drowning it out.

“You feel so fucking good.” He can’t help but moan. His hands travel from your back to grip your ass. You’re moving back and forth on his cock, hitting that right spot that makes you feel so fucking good. He loves looking at your face, filled with pleasure that his cock gives him. He just wants to snap a picture so he can look at it.

Your movements were already slow in the beginning, they get even slower since you tire out quickly. It’s unfair that you’re doing all the work while Toji, who is an athlete that definitely has more stamina, does nothing. Toji teases you, “Tired? Already?”

“Please move, Toji.” You’re sticking out your bottom lip. He chuckles before he begins to do the work for you. You curse over and over again since his thrusts are rapid at least compared to the speed that you had set.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit. Your pussy begins to tighten around him, and he has to bite down his lip to not let out an animalistic noise. You throw your head back, arching your back as you shut your eyes, “Fuck– Love your cock.”

It’s all too much for you to handle. You stop playing with yourself when you’re near the edge. 

“You’re so tight.” He says through gritted teeth. You shut your eyes, and you keep moaning his name over and over again. You have no consideration for his teammates who are on the same floor as him. You don’t care if they hear or don’t hear. 

“Oh, Toji!” You loudly moan when you reach your high. He loses control, god, this is just better than everything. He’s never had something so good before. His hands go to your hips and his nails dig into the flesh.

“Need to come inside you.” He says, and you don’t care to push him away. You’re on birth control, you just need to feel his cum inside of you. So fucking bad. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do with you. He’s got you in a trance ever since you met him.

“Do it, please please please.” You chant. His movements get sloppy until he finally fills you up with his cum. He keeps his cock buried inside of you until every drop of his seed is inside of you. When he pulls out, your lips repeatedly kiss his over and over again.

Your head then falls on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you smile as you feel his hand run up and down your back. You’re breathing in his scent, and you swear you’ve never felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms like how you feel right now.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He speaks up, and you lift your head to look at him. 

“Are you sad about it?” You ask him, and you watch him shrug. Your finger pokes his muscular chest before you tease him, “You’re sad because you’re leaving? We haven’t known each other for so long.”

“I know… And I’m not sad. Why would I be?” He responds. Your head lays back down on his chest and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “You’ve just made me feel so good. I’ve never laughed so hard, and I haven’t felt this good in ages. And I don’t feel like I can let that go. I really really like you.”

“We can always reconnect. You can fly back here.” You remind him, but he seems to have a very different idea. Very different. It makes you sit up and look at him wide eyed when he suggests,

“Let’s get married.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

[munson-blurbs]

Happy Saturday! If you’re still taking requests for the 2k celebration, could I request Eddie/mall/lingerie? And happy 2k followers, definitely well deserved!

It's the return of perv!best friend!Eddie, y'all. Hold on tight.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, pet names, public sex (no one around tho), barely any foreplay because I'm lazy, friends to lovers

WC: 1.6k

--

Shopping with Eddie is like pulling teeth. First, you have to convince him to actually come to the mall with you. Then you have to continually bribe with treats from the food court just to keep him from driving off without you. Today, he’s snacking on a giant cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and slurping on a root beer.

“Remind me why I need to be here again?” he whines as you compare two denim miniskirts that look identical to him, but apparently, you can spot a difference. He takes another bite of pretzel and sighs indignantly.

“Because,” you explain, exasperation evident in your tone, “I need a man’s opinion on what to wear for my date tonight, and you’re the closest thing I have.” You laugh as he playfully shoves you. “And I needed a ride, so…”

“So, basically, you’re just using me for my male gaze and my car, huh?” he asks, running a hand over a neatly folded pile of shirts on display.

“Pretty much.” you chirp, putting both skirts back on the rack. “Ugh, this is hopeless! I’m never gonna find something.” You blow out a big breath, puffing your cheeks. “One more store and then we can go home, I promise.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but dutifully follows behind you, taking the opportunity to check out the way your shorts perfectly hug your ass. He feels a twitch in his pants as your hips sway back and forth, and he wills himself to look away.

Unfortunately, in his pursuit to keep himself from popping a boner in the middle of the Starcourt Mall, his gaze lands on the entrance to a lingerie boutique. The mannequin out in front is adorned with a red lace teddy that leaves nothing to the imagination. His eyes dart back to you, and all he can think about is you wearing it. But not for your date with whatever schmuck you’re going out with tonight; no, Eddie wants you to wear it for him. In his bed, straddling his waist, grinding on his–

“Shit,” he mutters. He thinks his voice is low enough to keep you from hearing, but he cringes as you swivel around to see what the problem is, catching him trying to discreetly adjust himself over his jeans.

