#because my body and brain are demanding that i take a break

[simpforpeterp]

stanford pines x reader

Look Me in the Eye

summary: based on a daisy jones and the six scene! a one shot in which ford comes home from a crazy night with bill, pushing you to your limit

warnings: a slap from reader to ford. gender neutral reader! this one shot came from a chapter of my actual oc story about ford but i made it gender neutral x reader because i’m so proud of this scene.

word count: 4.4k

With Fiddleford back home for Thanksgiving and the portal on a brief hiatus, you’d think Ford would take that chance to be home. But he doesn’t; he keeps working. So, you decide to try and get some work done too. Writing hasn’t come easy, though.

Ford is God knows where, and you’re sitting at your piano, staring at the keys, waiting for the words to come. At this point, a part of you has accepted that the Ford you married is somewhere deep in the back of his brain. He said he would do better, but he hasn’t. You think back to your cousin and how you swore that you wouldn’t let yourself end up like that—in a small town with a deadbeat partner and a baby.

The only thing you don’t have out of those things is a baby, which you don’t want. When you were younger, you always saw yourself having kids. But when you marry a human, it’s a little strange to think about. It’s unknown if you could even have kids together. There were legends back home about two humans in the demon realm, and one of them married and had a baby with a witch.

You do a mini birth control spell that you’re not even sure works. Well, it’s worked so far—you haven’t gotten pregnant yet. Ford wouldn’t give a damn about a baby anyway, so why even put it at the forefront of your mind? And you’re fine without kids. You’re not one of those people who craved kids their whole life and dreamed about what life with children would look like.

You always assumed it would happen if it happened. And with Ford, it’s not happening. These past few months have proven that more than ever because he’s rarely home. The way most couples go out to dinner at the end of a long day, you and Ford go out to breakfast two or three times a week. But he’s usually trying to hide the fact that he’s rushing to get back to work.

His attempt at spending time with you is noted but not necessarily accepted.

The door creaks open, and you hear the unsteady shuffle of Ford’s footsteps before you see him. He stumbles into the room, shirtless, his hair a tangled mess, eyes glassy, and reeking of alcohol. He stands there in the doorway, looking at you with a mix of shame and regret, unable to meet your gaze for long. He tries to speak, but the words fumble out, barely coherent.

“Ford,” you breathe, your voice wavering between anger and concern. You step closer to him, looking at how droopy and tired his eyes look. “What happened to you?”

“I… I know Bill took it too far this time, but it doesn’t… it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not—” He’s almost nonverbal, his normally sharp mind dulled by the alcohol and Bill’s lingering influence. When you see new tattoos on his body, you lose it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ford? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. He doesn’t even look at you; his mind is completely somewhere else. It’s as if Ford isn’t even in there right now.

Before he can respond, you close the distance between you, and your hand connects with his face in a swift, stinging slap. Given that you’re smaller than him, it doesn’t do much other than make him look at you. Ford looks at you, stunned, his hand moving slowly to his cheek where your slap left its mark and a slight stinging pain.

“You come home like this,” you say, your voice breaking as tears well up in your eyes. “After everything, you think you can just brush it off? You think you can say it doesn’t mean anything and that’s supposed to be enough?”

Ford’s lips tremble, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and sorrow. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, how much he hates himself for what he’s become, but the words won’t come.

“What happened to the man I married?” you continue, your voice softer now, though no less pained. “Where’s the Ford who would move mountains for me, who promised we’d get through anything together? Because this…” You gesture at him, tears finally spilling over. “This isn’t the man I fell in love with.”

Ford’s eyes fill with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. He knows he’s the cause, knows that he’s pushed you to the edge, but he still can’t let go of the work, of the promises he made to Bill. But none of that matters now—not when he sees how much he’s hurting you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “I… it’s Bill, but I—”

“So, who do I blame?” you ask, and he doesn’t have an answer. “Who the fuck do you think you are, acting like this? You come home from doing God knows what, God knows where, and have the nerve to try to defend Bill? After all of this bullshit, you still think he’s someone worth putting up with?”

You look at him, your anger slowly giving way to a deep, aching sadness. You still love him—God, you love him so much—but this version of Ford, the one who’s been consumed by his work and Bill’s influence, is breaking your heart piece by piece.

“I love you, Ford. I love you so much it hurts, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself… and us.” Your voice trembles as you take a step back, the space between you feeling like a chasm.

“Please… I don’t want to lose you. I love you more than anything. I’m sorry.” Ford reaches out to you, desperation in his eyes.

You hesitate, looking at the man you married, the one you’ve been trying to hold on to, but you can’t shake the fear that he’s already slipping away.

“You’re losing me, Stanford.” You shake your head as another tear falls, and it’s like everything comes bubbling over all at once.

Ford reaches out, desperate to close the distance between you, but you step back, gently pushing him away. Your hands, though soft against his chest, carry the weight of all the anger and hurt you’ve been holding in.

“Go take a shower, Ford,” you say, your voice trembling but firm. “I’m not going to talk to you again until you do.”

Your words hit him like a cold splash of reality. He can see the resolve in your eyes, the line you’re drawing in the sand. You’re not just angry; you’re done—at least for now. Ford hesitates, wanting to say something, anything to make this right, but the look on your face tells him that words won’t fix this. Not this time.

He nods, defeated, and turns away, heading for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind him feels like a finality he’s not ready to face. He lingers for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob, hoping you’ll say something—anything—to stop him from leaving the room. But you don’t.

As he steps into the shower, the hot water cascades over him, washing away the grime and sweat from the night, but it does nothing to ease the weight on his chest. He leans against the tiled wall, water mingling with the tears he’s been holding back.

His heart breaks. He knew after every other little crack in your relationship that this was coming. But nothing could’ve made him ready for the day you finally snapped. And he knows you don’t believe he loves you as much as he does, which kills him.

Meanwhile, you watch him disappear into the bathroom, your heart heavy with the love you still feel for him, mixed with the deep-seated pain of watching him spiral. You turn on your heel, walking away, needing the space to gather yourself before you can even think about facing him again. As you move through your home, every room feels colder and emptier, and you can’t shake the fear that the warmth you once shared might be slipping away for good.

After all that, you feel like you need a shower too. You can’t believe you said all that and exploded. It felt like it was a long time coming and this was the final straw. His coming home like that, completely shameless, made you feel an anger you hadn’t felt before. Anger because you always said you could do better than your family, but he’s making you feel the same as they did.

When Ford finally emerges, clean but still burdened, he heads into your bedroom. He notices you sitting there with red, puffy eyes. He doesn’t know what to do; he doesn’t know how to fix this.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted, but you have to know how pissed I am,” you speak first as he takes a seat beside you on the bed. “If you don’t love me anymore, just say it. You’re never around anymore, and when you are, it seems like you just want to get away from me. It’s fine if you don’t love me anymore; I’d be heartbroken, but I’d be okay. I’d be even more heartbroken if you kept me hanging around here when it’s just me who still loves you.”

Ford feels his throat tighten at your words, guilt and sorrow gnawing at him. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words catch in his throat. How can he make you understand that his distance has never been about a lack of love? How can he convince you that despite everything, you’re still the most important part of his life?

