#This job has fucked up my feet my back and my wrist and I STILL come in when I'm in severe pain and I get nothing in return

[soapypartiallycleandishes]

God I hate my fucjing JOB so fucking much

[bywons]

𖥔ׅ YOU CAN BE THE BOSS — PSH

𝖮𝖱 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾

𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⋆ 𝖼𝖾𝗈!𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝒾𝖭𝖢𝖫𝖴𝖣𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒?, 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 1399 wc ( CATALOGUE。)

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა ⠀PLS REBLOG !! 4 my princess @atrirose i locee u vv much TT

“you were supposed to send me that report a week ago.”

here comes the insufferable perfectionist, with an annoying handsome face which makes it just impossible to hate him for too long. he pushes the glass so it settles still on the top of his nose bridge, eyebrows jotted together to hint a slight disappointment in you. you want to mock him, make faces and scream at him, “leave me alone, idiot!”, but then you visualise your resignation. what an asshole of a boss.

you lift your head up to meet his eyes, hands buried in the pockets of black trousers, leaning tall over your work cubicle. “i uhm- i was, i was sick. high fever,” oh gosh, you hope he doesn't catch the shakiness in your voice.

“high fever?” park sunghoon raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. “convenient timing, don't you think?”

your heart races, and you mentally kick yourself for not thinking of a better excuse. “it came on suddenly,” you stammer, hoping your blush isn’t too obvious. “but i'm feeling better now, so i'll get right on that report.”

and just as you're about to type away on your laptop, a soft but firm grip on your wrist stops you from doing so. and of course, it has to be park sunghoon, the sole trouble maker in your life.

“actually, come meet me at my office,” he says, before letting off your wrist and striding off to his office.

ugh, there you go, another hour long lecture again.

shortly after, you make it to his office. you glance back, all your colleagues getting ready to end their shift and head home. fuck you, park sunghoon, you evil man.

“sir, can i—”

“come in,” sunghoon's serious invites you in, and you close the translucent glass door behind you, which does a pretty good job of reflecting the inner furniture and heads in a blurry, but certain way. “don't just look around, take a seat.”

sunghoon doesn't lift his head up even for a second after you enter the room, he simply gestures you to sit down before him, as he types something on his own laptop, the coffee forgotten and cold beside it. you tap your heels slightly against the office floor, it's been a whole fifteen minutes inside this room already, a minute more and you might just combust.

it's hard to stare at his face. not in a boring, ‘he's so rude’ way, but more of in a breathtaking, ‘i want to kiss him’ way. to be honest, you've imagined how his lips would feel against yours, whether they would move in sync and sweep you by your feet, or steal your breath and make you fantasise. would he like the kiss? would park sunghoon ever kiss you? does he want to kiss you, like you do right now? his ever concentrated face directed towards the laptop screen, the little creases that form around his eyebrows makes him look so cute. you'd like to think that it's just a harmless crush on your grumpy boss, and nothing more than that.

but time's passing by fast, and you need to get home. the taps of your heels against the floor fastens as you say in a tone of urgency.

“mr. park, is this about—”

“call me sunghoon,” he startled you, closing his laptop, “we're of the same age, so it's weird.”

“ok, sunghoon,” you gulp, gosh it feels weird, “is this about me not submitting my leave application?”

“no? it's just a .. friendly talk with my secretary.”

“oh?” what is this bastard planning on again, “well, what is it?”

“how sick were you? i mean, your temperature,” at this point you could throw yourself out of the window. shit, he's kinda smirking, does he really know you weren't sick? that it's all a lie? that you were faking it to avoid a deadline that had you pulling your hair out and attend the corporate party instead? in your defence, that party was much needed by you after a week long of hectic paperwork.

“like about…a 102—”

“i guess people with a 102F fever don't go to parties?” crap. you know that smirk, that ‘i-caught-you-bastard’ smirk. was he at that party too? shit, no way— “i was there too.”

sunghoon sets aside his laptop and leans in against the work desk, folded hands beneath his chin and another ‘know it all’ smirk shoots at you. you gulp, did he listen to you and minji talking too? oh no, no, no, no. you don't want to be fired.

“you annoying bastard,” it was intended to be a low whisper, but under the pressure of your enraging boss's stare, it came out louder than you intended.

“annoying bastard? i think that suits me?”

“no, mr park i didn't mean—”

“no no it's okay, i get that, a lot,” and now he gets up from his seat, circling around his desk to stand just in front of you.

“but i don't get ‘he's cute’ a lot.”

shit.

“i don't get ‘i like him’,‘he's so handsome’,‘he's so gorgeous’ a lot,” you were too mesmerised by his walks and the glints of his eyes to realise he's too close now, hands on either sides of the arm rest in your chair, blocking you in, “i don't get… ‘i wish i could kiss him’ a lot.”

shit, is he smiling or smirking? you can't really say when his face is inches above yours, babbling nothing but the truth. you had in fact shared your little desires about your boss to your best friend, minji, in the party. if only you knew he would be there, you would've bolted out of that place.

this current situation is really getting to you. you're trapped in a damn chair, you don't dare to move as his face only comes closer. a sudden wave of deja vu hits you; no, you've never been trapped in a chair like this by your boss before. but this intimacy, this fluttering proximity reminds you of those playful staring contest between you and him across the office, stumbling over paperwork and crashing against sunghoons chest, and now, this. you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, as slowly his face transcends down further, now right beside your ear, his lips softly brushing the earlobe.

“no, i-i mean the other park sunghoon, you k-know?”

“hmm? but there's only one park sunghoon in the hype building whom i know of.”

“no you're getting me—”

park sunghoon doesn't let you finish your sentence, he thinks you're too cute to not kiss right now, so he does just that.

a small kiss, a look of admiration and fush in his eyes, then another, and another, and this one holds for a moment.

and the kiss is just as you imagined, soft, sensual, in sync with your rapid heartbeats as the distance slowly begins to disappear, his hands closing in around your cheeks to cup them.

he pulls back, breathing heavy with that smug smirk of his, “was it … cute? or gorgeous?”

“i think i want to kiss you once more,” you whisper. a twitching smile, shy eyes looking up at him and he smiles back, you feel yourself blushing again.

“of course,” sunghoon chuckles, now lifting you up from the chair and sitting down on it himself. placing you on his lap, he leans in for a sweet kiss, once more. it's just as soft and breathtaking as before, this time, you melt even more as you hook your hands around his neck and blush furiously into the kiss.

sitting on your boss’s lap to share a passionate kiss was definitely not in your bingo list this year.

his kisses travel down from your lips, becoming more feathery and ticklish as they reach your cheeks, jaw and finally the crook of your neck.

“i think i find you quite gorgeous too,” he holds you by your waist.

“you think?”

“nah, i'm sure”

“would then be uhm, like to be personal secretary?” he smirks, caressing your cheeks.

“and what do i get in return?” you chuckle

“anything you want,” he reassures, softly gliding a hand behind your back. your eyes surge around the office room for a potential gift, and then they land on the big bold ‘CEO PARK SUNGHOON’ engraved on the metal plate, and then you look back at him, “anything?”

“oh? mrs. ceo?” he smirks again, looking at the plate and then back at you. “of course, you can be the boss,”

a/n — yayaya comeback fic how r u guys, missed ya smsmsm ^0^ pleek lmk what u think of this !!! personally, my skills r cooked TT CLICK ME

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission

📌 :: PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN ( the tags are rebloged ! ) nets. @/k-labels

[bloatedandalone04]

The Night has Just Begun

➪the one where you and hayden make a sex tape.

Warnings: sex tape obvi, smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m receiving), swearing, think that might be it..

Word Count: 3.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The way Hayden looks with short hair never fails to drive you crazy. 

He had just finished filming Vanishing on 7th Street, and you would’ve been upset about his character’s end in that movie if he didn’t look so damn good in it. He had cut his hair short for this movie, and he got to act like a dick for most of it, and the contrast of that to his usual kind and friendly behavior had you going a bit feral. 

In celebration of the film being completed, he suggested a night at a nice hotel before going back to your house and settling back down after the chaos that occurs on set during the process of making a movie. You agreed, of course, then presented the idea of perhaps filming some behind the scenes stuff at the hotel, and he was all on board. 

Hayden was sitting at the bottom of the bed when you entered the room, and you looked to the right to see the camera and smirked a bit as you closed and locked the door behind you. 

His jacket was tossed onto the chair in the corner of the room, leaving him in just a white tee and jeans, and the simple yet extremely attractive outfit had you biting down on your lip as you paused a few feet away from him. 

You knew you were in frame now, and Hayden knew it, too, as he gave you a small smirk and beckoned you over to him, “Come here,” he softly demanded, but you just stood still with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you began to shrug off your jacket. “Come here, baby.” He tried again, and you gave in.

Walking over to him, you were a few feet away when he wrapped one hand around the back of your thigh as his other one gently grabbed your wrist and halted your action of ridding yourself of your jacket. 

“That’s my job,” he murmured as he pulled you to stand in between his legs and dropped your wrist in order to push the fabric from your shoulders. 

Heat takes over your entire body as you slide your hands up his arms as his slide down the backs of your thighs. “Oh, right,” you say as he leans down to begin placing kisses down the front of your shirt. “I was getting ahead of myself.”

Hayden hummed as he grinned up at you before sliding his hands further down to press against the backs of your knees, making you fall forward a bit. You settle on his lap as a blush takes over your face, and you hide your head in the crevice of his neck. “What?” He laughed quietly. “Why are you hiding?”

You huff and lift your head again, glancing off to the right and looking into the camera lens before returning your gaze to him. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” You confessed, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you shifted on top of him. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay,” Hayden nodded in understanding as he leaned in and placed an open mouthed kiss to the base of your throat before looking at the camera as well. “Me too.”

He sure as fuck didn’t look nervous to do this. He looked ready, prepared to get you off in all the ways he’s done before, but this time on film. 

“We don’t have to,” he said quietly. “I can turn it off-”

“I want to do this,” you mumble and bite down on your lip. “But what if someone sees it?”

Hayden smirked a bit, “Well, then they’re in for quite the show,” he teased then softened his gaze as he grabbed your hips. “I promise, no one other than you and I will see it. It’s just for us. It’s just us.”

That was really all the reassurance you needed to forget about the camera and instead focus on the achingly beautiful man beneath you. “Just us,” you say back and close your eyes as he leaned in and kissed along your neck. 

His hands grip your waist tightly as he moves your body so you’re straddling his right thigh. “Just us. I’m not letting anyone else see you like this,” he promised. “It’s all for me. Now ride my thigh.”

Your eyes open at that, and you nearly moan at the look he was giving you. “Okay,” you easily give in as you slowly start to rub your core against his thigh. You actually moan as he bends his leg more and gives you a firmer surface to grind on. “Hayden.”

His hands help guide your movements, and you slowly build up the pace as your fingers tangle in the hair on the back of his neck. “Does it feel good?” He asked, but you both knew he was well aware of the answer to that question. 

Still, you’d always give in to him. “Yes,” you whimpered as he took full control of the way your body moved on top of his. The fabric of his jeans was rough and created the perfect feeling against your core, making you whimper softly. “It feels so good, Hayden.”

He smiled lovingly up at you, still finding the dirtiest act romantic and intimate in the best way possible. Hayden leaned in and pressed his mouth to your neck and shoulders, kissing and sucking on your soft skin as you worked yourself against his thigh. 

“More,” you feebly whined as you helplessly clenched around nothing. “I need more, Hayden.”

He hushed you with his mouth, his lips meeting yours in a deep kiss. “I know,” he rasped, kissing his way up your jaw until he found the skin under your ear. “I know, baby, you’ll get more. We’ve only just started, you’re going to get so much more after you get yourself off on me.”

His words were filthy and only for you as he kept this side of himself very well hidden to everyone else. You weren’t even registering the camera capturing your sinful actions as you rubbed yourself harder against him, your hands grasping for anything to hold onto as he guided your movements. 

The stimulation on your clit was making your eyesight blur slightly, and your release was creeping closer and closer with each drag of your hips. Hayden never failed to get you off easily the first time around, when the night was just beginning, and it really didn’t take much. 

Just the fact that the man who is gripping your body so tightly right now and working you into a whiney mess for him is all yours was enough to have your body jerking as you come on his thigh and bury your face against his neck. 

Hayden releases your hips in order to let you ride out your high in much slower movements, and when you lift your head again with a lazy smile painted on your lips, he was powerless to stop his own from forming. “Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded and pressed a final, deep kiss to his lips before getting up and grabbing the camera with shaky hands. 

“My turn,�� you grin as you hand it to him and sink to your knees between his legs. You run your hands up his thighs before popping open the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. Hayden lifted his hips and allowed you to push the fabric down his legs before sitting back down and pointing the camera at you. 

Despite your current position on your knees in front of him, you give him a shy smile then kiss him through his tight boxer briefs. His breath hitched in his throat as you licked a damp spot along his length before tugging that material down, too, and tossing it aside without a care. 

Then you were taking him into your mouth and sucking him expertly. You started off slowly, then increased the pace with each bob of your head, and suddenly Hayden was having a very hard time keeping the camera still, despite him holding one countless times now. 

This was probably the dirtiest thing he had ever done. He liked to have you all to himself like this, and while he loved to show you off at premieres or date nights, this was completely new to him. 

While he’s been on camera for all of his career, you hadn’t, so to see you right now through the LCD screen felt surreal and filthy and unlike anything he’s ever felt. “Look at you,” he grunted as you took him deeper than before and encouraged him to grab your hair with his free hand. “You look so pretty like this.”

You blush and use one of your hands to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand tightly grips his thigh as a form of stability as you let his girth destroy the back of your throat. 

Hayden cursed under his breath as he adjusted the camera and leaned back. “You should’ve been an actress, baby,” he mumbled as his hand pulled on your hair and made your head lift a bit to show off his spit covered dick. “The camera loves you.”

You blush more and roll your eyes as you remove him from your mouth and stroke him quickly. “Not nearly as much as it loves you,” you mutter and poke your tongue out to lick his throbbing tip.

He moaned and released your hair so he could softly caress your jaw. “I don’t know, sweet girl,” he grunted. “You’re looking pretty good from my perspective.”

You smile and kiss up the side of his length. “You’re only saying that because you want me to be in a movie with you,”

That was true. He’d been begging you for years now to play a part in one of the movies he and his brother worked on, but you always give him the same response of ‘the camera not being your friend and making you look terrible’ which was total bullshit since he is seeing how perfect you look on camera right now. 

“This is definitely not helping with that. If only you could see how fucking pretty you look right now,” he groaned as you swiped your thumb along his tip. You repeated that action with every stroke of your hand, and sped up the pace when you saw his hips jerk. “I’m gonna come.” He warned and gently stilled your movements by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

“Good, I want you to,” you say and move your face closer to his wet and pulsing cock. “On my tongue.”

That sounded nothing short of amazing, but he is really worked up at the moment and wasn’t sure how long he would last later if he were to come right now. “But I want to come in you,”

You whine as he pulls you to stand up and away from his spit coated dick. Leaning down, you kiss him deeply as his hand runs up your back, taking your shirt with him before pulling your body closer to his. Straddling his lap again, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as  he holds you against his chest and sets the camera aside in order to flip you over so you’re on your back. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lean your head back as he peppers kisses all along your neck and shoulders before tugging your shirt off and dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. He then snaked his hands behind you and fumbled around with the clasp of your bra, and you looked over to see that the lens was pointed at you. Before you could grab it, Hayden tore the lacy fabric away from your body and picked up the camera. 

You blush deeply as you were almost completely exposed on film now, but you didn’t have time to feel self conscious as Hayden grunts, “Look how pretty you are,” it was more to himself, but since it was just the two of you in the quiet room, you heard him clear as day. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

“Hayden,” you whimper softly and reach over to trail your hand up his bare thigh. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

He smirks at you as he sets the camera down further up the bed so both you and him are in frame. “I will,” he promised as he kissed down your bare chest before he reached the top of your leggings. He pulled them down, as well as your panties, as he added, “Just had to compliment my girl first.”

You blush even more as he tugs his shirt off and drops it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor.  “Such a gentleman,” you say back then moan when he leaned down to kiss your neck as he ran his tip along your folds.  “Oh, God, I need you.”

He grinned at you before sinking into your warm and inviting core. Your previous orgasm made it very easy for him to bottom out completely after just two thrusts, and the relieved moans that left both yours and Hayden’s mouths sounded like something straight out of a porno. They kind of were, given the current circumstances. 

Your body was on fire and your whines got louder with each drag of his hips, you could barely think straight as you reached behind you to grab the camera with numb fingers. To have such a private and intimate moment be filmed felt dirty and sinful, but it also felt exciting and hot and you both knew that no one else would ever see it, so why hold back?

Not used to holding a camera, and definitely not used to filming something while being railed, you weren’t sure how well you were capturing the whole scene. You could barely see through the LCD screen as you pointed it downwards and filmed his slick-covered cock as it disappeared inside of you. 

Then you angle it upwards and capture just how beautiful Hayden looked like this. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open as deep groans left his lips, and when he glanced up and saw that you were filming him, he gave the camera a smug smile that nearly had you dropping it. “Fuck,” you whimper as you wrap your legs tightly around his waist and kept the camera on his face. “You’re so hot, Hayden, fuck, you can’t look at me like that.”

He laughed, and it sounded more deep than usual, and that really did not help your case as it had you clenching tightly around him. Hayden could barely pull out as you were impossibly tight, but it just made the pleasure you were both feeling intensify. 

“I always look at you like this,” he managed to mutter, and you just shake your head as you reach up with your free hand and grab onto his hair.

Each thrust had your body inching further up the bed, and you had to tighten your hold on him to keep his body connected to yours. “Tell me you’re mine,” you requested in a breathless tone. 

Hayden was fucking you so hard, you barely had any control over your words right now. It was clear that he was also losing himself in you as he lifted his head and smirked down at you. “You feeling possessive, baby?” He teased. “Do you really think someone else will get to see me like this? Get to have me like this?” 

His words send heat waves through you, and you arch your back as you set the camera aside in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No,” you answer in a whisper. “No, but I want to hear you say that you’re mine…all mine.”