“You okay–oh,” you giggle, taking notice of his predicament. “Careful, Casanova; y’might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.” You put your forearm on his shoulder and rest your chin on top of it, making him tense up even more. “Who are you picturing in that? Chrissy Cunningham? Tammy Thompson?” Before he can answer, you press on. “Ooh, or maybe a supermodel, like Cindy Crawford or Iman? C’mon, who is it?”

“What if I was picturing you?” Eddie tries to play off his words teasingly, but the raw lust blowing out his pupils gives him away. 

Biting your lower lip, you can taste the gloss you’d applied earlier. Every time Eddie jokes with you like this, pretending he wants you, it kills you inside. “Do you think I should try it on?” You look at him innocently, batting your eyelashes as you call his bluff. “Y’know, for Kyle tonight?”

At the mention of your date’s name, Eddie shrugs your arm off of him. “No,” he growls, hooking a ringed finger through your belt loop, “want you to try it on for me.” There’s no hiding his hardness now, and you can feel his heart beating faster as he draws closer to you. He swallows thickly, waiting for your response. 

You’re too stunned to speak. Eddie has always been a flirt, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, but he’s your best friend. There’s no way he seriously wants to see you in lingerie, right?

“O-Okay,” you manage, turning towards the store. Eddie intertwines his pinky with yours as though ensuring he won’t lose sight of you. You find the teddy in your size and bring it into the dressing room. To Eddie’s dismay, you yank the velvet curtain closed. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find a gap wide enough to get a glimpse of you changing. He can just imagine you shimmying out of your clothes and into the sheer lingerie. 

Fuck it. 

Careful not to expose you to a customer passing by, Eddie slips into the room, resting his hands on your waist as you examine yourself in the mirror. The lace clings to your body, hugging your curves in all the right ways. You can feel his hard length pressed up against the back of your naked thigh. 

“Eddie,” you breathe out, trying to ignore the fluttering below your belly, “what are you doing?”

“Tell me something, princess,” he says, purposefully ignoring your question, “I pictured you putting this on, but who did you picture taking it off?” He waits for what seems like an eternity, silently praying that Kyle’s name doesn’t pass through your lips.

You turn to face him, letting his strong hands fall below the curve of your ass. “You, Eddie. Always you.” As soon as you give your answer, Eddie’s mouth crashes onto yours. He brings one palm to cup your cheek while he kisses you hungrily, moaning lightly with each flicker of his tongue against yours. He guides you to the wall, palming your breasts through the minimal covering.

Eddie nudges his knee between your thighs, brushing against your sensitive sex, and you moan involuntarily. “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling at your reaction to his touch, “so needy, aren’t we? I bet you’re already soaking wet. Almost pathetic how desperate you are f’me, huh?” You want to fire back with a witty retort about how he was the one who wanted you in lingerie; he barged into the dressing room while you were changing, but you can’t string words together to form a sentence. Instead, you nod dumbly, making him laugh again. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you a little secret.” He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about your sexy little body in one of these. Not even the first time today, actually.” 

With that, your fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it as deftly as you can, and tug his pants and boxers down his thighs. His throbbing cock thwacks against his torso, leaving a pre-cum stain on his shirt. He hisses at the sudden relief, using his own fluids as lube to pump himself. You start to get onto your knees, but he stops you.

“If you put your mouth on me, ‘m never gonna last,” he warns with a smirk. “That’ll be for next time, yeah?” The promise of a next time excites you even more, and you allow him to hoist you up against the wall, pushing aside the lace as he runs his cock along your slick folds. “Y’ready?” His eyes are wide; though he wants nothing more than to be inside you, but only if you want to. When you nod, his smile exposes his soft dimples. “Thas’ my girl.” 

My girl my girl my girl. The words swirl through your brain as Eddie pushes his mushroom tip into you. The stretch is a mixture of pleasure and pain, melting into only the former as he slowly ruts up into you, allowing you to take a bit more of him each time.

Eddie’s never had sex this good before. You dig your fingernails into his back as your pussy clenches around him; he feels himself growing even harder inside you. He grabs the plush of your ass as he quickens his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groans, nearly whimpering as you tug on his hair. “Your body was meant for me, baby. Takin’ me so well, like you were made for my cock.” 

“I was m-made for you,” you echo, feeling your body tremble with delight. “Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck, Eddie!” You lean your head back, exposing your throat and giving him the perfect angle to suck a bruise just above your collarbone.