“I always promised myself I wouldn’t be this,” you start. “Sitting around as if I need someone. I never wanted to be the person stuck at home, trotting around at the genius’ heels. Especially not with someone who doesn’t—who might not—” your voice trembles, and he quickly jumps in.

“I do love you,” he finally whispers, his voice hoarse. “I love you more than anything. I’m just… lost. This work, everything I’ve been doing—it’s consumed me, and I know I’ve let it come between us. But please, don’t ever think that I don’t love you. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

You listen, your eyes searching his face for sincerity. You can see the regret there, the deep sadness in his eyes, but you’ve heard apologies before. You need more than just words. Ford reaches out, taking your hand in his, holding it like a lifeline. He can feel your fingers trembling, and it breaks his heart all over again.

“I know I’ve been terrible,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my work that I’ve neglected you, neglected us. But I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I’ll do better—I promise I’ll do better.”

“How many times have we had this conversation, Ford? I—I’m getting tired,” you breathe out.

“I mean, what do you want me to tell you here? Do you want me to say I’m never gonna work with Bill again? Because I can’t! I need him.” Ford tries.

“No, you don’t!” you slightly raise your voice before sighing.

“Do you want me to just stop working so you can be making money and supporting me while I do nothing? I mean, fuck, you’re not exactly writing or anything right now,” he breathes out.

“I’m trying,” you say firmly.

“I can’t… I can’t lose so you’re comfortable! I can’t lose because you can’t win,” he raises his voice.

And then it’s quiet for a moment. Neither of you speaks, but Ford instantly regrets it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” your voice breaks.

He’s failed you in so many ways, and he’s terrified that it might be too late to fix things. But as he looks into your eyes, he knows he has to try.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right,” he says, his voice trembling with conviction. “Just… please don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us.”

“I don’t believe you,” you cry, and he slightly stiffens. “I mean, did you hear what you just said? I need to go for a drive or something.”

“Wait, please,” he starts, but you’re already standing up and trying to leave. “I’m so in love with you it feels like I can’t breathe when I’m not with you!”

As you try to walk out as quickly as possible to hide your tears, he sees your hand come up to wipe them.

“Please don’t go,” he begs, finally catching up with you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Please, just hear me out.”

“I’ll hear you out later, I just need a minute. I don’t want to give up on this, but I just… I need a coffee or something,” you look him in the eyes, and everything in him softens.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “Just… please, come home to me.”

“I will. I’ll be back soon,” you nod.

Ford watches helplessly as you leave. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. His heart aches with a pain he can’t describe, but he doesn’t have the time to wallow. The moment you’re gone, something snaps inside him, and he storms back into his office.

Once inside, Ford slams the door shut and collapses into his chair, his body shaking as the tears finally break free. He buries his face in his hands, the sobs wracking his body with a force he hasn’t felt in years. All of the pain, the regret, the self-loathing—it all comes pouring out in a way that feels like it could tear him apart.

But before he can even begin to regain control, he senses a familiar presence. The air in the room changes, becoming thick with an ominous energy that Ford knows all too well.

"Why the long face, Sixer?" Bill’s voice cuts through the silence. "Having a little lover’s quarrel?"

Ford lifts his head, his bloodshot eyes meeting Bill’s glowing form. Rage surges through him, raw and untamed.

"This is your fault," he yells. "You’ve ruined everything!"

"Me? Ruin? Oh, come on, Fordsy. You know this was bound to happen. You’re the one who’s been pushing them away, not me." Bill laughs, the sound echoing eerily off the walls. Ford’s fists clench at his sides, the anger building to a boiling point.

"I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you!" he shouts, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotions. "My marriage is falling apart because of you!"

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic," Bill taunts, his voice dripping with condescension. "You think I made you neglect them? Do you think I made you ignore all those signs? That’s all you, pal. I see everything, and they’ve been telling you how they feel like every day. It’s not my fault you don’t care enough to do anything about it."

"I- why did you have to go so crazy in my body? I respect you, and I’m still finishing the portal, but what the hell? At the end of the day, I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you." Ford glares.

"You think finishing that portal is going to fix your problems? Oh, Fordsy, you’re in way over your head. Stop blaming me. It’s not my fault you want to see me more than your own spouse." Bill laughs.

"Maybe you can’t process emotions like this, but they’re the love of my life. Before them, I hadn’t really dated anyone, and I wasn’t even sleeping around or anything; I was a loser. The only reason I ended up with someone as incredible as them without ruining it, like usual, is because I saw them as an anomaly at first. I didn’t think I was flirting or anything. I don’t know what I’d do if they left me. I wouldn’t even know what love is without them. You need to think about what your actions can mean for other people, Bill." Ford turns back to Bill.

"Clearly, you’re the one that needs to think about your actions. Isn’t it crazy that if you neglect someone’s feelings, they won’t want to be with you anymore? Even I can understand that!" Bill laughs, and Ford just stands up.

Ford sits there for a moment before he decides he can’t take it anymore. He stands up and heads to the music room. Bill yells things as he walks away, but Ford doesn’t hear it. He heads straight for a notebook full of songs they’ve written. His heart is racing as he opens it and sees so many that he hasn’t even heard yet.

In fact, this is a new notebook almost full of songs he hasn’t heard except for a few at the beginning. Have they not tried to show him, or has he not tried to listen? He reads the sad lyrics of almost every song, lyrics about feeling lonely when with someone you love and waking up alone. Songs about how they try to convince themselves that they’re a part of his life but not feeling like it. When did he start pulling away from them?

You sit in your car with a to-go cup of coffee, unsure if you should drive home yet or simmer for a little while longer. Your fingers tap on the warm cup as you try to think clearly. Your love for Ford is swarming every inch of your mind. But you know you shouldn’t accept what you don’t deserve, and you know you haven’t done anything to deserve this.

The version of you before Ford would’ve threatened a divorce already to try and scare him. You don’t want to do that now, but you want him to realize that you can’t keep living like this. You can’t keep following in his stride instead of walking beside him. You’ve won ten Grammys; it’s not as if you’re unaccomplished with no other options but to stay with him.

But you want to stay with him. Ford is so loving and warm. No one has ever loved you the way he has. Hell, no one other than Ford has seen you as more than a one-night thing. And you love him so much. You can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s something here for you to try to understand that you don’t already.

You look at the ring on your finger—his ring. And you don’t feel like other people have described, like it’s a handcuff or a jail cell that’s keeping you locked to him. You love being married to Ford. Saying you don’t and never did would be a complete lie. You just don’t love being mostly ignored by the man you love.

For someone so smart, he can be such an idiot sometimes. Letting some kind of entity possess his body whenever it pleases is a new low. Is that my problem? Bill? you think. It’s not right to you that his weakest self gets to decide how your life is going to turn out; you get to decide that. And what you want is a life—a beautiful marriage, a home—with him. With the man you know he truly is. And you’re going to get it, hell or high water.

You take a deep breath, your eyes still fixed on the ring as you turn it around your finger. The thought of a future without Ford makes your heart ache, but you know you deserve better, and you know Ford is capable of giving it to you—if he just realized how much you mean to him, how much you mean to each other.

You sip your coffee, the warmth grounding you, giving you the clarity you need. You know you have limits. If Ford can’t see the toll his actions are taking on your marriage, then you have to make him see it. You have to stand up for yourself, for what you want, and for the life you could have together.