The camera was still capturing everything as Hayden pressed a searing kiss to your lips and braced himself on his elbows at either side of your head. “I’m yours, baby,” he promised, kissing you again afterwards. “All fucking yours.”

You moan loudly as he pulls away and sits back on his knees. He grabs the camera and resumes fucking into you, but this time he’s the one filming it. One hand grips your hip as the other holds the camera above your body, and his point of view allowed nearly the entire thing to be captured. 

You were so worked up, you weren’t even paying attention to it as you stared down at where you connected. “Fuck,” you whimpered when the thumb of the hand that was on your waist moved to rub harsh circles onto your swollen and throbbing clit. “I’m going to come again.” 

Hayden hummed as he kept the camera focused on himself sliding in and out of you while he looked above it, his dark eyes narrowed at your fucked out expression. “I want you to,”

You shake your head, “I don’t want to yet,” you whine, making him laugh quietly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Hayden tilts the camera up towards your face. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” he cooed, holding off his own release. He’s shamelessly been close since the second you started going down on him, so he wasn’t going to last much longer either. “We can make another one. Fuck...we can make as many videos as you want, but right now I need you to come for me.”

You moan softly then arch your back as your second orgasm washes over you and makes you see black spots for a few seconds. You blindly reach for his hand and tangle your fingers with his as he fucks you through your high, and the extra warmth and wetness triggers his own. Deep grunts left his mouth as he slowly fucked you through his own high, knowing how sensitive you had to be at this point and not wanting to overstimulate you too much.

He had to grip onto the camera tightly so he didn’t drop it, and he focused back down at your dripping core as he slowly pulled out. You were shaking as he gently pulled his hand from yours and fucked his release back into you with his fingers, quiet groans escaping his throat at the way your walls eagerly took his seed. 

Tossing the camera aside, Hayden leans back down and hovers over you again as he presses kiss after kiss to your puffy lips, and you moan softly as you wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured and trailed kisses all over your face. 

You laugh and glance over at the still rolling camera with tired eyes. “I can’t wait to watch that as our foreplay for next time,”

Hayden hummed in disapproval as he shook his head and turned it off, setting it on the nightstand afterwards and pulling you into his arms. “I can’t do that, I’ll come before I even get to touch you,” he said and you could tell he was serious, even with the hint of humor in his voice. 

“Okay, maybe we’ll just watch me riding your thigh and me sucking you off before acting out the good stuff that comes after it,” you offer and he nods with a lazy smile on his lips. 

“I love you,” he mumbles and guides your bodies further up the bed so you’re laying on the pillows. 

“I love you, too,” you say back as you rest your head against his sweaty chest, a flicker of excitement in your eyes as you glance over at the camera. This definitely wouldn’t be the only video you and he make together.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

Simon fucks you like a lover returned home from war.

Strong hands lifted you onto the kitchen counter; the sudden movement made you gasp before it was swallowed by his lips. He kissed with urgency, almost brutal in its intensity—tongue tracing each of your teeth, sucking lightly on yours as he tilted his head to continue deepening the kiss. You sigh—thighs clad in thin stockings clamp down on his hips, feeling his jeans against the inside of your knees.

Much like a stray dog ​​to an open door of a house. Like fangs on flesh. His entire digits are famished, looking for solace that seeps through your skin. He traces the curves of your body as if time is his biggest enemy and every second snatched is a victory.

You tangle your fingers in his blonde hair, pulling him to trail kisses down your jaw. His stubble scrapes your skin. Your pulse sped as you felt him begin making his way down your neck. Placing a hand against his solid chest, you pushed him away, creating a small distance between you.

“Wait,” you interrupted. “Please don't leave marks. I have practice early, and the director, he'll..." Your words trail off in a mumble.

The disappointed grunt that he lets out almost escapes your notice. “Right, can't be having that, now can we?”

Simon, in opposition to what he had said, leaned closer still and planted his lips in the hollow of your neck. It curved your back, drawing a breathy gasp out of you. His hand slides down to grip your ass, bringing you closer against the hard evidence of his arousal. Slowly, his fingers slipped under your sweater. He finds your breasts, giving one experimental squeeze before the second. Your head was thrown back as you let out a sigh.

“Fucking things,” Simon grumbled almost offended when he felt the barrier between his palm and your thigh – your stocking getting in the way. He lifted his head and looked at you, “Let’s get you out of this, yeah?”

A shy smile curves your kiss-swollen lips as you give him a nod. It was quite amusing, seeing a man his size so undone by a thin piece of fabric. You straightened your legs to make his job easier.

“Good girl,” he says, and your core throbs excitedly from the praise.

Simon rolled the stockings down your legs, calloused fingers rubbing over your shins. You hold your breath from the contact. As the lace is finally removed, your feet feel a sudden exposure to the coolness. You watched him slowly roll the stockings into a slim coil before placing them on the edge of the counter.

When he leans in close again and claims a spot between your spread legs, you take the chance like the sly fox that you are. Overpowered by the desire to feel him again, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a new kiss. Simon's teeth graze yours as he grips your curved spine and grinds his hips even harder into your soaked underwear. Needy moans spill from your throat.

Then your hands flew to his trousers, fumbling for the zip. Simon grabbed your wrist, ending the kiss, and pulled back just enough to see what you were going to do.

“What’re you up to?”

It's frustrating; he's frustrating. He knows what you're trying to do, yet he still asks, as if he's waiting for you to openly admit it. 

Biting your lip, you try, “I want to feel you.”

For a moment, he hesitates in consideration as he sweeps his gaze over your exposed position. Panic seized you for an instant. Just because you did it last time doesn't mean he's necessarily okay with doing it again. Perhaps your eager desire has clouded your judgment, and you wonder if all he wanted was some harmless make-out, nothing more.

“Turn around for me, love.” He rasps before you can speak again.

Your eyes flickered at his command. Giving a hesitant nod, you turned around; elbows resting on the cool granite beneath you. Your thighs clenched self-consciously.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ask in a small voice, “Like this?”

“Aye, just like that,” he replies, burning a hole in the back of your head.

Despite the sense of vulnerability that came with surrendering control, it ignited something within you. This trust you placed in a barely known man, this risk you took—was it bravery or recklessness? Like clay for his hands to shape, a canvas for his passion to paint. The thrill of not knowing in which way he would touch you set your pulse racing, making your heart beat faster with each passing moment.

When his fingers hook the waistband of your panties, you hold your breath. Slowly, he pulls the lace down your thighs, and you heat up with each new patch of skin revealed. By the time the fabric reaches your feet, you well realize you're a dripping mess—this tight, little hole begging for his touch, his mouth.

Gripping your thighs, he spreads your folds open before bending to place an open-mouthed kiss. You gasp, your back arching as he explores with his lips and tongue. His nails dig deeper holding your writhing form. The sounds that came out of you increased in pitch with each swipe and suck.

“Mmmfh—! Haah~! Simon!!”

Simon removed his lips from your cunt, replacing them by planting two digits into your silky hole. He's knuckle-deep in your heat. One thickly corded hand circles around your shoulders, aligning your soft curves to his hard chest. Your moans become more intense when his fingers curl inside you, opening you even further with slow, steady pumps.

It was a beautiful painting, and Simon weaved this moment by moment into his hippocampus. Your sweat-slicked hair. Your lips, he knew, were gaping with desire. The perfect cheek of your ass as he continues to hitch your skirt higher to access your swollen flesh further. All else is insignificant, though, when you utter his name aloud like a reverent preacher's prayer—this one has the ability to make his cock throb for attention beneath his jeans.

“Relax that gorgeous body for me, darling.” He whispered next to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

The words he growled became indistinct as he continued to gently seal his lips around your earlobe. His inked hands embrace you tighter. White patches began to form in your mind; your breath came in short gasps. Your focus spreads before narrowing at the sensation of the knot threatening to untie in your lower stomach.

Quickly, Simon withdrew his fingers to work open his zip. Pulling out his cock, he clicked his tongue, seeing the glistening pre-cum on its tip. He was ready to sink home at last, to breach inside. However, his semi-conscious brain was spinning, knowing that he had forgotten something

"Shit, where's the rubber?" he asked.

“Don’t bother.”

Your murmur shocked both you and Simon. No sensible woman would risk it all just for a taste, and only the reckless would dare to bet on the possibility that carnal pleasures could bloom into something real. However, the words have been spoken, and only a coward would take them back. You never claimed to be the wiser. This oblivion is the only type of surrender that you can provide.

Simon doesn't seem to be all that different either.

In one deep thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt, seating his thick girth in your tight channel. Simon could hardly contain the moan at the corner of his throat as your raw, exquisite heat enveloped him. His massive hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he tried to find his pace. As he began to move consistently, your throat remained tight and continued to drag out the strings of his name in the lewdest way.

Your thoughts were cloudy, centered solely on the feeling of his naked cock clamped between your walls. His wandering hand moves upwards, palming the swell of your breast through the sweater. But it isn't enough; he must feel you, skin to skin.

In one smooth motion, he hitches the garment up and slips it into your bra. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he released a plump breast, weighing the soft fat in his palm.

“Fucking perfect,” he said.

The sensation of fullness in your pussy shortens your breath. He rolls your nipple between his digits—his side entertainment as he continues his pounding.

Your spine forms a beautiful curve when he moves his finger to circle your clit. Each breathy sigh and needy mewl throbbed his cock. Your hand reaches back blindly—an invitation for him to come closer, and as a good guest, Simon accepts the siren's call by taking your earlobe between his teeth.

“So fucking wet for me, darling. You like having my cock buried deep, don’t you?”

“Mmh—! Yes, yes!”

A deep chuckle shook his chest. This little ballerina was so cock-drunk that she was unable to talk, behaving like her tongue was chained and her lovely lips could only produce vulgar moans. Flames burned higher and higher—the whole room caught fire. He feels a faint, growing throb within you before it becomes more pronounced and stronger.

Hesitant to stand on your wobbly legs, you surrendered and bent your back. Goosebumps crawl all over your body when the cool granite touches your sensitive breasts. The new angle gives Simon more access to redouble his efforts. He watched, delighted, as his fat cock disappeared between your folds, only to reappear slick and pulsing.

“Simon—ah! Simon- I’m—! Ohgodohgod..!”

A few more thrusts, and he feels your tight walls hugging his cock as it starts to flutter and ripple. Heat collects in your lower stomach. Short gasps of breath escape you as your heart races. With a keening wail, your climax bursts out in waves.

Simon tightened his hold on your hips as his own orgasm began to peak. Thinking through a thick fog of ecstasy, he reaches for the tissue at your side before pulling out of your quivering cunt and letting his angry tip finish on the material. The room fell silent again, with the exception of the refrigerator's gentle hum and the sounds of two people catching their breath.

Slowly, the fog of pleasure lifted. As his brain winds down, reality comes crashing back in. The poor woman is still draped over the counter, trying to calm her heaving chest. He hurriedly adjusted his trousers.

“Shit.”

At Simon's curse, you attempt to turn around, but your legs feel weak and shaky, unable to support your body's movement. Recognizing your struggle, he moves closer and settles his big hand to help you seat yourself on the edge of the counter.

“Should've wrapped it. Wasn't thinking straight.” He continued, apologetic underneath.

Reaching for a towel, he runs it under warm water before returning to you. At first, he was hesitant—not sure whether to give it to you or do it himself. He ends up dabbing it on your thighs. His brows were wrinkled in concentration as he cautiously swept the towel. You can't help but let out a giggle at that.

"Something funny?" he asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, still smiling. “I just never thought I'd see this side of you, is all.”

It's an unexpected turn of events, indeed. When the day began, you would never have predicted that you'd be seated on the kitchen counter with Simon gently cleaning you up with a damp towel, paying you such intimate attention.

This time, it was his turn to chuckle. Your heart nearly jumped out of your ribs when a pair of brown eyes met yours. “Yeah, well. Don't get used to it, alright?”

Simon gently put the towel aside. He rested his large hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. You swept your gaze over his face. He seemed tired—his eye bags were darker than before, and his blonde hair was slightly longer than when you last saw him. If he made any attempt to appear less zombie-like, it was through his recently shaven stubble. For a moment, the two of you remain silent, attempting to relish the comfortable quiet while his thumb traces idle patterns on your legs.

“I never thought I would see you again after that night,” you mutter timidly.

Simon doesn't say anything. The weight of his gaze still remained on you, as if he knew you had more words to say. And he's right. There's this itchy question scratching at the back of your throat, demanding to be answered.

All this time, where did he go? Where did his long strides carry him in those months, when failure was the only thing you found every time you tried to look for him? Did he return to some house tucked away in the countryside? Is there anyone else with the privilege to claim his time – a family, or worse, a lover you won't be able to compete with? You ache to understand what took him from you and what pulled him back into your orbit.

"Where did you go?" The words stumbled out in a rush before you could stop yourself.

At your question, something shifted in his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher it any deeper. Simon transferred his weight to his other leg.

“Got deployed.” The only answer he can provide.

"Oh." You breathe, almost to yourself – the reality of Simon's life settles upon you once again.

Your eyes scan him intently, observing every visible part of him with a new sense of awareness. His face remains unharmed. The backs of his hands bore no new marks. His neck is also untouched.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

But, you ask anyway, wanting—needing reassurance that the t-shirt he's wearing isn't concealing any fresh injuries he has brought home, that no part of his body is in need of healing.

“Just a few bumps and bruises, is all. Comes with the job.”

He responded in a casual manner, showing little to no care for his well-being. It was as if this was normal—and, in fact, it is for him. He knows that every mission he takes could be his last, so coming out with just a few bumps and bruises sounds like a pretty good aftermath.

But still, you want to be the judge of that. After all, being able to endure it does not mean he is obligated to withstand it. You want to see it for yourself, to actually assess the extent of his injuries and make sure they're as minor as he claims.

As he begins to pull away, you feel a surge of panic at the thought of him leaving. Without thinking, the words tumble from your lips: “Wait!”

Simon froze immediately, turning questioning eyes on you. You bit your lip, looking for an excuse to prolong your time together. Your gaze falls on the cabinet where you keep your coffee grounds, two packs of Earl Grey tea, and a bottle of foreign drink.

“I don’t know much about bourbon,” you admitted, hoping he could decode the meaning beneath your lines. “But I think I bought the one you liked.”

He left the offer hanging as he searched your gaze for something. Your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Please understand what I ask of you—stay for a bit longer. There's a heavy longing that lives in my chest, and it's weighing me down to the floor. The night is too cold for me to feel that undefined ache alone. Please, please, please—

However, whether he got the message or not became unimportant when he gave the answer.

"Alright then, pour us a drink."  

@strawberrygato

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[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[alisonsfics]

back in chicago - part 3

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after years in germany, you return to chicago and immediately run into your ex-boyfriend. if you thought it’d be easy jumping back into your old life, you were wrong. new people had entered carmy’s life, including a new woman, but you were still everything to him.

word count: 2.3k

part 1 / part 2 / part 4

“Carmy, what’re you doing here?” You asked, quickly wiping the tears of your cheeks.

“The umm…fight with Claire got worse. Can I crash here tonight?” He asked you. His stress was written all over his face. Carmy’s usual strategy was to avoid his problems. It was why he decided to break up when you got the job offer in Germany, rather than make long distance work.

“Carm…I really don’t know if that’s the best idea.” You said, cautiously. Until the kiss tonight, you hadn’t realized you were still hung up on Carmy. And it felt like he was still hung up on you. So, him crashing at your place while in a fight with his girlfriend didn’t seem like the best idea.

“Y/N,” he pleaded with you.

“Yes, Carm? You really don’t think you spending the night on your ex-girlfriend’s couch is going to make the fight with your girlfriend worse?” You reasoned with him.

Carmy sighed and looked down at the ground. He stuck his hands into his pockets, still refusing to look you in the eyes. “She kicked me out.” He admitted, softly. You could see how embarrassed he was.

“And I’m sure that was a test to see if you’d end up here. I can’t be the person you go to when you’re fighting with Claire. I’m your ex-girlfriend, Carmy.” You told him. Carmy ran his hand through his hair. He knew that everything you were saying was right.

“Can we please just talk?” He practically begged you. He finally looked at you, and you could see his desperation.

You sighed and then opened the door for Carmy to come in. He walked past you and sunk down onto the couch. He put his head in his hands.

You sat down in the armchair next to the couch, hesitantly keeping your distance after the kiss.

“I don’t know what’s fucking going on. I wasn’t expecting to see you today, and it’s really fucked me up. I mean, it was easy to say I was over you when you were four thousand miles away, but then you were right in front of me. And I don’t know if that means you’re just someone who will always be special to me or if I’m still…I don’t know, in love with you or something.” Carmy rambled.

“I know that this has been a lot to adjust to, but this isn’t fair to Claire. You can’t be in love with me. It can’t happen. You’re with her.” You told him. He swore under his breath.

“I know that this is fucked, but did you not feel anything tonight? That kiss didn’t mean anything to you?” He asked you. You pushed yourself to your feet and walked into the kitchen. You poured yourself a drink because you were far too sober to be having this conversation.

“C’mon, don’t just ignore me.” Carmy said, following after you.

“Don’t you understand that I can’t answer that, Carmy?” You asked him, exasperatedly. He closed the distance between the two of you. You backed up until your back bumped against the fridge. “Does that mean it meant something?” He asked you, softly.

You were holding back tears. “It was a fluke, Carmy. You were mad at Claire. And I was surprised to see you. That’s all.” You told him. You had a pit in your stomach, knowing you were in denial.

“What if it wasn’t? What if this wasn’t an accident? You coming back to Chicago and seeing me. What if this is what was supposed to happen?” He asked you, softly. You quickly shook your head, pushing him away from you. “You’re drunk, Carm. You need to go home. I’ll call you an Uber.” You told him.

He shook his head and grabbed your wrists. “What am I supposed to do?” He asked you, his voice breaking. After all these years, you still couldn’t stand seeing Carmy upset.

“You can sleep on my couch tonight, but you need to apologize to Claire tomorrow. I won’t let you mess up your relationship with her because of this. Carm, you and me are in the past. We have to let it stay there.” You told him.