Eddie chants your name, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves more hickeys. “Can’t hold back much longer,” he confesses, trailing his tongue over the fresh set of love bites, but he keeps the same rhythm that’s driving you wild. “Wanna get my princess off before I do, though.”

“K-Keep going until you c-cum, please,” you beg him, “just like that.” You bring your middle finger down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles until you feel your orgasm wash over you. “Yes, Eddie. I’m cumming, cumming for you…feel s’good.”

Bucking his hips harder and chasing his release, Eddie is a panting mess. “Shit–gonna cum, gonna cum in-inside you, fuck.” His hot seed coats your walls as he cries out your name one last time. He gently pulls out of you, leaving cum dripping down your leg while you struggle to regain your balance.

“Looks like we ruined it,” he offers, motioning to the lingerie. There’s tears along the crotch where he roughly moved the fabric, and the mixture of your releases is starting to leave a stain. He tears off the price tag and crumples it, tossing it to the floor. “Put your clothes on over it, hmm? It’ll be our little secret.” He pauses, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Unless you wanna tell Kyle tonight?”

You shake your head. “No. No Kyle. Only you.” Honestly, you’d forgotten all about your date until Eddie just reminded you. “Gonna cancel so we can do…that again.” And hopefully again and again and again.

Eddie throws his arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “now that I’ve got you, we’re not stopping until that little number is completely destroyed.”

--

[bunnys-kisses]

hiyaa!! may i order a banana bread and tres leches with a side of mocha coffee,a vodka shot and root beer for Charles Leclerc please 🤍

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of items on there for your liking! i also accept prompts outside of formula one, so hit me with it! i'd love to hear from you! as for this sender, thank you for the lovely series of prompts! i really like what you ordered and i hope you like what i've cooked up! enjoy!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + tres leches ("i wonder if your brother know i cum in you.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + vodka shot (rough sex) + root beer (filming/recording) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mean!charles, sainz!reader, filming/recording, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy, dirty talk

charles had pretty boy privilege. he was charming and funny. green doe-like eyes, a pretty smile and the kind of features that made anyone with a working set of eyes go crazy.

he had fans. he could honestly have anyone he chose, regardless of gender. charles leclerc had the world at his fingertips, and yet he always seemed to find you under him.

you knew the camera was on you as charles kissed up your body. you tried to hold back moans as you felt the throb between your legs. charles leclerc only yearned for two things; a win at monaco and the sister of his teammate, carlos sainz jr.

carlos should've been a little more worried about his younger sister going off for a night. he had trusted charles to look after you while he was busy, after all they were quite close after being on the same team.

but as you waved your brother goodbye before you got into charles' car to "pick up your friends", you could feel the hungry gaze of charles on your back side. it was like he was mentally undressing you. once in the car, drove like he was headed in the direction of your friend's apartment but when he was far enough from carlos' home, he took a sharp turn down a side road and ended up at his own home.

charles' hand was on your thigh the entire drive, even though his eyes were on the road. his fingers inched up your skirt. "i was always curious. i wonder if your brother knows i cum in you." he said it so casually.

you froze for a moment and said, "who i see isn't carlos' concern. i'm an adult." it was true, your brother didn't have to meddle in what you did from a day to day basis.

charles nodded, "i'm just curious. i wonder if he knew what we did, the little lies you told him over this time." he patted your thigh and pulled the skirt of your dress down to where it was, "that you're a whore."

you swallowed at his words and shifted in your seat. his words were tainted with venom as if their contents were degrading. you only ever really slept with charles. mostly because your older brother would scare off anyone who tried to romantically close to you. but charles slipped right into your life under the guise of wanting to protect his friend's sister.

"i said, he doesn't need to know about it."

charles pulled into the driveway, "one day he will have to, no? our luck is going to run out."

you knew charles was filming you, when he got you undressed. you could feel the lens of his phone on your heated skin as you laid out on the bed.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said, "i think leclerc is a little nicer than sainz." he teased as he ran his finger across your front. the sight of you was beautiful.

"i'd like to keep my last name thank you very much."

he laughed and took you by the face, "not forever, ma petite salope." then pressed a kiss right beside your mouth. you whimpered and felt the heat pool in your gut at his attention on you.

the relationship with had with charles was past purely sexual. there was something that lingered. it almost felt like a possessive curl of charles' hand into your soul. a promise that no matter how far you ran, he would find you.

when he pulled away. you admired his naked form. the sight of his moles across his body, the tanned skin and toned muscles. he licked the pad of his thumb slowly before he rubbed it up against your clit. you moaned an arched your back, your hands clutching on the pillow under your head.