You start the car, the decision made. You’re going to drive home and talk to him—not in anger or frustration, but with the love that’s still there, burning so fiercely in your heart. You’re going to make him understand what’s at stake—not just your marriage, but everything you’ve built together.

As you drive, the road blurs slightly through your unshed tears, but you blink them away. You can’t afford to lose focus now. Ford needs to know that you’re serious, that this isn’t just another fight that will blow over. This is your future, and you won’t let it slip away without a fight.

When you pull up to the house, your resolve only strengthens. You take a deep breath before stepping out of the car, the ring on your finger feeling like a lifeline rather than a chain. You walk into the house, finding Ford sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, and the relief in his eyes is almost overwhelming.

“Ford…” you begin, your voice thick with emotion, but you hold up a hand to stop him as he tries to respond.

“Ford, I need you to listen to me,” you say firmly, though your voice trembles slightly. You sit down beside him, taking his hands in yours. “I love you more than anything in this world, but I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep being the one who’s always trying to catch up to you, to your work, to everything else that seems to matter more than me or my feelings.”

His eyes widen in panic, and he starts to speak, but you squeeze his hands, stopping him again.

“No, Ford. Let me finish,” you continue, your voice soft but steady. “You’ve always been so loving, so warm, and I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. But you know me, and you know I’m not the type to ignore the fact that I’ve felt more like an afterthought lately. And it hurts. It really, really hurts.”

“Please, I—” Ford’s face crumples, and you can see the guilt and regret swirling in his eyes.

“I don’t want to threaten you with divorce or give you an ultimatum,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “But I need you to understand that if we’re going to make this work, you need to start seeing me as your partner again, not just someone who’s here to support you while you chase after your dreams. We need to be in this together, walking side by side—not with me always trying to catch up.”

Ford looks at you with such intensity that it nearly takes your breath away. His eyes are red and puffy too, his fingers nervously moving his ring in circles on his finger.

“You’re right,” he finally says, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’ve taken you for granted. But I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. You mean everything to me, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You make me want to be better, not just for you, but for us. And I’m going to prove it to you. I don’t want to lose this with you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve hurt you. Just… please, don’t go. I’m still yours. My heart is always gonna be yours. You are the one I want.”

“I just want you to see me, Ford. Really see me. I’m not asking you to give up your work, but I need you to find a balance, to make room for us in your life. Because I can’t keep doing this if things don’t change.” You nod, tears spilling over your lashes as you squeeze his hands.

“I see you. I promise I see you,” Ford whispers, pulling you into his arms. “And I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me. I won’t let you down again. And those aren’t just empty promises—I mean every word I say to you.”

As you hold each other, the tension begins to melt away, replaced by the hope that you can find your way back to each other. It won’t be easy, but you know it’s possible. And for the first time in a long time, you believe that you can make it work. Ford pulls back slightly, his gaze locking with yours.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t date anyone in high school or college—I was too focused on my work. Hell, I’ve only slept with four people in my life, and you’re the only one who wanted me after that. You’re the only one who stayed the morning after and kissed me and smiled at me. You looked so perfect then, and it would’ve been impossible not to want more with you. You’re the reason I want to be better, the reason I want to wake up every morning. And I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life, but I’m not going to take it for granted anymore. I promise you that.”

“Okay.” You nod for a moment before bringing his lips to yours.

He sinks into you, and the next thing he knows, he’s on top of you on the couch. Both of your hands are desperate as your lips talk. And he thinks, while this is happening, that you are worth everything to him. He didn’t think any of this would be happening when he first got out of high school and his life was in front of him. He never thought he would even have a spouse, let alone be kissing you with his body between your legs in your home on a quiet November night.

And the further things go, he realizes that he hasn’t touched you like this since your most recent talk about him neglecting you before tonight. Seasons changed, months passed, and he was too wrapped up in whatever he was doing to just exist with you, which is what he loved doing when you first met.

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

i think it should be illegal for people to have to do schoolwork in the holidays. they’re specifically there so that we DON’T have to do school. why must i do more stuff when this should be my opportunity to binge tv shows or write fics or create gifsets or just sit around doing nothing. i don’t want to do schoolwork.

[obae-me]

How many kisses I think it would take before he turns to mush

My creativity has been stuck in essentially a rush hour traffic jam for like weeks, so let's write something silly for practice, shall we?

Lucifer

Definitely ten or more. He tries to keep his composure, to focus on the task at hand, scold you for coddling him and distracting him, but if you hold onto your stubbornness and see it through to the end, he will be putty in your hands soon after you reach double digits. He might even fall faster if you give him little bits of praise after every kiss.

Mammon

Three MAX. One to catch him off guard, one to make it really sink in, and then the third to land the final blow. No amount of tsundere will outlast the triple attack. He'll be following you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the day, almost demanding more. He's greed after all, three might've broken him, but he'll be damned if he doesn't get more.

Levi

I would be tempted to say just one is enough, but we want a soft boy, not a vibrating, anxious mess. He gets tense at first, and he needs some reassurance and some time to understand that he likes and is okay what is happening. So I'm going to say five or more kisses. The first few he's just stuttering and blushing, but soon after, he can put that aside and just allow himself to relax a bit.

Satan

He acts like it takes him just as long as Lucifer, reaching double digits, when in reality he gave in internally much much earlier than that. Four is when his heart is melting and his mind is screaming, but around eight is when his body starts to unwind, almost curling around you like a cat.

Asmo

Much higher than you would expect. One must bridge the initial flirting phase before he becomes a puddle. I'm going to say probably six kisses. The first three he'll be giddy, but if you get softer with each kiss, he'll slowly start to become speechless.

Beel

As long as there isn't food in the way, just one. One kiss is all it takes. This demon has just so much love in him, you hardly need to kiss him for him to be soft for you. He doesn't need to put up an act. Just give him a single smooch and he'll drop whatever he's doing to cuddle into you.

Belphie

So many kisses. Probably even more than Lucifer. He feels like he deserves your kisses anyway, so it's hard to get him flustered about it, especially when he's so spoiled. Besides, you have to hope your affection won't lull him to sleep. Over ten for sure. Just keep going. Eventually, he'll be overwhelmed and give up his sleepy smug nature and transform into fluff.

Diavolo

Look me in the eyes and tell me this touch starved man will not cave after like two or three. He's not used to kisses, so the first kiss has his brain lagging. Hit him with the double combo and he's gone. Wasted. Fatality. Although please just kiss him more than twice. He really likes it.

Barbatos

Too many to count, unfortunately. He likes it, don't get him wrong, he's just tough to break. But there must be a breaking point somewhere. Keep attacking him with kisses and surely he must give in eventually, although most likely by his own will, giving in just so you can catch a proper breath. A win is a win.

Simeon

Probably no more than four, although it seems like more than that because he'll often return to sender and kiss you back. Don't give in, you must stay strong before he makes you melt first. Hum as you kiss him and he'll fall faster, almost cooing.