You walked past him towards your bedroom. You grabbed a spare blanket and pillow and headed back towards the living room. You found Carmy sitting on the couch wiping tears off his cheeks.

He softly thanked you as you handed him the pillow and blanket. “Hey,” he called out and gently grabbed your hand. You turned back around to face him.

“I’m sorry for all this. I shouldn’t be putting you through this shit.” He apologized, sincerely. You smiled and nodded. You didn’t know what else you could say to Carmy to fix things. “Good night, Carmy,” you said, before leaving the room.

Neither one of you slept good that night.

When you woke up, you were dreading having to face Carmy. When you finally emerged from your bedroom, you found the blanket neatly folded on the couch with a note on top.

You recognized Carmy’s scribbled handwriting.

“Hey, I’m sorry about all the shit I said last night. I needed time to think and clear my head, and I shouldn’t have bothered you. Thanks for letting me stay over. I’ll see you at Richie’s party today, so I guess I’ll see you soon. - Carmy”

You felt your heart sink as you remembered about Richie’s party. Knowing that you’d have to face Carmy and Claire was eating you up inside.

You headed towards the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. You heard the front door squeak as it opened: Maria returning home from her night with Richie.

“Girl, I have so much to tell you.” She said, enthusiastically. You turned around to face her, trying to fake excitement. “Oh no. What happened with you? Is it Carmy?” She asked, instantly being able to read every emotion on your face.

You quickly shook your head, dismissing it. “We’ll get to my shit later. I want to hear all about your night first.” You told her.

You both made coffee and then sat together on the couch. She gave you the full debrief on how Richie had officially asked her out last night. He wanted it to be the real deal after they had refused to label their relationship the last time.

“Okay, so what about you? I know that face. I know something happened. Are you okay?” She asked, concerned. You held back your tears and shrugged. “Shit hit the fan last night,” you said, laughing at how messed up everything had gotten.

“You and Carmy seemed good though.” She said, having only seen the cute moments between you and Carmy at the club last night.

“I don’t know if you got looped in on this last night, but apparently Carmy is dating Claire. You remember from back in school? Yeah, so she got pissed at Carmy because I was back in town. She seemed pretty convinced that he wasn’t over me. So, I went upstairs to avoid all the drama. And then Carmy kissed me, but I stopped him.” You started to explain.

“Then, I came back here, and a few hours later, Carmy showed up. He wanted to crash here. I told him it was a bad idea, and he started talking about not knowing if he was still in love with me.” You told her.

By the time you finished explaining, she was stunned. “Oh my god, are you going okay? I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.” She said, pulling you in and giving you a hug.

“I’m just so nervous for Richie’s party today. I can’t stand the idea of seeing Carmy after the stuff he told me. And Claire is pissed at me, which I understand, but I haven’t done anything.” You said. She nodded along, recognizing how tricky the situation was. “Well, I’m sure it will be fine, but if you don’t want to go or you want to leave early, I totally understand.” She told you.

You both got dressed for the party and headed towards the Bear.

When you walked inside, you saw all the decorations that you assumed Sugar hung up. The first person you both bumped into was Carmy. “Hey, guys,” he said, smiling at the both of you.

You forced yourself to ignore him and made a beeline for where you saw Sugar on the other side of the room. Maria got dragged into a conversation with someone else.

“How are you? You look amazing.” Sugar said, pulling you in for a quick hug. “Thanks, so do you,” you said, smiling at her.

“Excuse me, let me sneak past you both.” You heard Claire say as she juggled two drinks. She walked past you both and headed towards Carmy. Nat noticed the glare that she gave you, but didn’t mention it.

Then, Richie appeared. “Hello, my amazing friend, it’s nice to see you.” Richie said, pulling you in for a hug.

“It’s nice to see you too, Richie. Happy birthday,” you said, holding out the gift bag you had for him. He graciously accepted it. “Thank you, and thank you for coming. I know it’s a lot with the whole Claire Carmy situation.” He said.

“Did something happen with you and Carmy? He keeps looking over here.” Nat asked. You felt your heart sink. You were trying to avoid Carmy as much as possible at this party, which you knew would be a challenge. “Yeah, I didn’t see you much after Claire showed up last night. You two okay?” Richie asked you. They were both concerned for you.

While you appreciated their concern, you did not want to talk about it. You wanted to take a page out of Carmy’s book and ignore the problem until it went away.

“I love you both so much, and I know you mean well. But, I really don’t want to talk about Carmy. So, if you’ll excuse me for a minute.” You said, heading towards the kitchen door. You needed some peace and quiet to clear your head.

You walked in and saw Sydney. “Oh, hey. You look great, that dress is gorgeous.” She complimented. You quickly thanked her and noticed she was making herself a drink.

“Anyway you could make me one of those?” You asked her, curiously.

She quickly nodded. “Yeah, of course. Ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend problems? Coming right up,” Sydney said, immediately understanding.

Meanwhile, Claire had just overheard Richie tell Maria that he “had a great time last night” and asked if she wanted to stay over again. She immediately marched over towards where Carmy was standing in the corner.

“Hey, baby,” Carmy said, wrapping his arm around Claire’s waist. “Where did you say you went last night?” She asked him. They’d already had this conversation, but now she knew he’d lied.

“What do you mean? I told you I went over to Richie’s.” He lied, pressing a kiss to her temple. Carmy was trying to act nonchalant, but he knew something was off. “Really? Cause I just overheard Richie say he had a very different guest last night, and it wasn’t you.” Claire confronted him.

Carmy froze. He didn’t know why he had lied in the first place. Probably because he knew that if he told Claire he stayed with you that Claire would assume you slept together.

“Did you go to see her last night?” Claire asked, her tone was icy.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, c’mon,” Carmy said, guiding Claire towards the kitchen, so they could have their conversation in private.

“You want to hide me away, so all your friends don’t know how shitty you are?” Claire asked. Carmy groaned to himself. “C’mon, we don’t have to do this in front of everybody.” He said, continuing to nudge her towards the door.

“You know what, Carmen? It’s really my fault. I should’ve known that if little miss soulmate ever came back to Chicago, you would’ve fallen right in to bed with her. What was I thinking? That having a girlfriend would have stopped you? Clearly not,” she yelled at Carmy as he pulled her into the kitchen.

They both froze when they saw you and Sydney standing in the kitchen, with shocked expressions.

“Oh, for fucks sake. Of course you’re here,” Claire groaned. You downed the rest of your drink, needing the temporary courage.

“Listen, Claire, whatever is going on with you both is not my business, but you have no reason to have an issue with me. Nothing happened last night. He slept on my couch. I didn’t fuck your boyfriend.” You yelled at her, storming past them and heading out the front door.

Sydney quickly excused herself, not wanting to be stuck with the fighting couple. Claire and Carmy both were still stunned. You were someone who was always pretty able to keep your cool.

Carmy looked between Claire and the door that you ran out of. “Are you fucking kidding right now? You want to run after her, don’t you?” Claire asked Carmy, shocked. Carmy huffed and ran his hand through his hair.

“You know what? Fuck you, and yes, I do want to run after her.” Carmy said, rushing towards the door. He ran down the street looking for you when he spotted you crying in the alley. He rushed towards you.

He wiped the tears off your cheeks and pulled you into a hug. “This is your fault, Berzatto.” You said, pushing him away from you.

“I know I really screwed up. I shouldn’t have come over last night, but I don’t know what to do.” Carmy said, looking over at you and hoping you had the answers. You didn’t know what to tell him.

“You need to be with your girlfriend right now, not comforting me.” You told him. You figured the only way to keep the shit show from happening was to keep you two apart. “But I still care about you. I still consider you a friend, and you matter to me.” He told you softly.

“But, I can’t matter to you. Not anymore,” you said, before turning to leave.

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[storm-angel989]

How would Valentine and the other vees react to his daughter attempting to take her own life? Sorry if its too dark u don't have to answer the request.

It’s never too dark of a request. I hope by writing this fic someone, somewhere who might be struggling sees that their life has irreplaceable value.  I’ve been in that headspace, held that belief that the world would be better off without me. It’s a dark space, but I can promise you it gets better- I can’t say it enough. 

It gets better.

For anyone who is going through this- I’ve been there. I promise you, it gets better. <3 My DM’s are open for anyone who ever needs to chat. 

Even if it feels like no one else in the world cares, I PROMISE I do. 

<3 Mandy

Valentino treated overdoses like it was his job. 

In a way, it was. You don’t gain the titles he had without learning a thing or two along the way. When you deal with drugs, afterall, you deal with the unfortunate side effects that came along with them. It was simply good business to have the basic medical skills, enough to keep the user alive long enough to get them to someone who can bring them back the rest of the way. 

After all, dead addicts don’t pay. 

Another late night. There seemed to be quite a few of them lately, not that Valentino minded. Surrounded by his models, beautiful demons who brought out every aspect of the word lust. The music in the club hit perfectly, and his salesdemons were making bank tonight. At that moment, it felt like nothing in the world could go wrong. 

The shrill shriek of his phone interrupted his blissful buzz. Glancing at the caller ID he did a double take.

“Vox? I’m at work. This better be an emergency.” He answered sharply. “You know I don’t like to be…” 

“Valentino, you need to come home. Now.” Vox’s sharp voice interrupted him. “It’s Reader. Something’s wrong.”

Valentino was on his feet and out the door without a second thought. Shoving demons aside, he jumped in the limo. The ride home took less than two minutes, but it felt like an eternity. 

He shoved open the door to her bedroom, and the sight that greeted him felt like he had been punched in the gut. His daughter laid on her side, a blanket draped over her shaking body. 

“What happened? Is she sick?” Valentino demanded as he knelt down next to her. “Why didn’t you bring her downstairs?”

“Val, I just found her. She’s awake, she’s breathing, she has a pulse, she’s just..silent,” Vox replied. “And look…” 

Vox held up her arm and Valentino visibly winced at the sight. Cuts covered her wrist, up as far as he could see. From just below the vein, bright red blood dripped. Silently, Velvette handed him an empty bottle. He looked down at his daughter and gritted his teeth. 

“Bebita, what did you do?” He muttered as he glanced at the label. “You found this empty, Vel?”

“Yeah.”

Valentino cursed. No wonder she was still awake, but she wouldn’t be for long. “Vox, page downstairs and tell them to have the on-call doctor and have him meet us there. Both of you, with me, now.”

He carefully lifted up his daughter and, without waiting for the elevator, hurried her down the stairs, Vox and Velvette behind him. He looked down at her as dark blue foam began to drip from the corners of her mouth. In his arms, she curled and heaved into him. Valentino glanced down as warm blue liquid stained his jacket. 

Fuck. 

“Get up,” Valentino barked at the on duty nurse. He rattled off a list of things he would need as he laid his daughter on her side. From the cupboards, he tossed supplies on the counter. 

“Put an ng tube in,” he growled to the nurse as he handed her a bottle of dark black liquid. “Get this entire bottle down her throat and then take it out. Vox, where the fuck is the doctor?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Valentino stepped back and continued to yank open the cupboards, frantically searching until he found the right combination to counteract the pills she took. Without another thought, he slid the needle into her vein with a practiced hand. 

“Come on, mi amore, don’t you dare,” he growled as his daughter closed her eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He pressed his hand against her chest, desperate to feel the beating of her heart. 

A faint thud beneath his palm. A whimper of pain.

The doctor walked in seconds later and with orders from Valentino, whisked her away to the back. Fury raced over Valentino’s expression and he turned to Vox and Velvette.

“What the fuck happened to my daughter?”

Velvette looked up from her phone and quietly handed it to Valentino. “ I don’t know how else to say it, but…Val, she made a post and…well, it looks like she tried to commit suicide.”

Valentino felt himself pale as he stared down at the screen. “No, she wouldn’t. My little girl? Why would…”

“I don’t know, Val,” Vox said sharply. “But I do know we fucking missed a hell of a lot of signs based on the amount of damage she did to her body already.” 

Valentino sank onto one of the empty beds and stared across the room. His little girl was in so much fucking pain she felt the world better off without her in it? His little girl hurt so badly, she needed to hurt herself? He buried his face in his hands. Had he gotten to her in time? Would she even survive this attempt? Why the fuck hadn’t he seen the signs? 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and weight shift on either side of him. He tried to hold back the tears of sadness, of guilt. The tears that came with the adrenaline rush he didn’t normally feel. 

“Val, we’ll get her through this,” Vox said softly. “I think we found her in time.”

Valentino tried to swallow back his sadness, but his voice still shook as he spoke. 

“What..what cued you in? What made you check on her?”

“Her blood pressure tanked, and I got the alert on my phone. As soon as I saw her, I called you. Couldn’t have been more than…”

“It takes seven minutes for her vital signs to be affected,” Valentino said bitterly. “Blue foam on the mouth and vomiting occur at fifteen. Her heart stops at twenty five. She’s lucky you found her when you did. Lucky I had the drugs I needed on hand, lucky that I knew what to fucking do otherwise…just a few more minutes…she still might not…”

“No, she will. And she will get through this. We will get her the help she needs, Val. Whatever she needs.” Velvette said sharply.

“You wouldn’t walk on a broken leg, depression, anxiety, mental illnesses, they’re no different. They need to be treated, just like any other disease,” Vox added. “We know this, Val. We’ll get her the treatment she needs to fight this.” 

“Mr. Valentino?” the doctor's voice broke through their conversation. 

Valentino stood up. Vox and Velvette joined him.

“She’s in recovery. We pumped her stomach and are running a few tests, but thanks to your quick actions,  it looks like she’ll be just fine. I don’t think she’ll suffer any long term effects,” the doctor told them. “She’s awake. You can go in and see her. I would like to suggest an adolescent psychiatrist…”

“Yes, absolutely. Get her over here as soon as possible. Whatever my daughter needs,” Valentino said quickly as he made his way down the hall. 

The sight of his daughter laying in her hospital bed made him stop in his tracks. He swallowed back the fear and sadness that crept up his throat. She looked too small to be lying there, too frail to be anywhere but safe in her own bed. Her arms wrapped up tightly in white bandages, the monitors that showed her heart rate on a screen. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lift her up and sprint her back to the safety of their home, keep her in the safety of his arms. 

But he knew, somewhere deep inside, that that wasn’t what was best for her. 

“Daddy? Are you mad at me?” 

Her soft voice broke through the quietness of the hospital room. 

“No, babygirl, no,” he replied quickly as he made his way across the room. He sat down next to her and smoothed back her hair. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re okay.”

She stared at him with exhausted eyes. “I ruined your good jacket,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry…I’ll…”

“Fuck the jacket,” he replied quickly as he pulled off the vomit stained cloak. He tossed it into the corner of the room. “Bebita, I can replace that. There is only one of you, and you my love…oh honey…why didn’t you come tell me what was going on?”

She shrugged and looked down. He took a deep breath and in one swift movement, laid down next to her and pulled her body against his. 

“We can figure that out later,” he said quietly as he held her. “Not now. Right now, Daddy is here.” 

“Are you…are you going to send me away?” she whispered. 

Valentino swallowed. “Send you away? No. Never. You’re my little girl.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “If you need the extra support, an inpatient stay, we’ll give it to you. But I would never, ever send you awake. We’ll do whatever it is we need to do to get you better. Life doesn’t need to be this hard, mi amore. It gets better. I promise.” 

“I’m not crazy,” she sniffled. “Daddy, please..” “No one said you were,” he said soothingly. “My ninita.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I promise you, it gets better. And Daddy and Uncle Vox and Auntie Vel? We love you more than all the rings of hell. We’ll be by your side to support you- no matter what.” He held her ever so slightly tighter, “I love you, reader. We will get through this. I promise.”

[chaoticharrington]

Chapter Three: Queer Panic and Smutty Books

***BEFORE YOU READ ANY FURTHER THERE IS GOING TO BE SEX,BDSM,AND OTHER GENERAL NSFW THINGS IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR A BLANK BLOG OR A BLOG WITH NO AGE PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT,IF I SEE IT, YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED! THANKS<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Steve being sad, Robin being awkward, Eddie being sexy as hell, kissing, cum eating, blow jobs, oral female receiving, major dirty talk, Dom! Eddie, masterbation, voyerism (if i've missed any lemme know), Eddie and Steve are in their early to mid 40s, reader is in her mid 20s

Summary: Eddie takes you out on a proper date, and you have some words with Steve

Authors Note: YAYYYY THE SMUT HAS COMMENCEDDDD! i'm sorry this took so long to upload, I genuinely was having major writers block writing the smut for some reason, plus I just wanted it to be perfect for you guys! Anyways ENJOY :D 8k words

**Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Four Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

You could get lost in this man’s lips forever, constantly intertwined. He kissed you like a man starved, like his life depended on every kiss. He tasted like whiskey, you didn’t even like whiskey that much, but you couldn’t care less. You want him, you want him in such a primal way that you huff when he finally breaks off the kiss and touches his forehead to yours.

“Slow down there tiger” he breathes as his chest rises harshly up and down trying to catch his breath. You huff in protest, trying and failing to pull him back into a kiss with your arms still around his neck. But Eddie is too strong, he pulls your arms from around his neck and holds your wrists in one of his hands and holds your chin with the other.

“If we’re gonna do this I wanna do it right, kay?”, he says, nuzzling his nose against yours. You look at him confused, unsure of what he means by that, head still clouded with lust and want.

“Do it right?”, you question him. He smirks at you like you’re oblivious and missing something obvious. He runs his thumb over your lips while he explains.

“Well..If we’re going to do this...us.. together. I want to take you out on a proper date, you can pick where we go. But I want to show how you deserve to be treated. That alright with you?” he proclaims.

You bite your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to spill out and nod your head in excitement. This was really happening, with him. With Eddie fucking Munson.  

“Good girl”, he coos, looking at your lips again like a lion hunting its prey.  And you almost give in, and let him kiss you, touch you, fuck you. But Eddie was right, you wanted to see what it felt like to be treated like a woman, like someone desirable.

So, instead you groan and put your head into his chest, inhaling his scent. He smelled like cigarettes and leather, you breathed in deeper like a woman starved.