"femme... mère... pute." he said softly.

you tensed at the words and gave him a look, which only made him laugh. he pressed a little harder on your clit and gave you a look that read 'don't worry'.

wife.

mother.

whore.

you were the thump in charles' chest. maybe that was why he needed you so deeply. it was like being separated from his heart. and even though it was all bathed in a sexual ecstasy you both craved. charles wanted to make sure that he stood out in your mind, and that you didn't go running off.

he eyed your expression as he sank his cock into your sweet pussy. he made a soft noise and felt the thrill of pleasure down his spine as he got himself inside of you.

his pace was heavy with, giving you little room to breathe as he kept his cock inside of you. you were less of a participating lover and more of a toy around his cock.

but don't worry, charles wasn't known to break his toys. after all, who else was going to be the mother of his children? you silly little thing, charles was worried about you getting away. so he had to make sure that he left you with something a little more permanent.

"tu es à moi." he said, his hands dug into the meat of your hips. he had to admit that your entire family was very beautiful. carlos wasn't smooth operator for nothing. so charles wasn't worried that the child you and him had wouldn't be beautiful like their mother.

the thought of it excited him. the knowledge that you'd be having dinner with your brother tomorrow. laughing over a homemade meal, but your biology was doing the heavy work to make sure that charles' seed took.

even when you were apart, you'd have a part of charles with you.

he continued to move against you, egged on by your moans as he felt the sea of lust in his gut. he panted heavily as continued to move. not letting his cock out of you for a moment. he could feel the heat down to his feet as he hit your insides just right with his cock.

"you are mine. no? you know what you are to me. my dirty little slut. i wonder how your brother would feel if he saw you right now. pinned under me, face in the pillows and your hips in the air. letting me breed you like the good girl you are." his words were filthy and burned into your mind. it made you need it more. every inch of him stuffed in your poor cunt.

over the last two years of sneaking around with charles, you had to become pretty resilient to deal with the barrage of fucking from the man on top of you.

you nodded and replied, "of course, only for you."

charles loved the sound of that. he pressed into you further and shifted your hips so he could get in deeper, really feel you inside and out. it was hot, it made him feel a little red in the face as he fucked you.

you held onto the pillow under you as he got his chest up against yours. you were squished against him, but the way he was bullying your cunt left you out of breath. you could feel the heat radiating through your body.

"such a pretty little thing." he chuckled as he pressed kisses along your jaw, "so soft, perfect for me." he dragged his tongue a little bit. which made you shudder. your core dripped with heightened pleasure.

"charles."

he smirked a little bit, "don't worry, my love. you just look nice under me. let me take it all." his words were softer than before and it made the pleasure more intense.

he continued to fuck you, rutting against you with a feverish demeanor. you soon came around his cock and held onto his tanned shoulders tightly for some semblance of support. you manicured nails were rug into the skin, you could feel the shifts in his muscles as he thrusted into you. you groaned loudly and clenched around his cock. a rush of euphoria hit you.

"that's it, that's a good girl." he groaned as he battered his cock up against your womb. letting the blunt tip leave your insides bruised and creamy. he finished inside of you with a promise.

he was going to get you pregnant and make it very well known to your brother that you were with charles. enough of this sneaking around.

-

carlos did find out. maybe not the whole truth of how you and charles 'got together'. you omitted the months of sneaking around and sex. when you got pregnant, charles only became more liked by your entire family.

he was already pretty integrated into the sainz family. so this little union between you and him felt almost natural. how he doted on his pregnant girlfriend, even going as far as to tell your mother that he was expecting to propose after the season and after your son was born.

"he's going to be a good husband." your brother said as he picked at his dinner, "good father too. but you'll let me know if starts causing problems, right?" always the protective one.

you nodded with a smile, the necklace charles had gifted you gleamed in the faint light of the restaurant. in all fairness the necklace was less of a dangly chain and more close to the neck. like a choker. like a collar. you rested your hand on your cheek and stared at your brother. you nodded, "of course."

"and don't move too fast! you have to finish school!" he added, "you've only been with charles for less than a year."

the timeline for carlos was skewed, but it was for his sake. you didn't want to give the driver a heart attack. it was bad enough that you came home pregnant without a ring (for now). you just chuckled and said, "don't worry!"

you didn't want him to worry, especially if he looked too closely and found the faint appearance of love bits across your neck that had been carefully covered with make up. what carlos didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. <3