Solomon

He's got a stronger will than most, almost as good as Barbatos, but he will melt in due time. He'll treat it like a game at first, which it almost is to you, but he doesn't have to know that. It takes a while, but when he melts, he melts fast. He'll be trying to chuckle and make light of it one moment, and then be a completely speechless mess the next.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Dazai, Chuuya, & Kunikida x werewolf reader

Author's Note: Requested by the same anon who asked for this with Fyodor, Nikolai, & Sigma. I just had to break up the posts thanks to tumblr's tag limits 🙄 + bonus Kunikida because I can ✨

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, & Kunikida x male reader (separately)

Warnings: Male werewolf!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!characters, implied dom Chuuya as well, mentions of breeding, knotting, rough sex (Chuuya), heat cycle, Dazai calls you 'belladonna'

Dazai

The Shameless Slut

“Ooh please fill me up, my love! I'll gladly take all of your dick uwu��

Yeah, Dazai can get a little too excited about your werewolf form sometimes…

He can be such a pillow princess too. He just likes to lay there and show off his beautiful body while you're carving your place in his insides

Scarily possessive when you pop your knot into him

As soon as Dazai feels that sudden stretch, he's locking his legs around you and pressing it further in

His fingers tangle in your coarse fur, and a groan slips out–

“Yes! Tell me I'm yours, belladonna!” he'll rasp, staring you down with enough intensity to make your heart skip a beat

If you're comfortable with it, Dazai will brag about his insanely hot werewolf boyfriend

Rip ADA members who have to hear about you every single day… and rip PM members who also hear about Dazai's horny bf every time they meet 😅

Chuuya

The Greedy Slut

That's not your massive dick, it's Chuuya's. And you'd do well to remember that

Your werewolf form does something to Chuuya's brain. The man already enjoys rough sex, but this large, canine form stirs something up in his belly

Demands to be bred. There better be no cum spillage, it has to be in his hole(s)

Definitely uses his special ability to make you hit deeper and pound harder — so much so that it's caused Chuuya to pass out before

After that first time, Chuuya asked if you kept going. And when you said of course not, he looked rather disappointed 😟

From then on, you agreed to breed him whether he was still conscious or not (within reason, though)

Calls you 'good puppy' and similar affectionate terms

You two have had conversations about buying a collar and leash — and, if you choose to incorporate that into your sex life, you won't regret it. Chuuya will make very good use of them 😏

Kunikida

The Slut in Denial

Also a total denial slut

He would never admit to this even on his deathbed; but Kunikida loves edging

If you lick the underside of his cock with your rough canine tongue, growling at your beloved to hold it all in? The only thing Kunikida will have in his vision are stars swirling around

I don't think he would admit to loving your primal sex sessions either. Not unless he was already deep in sub space

On all fours, your larger form hunched over his body while your balls slap against Kunikida's ass, your fur tickling his back — this is when he'd slur out how much he loves taking your cock 💛

Also one to keep track of the moon's cycle. It's important to know when his partner will transform or go into heat

Dating a werewolf was never a part of his ideals, but he doesn't regret a thing

Becoming your mate has improved Kuni's life in all sorts of ways — whether we're talking about the amount of love he receives, or the benefits of nasty werewolf sex 😌

[leonsgfpost]

note: Hi! this is my third official post, crazy stuff. Thanks so much for all the support, I didn't think my trash was any good 😭 Btw, I hope you enjoy this too. English isn't my first language, so sorry if there's a mistake. 💕

tags: smut, comfort, insecurities, Leon is so cute, Leon x fem! reader, doggy style, orgasms and more!

Leon loves you madly. He really does. So every time you ask that question, "Do you love me?" he answers honestly, just because he can't tear his heart out and give it to you.

This man is capable of lowering the moon if you ask him to, he would do anything for you. He is honest, he doesn't lie. He wakes you up with soft kisses, on his days off he hugs you as if you were the only thing that keeps him grounded. You are everything to him.

And it's not that you doubt him, but different situations in your past led you to be insecure, to a sour whirlpool forming inside you about it. About him. Even now, when he's balls-deep inside you.

"Leon, Leon-" You murmured between ragged gasps, feeling his chest pressing hard against your back holding you in place. Taking every thrust he gave you. "Do you love me-?" And that feeling inside you came again. You felt like crying. Maybe from the pleasure, or maybe from the overwhelming sensations.

For a moment you think he doesn't hear you because of his current state. Heavy breathing, eyes tightly closed, body sweaty and his mind blank every time he sinks down to touch that spongy spot inside you.

But he wouldn't miss a hair of yours.

"I love you, I do, dear.... More than anything." He affirmed again, because he would repeat it to you every time you want. And the question sounds unreal in his fucked up head, of course he loves you. You're the only person he can open up to, show that young man who died inside him in 1998. He even took the audacity to have hopes, dreams again. Because next to you nothing seemed impossible.

"I love you, I love you." He murmured in your ear along with the low moans he couldn't contain, not when your walls were sucking him in so good. And I'd be lying if I said not now he's the one who wants to cry. He'd kiss every part of your body, kiss you all over until he could make you forget everything. Just like he does when he's with you.

His hips try to keep his deep rhythm, while his arms search for a way to embrace you to keep him grounded. Your ass is smacked by his pelvis every time he plunges in, over and over again with ambition. The wet sound of your wet pussy is the complete opposite of the cute words coming from Leon's lips.

"You're the only one for me, you're everything to me...Oh, G-God-" Now he started to ramble, trying to get his whole cock inside you until he can fuck your brains out and make you forget.

"Fuck, I love you, baby-!" His voice was already shaking, but I didn't know if it was from the effort of pushing you or the effort not to cry over you like a fucking baby.

"C-Come on, say you love me too." His voice tried to sound demanding, but it sounded like a plea. A desperate plea to know that you loved him too, because he wanted to be loved. He needed it.

"I love you, Leon. I-I love you, I love you so much." You said obediently, your voice coming out choked from having your face buried in the sheets. Your hair was disheveled, little beads of sweat trickling down your back and trembling thighs trying to support your weight. And little tears began to fill the corners of your eyes.

Maybe he had already fucked your brains out.

And Leon's chest tightened, pushing his lips carelessly into your hot cheeks. He was always so sweet even when he was fucking you like you were a slut. His cock bullying your bruised pussy again and again, because he couldn't catch a break. You were the air he needed to feel alive.

You made him feel alive.

As alive as he was now, as his hips began to quiver and his thrusts became sloppy, feeling his cock contracting tightly inside your walls. He could lose his mind right now for you.

His fingers moved down to play with your painfully throbbing clit, you let out a high pitched moan and your walls tightened feeling the familiar euphoria explode inside you, your orgasm coming in a sloppy way. Your body immediately relaxed into the sheets, trying to recover, but Leon wouldn't slow down, not when he was so close too.

He released your clit to run a sticky hand up to one of your tits, kneading it as if it were his own anti-stress toy. He carelessly kissed your wet cheeks and his hips pushed all the way in, releasing all his seed inside you. His cock contracted and discounted with spasms, giving you all of him.

"I love you." He whispered weakly, hugging you and trying not to fall on top of you. His heart beating fast in his chest, beating for you.

Because Leon Scott Kennedy loves you more than anyone. And he would devote every day of the rest of his life to prove it to you, if you let him.

were there too many "I love you"s? haha, sorry! But I can't help but think that Leon really needs a lot of love.

Let me know if u liked this, thanks!! 🎀💗

bye, bye (💌)

[kesujo]

Chapter 5: Miss Pet - Part 1

Previous chapter here.