“You’re making it really fucking hard here mister”, you groan into his chest. His laugh vibrating his chest making you look up to see the smile on his face, eliciting a smile on your face too.

There he is.. there’s my Eddie... MY Eddie

“I didn’t know being a gentleman was considered a crime nowadays,” he taunted, his eyes twinkling under the light of the kitchen. You roll your eyes.

Oh yeah, he’s still Eddie

“No not that Eds... what you said AFTER that” you said your voice faltering at the end, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, unable to utter the actual words “Good girl” out loud.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by your sudden shyness after basically eating his face off. “Oooohhh you mean when I called you a good girl?” he asks knowingly.

You look down at Eddies feet, unable to look him in the eyes, your cheeks surely bright red by this point. Eddie’s hand that’s still resting on your chin, forces you to look at him again.

“So easy to fluster, this is gonna be fuunn,” he taunts lowly, giving you a quick kiss on your lips. You whine against his lips indignantly.

The two of you spend the rest of the night entwined on the couch, alternating between kissing each other or how the two of you usually were; just laughing and talking about life.

You felt so free, like part of you that you had left in a cage long ago was starting to flap its wings. At some point the talking and kissing ceased and the both of you fell asleep entangled together on the couch. As you were falling asleep, you genuinely thought that you had never been this comfortable in your life.

You woke up in the middle of the night with a gasp, waking Eddie up too, making him fall off the bed with a thud.

“Gawd princess you gotta warn a fella, I’m not invincible like the young bucks you’ve been with before” he says sleepily, rubbing an ache out of the small of his back.

You giggle at him and look at the time on the clock, 5:04 am, you sigh in relief, still time to sneak back into Violet’s room and get some sleep before she wakes up for work.

“I can’t believe we fell asleep on the couch” you whisper, trying not to make too much noise as you get off the couch. You were young, but no one’s back feels good after sleeping on the couch.

“I was just so comfy, with you laying on me.” Eddie admits.

“Me too,” You reply sheepishly, now fully awake you remember the events that transpired not a few hours ago.

You help Eddie up off the floor, he immediately wraps his arms around you. You hum into his touch, appreciating how natural this already feels to you. He kisses the top of your head and then lifts your head up with both of his hands and kisses your lips firmly.

This time he moans into the kiss, hearing him sets your skin on fire. You squirm out of his arms to look at his face to make sure it was real, that this is really happening.

He looks back at you scanning your face for any doubt but finds none and smiles idly at you.

“I should probably go back to Violet’s room,” you voice.

He does a dramatic frown and pouting noise, before kissing you one last time.

“Just need one more for the road,” he teases, eventually releasing you.

The two of you walk up the stairs together, holding hands the entire way, parting at the top of the stairs to go your separate ways. You feel giddy, never having felt this way before.

You get one last peak at him before he goes into the master bedroom at the other end of the hallway. You touch the doorknob to Violet’s room and turn it slowly. Trying to make as little noise possible in hopes of not waking her up. You slide under the covers soundlessly. Staring up at your best friend’s ceiling.

What the fuck am I doing?

Violet turns over in her sleep and rests her arm over your chest, completely unaware of what transpired between you and her dad. You take a deep breath in, willing yourself to calm down so you can sleep.

Deciding that future you, would think more about this tomorrow, right now you just wanted to bask in the fact that Eddie Munson kissed you.. and now he wants to take you out on a date.

You wake up to the sound of Violets work alarm, you hear groaning next to you as Violet wakes up to turn the alarm off. She sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

“Good Morning babe,” she says tiredly.

You smile, she looks so much like her dad, her deep brown eyes, her infectious smile, even how her eyes look when she’s just woken up. Little things you never noticed before because you tried so hard not to think about her Eddie. But now you can’t not see it, not after last night.

“Morning,” you mutter, still waking up yourself.

You sit up in bed, you’re exhausted, between the emotional rollercoaster of a day you had yesterday and staying up late with Eddie, it feels like you’ve gotten almost no sleep.

“What’s that?” Violet asks, pointing at you.

“What’s what Vi?” you look at her curiously.

“Is-is that a hickey on your neck?” she asks a bit louder.

You cover your neck faster than a flash of lighting, you were so caught up in the moment with Eddie yesterday you weren’t even thinking about whether or not him kissing and nibbling on your neck would leave marks.

Violet moves your hand away to get a better look at your hickey, you try to fight her off, but she pins your hands with her legs, stuck in her grasp. Your decisions from last night suddenly becoming very very real and very scary. You wanted to tell Violet eventually about you and Eddie. But not right now, not before you’ve even had your first date.

“Damn... He kissed you like that and still rejected you. What a fucking prick, I was so caught up in helping you yesterday I didn’t see this last night” she says still admiring your hickey.

Relief floods your system, Violet assumes you got the hickey from Steve. Why wouldn’t she? She has no reason not to trust you, until now.

“Yeah, that’s why I was so embarrassed” you lied, you fucking hated lying to her, but you’d tell her when you were ready; And the timing just wasn’t right.

“Give me his address so I can kick his ass, better yet give me the name of the Dean so I can get him fired for using you like that,” she retorts.

“No Vi it’s really okay, I’m only going to be in his class for a couple more months and then I won’t have to see him ever again,” you reply.

Violet nods seemingly satisfied with your answer and got off you. You watch her as she gets out of bed and starts to get ready for work, quickly concealing the hickey Eddie gave to you the night before. You really do have the best friend in the entire world.

Even with everything that happened with you and Eddie, your interaction with Steve still really stung. Remembering what happened, felt like a pit was sitting in your stomach. Thinking back on it you don’t blame him for how he reacted, he’s your professor, he could lose his job if the wrong person found out about the two of you.

You do regret how you reacted to him though, you’re not usually one that is quick to anger, but you just felt so rejected by him. Maybe you would apologize to him after class, you hoped he would accept your apology.

Violet lets you borrow some of her clothes and the two of you get ready for the day in her room. You do some light make up, while Violet fixes her hair.

“Fuck where is it?” You see Violet searching around in one of her drawers looking for something.

“Do you mind running to the bathroom for me and seeing if my hairspray is in there?” she asks.

You nod and head out into the hallway, looking at the stairs that you walked up last night hand in hand with Eddie. You can’t help but smile lightly at the memory.

You walk down the hall to the bathroom and go to open the door. But as you reach for the handle it swings open. Coming face to face with a shirtless Eddie, wearing only a towel around his waist.

You lips go into an “O” shape at the sight of him, your panties practically dropping to the basement floor. He smiles widely at you, looking at Violets door and then scooping you up into a kiss. You soften into his grip, glad that he hadn’t changed his mind about the two of you since sleeping.

“Mornin’ m’lady” he smiles into your hair.

“Morning Eds” you say as you kiss him on the cheek because that’s as far as you can reach on your tippy toes. It takes every atom in your body to not jump him right there in broad daylight with Violet in the other room. He beams at the nickname, giving you another swift kiss.

“Did you find it?!” Violet yells from the other room.

Both of your eyes go wide, and Eddies hands drop to his sides at the sound of his daughter. He winks at you before leaving to go to his room. Your head now dizzy after kissing Eddie, you scramble through the bathroom drawers to find what Violet needed, and running back to her room before she went looking for you.

The rest of the morning continuing with business as usual, the three of you eat breakfast together, courtesy of Eddie. He made French toast and bacon, and he put whip cream smiley faces on all the French toast stacks.

Violet announces that she’s spending the following weekend at Quinns, because they were going to have a Lord of The Rings marathon, something they both take very seriously. Violet leaves soon after to go to work, while you and Eddie both take your time finishing your food.

“So next weekend then?” Eddie questions, with a mischievous smile.

You look up at him from your plate, “Can’t wait,” you confess.

He looks down at his food again, pushing his food around his plate with his fork like a child. His eyebrows are knit together like he’s thinking really hard.

“You alright over there old man?” you joke, nudging him with your foot under the table.

He looks up at you like you broke his concentration, “Yeah, I’m good, I just don’t want you to think that I’m trying to keep you a secret or anything, ya know? I know Violet is grown and what I do with my life isn’t really her business anymore, but I just don’t think I’m ready to tell her yet if that’s okay with you?” he explains.

You look at him kindly and nod, feeling the same way. You hoped that when the both of you did eventually tell Violet that she would at least want the both of you to be happy, even if it took her awhile to get used to it.

You finish breakfast shortly after, needing to stop at your apartment before school to grab some books. You grab all your stuff from Violet’s room, and you’re about to put your stuff in the car before he calls out to you.

“Not so fast princess” turning you around and pinning you against the inside of the front door. Cradling your face in his hands, a sensation you were now very familiar with, dipping down and kissing you fiercely.

“I could get used to this” he whispers into your neck, giving a swift peck before grabbing your bookbag and walking you out to your car. You were so shocked you didn’t know what to say, a guy had never carried anything for you before, you could get used to this too.

“Text me later k?” he asks, you had his number in your phone because technically the two of you work together, but up until this point you had been too chicken to ever text for anything other than necessary for work, and maybe a few memes you thought he’d get a kick out of.

You nod and give him one final kiss, addicted to his lips at this point, and then drive off down the road towards your apartment.

Driving away from the safety of Eddie’s house was making the anxiety in your stomach boil up into your throat. You had to see Steve today and you had to apologize. As much as you didn’t want to go to class and face him, you knew it was the right thing to do. If you wanted to keep your job and work civilly alongside him then you had to.

Before you could even think about Steve, you had a huge paper due on Queer Cinema in your Gender Studies class. Gender studies really was one of your favorite classes that was sure to put you in a good mood before you had to face the music.

Professor Buckley spent a majority of the class showing clips from iconic queer films and discussing the importance of representation in media. She was in the middle of taking about a scene she had just played and why its relevant, when a male student raises his hand.

“Plus, he’s really hot.” he said.

The entire class erupts into laughter, and one of the girls you sit behind in your sociology class chimed in.

“Not hotter than Professor Harrington though!” she giggled, a bunch of other girls and guys from the class agree along with her.

Robin rolling her eyes, “This class is supposed to give me hope for humanity, not swooning over some GUY, and dingus isn’t as hot as you all think. Plus, he’s really into TAs so you’re all out of luck” she says nonchalantly, not knowing that your Steve’s TA.

The room went silent, the only sound you’re able to hear is your heart begging to explode from your chest. The few people that you have in your sociology class look at you in horror, Robin covering her hand with her mouth realizing what she had done.

Your feet move without you thinking, standing up and grabbing your things and fleeing the room as fast as they could take you. You were utterly embarrassed with tears threatening to spill from your eyes for a third time in less than 24 hours. You don’t even know where you’re going until you do, and you’re standing outside of Steve’s classroom. You know he likes to get there early to get everything ready for your class.

You open the door and shut it, Steve jumps at the noise. Lips formed in a tight smile once he realizes that it’s you.

“So do you do this with every one of your TAs then?” you say loudly, hoping it would stop him from hearing the quiver in your voice.

He walks carefully over to you, like you’re a wounded animal ready to pounce. You can’t bare to look at his face, so you look at the floor, blinking vigorously willing the tears back into your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” he says carefully.

“I was just made a fool of in Robins class, because one of the girls thinks you’re hot and she said that you only have a thing for TAs, was all this just a fucking game to you Steve? To get me to like you and then make me feel like an idiot?” You spat at him, looking him in the eyes now so he can see the anger behind them.

Steve sighs loudly and nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes look tired, like he didn’t sleep a wink the night before. “No- I, No that’s not even remotely true, Y/N you have to believe me, nothing like this has ever happened before. This is all uncharted territory for me,” he says tiredly.

“How do you expect me to believe you? After rejecting me the way you did last night, after weeks of flirting with me. You were just toying with me all along, weren’t you? I thought you were better than that!” tears now spilling over your cheeks, conceding in your fight to keep them in.

“Y/N I- Fuck I’m so sorry this is all so fucked up. I didn’t expect anything of this to happen, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I should have waited until you weren’t my student anymore, so it was less complicated. But you have to believe me when I say that my feelings for you are genuine, regardless of how messed up it is. None of this should’ve happened. Please just let me explain and it’ll all make sense,” he begs.

You take a deep breath in and wipe the tears from your eyes, “You are right about one thing Steve, this never should have happened” you seethe.

Steves eyes sadden, and he nods in defeat, knowing he’s lost the battle and you along with it.

“Go find yourself another TA to fuck with Steve because I’m done.” you growl.

You turn your heel and walk out of the room, working alongside Steve was no longer an option. If you didn’t need the credit to graduate you would’ve marched into the student center and drop his class right then and there. But your education was more important than some guy.

The rest of the day happens in a blur, unable to concentrate on any of your classes that day. Your mind constantly just floating aimlessly in the air, if someone coughed to hard in your direction you’d probably float away. Going through the motions of the day, kept you safe, steering clear of all thoughts about Steve was the best course of action for the moment.

You did feel conflicted, your feelings continuing to confuse you. Why were you so upset about this? Your thing with Eddie is so good, the best you ever had, so why are you so upset? It’s all so confusing, you’ve never liked one person as much as you like Eddie, and reluctantly Steve too. Yet it felt so right, like it was the most normal thing in the world, for the short while before the whole thing went to shit.

As much as you are furious with Steve, it also made things easier and less confusing. Now you could just focus on Eddie, and that you didn’t mind at all. You could spend every day of forever with him and it still would never be enough. That’s not to say that thoughts of Steve still didn’t pop up in your mind and dreams, he still was your teacher so you still saw him almost every day. The first few days after the initial shock of what Robin had said were awkward, both in class with Steve and Robin.

Robin was relentless with her apologies, apologizing for it every chance she got.

“I’m so sorry, sometimes I just do this thing where I start talking, and then I don’t know what I’m saying until I say it. It’s like I blackout in the middle of taking and then by the time I realize, the damage has already been done and I’ve put my whole foot in my mouth. I’m so sorry,” she rambles anxiously.

“Its fine really, water under the bridge,” you dismiss her kindly.

You really didn’t blame Robin, it’s not like she knew what was going on between you and Steve, she was just trying to make a joke, a bad joke but a joke, nonetheless.

Steve, on the other hand, went completely silent. His classes were filled with less energy than before. He seemed tired, like he stopped sleeping through the night. His skin seemed less shiny, his eyes no longer bright, and his hair always seemed slightly out of place from anxiously running his fingers through it. Steve was a mess.

You almost felt bad, yes he hurt you, but there was a part inside of you that still cared deeply for the man that you once had a connection with. He didn’t try to talk to you anymore or explain himself after the fight that the two of you had. Just radio silence.

You tried your best not to think about it too hard, plus you had an amazing distraction. It had been about a week since you and Eddie first made plans to go out on a date, with that date now fast approaching only a few days from now. And still stumped as to where your first date should be, maybe you were over thinking it, but you wanted it to be perfect. Your head was swirling with so many different ideas. You wanted to do something unique, that would show him parts of you. You weren’t always the best with your words, but if you could show him parts of yourself maybe he’d understand. You were shaken from your thoughts when your phone buzzed a few times in a row.

“hey”

“heyyy”

“I’m bored and you’re cute call me when you’re free x”

You smile widely at your phone; Eddie always knew how to make every day better. You pick up your phone and dial his number.

“Hi handsome,” you beam into your phone.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” you can hear the smile in his voice

“Eh fine, I’d rather be with you,” you confess.

You really wish you could be with Eddie, but instead you were surrounded by your textbooks swamped with the homework you had this week.

“Then come over here, Violets out, and I have the house to myself,” he asks.

“Can’t, homework,” you sigh.

“You can do your homework here, I won’t distract you. Pinky Promise! Only several thousand kisses that’s it!” he begs. You groan into the receiver, and Eddie retorts with a chuckle knowing that he’s wearing you down.

As convincing as Eddies offer was, and it was really convincing. You wanted to have a good time on your date, you needed to get all this work done to give Eddie your full attention, and not worry about school.

“I don’t trust you mister,” you joke.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either, but you should still come over anyways,” he retorts.

You laugh at his goofy nature, and that alone almost makes you say yes.

“How bout this princess, I’ll come over there. I’ll sit and read a book or something, and be a good boy while you do your work,” he suggests.

You ponder this over in your head for a minute but who are you kidding, how could you possibly say no to him? Plus, you really only have to revise two papers, shouldn’t take too long.

“Alright alright you win, come on over stinky,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Be over soon pretty girl,” he says slyly.

How could you ever say no to Eddie fucking Munson.

You appreciate that Eddie didn’t make it too hard for you to concentrate when he finally showed up at your apartment. He did as he said he would, sitting next to you on your bed, one had rubbing circles on your back and the other holding a book that he was trying to finish.

His touch soothing you, as you rub stress out of your own temples. When you could, sneaking glances at the very beautiful man sitting right next to you. He was dressed down today, hair in a low bun, in a pair of sweatpants and an old Iron Maiden T shirt. He could wear a brown paper bag and he’d still be one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen. It made the time between today and the date that much more excruciating, Eddie had been very adamant that there would be no funny business prior to the date, which is honestly a surprising amount of self-control for him. It showed he meant business, which you respected. But it was also driving you to the brink of insanity, cursing into the abyss that the universe would give you the prettiest man in the world and not be able to jump his bones. It was a cruel world indeed.

Your insatiable urges aside you could get used to this. Him being here, even if you weren’t talking, his presence soothed and ache inside of you. You also loved that Eddie loves books almost as much as you did, you wouldn’t think by just looking at him. But he had his nose in a book quite often, whether that’s a new DnD manual, researching for a new campaign, or just reading random sci-fi books.

And that’s when it hits you, you know where the two of you are going to go for your date. You look up from your computer screen and look at Eddie. His brows lightly scrunched together, probably reading a thrilling part in his book. He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer gorgeous. I’m trying to be good here and you’re distracting me,” he taunts, as he flips a page in his book very dramatically.

You roll your eyes at him, if he wasn’t so cute, he’d be the biggest pain in your ass.

“Alright then I guess you just won’t get to know where we go on our date then, fine by me!” you hint.

Then you’re jumped by a mass of dark brown curls and you’re tackled onto the bed.