“Oh, he’s coming to.”

Taeyeon’s voice was the first thing Seojun heard when he came to.

“Seojun?” So loud was the second voice that Seojun instinctively recoiled. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“Quiet down, Fany.”

“Oh!” Her voice came out as a hushed whisper, or at least that seemed to be the intention because the volume of Tiffany’s voice was more or less the ‘normal’ of Taeyeon. Seojun found himself smiling at the well-meaning gesture. “Sorry!”

“It’s OK,” he said, his voice coming out a little croakier than he would’ve liked.

“You’ve been out for over half the day; how are you feeling?” Taeyeon’s gentle, motherly voice was like a soothing wave of healing that washed through him.

“Really? Over half a day? I mean, not that bad honestly. Still a little bit fatigued, I think.”

“If you don’t mind, I can help with that,” Tiffany offered, cautiously putting one knee on the bed he was sitting on.

“Uh…”

Hearing the hesitation in his voice, Tiffany quickly added, “It wasn’t my Trait’s fault, it was mine! We were supposed to take occasional breaks but I was so engrossed that it completely slipped my mind. But what my Trait does is remove all feelings of fatigue and strengthens a body’s resistance to it. I promise it’ll help!”

Seeing Tiffany panic at the hesitation in his voice and interpreting it as a mistrust in her gave Seojun an injection of guilt. “Oh, no, sorry I wasn’t saying that because I didn’t trust you, I just … my brain was being a little slow since I just woke up.”

“…Oh.” Taeyeon laughed at the relieved demoness, a smile breaking out on Seojun’s face as well. “So, is that a yes?”

“So does that mean…” implying it still felt a bit rude despite the ease at which succubae seemed to address sex and related activities.

“You don’t mind kissing me, do you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t!”

Tiffany giggled at the perhaps over enthused response from Seojun, climbing fully onto the bed, her soft hands snaking around to the back of his head while her face neared his. And although he had just spent many hours fucking her, seeing Tiffany’s face come up to close to his caused his heart to race, the actual sensation of her soft, velvety lips on his causing the organ in his chest to go into overdrive. Seojun could swear he could hear every individual heartbeat as Tiffany’s tongue teased open his lips, a few seconds later a warm, slightly viscous liquid being passed into his mouth.

Feeling the foreign substance in his mouth felt simultaneously strange and arousing; he felt his dick twitch in response, his entire body shivering slightly as he felt the fluid travel down his throat after Tiffany pulled away.

His reaction to the transfer of bodily fluids aside, its effects were instantaneous. He could immediately feel the weariness in his muscles evaporate, replaced with the same vigor as during their sex binge hours before. “So?”

“Yeah—wow, I definitely feel better, thanks.”

“I think you can do better to demonstrate your gratitude.” It was Taeyeon who brought the proposition up to Tiffany, whose ears perked with interest. She turned towards the smaller succubus, eagerness in her eyes. “I can’t imagine it felt very pleasant to spontaneously fall unconscious like that.”

Seojun, however, was completely oblivious to the suggestive nature of the proposition, instead jumping in hastily, “Oh, no! It’s OK, I’m fine!”

“But don’t you think Tiffany should compensate you for your toils?” Seeing Taeyeon’s fingers curl around the straps of her skimpy top and pulling them down allowed Seojun to hear the suggestiveness in Taeyeon’s voice.

“Oh…” The semi-mortal man felt dumb for replying like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to agree. After all, Taeyeon and Tiffany were much older than him, and his Korean upbringing couldn’t help but feel hesitant demanding something from his elders.

“If you’re willing to settle for me, I’ll happily do anything you ask of me!” Tiffany’s eager reply partially blew away the hesitation Seojun was feeling, the rest evaporating with Taeyeon’s next few words.

“Also, I want to help demonstrate that sex with Tiffany isn’t always like that. Especially if you’re to bond with her, I want you to understand that, done properly, is just as great as it was yesterday without the negative side-effects following.”

“Oh, you’re so considerate! Thank you, Mistress!”

“Make sure to also thank Seojun for giving you the chance to redeem yourself.”

Tiffany turned around, bowing deeply. Seojun gulped, his eyes darting to the eyeful of her tits he captured, her nipples nearly visible from how loosely the top was hanging onto her ample chest. “Thank you so much, Master!”

Seojun wasn’t exactly sure when Tiffany and Taeyeon decided to slip into the roleplay or how they even decided it amongst themselves. However, now that it was happening, Seojun felt obliged to take part. He reached out to stroke her hair, a more content kind of pleasure coursing through his body at the immensely pleasing sensation of running his hand through what felt like a cloud. “You’re such a good girl, Tiffany.”

Tiffany nuzzled her cheek against his hand, another warm surge of joy surging through his body. Seojun had his fair share of experiences with cute pet behaviors, and Tiffany definitely matched if not exceeded that level of adorableness. Seojun could hear Taeyeon chuckling in the background, Tiffany enjoying Seojun’s hand for a few more seconds before the prey-turned-master retracted it. Tiffany opened her eyes and looked at him, a clear and unadulterated excitement in her eyes. “Thank you so much Master! I don’t deserve your kind words!” Seojun understood that they were doing roleplay … but was she really acting, or were these her genuine feelings?

“Before we start, you should feed more from Tiffany. Saliva definitely won’t suffice. So while you’re offering your pussy to Seojun, I’ll be using mine to warm up his dick.”

“I—” the jealousy was clear in her eyes, but she ended up swallowing the protest clearly visible in her pouty expression, and conceded. “I understand.”

“Are you OK with that, Seojun?”

The one thing that Seojun was unclear about was what his relationship to Taeyeon was, but her gentle inquiry confirmed that they were of equal status in this ‘scenario’. “Of course, Taeyeon.”

Taeyeon crawled onto the bed as well, Tiffany shuffling forward and taking his shirt along with her. Seojun aided her, the cloth coming over his head while Taeyeon’s hands wrapped around the rim of his pants and boxers, pulling them off in one swift motion.

Out sprung his semi-erect dick, precum splashing onto the plush surface of Tiffany’s slowly moving bottom. Her tail immediately sprang into action, collecting it and spooning it directly into her mouth. “Mmm, god, even Master’s precum is delicious…” her deep, sensual moan made him harder, the stiffening rod captured by the dainty yet firm grip of Taeyeon’s fingers.

“You’ll get plenty later if you continue being a good girl. OK?”

Tiffany nodded excitedly, slipping off both her bottom and the undergarments before turning around, presenting her delectable bubble butt to Seojun. Her hands reached around as his vision gradually filled with the delightful view of the excitable succubus’s ass nearing his face, her hands pulling the plump cheeks apart to reveal a pair of damp vaginal lips. “Master, are you ready?”

“I am.”

The confirmation was all Tiffany needed to back up the rest of the way, Seojun meeting her wet pussy lips with his own lips. Immediately, he could hear a soft sigh, her legs body shaking against his torso. As his hands took the job of keeping her tight, plump butt cheeks separated, Taeyeon transitioned from a firm handjob to shifting her own womanhood, radiating with heat, over his erect cock.

“Mistress…” Tiffany moaned, Seojun’s muted moan joining hers and Taeyeon’s as she penetrated herself with his cock.