“Tell me tell me tell me!!!!” he says in between kisses to your cheeks and neck. Giggling uncontrollably, you concede.

“Fine fine, you win! Me and you. Saturday. Coffee shop and bookstore. 12 pm don’t be late Munson.” You reveal with a light kiss to Eddies bottom lip.

Expecting Eddie to continue his shenanigans, his eyes soften a little and he dips down to give you a firm kiss on your lips.

“You’re perfect, ya know that?” he says sincerely.

You roll your eyes at him. He holds your chin in place, the way that makes your breath hitch.

“Nuh uh, don’t be mean to my girl,” he coos.

You blush and kiss him back with the same ferocity, your homework can wait. You spend the rest of the night snuggled up against Eddie while he read his book to you in between the thousands of kisses he promised.

The day the date actually came around you were a fucking mess, you woke up super early, trying to figure out the right outfit to wear. Not that you thought it would matter to Eddie all that much, but it mattered to you. You were something of a perfectionist and you wanted this date to go well.

You decide on a comfy green sweater, a pair of leggings, and black platform combat boots, and your winter jacket. It was getting colder outside, and you were not used to the Indiana winters, you swear you had never seen so much snow in your life.

You were just doing your finishing touches in the mirror when you heard a knock on the door. You can’t contain the smile that spreads across your face as you basically leap to the door in excitement. You swing the door open, and you are face to face with a excited smile that matched yours.

“Hi princess,” he greets you, giving you a light kiss on your lips.

“Hey Eddie,” you smile up at him, even in your platform boots, this man was so much taller than you. It made your heart flutter and your body tingle.

“Ready to go?” he says seductively leaving a more passionate kiss onto your lips, making your legs buckle slightly. The kiss makes you want to abandon the date all together and take him right here on your couch. The week since your first kiss had been grueling, and you wanted more than kisses.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you beam up at him leaving a kiss on his jaw. He moans and you know he’s thinking the same thing as you.

In his car the energy is electrified and nervous, Eddies knee bouncing wildly in the driver’s seat while you fiddle with your hands. Hanging out at his house or your apartment was one thing but going out in public together. On a date, completely different. You just try to remind yourself that it’s still Eddie, the same goof that he was the day before and the day before that.

You go to the local coffee shop in town, he grabs a black coffee which you make fun of him for, making the tension between the two of you, ease. And you get a chai tea, which Eddie makes fun of you for.

“You know that chai is tea in Hindi right? So, you basically just ordered “tea tea”? he snickers.

“Yeah well at least I didn’t order a steaming hot cup of bitter water old man,” you retort as you grab your drinks from the barista.

You hand him his coffee and he pulls you in to leave a kiss on your forehead. The people in front of you look at you inquisitively, and that’s when you realize that the two of you probably look a little odd. A 45ish year-old man and a 25 year-old woman together. Age was never a thing that either of you ever thought too much about in all honesty. Besides the “old man” jabs that you gave him occasionally. Regardless of the age difference between the two of you, you had so much in common that it never seemed that noticeable. You give the couple in front of you a glare and head out the door with Eddie hand in hand.

Any bookstore is the best place on earth, any book you could ever dream of stocked on the shelves, endless possibilities. Plus, the new book smell, is just addicting. Eddie watched in amusement as you picked up every other book reading the backs of them, completely immersed in your own little world. Following along behind you holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist, reading the backs of books that look interesting to him. That is until you get to the DnD section, and he becomes the biggest nerd you ever met and it makes you swoon even harder if possible.

After almost looking at every section in the store, the two of you stand in front of the romance section. You had decided before the date that you were going to steer clear from this section to avoid any teasing from Eddie because you basically read porn. Not just porn, porn that would make a grown man clutch his pearls.

But the spicy section had been updated since you had been there last, and you remembered that one of your favorite authors had dropped a new book. You gasp lightly and Eddie looks at you inquisitively.

You walk briskly over to the section of steamy books, searching for the book you were looking for.

“I didn’t really peg you as a girl who likes romance books, I’m intrigued,” he taunts lightly.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Munson” you say, still looking for the right book. Instead, you find another smutty book that you’ve been meaning to read, one about an older guy owning a BDSM club that a bunch of your online friends were gushing about. You pull that off the shelf and accept the fact that you’re going to have to ask an employee for help to find the book you were looking for.

“Do you mind holding this for me for a sec? I just need to ask an employee for help,” you ask.

Eddie’s eyebrow is upturned in curiosity but takes the book from your hands as you go off to look for an employee. The book was in the “New Releases” section and that’s why you couldn’t find it.

When you finally make your way back to Eddie you look at him in horror, he has the book you asked him to hold for you,  open to the middle of the book, smirking like a devil in disguise. He looks up at you before you can defend yourself.

“Princess, you like this stuff? Seems a little intense for a pretty little thing like you,” he says tauntingly under his breath so none of the other patrons can hear you.

You let out an anxious squeal and try to grab the book from Eddies hands, but he’s too quick. He dangles the book easily over your head still reading from the pages.

Your heart is beating so fast threatening to drop into your stomach. What if he thought you were weird and didn’t want to be with you anymore? What if you fucked all of this up before you even started?

“Give it back Eddie I mean it,” you whine, still trying to reach the book in his hand.

“Then tell me you like this kind of stuff, and ill give you the book back right now,” he says still holding the book out of your reach. He leans in really close, his eyes dark with lust. Caging you in against a bookshelf and puts his lips up to your ear.

“Tell me, you get off on reading this stuff, tell me you read this late at night right before bed with your hand down your pants and the book is all yours,” he whispers before backing away to a normal distance, leaving the rest of the customers none the wiser.

You shiver when his breath touches your ear, you have to bite your lip as to not whine out in the middle of the bookstore. If you were needy before the date, nothing compared to how you felt right now. You were an omega about to go into heat, and the only thing that was going to put out the fire brewing in you was Eddie. Your legs threatening to give out below you, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before responding. Eddie patiently awaiting your response, taunting you with his one hand cupped behind his ear.

“I do,” you say meekly.

He gets closer to you, flaunting his size against your frame.

“You do what pretty girl, come on use your words” he coos, caressing you cheek with his thumb.

This time you let a whimper escape and a smile the size of Texas spread across Eddies face. You clear your throat and wet your lips.

“I touch myself when I read them,” you whisper loud enough for only Eddie to hear.

“Good girl baby,” he praises you, rewarding you with a kiss on your cheek.

He grabs the other book from your hands, leading the two of you to the checkout line. You felt like you were floating, you had never been this turned on in your life and Eddie barely touched you.

Then there was the dilemma, that Eddie refused to let you pay for your own books despite your countless protests. You pouted lightly next to him while he paid for your two book and one for himself.

“Don’t worry babycakes, I’ll pay for your porn” he teased with a wink as the two of you walked out of the store. He helped you into his truck, grabbing your waist tightly, making you gasp.

The car ride back to Eddie’s house was intense, both of you feeling the consequences of the little stunt Eddie pulled in the bookstore. Your chest heaving up and down heavily, Eddie holding on to your thigh with one of his hands.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks seriously, once the two of you get inside, he helps you shrug off your winter jacket hanging it up for you.

You nod quickly with no hesitation, only admiration in your eyes. You needed this man more than you needed air; did he really expect you to say no? And with final confirmation Eddie takes your hand and leads you up to his bedroom. Your eyes fixating slightly on Violet’s room before forcing her out of your head and focusing on the man in front of you.

He ushers you in, immediately tackling you into a heated kiss, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of his bed until you feel it with the backs of your knees. You inch yourself farther into the middle of his bed pulling him closer, looking up at him through your eyelashes, Eddies eyes are dark looking at you like he’s the hunter and you are his prey. Eddie follows suit incasing your body with his, enveloping your lips again.

But with more urgency, like the first time you kissed in the kitchen. You open yourself up guiding his body between your legs. He thanks you by grinding his bulge against your sweet spot making you gasp. Eddie takes that as an open invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your lips clash together feverously, a mix of lips, tongue, and teeth. You pull back taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. Biting hard enough to elicit a hiss from his mouth.

“Fuckkk,” he groans loudly.

Changing pace, he dips down and starts sucking on your pulse point, sending shivers down your body. Your hips moving on their own rolling into his, the friction making you both moan. You could feel him leaving little bruises all over your neck, your mind too empty to care, having only one thing on your mind now. Him.

You become very aware that Eddie was wearing entirely too much clothing, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, he takes the hint and lifts up to exposed to pale ink decorated skin under his T-shirt. You were in awe of him, grabbing and kissing anywhere and everywhere, wanting to taste every single part of him. His arms were almost completely covered in ink, and most of his chest was covered too. You made a mental note to spend an entire day kissing every single tattoo on his body, but that day was not today.

Eddie wanting the same from you, he starts to pull up the bottom of your shirt, looking into your eyes for the okay. Seeing no protest, he takes it the rest of the way off. If his eyes could bulge out of his head, they probably would have with how wide his eyes got.

“Jesus Christ” he groans as he re-attaches his lips to yours, only to pull apart slowly making his way down your chest, leaving bruising kisses along your collar bone and the swell of your breasts that were peaking out from your bra. Getting impatient he peels the cups of your bra down to expose your nipples to him and incasing one in his mouth. Swirling the bud with his tongue, groaning into your chest. Each pinch and lick sending shock waves through your body.

Eddie stops what he’s doing and looks up at you, “Show me baby,” Eddie says while leaving little kisses down your stomach. You look at him slightly confused, unsure what he means. A small smirk falls on his lips as he uses his hands to reach up and take your left breast in his hand. Your nipple brushing up against his fingers. Enticing a hissing noise from you.

“Show me how you touch yourself when you’re reading your books, show me how you like it.” he says leaving more kisses on your breasts as his fingers continue to play with your nipple.

Getting impatient, Eddie grabs the hem of your leggings and panties, pulling them up and off your body. Pushing your knees apart exposing your dripping center to him, guiding your hand to your slit.  

Then his touch is gone, you look to see his figure rummaging next to the bed in the bag from the bookstore. He pulls out the book he was reading and taunting you with. Flipping open to a page that seemed to peak the older man’s interest, pushing it into your hand.

It was your turn to become speechless, looking down at the words on the page he picked out for you. Your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. His eyes dark but still warm and encouraging, still your Eddie. You bite your lip and nod back at him.

You look back to the words on the page, moving your hand slowly up and down your slit. Gathering the wetness from your center and swirling it around your aching bud. You see Eddie in the corner of your eye, palming himself through his pants, watching intently where your hand and legs meet.

Breathy moans spilling from your mouth while you touch yourself, your mind clouding in pleasure. If you weren’t so turned on, the wet sounds that echoed around the room would have embarrassed you.

“So fuckin naughty, you look so good touching your pretty little cunt like that,” he says breathily, pupils blown.

His words only edging you on, you moan loudly as you sink a finger inside your entrance, making your back lift off the bed in ecstasy, book completely discarded. You feel Eddie remove your hand from your core, you whine in protest. Enveloping you hand in his mouth, lapping at your juices, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Spit,” he commands, holding his hand out in front of your mouth. You gather the saliva in your mouth and spit it into his hand.

“Good girl” he praises, rubbing your spit onto your slit, making you gasp loudly. His fingers quickly replaced by his wanting tongue, teasing your entrance, and nudging his perfect nose against your clit.

“OH FUCK EDDIE!” you cry out.

Your words encouraging him to buckle down, swirling and flicking his tongue on your clit making you see stars. You buck your hips up to meet his tongue, chasing your release.

“Shit, you taste so good baby, could drown in this fucking pussy,” he babbles, re-attaching his lips to your bundle of nerves.

You can feel yourself getting close already, your entrance pulsing in anticipation. You grab a fist full of his curls in desperation. Eliciting a deep groan from him that vibrates through you.

“S-so good, so fucking good Eds, holy shit” you say with another roll of your hips. Then without warning Eddie sticks one of his fingers inside of you, finding a spot inside that you could never reach yourself.

“Fuck Eddie I-im gonna” you breathe.

“Come on sweet thing, cum for me” he purrs into your core. Keeping his pace with his tongue on your clit, adding another finger inside you. The feeling of fullness finally sending you over the edge.

You throw your head back in a silent scream, the coil inside you finally snapping sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Eddie leaving sloppy kisses on your inner thighs brings you back into your body.

“Still with me princess? You did so good f’me,” he murmurs into your skin.

You look at him hazily, he looked so pretty between your thighs. His strong arms incasing each thigh, his lips and chin glistening with your release. You reach for him, wanting to feel his lips on yours once again. He obliges you, tasting the remnants of your release on his slips, sighing against his mouth contently.

You roll him over so he’s on his back, leaving kisses against his stomach down to his clothed cock, making him buck up into you. You strip him quickly from his pants and boxers, impatient, you want to make him feel as good as he made you.

His cock is bigger than you expected, not too thick but long, a little patch of curly dark brown hair at the base. You situate yourself between his legs and look up at him through your eyes.

Eddie was trying to be patient, but you could see the desperation in his eyes. You start swirling your tongue around the tip, collecting his precum in your mouth. You groan deeply at the slightly salty taste, encasing the rest of your mouth around the tip. You hear Eddie curse under his breath, his hands cup the hair falling around your face so he can see you better.

You take this opportunity to lock eyes with him, gathering all the saliva in your mouth and spitting sloppily onto his cock, working it from the tip to the shaft.

“Jesus, fuck! Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he babbled. His words making you clench around nothing, Eddie was more vocal than any other partner you’d ever been with but you liked knowing that you were making him feel good.

You go back to working your mouth down on his cock, forcing it lower and lower until the hairs at the base of his shaft were tickling your nose and lips. You gag slightly around his cock, throat constricting around the tip, making him thrust farther down your throat.

“Shit, fuck I’m sorry baby, you just look so fucking good with your mouth full of my cock, couldn’t help myself,” he sputters. You hum as you remove his cock from your mouth leaving opened mouth kisses all the way down the shaft and onto his balls. You hear his breath hitch when you reach his balls. You spend time down there licking and sucking.

Taking your time lightly sucking each ball into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them. Truth be told you loved sucking and licking balls and you could tell Eddie did too by his reaction.

“Fuck, Fuck yes, you like that? You like sucking my balls? Good fucking girl, such a good fucking girl, shit” he cries out, tightening the grip he has on your hair. The new hold he had on your hair leaving a delightful sting on your scalp and that made your eyes roll back. You pull of his shaft with a pop , sloppily licking up and down his member.

“Fuck my face Eddie, please, fill my throat” you plead with your mouth still full of his length

“Don’t have to fuckin ask me twice sweetheart,” he says grabbing another fist full of your hair. You give up control and let him lower your head back down on his cock. His pace starts out slow at first seeing what you can handle. You can take most of his cock, and the rest that you can take you use your hand to stroke it, making sure every part of him feels good. He continues to shower you with praises, all of it becoming to much, you start to feel your own wetness start to drip down your thighs.

You can feel his cock twitching in your mouth has his pace picks up, slamming his cock in your mouth with reckless abandon. Making you gag every time his tip hit the back of your throat, Eddie swearing obscenities left and right.

His pace getting sloppy as he comes closer to cumming, and with one final thrust into your mouth he releases his load down your throat. You both moan in unison at the act. Smooshing your face down into the curls at the base for good measure before pushing off to straddle his waist.

Opening up your mouth to show him his cum gathered inside your mouth, Eddies eyes rolling back farther than you thought humanly possible. Looking back at you with hungry eyes, he holds your face with his one hand, cupping your cheeks. And with his other hand dipping two of his fingers into your mouth, fucking his cum farther down your throat.

“Swallow for me pretty girl,” he commands, your body tingling to obey his every thought, his eyes watching you like a hawk.

You swallow the rest of his cum left on your tongue, and stick your tongue out to show him the job done.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praises again, kissing you fiercely on the lips. Then you collapse onto the bed next him contently.

He grabs hold of your waist forcing you to cuddle close, he leaves kisses in your hair and your run circles across his chest with your fingers. Your mind completely empty of everything that wasn’t Eddie Munson.

That was until your phone went off, buzzing next to the bed. You ignore it, deciding that whatever it was, could wait. That was until it buzzed again, and again, and again. Finally you climb over Eddie and reach for your phone, seeing a couple missed calls from Violet.

You call her back without even thinking, there’s no way she could know that you were naked in her dads bed, no way.

“Hey Vi, you okay?” you say sleepily, worn out from your previous activities.

“They’re cheating me, they’re fucking cheating on me, I can’t fucking believe it!” Violet wails into the phone.

“Woah woah, slow down and start from the beginning babe what’s going on?” you say, concern in your voice. Eddie now sitting up wanting to know what was happening.

Violet goes onto explain that her and Quinn have each other’s phone passwords, and that she went to go look up something on his phone, and they had changed their phone password and had a text message from an unsaved number on their phone.

“Fuck,” you mutter into the phone.

“I need you to come over, I need you right now, i'm on my way back from Quinn's house now,” she pleads with you.

“I’ll be there as soon I can babe, don’t worry we will figure this out” you reassure her, feeling guilty for lying to her again.

You hang up the phone and look at Eddie, you fill him in on whats going on. Eddie wanting to go over to Quinn's house right now and give them a piece of his mind, but you talk him out of it until you know exactly what’s going on.

“Sorry we gotta cut this short,” you chuckle, leaning back into Eddies exposed chest.

“S’alright, I’d rather know that Vi’s okay. You’re a good friend Y/N, Vi and I are so lucky to have you." You blush at his words, he leans down and leaves kisses along your hair line and neck.

The two of you dress, you cover up your very obvious hickeys from Eddie, and part your separate ways. Just in time for the two of you to share one final kiss in the living room before the door opens.

Tag List! **If you want to be added to the tag list just lemme know, just need to be 18+**

@chaoticmunsons @sweetblinginrose @tlclick73 @paleidiot @frogtape @too-efn-old-to-be-here @peaches-roses-sins @micheledawn1975 @untitled74745 @hellv1ra @cozyquinn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Adrenaline pumps behind your ears. You sit in the dirt, heart thumping, body tingling, you're breathless. You can't believe you just did that.  

You tug on the strap of the chute as it digs into your shoulder. You steady you grip on your phone as you look up at the sky as you try to still your shaking. You just fucking jumped out of a plane and lived. Wow. 

You hit send on the video. The girls aren't going to believe you without evidence. Besides, you feel bad for missing cocktails. You'll be there in spirit. 

A sudden release has you feeling lighter as the chute detaches. You're lifted from behind by the empty back strapped onto you, "Iz, you good?" Sy asks. 

"I'm... alive," you say as you lower your phone and steady your feet, "that was..." 

"Come on," he meets your trembling disbelief with his stern intensity. "You know we still got stuff to do." 

You clear your throat and let out a deep breath, "sure thing, Sy." 

"Whatcha doin' anyway?" He taps your phone before you can tuck it away. "UberEats don't come out here." 

"Pfft," you scoff, "girls are having drinks. Was just sending them my regards." 

"Girls," he utters, "you tell them I'm sorry for keeping ya. Tequila Izzy must be a lot of fun." 

"I told you, I don't drink Tequila," you counter.  

"Sure, ya don't. You just never had good tequila." 

"Please," you turn to walk in time with him across the sandy field, "you know good liquor? I'm the one who stocks your footlocker." 

"Patron ain't too bad. I just don't like the price tag," he shrugs. 

“You? Careful about money?” You shake your head. 

“Eh? Last I checked, you were my money manager.” 

“Well, it wasn’t in the job description but there wasn’t really one, was there?” You kid as you keep step with him. You look ahead and the last of the thrill slakes away. “So, what are we doing here, Captain?” 

“Why ya callin’ me Captain for?” He nudges you with his elbow, “don’t sweat it.” 

Your eyes pinpoint in the distance as you try to see more than sand. Your cheeks slacken and your lips straighten. Business. It isn’t like it used to be. It’s more than emails and Zoom calls. No, it’s life and death. 

“Really, you don’t need to worry. He’s an old buddy. He’s just... livin’ off the grid right now.” 

“You sure?” You ask. 

“What happened to trust?” He challenges. 

“When did I ever say that word,” you mutter and chew your dry lip. 

He huffs, “don’t start. Come on. Won’t be no time.” 

He’s right. You approach a compound behind a thick metal fence. The sun beats down so hotly that you can see a ripple in the air and it looks as if the bars are bending. Like Sy, you’ve wrapped a scarf around your head to sop up your sweat and protect your face. 

You don’t miss the men perched on the posts or those just within. They have guns. They ready them at your approach. Sy shoots up a green flare that has them standing down. He stops you twenty feet from the gate. 

“He’ll come to us before we can go in.” 

You look at Sy. He’s calm, unbothered by the guns and the watching men and the burning sun. Out here, he’s in his elements. He’s confident in the matters of blood and violence, everything else is a mystery to him. His world is foreign to you. You live in the little nooks and cranny’s he doesn’t see; the business of living not killing. Bills, laundry, doctor’s appointments, deadlines, dishes... 

The gate opens and you tense. He taps your wrist, “ease up.” 

You do your best to obey. You don’t want to put any one else on edge. Didn’t you take this job to let go of all that? To stop being so damn uptight. 

A man walks out, unarmed, though he wears an armoured vest. Sy goes forward to greet them and the chuckle as they embrace, slapping each other’s shoulders. You stay behind, wary of the shadows behind the fence. 

“Syverson,” the man lilts, “you made it.” 

“Didn’t make it easy, Conrad,” Sy snorts. 

“Mm, but I thought you were coming alone,” the man looks past him and nods in your direction, “if you’d said a lady was accompanying you, I’d have sent the town car.” 

“Don’t be fucking funny,” Sy reaches to muss the man’s hair. “I’m starving and tired and your jokes still aren’t amusing.” 

“Come,” the man, Conrad beckons to you, “I’ve everything ready. Beds, food...” He draws out the last word with a wink, “wine.” 

Sy tilts his head and cranes to look at you as he follows Conrad’s gaze. You cross the expanse and take Conrad’s hand as he offers it, introducing himself as ‘James’. You shake his hand and return your name in turn. Sy turns forward and squares his shoulders. 

“Might I ask how you know each other?” Conrad turns to walk at your other shoulder as he points you onward. 

“Mmm, she’s...” Sy mulls his answer with a grumble. 

“Personal assistant,” you fill in for him. 

“Oh? How amusing,” Conrad remarks, “and in this line of work.” 

[prettygirleli]

stupid.

ghoap has been on my mind for so long I need to write it out before I go insane. no warnings, except maybe language. ghost being worried, soap being dismissive. ghoap kisses bc I love them with all my heart. enjoy <3

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"so fuckin' stupid!"

"it's nothin', Si. you're bein' just a wee bit dramatic."

a scoff escaped Simon's lip as he bounced his leg up and down anxiously, arms crossed across his chest and a scowl beneath his balaclava.

he stared at Johnny with slight contempt in his gaze, before his eyes softened as he rolled them.

"I don't think a bullet to the side is nothing, Johnny. you could have died, for fuck's sake."

"och, again with this dyin' business. I thought we agreed that I was not goin' anywhere."

a quiet chuckle left Johnny's mouth as he watched Simon pout, only sign being his lip poking at the fabric of his mask. he started to lean forward with a strained groan before Simon was on his feet, pushing him with gentle hands back into the hospital bed.

Johnny caught him by the wrist before he could sit back down, bringing his calloused hand up to his cheek, and nuzzling into it. his eyes fluttered closed as he rubbed his cheek against the rough skin of his palm.

Simon's brows were drawn together, a mix of worry and loving adoration on his face, and he nudged Johnny's legs to the side with his free hand, moving to sit in the now free space on the bed.

"it's not fair." Johnny's eyes opened halfway, looking up at Simon through his lashes, a questioning look on his face.

"it's not fair how you can be so... unbothered by the fact that you could have died. maybe it doesn' matter to you but it matters to me, Johnny. I know there's always a risk, but you don't 'ave to go an' make the enemy's job easier by makin' silly mistakes on the field." Simon's gaze was on a wrinkle in the sheets, his voice quiet and deep.

"Simon. I mean it when I say I'm not goin' anywhere. not anytime soon, at least."

Johnny reached out, mirroring Simon and placing a hand on his cheek, gently guiding his face to look at him. " 'm here, love. here for you, jus' like you're here for me."

Simon exhaled heavily, eyes falling shut as he leaned forward and placed his forehead on Johnny's, breathing his scent in deep. relishing in the warmth that was there, the warmth of his touch, the warmth of his skin against his.

he's here. he's alive. he's here. he's alive.

Simon's eyes were still shut when Johnny's fingers found their way to the hem of his balaclava, rolling it up until it was just above the tip of his nose. he said nothing, but let out a small, slightly whiney hum when he felt the other man's lips on his.

it was familiar, and grounding. something he'd felt a million times before, but it never ceased to bring warmth into his hollow chest, to make his heart beat a bit faster. it never ceased to make him feel at home.

he's here. he's alive.

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.

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a/n: i need them injected into my bloodstream.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

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"Make It Hurt."

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The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy. 

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent. 

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry. 

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her. 

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment. 

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea. 

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?” 

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.” 

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-” 

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.” 

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.” 

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order. 

She practically drags you back to the bedroom. 

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.” 

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her. 

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours. 

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.” 

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better. 

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.” 

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead. 

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.” 

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips. 

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.” 

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on. 

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally. 

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face. 

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.”  You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing. 

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well. 

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees. 

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt. 

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom. 

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.” 

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are. 

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-” 

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife. 

You feel it. 

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close. 

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself. 

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts. 

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor. 

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.” 

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her. 

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

Summary: After another victory in the ring, your manager, Copia, makes sure you’re taken care of. (18+)

Content Warning: smut, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, references to organized crime, drug use, ethically dubious relationship

Read on AO3

Notes: Howdy, everyone! WE ARE SO BACK (for now, at least)! A lot has happened since I last wrote something for you all (graduated college, got a job, moved across the country, etc.), but I got really excited about this idea and couldn’t stop myself. I’m considering turning this into a series, so if you thought this was cool please lmk!

GIF is by @ghuleh-recs :)

You’ve got this bitch licked.

She’s up against the ropes, desperately trying to protect her face as you pummel her over and over again. There’s blood streaming down from her nose, mouth, and a large gash on her hairline. You can tell it’s hard for her to see with how much is in her eyes. One of her front teeth is chipped.

It’s the fifth of five rounds. Thirty seconds left on the clock. Up until now it’s been a pretty close fight. She’s one of the tougher opponents you’ve faced and you’re in equally rough shape. Your split lip stings with every breath, and your nose will definitely need to be set after this. It only adds fuel to the fire of your rage.

You’ll win. Despite being evenly matched, you’ve managed to get in more solid hits, especially in the last two rounds. This girl is a fucking idiot, insulting you like she did.

“At least I don’t have to fuck my manager for table scraps.”

This isn’t about winning anymore. This is about making her suffer.

All you need is a well-timed right hook. You hit her directly on the temple, and she crumples to the ground. The crowd screams their applause, but you can’t hear it over the blood roaring in your ears. Before anyone can interfere, you’re on top of her, landing hit after hit in rapid succession. You want to beat her face in, to turn her into a bloody pulp.

It takes several men to finally pry you off of her.

“Fucking bitch!” You continue to thrash and curse as the referee and the unconscious woman’s manager kneel by her side, checking to make sure she’s still alive. When your opponent finally sits up, you redouble your efforts to break free. She starts to crawl away from you. There is genuine fear in her eyes, the sclera now red with blood. It’s not until you feel a firm hand on your shoulder that you finally still.

“That’s enough, dolcezza.”

Copia is looking down at you, a bemused look on his face. Still restrained, you rise to your feet. You spit a glob of bloody saliva towards your defeated foe, looking her up and down one last time.

Serves her right.

The manager, a hairy man with a misshapen face, points a finger at you, glaring daggers.

“Control your fucking dog, Emeritus.” His entire body shakes with anger. “Or I will have her put down.”

Before the situation can escalate, the men transfer you to Copia, who keeps his composure as always. Grasping your wrist, he raises it in the air and the crowd cheers again. A moment later, his gloved hand finds your waist, pulling you into his side as he whisks you away, leading you out of the ring towards the makeshift locker room. The feeling of his body against yours is grounding, eating away at the rage boiling inside.

“You did well tonight,” he says quietly in your ear. “The Boss will be pleased.”

The crowd is already clearing out of the abandoned warehouse, few willing to risk being caught by the authorities. Some linger, money and drugs moving from hand to hand. You’re about halfway to your destination when one of the loiterers, a man with dark hair and a scruffy beard, intercepts you.

“What an amazing fight,” he exclaims. You detect a slight southern drawl. Copia gives him a polite, reserved smile, and you feel him squeeze your hip.

“What can I say? There is no fighter quite like mine.”

His.

“Indeed,” the man says. Finally, he regards you. “That’s why I always bet on you, darling.”

You mumble out a quiet “thank you,” as you’ve been coached. There’s a moment of tense silence as you wait for the man to get to his inevitable point. He’s jittery, dilated eyes darting around wildly. You know why he, and all these other men, are really here.

It's not your athleticism.

“You know,” he continues, returning his attention to Copia, “I'm quite interested in the particulars of the sport and would love to pick this little lady’s brain. If we could have some time one-on-one, I would-”

“Thank you,” Copia interjects, “but we will have to decline.” Seemingly unfazed, the man takes a wad of cash out of his coat pocket, offering it to your manager with an unsteady hand.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Copia’s tranquil demeanor finally cracks.

“She’ll bite your dick off, DeFroque. Now get lost.” For emphasis, you jerk towards him a little, snapping your bloody teeth together. DeFroque jumps back in surprise, paralyzed for a moment. Without another word, he turns tail and flees.

“Quel cocainomane...” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s clean you up.” You nod in assent, and the two of you resume your journey.

The “locker room” is really a grimy old office at one end of the warehouse. It's empty save for a battered old desk and a rusty filing cabinet, the floor covered in chips of yellowed paint. The fluorescent lights flicker as Copia sits you down on the desk and begins inspecting your face. He grasps your chin, turning your head side to side. You want to lean into his touch, but remain pliant for him.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself,” he remarks, examining a pink welt on your cheek. He breaks away to dig through one of the drawers, producing a small hand towel, cotton balls, bandages, and rubbing alcohol a moment later.

You shrug. “I like offense.” Copia’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“That’s why you always draw the biggest crowds, cara.”

Uncapping the bottle, he thoroughly soaks one of the cotton balls. Tilting your head up, he dabs it on the bridge of your nose. You hadn’t even noticed the skin had broken. The alcohol stings, but you remain still, used to the sensation. There’s a comfortable silence as Copia cleans the blood from the rest of your face, taking extra care around each cut and bruise. He has always insisted on caring for you in this way, despite being able to do it yourself. You’ve learned to let him, and savor every touch like it’s a gift.

Copia moves from your face to your hands. You offer them to him as he carefully unwinds the tape around your wrists and thumbs. Knowing the routine by heart, you slowly rotate and bend them to show him they feel alright. Copia nods in approval. With the towel, he dabs at your knuckles, wiping away your opponent’s blood until the skin is visible again. He shoots you an interrogative look when he sees they’re all split.

“She made me mad.” Copia sighs. You both know that in an official boxing league, this kind of behavior would be enough to keep you from ever setting foot in the ring again.

“Amore, what am I going to do with you?”

Now it’s your least favorite part. Copia gestures for you to lay back on the desk and despite the gnawing feeling of dread you obey, legs dangling off the edge. Hovering over you, you can’t help but gaze up at him, admiring the contours of his face. You feel the urge to run your hands through his mousy brown hair, but he’s already reaching for your broken nose. You jolt when he finally makes contact, writhing a little beneath him. He tuts.

“Stay still.” It’s all but a whisper.

There’s a faint crunching noise as Copia pokes and prods at your nose with experienced fingers. You do as he commands, balling your fists and gritting your teeth at the sensation of bone and cartilage moving. Once he’s satisfied with the positioning, he packs your nostrils with cotton, then gently places a bandage over the break, securing your nose in place.

“There,” he coos. “Not so bad, eh?” You glower at him and he chuckles. You think Copia is going to let you sit up but he doesn’t move, looking down at you with an interested look in his peculiar, mismatched eyes. He brushes some loose hairs away from your face and runs his thumb across an undamaged section of your cheek. Planting his hand next to your head, the other finds your opposite hip, effectively pinning you to the desk. You don’t resist when he leans down, pressing his mouth into yours. He’s forceful, enough to agitate your split lip, but careful to avoid bumping into your nose. Closing your eyes, you take in the lingering minty taste on his lips, instinctively parting yours at the feeling of his tongue prodding at you. Unconsciously, your thighs press together.

Copia’s tongue is gentle in its exploration. It crosses your mind that your mouth is still bloody and you are in desperate need of a shower, but clearly he doesn’t mind. With the hand at your hip, he begins to lightly trace the waistband of your shorts, his index finger running along the edge. The two of you remain like this for what feels like forever until, unable to breathe through your packed nose, you start to tremble from the lack of oxygen. Having mercy on you, he breaks away. While you desperately catch your breath, he takes the tip of a gloved finger between his teeth, pulling the garment off to expose his bare hand. It quickly returns to its place, this time right above the apex of your thighs. Smothering you with his mouth once again, Copia swallows your quiet moan as he reaches down to grab at your core. You want to pull him closer, but the second you try to reach around with your free arm he grabs your wrist.

“Let Papa take care of you.”

With no other choice, you lay back as he massages you through the fabric of your shorts. You’re practically melting under his touch, your aches and pains fading until they’re nothing but background noise. The fight itself seems so far way, as if it happened in another life. You can’t imagine why you were so angry before. Right now, Copia is at the center of your whole world, like he is, and always has been, the only thing that matters.

When he finally slips his hand under the elastic to touch you directly, you moan for him again. He traces your clit with his middle finger, dipping down to feel and gather the wetness of your cunt. Your self-control slips, and you grind your hips up into his touch. Seemingly satisfied with your state of arousal, Copia withdraws, sliding an arm under your body and lifting you so that you’re sitting upright. You swing your legs over the other side of the desk so that you’re face-to-face. Copia removes his other glove, placing it next to you before gripping the waistband of both your shorts and underwear. Planting your feet, you just barely lift your ass off the table, allowing him to pull the garments down. You have to kick off your slides so that he can completely remove them, dropping them on the floor next to the desk.

The anticipation is heavy as you watch Copia free himself from the confines of his well-tailored suit pants. His cock is thick and hard, immediately springing forth when he unzips his fly. The tip is flushed a light purple and already beading with precum. You swallow down the saliva rapidly accumulating in your mouth, wanting to reach out and touch him but knowing to let him lead. Sure enough, he takes a small step forward, slotting himself between your parted legs. His hands find the underside of your thighs, lifting them up to rest on his hips. You fall back, propping yourself up on your forearms. The desk is just the right height where he has perfect access to your entrance, and you shudder at the sensation of his cock teasing your folds.

Copia drapes himself over you as he slides inside your wet heat, claiming your mouth again. He fucks like you fight, hard and fast, snapping his hips with an unparalleled ferocity. The force is enough to move you back and forth on the desk, and your already exhausted arms begin to wobble with overexertion. When they finally give out you fall back, nearly smacking your head. You just barely manage to catch yourself.

“Dolcezza, you make Papa a very happy man. You know that?” You nod and Copia rewards you with a well-angled thrust, hitting a spot that has you convulsing under him. He hums, satisfied by your response. Still pounding into you, he grabs onto your sports bra, dragging it upwards to expose your breasts. They bounce each time his hips drive forward, the cool air immediately pebbling your nipples. He pinches one of the pink buds, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp, back arching off the desk.

“Fuck!” It comes out like you’ve been kicked in the chest. You can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach, pulling tight like a rubber band. Copia’s pleasure is evident on his face, his brow furrowed and cheeks flushed. Small droplets of sweat bead at his graying temples.

“You always — Fuck! — You always fight so well for me.”