“Be a good girl, Tiffany,” Taeyeon’s strained voice reminded Tiffany, fighting over the sound of her pleasure from Seojun’s tongue running across her wet folds, “and you’ll get your Master’s cock too.”

“Yes, Mistress…”

But while Tiffany was scornfully pouting in jealousy over Taeyeon’s access to Seojun’s cock, Seojun himself was in complete bliss. Even after an entire night of groping and feeling Tiffany’s firm, plush ass in his hands, it wasn’t enough. It felt like it would never be enough. He wanted more, squeezing and rubbing the pliable, taut skin beneath his palms, digging his fingers into the soft yet firm skin, the experience was made better by the sweet taste of Tiffany’s nectar dribbling onto his lips. Seojun didn’t let up, channeling the intense lust from Taeyeon vigorously riding his cock into kissing Tiffany’s vaginal lips with as much gusto and passion as possible.

“Ah…” Tiffany’s torrid moans continually streamed out of her mouth, arching her back and resting her arms on his torso to give him better access to her ass and leaking entrance. Her eyes fell onto Taeyeon, who was lost in her own world of pleasure.

Taeyeon’s hands were placed firmly on Seojun’s hips, rising until barely half an inch remained inside her before slamming back down onto his crotch. With every connection, bits of her honey splattered onto Seojun’s crotch, creating an increasingly damp landing area for her ass. The firm, crisp sound of her ass slamming onto his crotch gradually turned into a more muted, wetter noise.

Seojun could barely hear it though, Tiffany’s soft upper thighs pressed firmly against his ears. With his eyes closed as well, his other senses sharpened—namely, his sense of taste and touch. He became more aware of the amount of sticky substance from Tiffany’s womanhood dotting his face, the almost water-like consistency of her wet folds. He could feel the shivers sent up Tiffany’s spine every time he ventured downwards to flick the small, erect stub sitting below her entrance with his tongue and savor the endless supply of the succubus’s honey-sweet nectar flowing into and around his mouth.

He could feel Taeyeon’s heat. It was suffocating, burning, only intensified by the torrent of juices her pussy was smothering his cock with. He could feel the flesh, wet walls convulsing, almost massaging, the length of his shaft. He could feel it trying to suck him back in when Taeyeon pulled up and tighten its embrace after Taeyeon sheathed his dick completely. He could feel the flexing of her legs and elasticity of her more-than-supple ass with every stroke, and feel her cervix gently kiss his engorged tip after each downward thrust.

Seojun was so overwhelmed with lust and ecstasy, he was sure that if he was still a regular mortal man, he would have long passed out by now.

“Mistress…” another forlorn mewl escaped Tiffany’s lips, her breath shaking with arousal as she watched Taeyeon ride Seojun’s dick with fervor. The sound of Taeyeon’s ass clapping against Seojun’s crotch area could be faintly heard, nearly overpowered by the lust-charged sighs and moans from the two women atop the succubus’s servant.

Seojun carefully moved his hands away from Tiffany’s ass, around and towards the front. He moved his face downwards, his thumb gently but sturdily rubbing circles around the hard nub atop her slit. His other hand braced itself against her upper thighs, his index and middle fingers rubbing along the outside of her wet labia.

“Aah, Master!”

Her breathing grew deeper, her hands moving upwards and rubbing her own boobs. “Does that feel good, Tiffany?” Seojun asked, temporarily separating himself from her leaking slit, his fingers continuing their harsh rubbing along it.

“Yes, Master! It feels amazing!”

Satisfied, Seojun dove back in, capturing her lips in her nether regions in a liplock. His thumb continued its gentle massaging motions, the index finger from the other hand drawing lines across her inner thighs. He could tell that his every action was working magnificently, her moans growing louder and her legs shivering with every line drawn across the sensitive skin so close to their hot connection.

After finally getting into the rhythm of things, Seojun directed his attention to his mistress, whose hot vaginal walls were tightly clamped around the girth of his cock, sliding fiercely along its length. It took him a few seconds, but when he finally captured Taeyeon’s rhythm, he followed her downward stroke with upwards thrusts.

“Oh! Seojun, fuck!”

Taeyeon’s body shuddered against Seojun’s as a wave of ecstasy crashed down her body, his cock hitting all the way into her cervix. It was a feeling that Seojun figured he would’ve never been able to enjoy with his smaller-than-average dick size, but true to Taeyeon’s words, her pussy compensated for his size. This was one of the many, many reasons why he was thankful he found Taeyeon—or rather, Taeyeon found him: with Taeyeon, Seojun’s deprecating self-talk about his dick size completely disappeared. Every ‘feeding session’ they had, not only did he get to enjoy Taeyeon’s eternally tight, wet pussy, but Taeyeon always conveyed her satisfaction of him with her every movement. The way her eyes squeezed shut, the way her luscious lips parted, the breathy sound of her lustful sighs and moans, the vigor she always used, everything communicated to Seojun that his dick size was a complete non-issue to the succubus.

Maybe here he should say something sappy about ‘finally being accepted’ or something. But really, Seojun was just happy to fuck Taeyeon any chance she presented to him. Because man did every single time feel like a straight shot to cloud nine.

“Mistress…” this time, Tiffany’s voice came out as a whimper, a slight break in her gasping and moaning at the apex of his thrusts.

Although her voice was muted, Seojun could still detect the impatience in her voice. He could more so feel it in the way her hands restlessly rubbed his mid-torso area and her legs drumming against the side of his head. Feeling bad, he separated from her temporarily to speak. “Taeyeon, don’t you think Tiffany’s been a good enough girl to get a reward?”

“Hm, you may be right honey.” Hearing the pet name caused his heart to skip a beat.

Seojun had a conception that their relationship was not much more than a servant and a mistress. Of course, Taeyeon was kind and caring, and in that way she at times acted like a gentle, caring noona, but apart from those two, he figured there would be nothing further, especiallynot a romantic relationship. After all, Taeyeon was much wiser and smarter and more beautiful and talented and would undoubtedly live well past himself. In the grand scheme of her life, Seojun’s would pass by like a blink of an eye.

While Taeyeon calling Seojun ‘honey’ wasn’t the first pet name that she used to address him, but they were always to serve a roleplay—as they were now. And Seojun understood this; they were merely playing a role, but still, even the slightest hint at a romantic relationship between the two made his heart flutter. It was all but inevitable for such a normal man like him to fall in love with such a divine being like Taeyeon, especially after the amount of intimacy they’ve shared in the past weeks.

But Seojun didn’t dare bring this up. After all, he was stuck with Taeyeon for the rest of her life—and depending on how she felt about him, that could last as long as a couple hundred years or a couple of days if Taeyeon ever felt too weird about Seojun’s feelings for her to continue feeding on him. Even though she was a sex demon, Seojun wouldn’t put it past Taeyeon to feel guilty for continuing to feed on someone who had fallen in love with her if she didn’t reciprocate.

“Go ahead and turn around, Fany.”

“Th-Thank you, Mistress! Thank you, Master!”

Tiffany scurried off, Seojun taking a second to try to shake the sticky liquid accumulated on his face but to no avail. Taeyeon, seeing this, giggled, Seojun’s heart skipping another beat upon making eye contact with her. It was weird; his cock was currently buried deep inside her pussy, and not for the first time either—hell, probably not even the tenth time—yet it was seeing her eyes curve up with her lips that caused his heart to stir.