Slowly, his hand trails down to where the two of you meet. His thumb begins to trace tight circles around your clit, compelling your body to contract around him.

“Papa-”

“Where would I be without you, mia campionessa?”

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, crashing down like a tidal wave. You thrash wildly on the desk, a hand clapping over your mouth to stifle a long string of moans. Copia follows not long after, spilling inside you with a low groan. For a moment, everything is still. You gaze up at him, spellbound. The florescent lights create a blueish halo around his form and with the flush still decorating his cheeks, he’s practically glowing. You know he won’t kiss you again, but when he withdraws entirely, tucking his soft cock away, the disappointment still stings. Unable, as always, to find the right words, you bite back the feeling and silently get up. Going through the motions, you let Copia assist in making you presentable again. You’re acutely aware of his seed dripping out of you, but choose to pull your shorts and underwear back on before he can address it. From a hook on the door he retrieves your jacket and sweatpants. He’s halfway through pulling on his own coat when there’s a knock.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” a muffled voice announces. “The earnings are secure. Car is ready for you.”

“Bene. We will be along soon.” He looks to you, offering you his arm. You take it like it’s a lifeline. “Let’s go home, dolcezza.”

[homelanderbutbig]

I Did It For You (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2433 words. Hurt/comfort. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You are harassed by a scuzzball co-worker, and Homelander is a bit too forceful in protecting you.

You have been dating Homelander for a couple months now, with this fact hidden from the rest of Vought. However, you were fortunate enough to transfer from your boring desk job to become Homelander's personal assistant, allowing the two of you to spend more time together without suspicion. While most of your former co-workers are confused as to why you would take such a dangerous position, you shrug off their concerns and keep your real reasons to yourself.

One evening after a considerably busy workload, you are separated from Homelander to finish up some paperwork before signing off for the night. Making your way down the halls of your old floor, you are approached by one of your prior co-workers.

"I'm surprised to see you here again", they say, which is a bit baffling to you. The entire time you'd worked with them, not once did they return your attempts at small talk.

"I just had some forms to deliver to my old manager," you explain, trying to resume your stroll. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my boss". However, your previous co-worker blocks your path, reaching their arm out in front of you.

"Hey now, what's the rush?" they question, getting a bit too close for comfort as they invade your personal space. "You afraid that oversized supe is gonna throw you off the Tower like every other assistant he's had?"

You can't hide the glower forming on your face when they insult Homelander like that, causing them to chuckle at you.

"Come on now," they snort, eyeing you up and down. "We all know something is going on between you and that giant freak. You've lasted this long without him killing you, and you don't think anybody's noticed? You have some kinda dirt on him, dontcha?"

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I'm just doing my job," you counter, again trying to end this awkward chat, but you are startled as they roughly grab onto your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

"Tell me what you know," they sneer as their face is right in front of yours. "I haven't been working at Vought this long to be upstaged by some newbie. You know something, and you aren't leaving without sharing."

"And what do we have here?" a voice suddenly reverberates through the hallway, causing you both to jump. You don't even have to turn around to know who has arrived, and you know for a fact he's been listening in on this whole conversation. You just pray that he's not in a bad mood.

"H-Homelander!" your co-worker stutters, letting your wrist go as they are unable to mask their unease seeing the leader of The Seven smiling down at the two of you. He rarely ever comes to this floor, and if he does it's never for a good reason. "W-We were just catching up on work matters, nothing to concern yourself about!"

"Ah ah ah," Homelander smugly retorts, wagging his finger as he leisurely saunters closer to your co-worker, forcing them to stagger backwards into the wall as he looms his massive form above them. "Don't you fucking lie to me". Although Homelander still has a smile painted on his face, it's obviously laced with venomous intent.

When your co-worker tries to flee, they are swiftly halted by his large hand enveloping their arm, just as they had done to stop you moments ago. In one quick flick of his wrist, he breaks their arm as easily as one would snap a graham cracker.

"How pathetic," Homelander scoffs, dropping his fake smile. Without any emotion, he ignores your co-worker's screams as they fall to their knees, writhing in pain. He bends down to snatch them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them back onto their feet. "You really are just fucking scum."

"And scum like you don't deserve anything," he snarls, baring his fangs. Wrapping one hand around your co-worker's neck, he effortlessly hoists them up and pins them against the wall eight feet in the air.

"Homelander, no! STOP!!" you gasp as your co-worker fruitlessly tries to break free from his iron grip, frantically kicking their legs while struggling to pull the large hand away from their throat. You grab onto his thigh, in a futile attempt to shake some sense into a brick wall.

Since starting your job at Vought, your co-workers have told you rumours about Homelander's inescapable rage. Sure you've seen his temper flare at the drop of a hat over something minor, but you're always there to calm him down. Around you, he's never gotten this mad before, and it terrifies you that he's not listening to your outcry.

You can see Homelander giving into his fury, his eyes turning red from his laser vision activating as he relishes torturing this mudperson by slowly applying more pressure to their windpipe. This worm dared to touch the only thing in the world he treasures, and he intends on making them pay. Once your co-worker's legs start to go limp, you know he is seconds away from killing them. In this moment you are aware that you only have one option left to attempt to stop him.

"JOHN!!" you shout, finally enough to grab his attention. Briefly turning his gaze to you, his face twitches involuntarily.

"Don't… don't call me that," Homelander snaps back at you, sounding more like a plea than a demand. Although his expression remains angry, he squeezes his eyes shut while breathing heavily through his nose. Thankfully, you can tell this was enough to have broken through his tough guy persona to the tender little boy he hides inside.

When Homelander first told you his birth name, 'John', he insisted you only use it in situations where you two are alone, and when he is comfortable enough. This name is the last piece connecting himself to his childhood, and he still has trouble dealing with the memories it conjures. Hearing it makes him feel small, vulnerable, and… human. You've seen how much he gets affected by you calling him 'John', even in an entirely loving way, and you understand it's something he only prefers on his own terms. However, you know you had to do something to stop him from murdering this person.

"John, please," you persist, ignoring his request. You reach up to caress his free hand, which is tightly clenched as he tries to control his conflicting emotions. "It's alright. I'm fine."

Homelander slowly relaxes his fist and allows you to weave your fingers around his own. Opening his eyes again, he looks tentatively down at you. While his outrage is beginning to soften, his pupils are still glowing red. His other hand is starting to release your co-worker's throat, albeit very reluctantly.

"Please put them down," you plead, massaging his hand while you refuse to tear your eyes away from him. "It's okay now. Everything's okay". You know he'd never laser you, and you need him to know you trust that he won't either. Luckily, he seems to understand your message as the light from his eyes slowly dims and his blue irises return.

There is a sudden thud once Homelander abruptly frees your co-worker from his grasp, dropping them hard onto the floor. At first you are alarmed that the fall could have done more damage because they appear to be unconscious, but you are relieved to at least hear them still breathing.

Looking back up to Homelander, you notice the last of his ire has vanished, now replaced by an intense distress as he comes back down and registers what he has done. It's not the near murder that's upset him, it's hearing your rapid heartbeat and smelling your cortisol levels spiking from fear. He's gone too far, and now you're frightened. He wants to say something, to put his bravado back on display and reassure you this mudperson doesn't deserve your compassion. However, he is just as petrified as you are, unable to form even basic sentences while his body is frozen in place. His mind is going a hundred miles an hour, convincing himself that you are going to realize that he is a monster and leave him.

As much as you are afraid by what has just occurred, you have come to learn the easiest way to diffuse situations like this is to soothe Homelander's anxieties. In a way it is a little disconcerting to you, having to be the one to tell him that everything's fine after what he's done. It's like the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, life and death dependent on making sure Homelander feels loved.

And yet, over the weeks you have gotten close to him… you want to be that person. You want to swaddle him with your devotion, because although he hides it from everyone else, he truly is broken. His life has been nothing but tragedy, a neverending nightmare that he has been forbidden to heal from. He deserves to be loved, and there is never a day that goes by where he doesn't display his ceaseless gratitude to everything that you do solely for his happiness. 

"Could you please pick me up, sweetie?" you ask softly, raising your arms up to signal your intentions. Homelander swallows timidly, his lower lip quivering as he fights a losing battle with his tears. Carefully, he bends down to raise you up and cradle you in his arms. Propped up to be eye-level with him, you can readily discern the profound fear in his eyes, apprehensively waiting for you to speak first.

"I know you were just trying to protect me," you say, petting his cheek. He leans into your hand, chasing for affection. "And I'm grateful that you were there to help, but…" you trail off, biting your lip. You are trying to think of the best way to put this without making him more distraught.

"I don't like seeing you hurt people," you express firmly, immediately noting how hard he is trying to conceal his pain at hearing your disappointment in him. He hates letting you down, it reminds him too much of how miserable he was everytime he displeased Madelyn.

"I… I-I did it for you," Homelander whispers faintly, angling his head lower to do his best not to look you in the eyes. He doesn't want to catch a glimpse of your face, worried that he will be forced to see your grievances for his actions. Regardless, he feels your tiny hand moving from his cheek to under his chin in an effort to redirect his vision. You lack the strength to actually lift his massive head up, but he doesn't want to frustrate you anymore than he already has, and obediently does what you want. To his surprise, you don't look irritated… you only show sympathy.

"I know baby, I know," you console him, resting your forehead on his while you nuzzle into his nose. "Please, just… no more violence, okay?" you stress, bringing both of your hands back up to scratch his undercut. You feel him nod at your words as he closes his eyes and deeply sighs, completely melting into your touches. If there's one thing he would never do, it's go against your wishes. Under no circumstances would he willingly deprive himself of you.

Suddenly, Homelander's expression goes sour once he hears your co-worker finally awaken, roughly gasping for breath. You both glance over to see them rubbing their sore throat with their good hand as they shakily stand up, their back against the wall to support their battered body. When they eventually regain their bearings, they are shocked to spot you in Homelander's arms.

"Leave," Homelander states, staring daggers into them. The one thing he wanted to avoid has now happened; someone has discovered your secret relationship. Their hesitation to move only seems to anger him more, causing his face to twitch and contort into a menacing grimace.

"I SAID LEAVE!!" he yells, his voice booming throughout the hallway as his rage reignites his laser vision. Fearing for their life, your co-worker doesn't waste a second more as they run away as fast as their unstable gait will allow, disappearing down the hallway.

Homelander keeps his eyes focused on them, following their movements with his X-ray vision to ensure they don't come back. You can't stop yourself from feeling intimidated by the incredible heat emanating from his eyes, which fortunately dissipates when he redirects his gaze back to you.

"They're going to tell everyone about this," you fret, trying to ignore how cognizant you are seeing how quickly Homelander's demeanour flipped back to fury. He reminds you of a child when he does things like this; he really isn't the best at regulating his emotions.

"They'll stay quiet if they know what's good for them," he declares, still looking quite serious with his brows tightly knit together. "I'll make sure of it."

"Promise me you won't hurt them again," you fuss, doing your best to calm him down by bringing your palm back up to his cheek. "I know they're a horrible person, but just… promise me, please."

Like magic, your caresses return Homelander to the pliable state he was in before, efficiently wiping away all of his exasperation. Again, he sinks into your hand and nods to agree with your request. He hopes you recognize the level of restraint he is showing not ending your pitiful co-worker's life. This isn't something he'd do for just anyone, he only wants to be good for you.

"Vought will deal with them," he assures you, speaking from experience. This isn't the first person he's injured on purpose that the company has had to pay off, but this is the first instance where he is actually grateful humans are greedy enough to accept these bribes.

Homelander doesn't want to worry you anymore, he just wants you to be proud of him. You're always there to save him, and he's messed up his initial chance trying to do the same for you. More than anything he wants to see your face light up as he swoops down to guard you from danger, to show you his true power as he fights off the vermin of the city, or anyone that would even look at you the wrong way.

Even if you don't want him to, he's always going to be there to protect you. And one day, he yearns to show you the same level of care you give him, when you shelter him from himself.

[icaruskeyartist]

In theory, you understand that the human body is a bunch of electrical impulses running through a pile of organs, and that it's not that different from how technology works (a bunch of electrical impulses running through a pile of microchips and metal).

In practice though, in practice you're not sure how you've ended up like this.

"Oww..." Stupid fucking animatronics, stupid fucking Moon messing with you while you're trying to change out a flickering bulb. Maintenance isn't even part of your job description, but the STAFF bots can't reach this high and seriously, fuck management and fuck Moon.

At least you seem to be in one piece. Your mind is racing, panicking, and you sit up from where you fell, rubbing at your face. Clang. What? You pat your face, hearing bells, and definitely not feeling a human face. You're not even sure if you're feeling anything at all. There's pressure, but no real sensation beyond that touch.

You open your eyes and immediately fall back. As if that would let you escape the HUD overlaid on the entirely too bright nightscape around you. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

There's a groan and your head jerks towards the ladder. It'd fallen in the explosion, and there's a person laying with their legs tangled in the metal. Wearing a security guard uniform. And the hair is a familiar color. The HUD lights up, helpfully identifying the figure as they roll onto their back, blood smeared over their face. It's your name.

"What happened?" Your voice too, as the figure pushes themselves up. They stop like you did, and you watch as it takes in the very human hand they were balancing themselves on. You look down, seeing long, delicate blue and gray fingers instead of your own flesh and blood. Bells tied to your wrist ring gently as your non-existent gut drops. "What in Fazbear..."

A hand grabs your wrist, your hand, Moon's wrist, what is happening, and you're jerked closer to your own face. You look furious despite the blood, and your HUD gives you the less than helpful information that the security guard has a potentially broken nose and a large laceration just under their hairline. "What did you do to me?" Moon growls in your voice.

"What did I do?" Moon's voice trips you up and you fall silent, desperately trying to process how you could speak without breathing and you weren't breathing holy fuck

There is too much information flitting through your mind all at once and you are still being bombarded with the fact your body is injured. Your body, the meat and guts one.

"Yes what did you -- ow!" Moon lets you go to press a hand to his eye. The blood had finally gotten to it, and you wince in sympathy. "I'm bleeding."

"Well yeah," you say, and you're definitely not thinking about how you're talking. "You... I... You fell ten feet off a ladder. You're lucky you didn't break a leg."

"That is not what I'm talking about. Why are you in my body? Where's Sun?"

Oh, he's right. Where is Sun? The thought brings up a lot of information, from the actual star in the galaxy to an old set of programs from the theater, but there's no Sun in your head.

"He has to be in there." Moon is either reading your mind or has decided that you're especially stupid now that you're trapped in his body. Either way, he's talking and standing, a little wobbly when all the blood that's left through his head decides not to miraculously reappear. "Stand up. I'm not dragging you."

"How?" slips out before you can catch it. Moon laughs, and it sounds mean coming from your throat. You want to swallow or swat at him or both, but you can't do the former and just barely manage to avoid the latter. You manage to stand and follow, feeling rather tall. Is this how it felt to not be the shortest person in the room? It's kinda nice.

"Go," Moon orders when you stop just outside the daycare. "We are bringing Sun out. He'll know what to do." He shoves at you, smearing blood against the heavy material of your pants. It's smeared over his face as well, and he looks pale under the mess.

"Maybe you should sit. You've lost a lot of blood." Unbidden, inventory of the daycare comes up in your mind, helpfully informing you of the first aid kit and apple juice tucked away from curious little hands. "I can... Clean you up?"

"No. Sun." Moon shoves you inside with all his strength, and you stumble forward, tripping over the upturned ends of your slippers. Moon slaps the wall behind you and the lights of the daycare flicker to life.

The change is uncomfortable, like someone is scratching at a chalkboard inside your mind. You drop to your knees, groaning as Moon's hat retracts, Sun's rays unsheathing. You want to close your eyes but you can't. You have no eyelids, no easy escape away from reality. And when the change stops, you find a new set of instructions thrumming just under your conscious thought, all the tasks and lists and other things about running the daycare at peak efficiency and with the cheapest labor possible.

But Sun isn't there.

"Sunny?" Moon's words falter in your voice, and when you look his way, you can see the fear in his face. Of course. Moon wouldn't be used to having a face that could emote. Something flickers in your mind. Sympathy? No, more likely it's some part of Sun's coding urging you to ease a human's pain.

"Not here," you say, and there is a tiny amount of satisfaction at seeing his face fall. "Are you sure he didn't follow you into my body?"

"I don't heaf him," Moon says, but you roll your eyes. Or. You think you do. Sun doesn't have pupils or irises. Maybe that's been taken from you too.

"He doesn't come out in the dark." You grab Moon by the front of your shirt and drag him out of the shadows as he gives the most undignified yell.

You toss him directly under one of the lights, flinching as he doesn't catch himself and instead goes rolling across the hard rubber mats. Okay, so you are strong like this. Probably shouldn't be such a surprise. Still, it is just a little funny watching your body rag doll around. You just hope it won't hurt anymore once you're back in it.

"You good?" You ask, squatting next to your body. You pick up a wrist, and your HUD changes to reflect the heart rate of your body. It's pounding away in there, so Moon is still clearly alive. You roll him over, watching as he blinks blearily in the light. "Hello?"

"Hello," he says, shielding his eyes from the light as he sits up. He blinks, adjusting to the change, before staring at his hand. He flips it over, staring at his palm, then back again before grabbing at his clothes. "Moony, what did you do?" He asks and. Ah.

"Sun," you say with a sigh, and fall back onto your animatronic ass. Oh, right. You'd been squatting. "Moon was looking for you. Guess you're in there with him."

"What's happened? Why are you me? Why am --- am I bleeding?" He touches the tacky blood matt that's become of your eyebrow, recoiling in disgust and fear. He turns wide, wide eyes to you. You grimace. You recognize that look.

"I don't know," you say flatly. "I was on a ladder changing out one of the lights near the arcade when Moon decided to be a little shirt and got us both electrocuted. I woke up like this."

"Oh." Sun frowns and closes his eyes, leaving you to wonder what he was trying to do. Whatever it was, it wasn't working, and when he rubbed at his face, he flinched. "Can you help with this?" Sun asks, gesturing vaguely to the cut.