“You made quite a mess on poor Seojun’s face. Was he that good?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Tiffany’s head was turned, facing his, and reached down to wipe the residual juices that she had left behind. “Master’s tongue and fingers felt so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“Are you ok darling?”

“I’m fine, babe.” Seojun was hesitant to respond with the pet name, his heart missing another beat but this time from anxiety at potential backlash from Taeyeon for calling her ‘babe’. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to faze Taeyeon at all; in fact, she seemed to like it, the corners of her lips curling upwards even further.

“Make sure to drink your fill, alright? And Fany, make sure to cum lots for your Master, OK?”

“I will! Although Master is so good that I doubt I’ll have any trouble with that,” she replied in a chipper voice, settling back down onto Seojun’s face. He took a second to situate himself and shortly after got back to work. A melody of moans arose from the taller demoness, her legs folded on top of themselves to alleviate her body weight from her pleasure-giver but spread apart enough that reconnecting with her labia wasn’t an issue.

Taeyeon’s movements had slowed down, moving from the fierce riding she was doing to a steady grinding of her hips, stirring the rod inside her like a straw inside a cup. Her tail whipped around her body, the tip materializing into the very object that was sheathed to the hilt inside her, and before Seojun had much of an opportunity to note how strange it felt to feel the cool air of the room along with the scorching heat of Taeyeon’s insides, the tail-penis was shoved straight into Tiffany’s backdoor.

“Oh! M-Master, fuck!” Seojun and Tiffany shuddered in unison, the feeling of another, considerably less damp and fleshy set of equally scorching hot walls clamp around his dick and the sensation from the tightness of her sphincter muscles travelling up and down the length of his dick as Taeyeon pumped her tail furiously inside the dark-haired demoness causing waves of pleasure to course through the bodies of both parties.

“Language,” Taeyeon warned, her own voice starting to tremble as she quickly picked back up where she left off, her wet groin sloppily connecting with his groin equally wet with the same fluid.

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress!” Tiffany seemed to be unable to keep her voice down, her back arching and her hands on her chest, rubbing the soft bags of flesh and pinching the rock-hard nipples at their peaks.

Seojun was a helpless slave to lust. His hips moved on their own, his fingers working on her clit and his tongue and lips working on Tiffany’s pussy while her other hole was being mercilessly pounded by Taeyeon’s tail-penis. He wasn’t sure if he was even thinking, even that heart-stopping sensation of love replaced with pure lust. The entire room exuded with the intense lasciviousness of all three parties, the rattling of the bed beneath them echoing about the otherwise empty house.

“Master, I’m close!”

“Be a goof gir and gib Maftur lafts of cum.” Seojun’s voice, although muffled, was audible and coherent enough to serve as the impetus for Tiffany’s orgasm. Heralded by a single, piercing scream, the immortal woman’s entire body succumbed to pleasure, torrent after torrent of her hot, sweet nectar squirting straight into Seojun’s mouth. The semi-mortal man tried his best to collect as much of it with his mouth, but his concentration was shaky at best—hearing the lewd scream of ecstasy, feeling her body vibrate as her orgasm wracked her body not only with his face but with the dick lodged firmly into her rear entrance, and feeling Taeyeon’s pussy tighten in response to seeing her fellow succubus succumb to an orgasm was more than enough to push the building dam over the edge.

“Urgh, fuck,” Seojun grunted, jets of white, viscous fluid shooting straight into the ass of Tiffany and the vagina of Taeyeon.

“A-Ah! M-Master, thank you for filling my tight little ass with your precious cum!”

His hips continued to thrust in and out of Taeyeon as he rode out his orgasm, the euphoric release driving his muscles to ride out the orgasm until it subsided a few seconds later. It barely took any time for Seojun to catch his breath, Tiffany’s Trait keeping his stamina high and his dick hard.

The energetic demoness unmounted Seojun, and upon seeing his face covered in her nectar, hurriedly moved over to help him clean his face off. “Thanks, Tiffany,” Seojun said after his face felt adequately clean.

She beamed in response. “Was I a good girl?”

After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, Taeyeon unsheathed Seojun’s cock, a barely audible whine pushed through her closed lips. It sprang free from its hot confines, soaked to the bone with Taeyeon’s juices, bits of it splattering onto his abdominal area. “What would you say, honey?”

“I think it’s appropriate for her to pay back me performing oral sex on her by her doing the same to me.”

Tiffany perked up, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Seojun couldn’t help but smile seeing Tiffany’s tail waving about excitedly like a dog wagging its tail. “Mistress, may I?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much too, Master!”

Not wasting a single second, Tiffany and Taeyeon swapped position, Tiffany’s body hovering over her legs while Taeyeon hugged him from behind, Seojun having moved to a seated position. The semi-mortal man bit back an aroused sigh, the immensely satisfying feeling of Taeyeon’s ample bust pressed against his back causing a small shudder to roll down his system.

“Do you like my tits that much, babe?”

Another, much stronger shudder rolled down Seojun’s body at the sensation of Taeyeon’s hot breath against his ears, the pet name spoken with such an alluring tone that he had to clench his fists to fight back what would’ve otherwise been a perhaps embarrassingly loud moan.

Before he could answer though, Tiffany piped up. “Would you like me to use my boobs first or my mouth, Master?” Seojun’s gaze shifted away from Taeyeon’s head that was resting on his shoulder to the submissive succubus kneeling atop his legs. Her upper body was folded over her legs, but even so, Seojun could see the curve of her ass sticking out, still maintaining the moist appearance from before. Her voluptuous rack was resting inches away from his erect cock, the innocent inquisitive expression on her face providing a stark contrast to Seojun’s bulging cock inches below her chin.

Fuck, that’s sexy.

“Why don’t you put those tits of yours to use?”

“Gladly!”

Tiffany shifted forward, smothering his shaft still damp with Taeyeon’s honey with her mounds. Most of his member disappeared into the warm abyss of Tiffany’s tits, her hands holding them at the sides and applying a firm pressure onto it.

“Shit,” Seojun hissed, a shaky breath pushed out his mouth.

“Does Master like this?”

The way her eyes curved upward, leaving enough space open to see the absolute joy exuding from her brown orbs, her invitingly plump red lips also curved upwards into a dazzling smile, everything about her joyous expression was almost impossible to disagree with. “It feels fucking amazing.” But even without Tiffany’s infectiously joyous expression, Seojun would’ve said the same thing: it was like two warm pillows of flesh were tightly embracing the length of his shaft. Out of all the females he had copulated with so far, Tiffany definitely had the biggest boobs. And while this wasn’t the first time Tiffany had given him a titjob, the warmness and softness of her milk jugs, not to mention their volume and how thoroughly it enveloped his contrastingly rock-hard cock, felt heavenly.

“Does Master like my boobs?”

“Your Master loves them, Fany.”

The compliment clearly delighted the succubus, using greater vigor to squeeze tighter and pump faster. Again, Seojun briefly wondered how much of Tiffany’s reaction was acting because of how genuine her reaction seemed, especially since it can’t have been the first time, or probably even the hundredth time, she received a compliment for her boobs. They were incredibly beautiful, after all: its color was the perfectly pure white of fresh snow in the morning, the skin taught with not even a hint of a wrinkle in sight. They were perky and had a nice, round shape, the areola a nice pink color, at their centers even pinker nipples just big enough that seeing them made Seojun want nothing to do but to bring his mouth to them and suckle on them.