"I don't---"

"It's in your programming," Sun said, standing with more grace than you or Moon have managed this far. "Just access the file and you'll be able to stitch this closed."

"I'm sorry. You want me to stitch my own face shut?" You trail after him as he goes to the cabinet and pulls out the first aid kit.

"it's just a simple task. No more difficult than sewing a ripped seam back together." He hands you the kit, trying to sit in a kid sized chair before giving up and sitting on the table (visibly uncomfortable) instead.

"Just a simple task," you grumble at the kit, opening it with one hand. You don't have to ask how to retrieve a file at least. When you pick up a needle, you're bombarded with different methods of sewing a human's skin back together. To put it inelegantly.

Sun waits for you, leg bouncing rapidfire even as you kneel. You grab his knee and squeeze until he legs out a squeak of discomfort. "Stop that. I'm not going to poke out my own eye because you're anxious."

"Sorry." Pause. "Sorry," he repeats, more softly.

You don't reply, needing to focus on the directions that are bypassing conscious thought into action that your body takes while you scramble to keep up. You clean the wound, ignoring as Sun hisses in surprised pain, then pinch the wound shut. The needle is pre-threaded and sterile, and you make surprisingly small, neat stitches with the black thread, snapping it off and dropping the needle back into the box to dispose of later. You only need a small bandage to cover the stitching and then... You're done.

"Well shirt." You cock your head, confused. "Shirt. Fazbear. Birch." You pull at your faceplate, like you can physically drag the words out of your mouth. "Why the Fazbear can't I say shirt?"

"Bad language is prohibited in the daycare." Sun sounds tired, and when you glare at him, he is poking at the bandage. You grab his hand and force it down. That damned leg starts bouncing again.

"Okay fine. How do we switch back?" Sun stares at you. You stare back. "Well?"

"How would I know that?" Sun asks and you sigh, going to run a hand through your hair. You hit a ray instead. "Do you see anything in your programming that can help?"

"I can't see shirt." If you could, you would rip out this stupid censoring first. "Moon said you would know."

"Well, I don't. And this isn't good. The kids will be here in... in..." There's no clock in the daycare and you watch as Sun realizes that he doesn't have his programming anymore. No internal clock. No database of information that enabled you to sew your own flesh shut. He jumps up and all but runs to the security desk. You follow after, watching as he catches himself, freezing before he could reach for the phone.

"What?"

"I'm not supposed to go behind the security desk."

You snort, shaking your head as you reach past him and stop, hand frozen. With a frown, you try to push past, but it's like shoving against a wall. There's no movement. Sun is watching and he slowly reaches past you, hand shaking as he pulls the phone display over.

"This is Fazbear stupid," you grumble, letting your hand drop.

"The kids are going to be here in an hour!" Sun is on a completely different level, and he turns to run and do something, no idea what, because he promptly trips over your own shoelaces. And of course he doesn't try to catch himself. If your nose isn't broken by the end of the night, you're going to be shocked.

With a sigh, you go and pick him up with a grip on the back of his shirt. "Okay, we've got an hour. It's time to learn some human 101 so you don't get my body killed before we can fix this tonight."

---

Okay anyway, this is why I sent you the ask @pillowspace. I think I'm going to open my askbox to prompts too because holy shit I felt my blood pressure drop while writing this.

I also used The Good Place curse substitutions except for Fazbear cause I think they did it best and also FE wouldn't pass up a chance for free promotion.

[turtletaubwrites]

Take What He Needs ~ Part 2

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is an investigative journalist that joined the crew after the fight at Arlong Park. You’ve been a member of the crew for a little while, and now you've been seeing a certain cook for the past week. You thought your crush on him had been distracting before, but tonight you're having trouble focusing on your writing. Going to Sanji's room to work was probably not the best choice.

This is part 2 of the second installment of What You Need. You can find part 1 Here or on the Masterlist below.

Word Count: 2121

What You Need Masterlist

Ao3 Link ~ Total Word Count: 4,398

Ratings/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, Reader Insert, 18+, MDNI, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Throat Fucking, Masturbation, Fluff and Smut, Sex Toys, Vibrators, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Established Relationship, Vaginismus, Pelvic Floor Dysfunction, Swearing, Pet Names, Sanji being the most attentive lover in the world

A/N: Reader has a condition that makes intimacy difficult and sometimes painful, but Sanji is ready to prove how much he values your pleasure.

Sanji’s breath caught, and his fingers twitched on your skin.

“Did I hurt you?”

You almost laughed, then tried to decide how to explain it to this man. This man who’s so obsessed with never hurting you that he sometimes misses out on enjoying himself with you.

You pulled his hands from your face as you spread your thighs. Sanji looked confused, but then you shoved his hands onto the wooden floor under your nightgown. Watching his eyes roll back as he groaned, all because his hands slipped on the floor from how he’d made you feel, that was a sight you’d be holding onto.

You released his wrists, and your breath got heavy as he continued to slide and play with your slick on the floor.

He pulled one of his hands up between you. He spread his fingers, and the strings of pleasure dripping between made you both react. 

Sanji shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking you off of them like it was food he couldn’t waste. 

You felt like you could die right there, until his voice, raspy with knowing, made your body slump.

“How can I repay my princess for such a bounty? Please, tell me what you need.”

You knew he was asking if your body would be okay with more today. You weren’t sure, but you were fucking desperate to try. 

“I need you to finger me, Sanji. Please fucking touch me, I nee-“

He’d cut you off again, this time by picking you up off the floor, and laying you against the pillows on his bed. 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You moaned ‘yes’ for him, and whined for his touch as he rummaged in his desk.

He pulled out a purple toy, not very thick, but with an interesting looking curve.

“What’s that,” you asked, just wanting to hear how he’d describe it. 

“This is something I hope you’ll enjoy, if you’re open to trying it.”

His smile made you squirm. 

“But I love your fingers so much.”

He moved closer, sitting on the bed by your feet, smoothing one hand lightly along your calf.

“Mm, they love you too, beautiful. How about you just let me know if you’d like to test it out.”

You pretended to think it over. 

“Well, I suppose we could give it a try.”

You grinned as you pulled yourself out of your pajamas, and then you moaned at Sanji’s reaction when he saw your core, still dripping wet. 

He reached his hand toward it, looking at your face until you nodded with a smile.

He lightly touched his fingers to you, pulling away thick strings of your slick.

“All of this for me? All of this because I fucked your throat like that?”

His quiet, disbelieving words made you arch your back and cry out.

“Yes, Sanji, all for you.”

You loved watching him close his eyes and shiver for you. 

He looked down at you with what looked like awe in his eyes, and it made you squirm. He smirked, and motioned the toy toward you, pointing at your face.

“Apologies, I shouldn’t leave my perfect girl waiting.”

You giggled, and then gasped as he set himself up, propped between your legs. With his face so close to your center, he seemed to have gotten distracted. His mouth hung open, his tongue loose and you arched your back at the look in his eyes. He looked like he was going to take a bite, then devour you whole. 

“May I taste you, sweetheart?”

You could hardly let out our breath, but you whispered your need.

“Please.”

Sanji wrapped his hands around your hips as he pulled himself closer. You were aching for him.

How does he make me crave him every second of the day?

His playful eyes darkened as he stared into yours, teasing your inner thighs with his lips, closer and closer.

Right, that’s how. 

You whined for him as Sanji’s tongue started lapping up the wetness on your thighs. You squirmed, twisting yourself to be closer to that tongue, with its piercing teasing you with what you knew it could do.

He chuckled again as you whined his name. 

“You still want me this much, after all we did in the storeroom today?”

“Fuck Sanji, yes, I need you.”

You heard a satisfied growl before you felt it rumble against you when he dove into your folds. You started to scream, then clamped your mouth shut.

Nami’s joke about the ballgag doesn’t seem like a bad idea. 

You almost laughed at your thought, but you were too busy trying not to erupt. Sanji’s hungry eyes ate up your reactions, while his skilled tongue and that fucking ring played with your clit. 

His movements were so controlled, as if he’d been training his tongue just for this, like he’d trained his hands just for cooking, and his legs just for fighting. 

You had to grab one of his pillows to chew on. 

He alternated sensations with the ring, then the tip of his tongue. Circles, back and forth, then slow kisses and gentle sucks that had you shaking. You moaned his name through the pillow and twitched as his pleased hum vibrated through you.

Then his tongue on your clit was replaced, the toy vibrating right where you needed it to instead. 

You thrashed on his bed, feeling like a fucking shark as you hung onto the pillow with your teeth. 

Your muffled screams and pants took you over and you heard Sanji purring over you while you came.

You had barely come down, still spasming when you felt him breathe a request against your skin.

“May I keep trying, my sweet?”

You dropped the pillow out of your mouth with an exhausted laugh.

“What do you mean,” you gasped out.

Sanji traced the toy along the inside of your thigh.

“I would like to see if I can coax more pleasure from you tonight. But please let me know if-“

“Okay,” you breathed, reaching for the pillow, but waiting for him to start.

He smiled and turned the toy over a few times for you to look at. 

“Please let me know when I’ve found the right spot for you, darling. Stop me if you need to.”

You nodded, so grateful to be with someone who listens to your body’s needs. 

Sanji gave you a soft smile that turned dark as he moved back to your core. You gasped as he gave your clit a few long, soft strokes with his tongue, making you twitch lightly from the orgasm you’d just had. 

He traded his tongue for the toy, barely touching, but the vibration made you cry out, reaching for the pillow.

Sanji laughed softly and pulled away, making you whine. Gently, he took the pillow from you, and brought one of his ties. It was folded a few times and he traced your cheek with the smooth fabric until you opened your mouth for him again.

You saw when Sanji remembered how you’d opened your mouth for him earlier, and the satisfaction you felt from his reaction made your insides twist. You took his tie into your mouth, promising him with your eyes that it wouldn’t be the last time he could shove something of his in there.

Sanji groaned, and you almost cried from the anticipation you felt, and the scent of Sanji on the tie in your mouth. 

He found his place again, after leaving gentle strokes and touches along your body on his way down. You were shaking for him, feeling even more wetness from his skilled touch.

Sanji sank his tongue into you, and you arched your back, moaning into his tie. He teased you, readying you. Then you gasped through the fabric as he gently slipped one finger inside. You smiled at the coolness of the lube he’d kept by the bed, how he’d remembered you told him you’d need it, even when you were dripping for him.

Sanji was such a fast learner, and his finger already found the spot you needed. He waited for your desperate nod, then added another finger, watching your every reaction. 

How is he so fucking good at this?

“I’m going to switch now, beautiful. Let me know how to please my goddess.”

You moaned for him, then felt the cool, smooth feel of the toy teasing your entrance. It didn’t feel like much yet, and you hadn’t had much luck with toys in the past. But you wanted to feel whatever Sanji wanted to give you. 

You kept your breathing slow as he pressed the toy in, trying not to tense. He watched your face, and you tried not to let yourself pretend with him like you had with everyone else. 

Sanji held the toy inside you so gently, trying to guide it to where you needed it.

You’d let Sanji explore your body with his fingers, showing him which angles were neutral, which were painful, and which would make you come for him. 

He’d studied your pussy like it was his life’s dream to master it. 

You looked into his eyes while he explored now, while he took so much fucking care not to hurt you, or even make you uncomfortable. You bit down on the tie and tried not to cry from happiness so he wouldn’t think he was hurting you.

He set the toy inside you, then gave you a slow nod as he pressed it up, slowly building pressure. It still didn’t feel like much, but you knew he’d found the right angle, so you nodded back. 

With a crooked smile, Sanji turned the toy on and built the pressure more and more, knowing just how to move it for you. 

The vibration was so intense for you there, and Sanji’s perfect movements against your g spot had you thrashing again, drooling through his tie. 

You heard his satisfied hum as he used his free hand to press down on your hip, holding you in place so he could do his work. 

Screams muffled through your clenched teeth as Sanji held that pressure and vibration, torturing you with pleasure, while his thumb started smoothing up and down over your sensitive clit, still fucking drenched.

He had to press down on your hip hard to keep you still for him while he controlled you. While he watched you writhe for him with knowing eyes. Your eyes rolled back in your head when you saw him lick his lips while he admired his own handiwork. 

The orgasm crashed through you, and you could feel your pussy milking that toy so hard while it kept vibrating, kept torturing. Sanji’s thumb had started circling around your clit, and you could feel it pulsing on him, your whole cunt fucking throbbing for him.

You didn't know what to do with your hands. You scrambled at his sheets, clenched your fingernails into your thighs. You reached for your breasts, squeezing and twitching as your fingers pinched at your sensitive nipples. Sanji moaned as he watched you, and it made your orgasm keep fucking coming, until you’d soaked Sanji’s hands. You couldn’t fucking think. You were just buzzing, twitching nerves. 

He pulled the toy out so gently, humming while he kissed up your body. He trailed his soaked fingers along your skin, making you shiver and gasp.

He pulled a sheet over you, letting you twitch in his arms as you came down.

He kissed the top of your head, and chuckled to himself.

You couldn’t form words yet, but you moaned in question at him. He chuckled again before responding.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I think I may have distracted you from your work.”

You groaned then, lightly hitting him with your hand, although you could barely move. 

“How about you stay here with me tonight, and I’ll wake you up early with breakfast so you can spend the morning writing?”

The cheesy smile taking over your face made you blush, and you curled your face into his chest, instantly becoming more flustered. I just want to lick him so bad!

Sanji kept touching you with soft caresses, smoothing your hair behind your ear as he left a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

You sighed, shivers running down your skin. 

“You have to promise to let me focus on work.”

He looked into your face with a subtle wink that made you want to gnaw on him. 

“But of course, princess. Whatever my lady commands.”

You shook your head, but melted into his arms. 

“Make sure there’s waffles.”

He laughed into your hair, then pulled you in closer. 

Maybe sleeping in the same room isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[spider-stark]

GUTS

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Peter gets seriously hurt saving someones life, in the midst of panic your true feelings for him come out.

Warnings - Stabbing, blood, violence,

a/n - wow what i'm actually posting something that is WILD. anyways, i recently moved to a new apartment so for the past month my brain has been fried and i have had zero time to write. but, here is this lil blurb! and i am in the process of finishing up the next part of Infinitely You if anyone still wants to read it haha enjoy :)

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

He had gotten hurt. Really hurt. 

It was a simple carjacking, or at least it was supposed to be simple. The type of petty crime he responded to all the time. 

He had been so bored, legs dangling over the side of the Empire State building when he heard the call come through over the police scanner he’d been listening to. Finally, he thought to himself, webs already shooting from his wrists as he dived off the side of the building, some entertainment. 

But everything went wrong. 

So fucking wrong, so quick. 

There was no time to think as he saw the streetlights dance along the steel blade of the pocket-knife in the carjacker's hand, its sharp edge just milliseconds away from plunging into the innocent man’s stomach. Peter could see the man’s kid in the backseat of the car, heard his shrill screams as he banged against the window, crying for his dad.

He let adrenaline guide his actions, throwing himself in front of the blade with not a hint of hesitation, shoving the innocent man to the asphalt as steel plunged through the fabric of his suit. 

There was so much blood, so much that it left him feeling dizzy. His vision went spotty, struggling to aim for the carjacker as he tried to shoot his webs at him, hoping to stop him just long enough for the police to get here. 

They have to be close, he could faintly hear the sirens blaring over the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears. 

But, due to a heavy hand and blurry vision, he missed. How could he miss? 

The man, the one he saved, was back on his feet and rushing to comfort his son. They hadn’t seemed to notice Peter yet, notice just what he had done, how he had potentially saved that man’s life. He was thankful for it, thankful that the kid was spared the trauma of watching it happen. 

Peter stumbled into the alleyway, the same one the thief had run into, but he had no intentions of chasing the criminal down. He couldn’t, not in the state he was in. 

It had taken every last bit of his strength to get to your house. To get to you. 

You hadn't expected Peter to come by, but then again he rarely ever gave you notice, especially for visits like this. Late nights spent with a cheap dollar store sewing kit and the skill set of someone who had a mild interest in embroidery often being the only thing that stood between Peter and certain death. You hated when he came to you like this, but you’d never say it. You’d stitch him up a thousand times, put yourself through the horrors of watching your best friend nearly bleed out over and over again if it meant that he would still be here—that he would still be alive. 

But this was the closest he had ever gotten to death, just barely holding on when he came crashing through your bedroom window. He was in and out of consciousness the entire time, as you removed the knife, stitched him up, and tried to clean his blood from your carpet. You worried that you would lose him, worried that he wouldn’t wake back up. But, by some stroke of luck, your security deposit was the only thing you lost that night. 

Still, it was different this time. His super-healing had kicked in once he was awake, the blood beginning to clot and stop leaking out from your amaetuer stitch job. But you couldn’t shake that feeling, the terror and anxiety that consumed you when you had to come face-to-face with the idea of losing Spider-Man. Of losing Peter Parker. 

He thought it was a fever dream. The thought of infection setting in to his fresh stab-wound much easier to believe than the possibility of his best friend, the girl of his dreams, suddenly leaning in and kissing him. But it wasn’t a dream, wasn’t his mind playing cruel tricks on him. You were here, right in front of him, your lips desperately moving against his own and your fingers getting tangled in his dark hair. 

So many times he had dreamt of this. Dreamt of crossing the line between just friends and something more, a line that the two of you had been balancing on for years now. He always hoped that one day he would spill his guts to you, but had never quite expected to almost literally spill his guts to you, and certainly wouldn’t have expected it to end like this. 

He was breathless when you pulled away, and he finally realized that he hadn’t even kissed you back, too lost in his own mind. “Wha-why?” 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

It was a desperate answer to a desperate question, a single beat of silence passing before you followed it up, doubling down on the statement. 

“I can’t fucking lose you.” 

Peter’s already shallow breath caught in his throat, butterflies erupting in his stomach (or maybe it was just pain from his newly sustained stab wound, though he found butterflies to be far more romantic). 

“You won’t.” He breathed out the promise, both of you unsure of whether or not it was one he could actually keep, though neither of you cared at this moment. Because for now he was here, he was alive, and he was finally yours. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but he didn’t care so long as it meant you would kiss him again.