However, at the moment, they were bouncing up and down his shaft, following the gradually increasing speed of Tiffany’s hands.

“Master’s cock feels so good inside my tits, I—” She stopped herself upon feeling a sticky fluid coming in contact with the silky skin on her mounds. Her eyes narrowed in on it, a clear hunger in her eyes; she stared at the streak of white fluid on her white skin for a solid two seconds before painstakingly lifting her head, not bothering to remove the hunger from her gaze. “Master, may I have it?”

“Leave it.” Why was Seojun being so sadistic? He wasn’t sure, but something about denying Tiffany her delicious meal when it was so close to her made him salivate at the prospect of Tiffany’s reaction to finally receiving his dick. “I’m going to cum all over your beautiful tits, and you aren’t allowed to lick any of it off. Instead, you’re going to spread it all over them. Understood?”

Tiffany’s pained expression reminded him of a wounded puppy, but Taeyeon just laughed. “I didn’t know you were like this, honey.”

“This is also for Tiffany’s sake; the more I deny her, the more she’ll enjoy it when I finally fill her pussy with my cum, right?”

Hearing the words made Tiffany go cross eyed, her lust clearly getting the better of her: the speed and ferocity of her titjob increased even further, so much so that Seojun let out a surprised groan through gritted teeth.

“I think you still owe me an orgasm, babe,” Taeyeon whispered into Seojun’s ear, pressing her bosom further against his back, “But don’t let Tiffany know, she might get jealous.” Seojun couldn’t really comprehend the meaning of Taeyeon’s words until he felt that familiar yet still extremely strange sensation of the warmness of whatever his dick was lodged between and the cool air of Taeyeon’s house, that coolness shortly after changing to the intense heat of Taeyeon’s pussy.

“Master?”

Seeing Seojun’s facial expression contort at seemingly nothing, Tiffany’s puzzled expression peered up at him.

“You’re doing very well, Tiffany. You can go ahead and start using your mouth too.”

The proposal completely blew away the confusion from her face, pulling her chest away and dipping her head down onto his stiff shaft. Her torso arched downwards, inadvertently accentuating her ass even more, but Seojun barely had any time to admire it as Tiffany’s warm, wet mouth enveloped Seojun’s cock.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned again, in both parts from feeling his cock hilting Taeyeon and from feeling the moist cavern of Tiffany’s mouth form a tight vacuum around his penis.

Tiffany bobbed her head up and down his shaft a few times, making sure there wasn’t a square centimeter of his dick not slathered with saliva by her tongue before coming back up. “Master’s cock tastes so good~” she sang, leaning down to plant a few kisses along its wet exterior. Parker could only grit his teeth, holding back the moans from the increasingly aggressive thrusts of Taeyeon’s penis-tail into her vagina.

“And Master’s cock feels so good inside my pussy too~” Taeyeon cooed teasingly, the softly spoken words drifting directly into Seojun’s ear.

“Fuck,” Seojun gasped. Tiffany looked up at him again, one hand gently fondling his balls while running her lips and tongue along the length of his rod.

“Does it feel that good, Master?”

Seojun nodded, although it was a slight lie. While Tiffany’s lips did feel amazing on his hardened member, it was the combined feeling of Taeyeon continually thrusting his dick so deep that he could feel its tip brush against her cervix with each thrust that drew the noise out of him.

“I’m very pleased right now Tiffany. If you continue being a good girl, I’ll let your pussy have my cock too.”

Seeing the sheer excitement in Tiffany’s eyes again, Seojun decided that it couldn’t be all acting. It just looked too genuine. “Really?!”

“You better make your Master cum if you’re that excited,” Taeyeon noted, only the slightest bit of strain in her voice detectable.

If Tiffany noticed, she made no indication of it, her eyes gaining a newfound determination. “Don’t worry Master, I’ll make you cum in no time.”

“A-And make sure you don’t swallow any of it.”

This time, the strain in Taeyeon’s voice was more apparent, but Tiffany was too focused to mind. Taking a second to dribble coalesced saliva onto Seojun’s penis and spreading it expertly along the sensitive skin with her boobs, she gave the swollen tip of the raging cock a gentle kiss before penetrating her lips with them.

“Aagh,” a warbled moan came out of Seojun’s mouth, finally able to let loose all the ecstasy from Taeyeon’s vaginal walls rubbing so ferociously against the same sensitive skin that was receiving kisses from Tiffany’s luscious, velvety lips. “Tiffany, god you’re so good…”

Tiffany tilted her head upwards and shot him a brief yet heartstoppingly gorgeous and sexy eye-smile before plunging the rest of the way down his dick.

“Ah, shit,” another moan came out of Seojun’s mouth the combined feeling of Tiffany’s throat and Taeyeon’s pussy suffocating his cock overwhelming him for a brief second. Drool started dribbling down the corners of her lips and onto his balls, but Tiffany didn’t let it phase her. She continued at a steadily accelerating pace, her throat flexing impressively around the girth of his penis.

“Use those horns.” Although Taeyeon wasn’t saying anything particularly provocative, the inherent sexiness in her voice itself was enough to distract him for a few seconds, only realizing what she was saying when she nudged him with her chin.

Seojun looked down, and sure enough, her horns had materialized out of her head, in the exact right position to be used as handles.

The gargling sounds from Tiffany deepthroating Seojun’s cock intensified as his hands found firm grips on the hard material and pushed her even further down. “That’s so sexy, isn’t it, babe?”

“It fucking is,” Seojun agreed, wanting to close his eyes from the influx of pleasure but not wanting to let the unique top-down vantage point of Tiffany’s impressive deepthroating go to waste.

It took about a minute or two before Tiffany came back up for air, her hair messy and saliva running down her chin. However, Tiffany paid no attention to it, peering up at her ‘Master’ while carefully rubbing her voluptuous tits against the saliva-drenched penis. “Did Master like it? Did Master think the horns were helpful?”

“I did, it felt amazing, and it was extremely helpful, Tiffany. You’ve been a really good girl so far, only a little more until your reward.”

An overjoyed squeal came out of Tiffany’s excited smile, rubbing the semi-mortal man’s cock a few more times with her boobs before diving back down.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Taeyeon whispered to Seojun playfully, reveling in the pleasure of her partner as he once again let out a guttural groan, feeling Tiffany’s throat once again hugging the circumference of his cock.

Seojun couldn’t find a chance to reply, his mind so overwhelmed with lust that it rendered his speech capabilities inert. With his impending orgasm, his movements became more erratic, the grip on Tiffany’s horns tightening and the matching thrust of his hips into Tiffany’s mouth so forceful that tears started leaking out of Tiffany’s eyes. Tiffany seemed not to mind, and in fact seemed to be pushed further by Seojun’s increased intensity and matched it readily.

By the time he neared the edge, he gave a warning before pushing her off. When they met eyes, Tiffany’s expression clearly told one of confusion and disappointment. “Remember, you aren’t allowed to swallow any yet.”

“Oh … ok…” Reluctant as she was, Tiffany obliged, obediently shifting her body so that her chest was level with his cock. It took only a few pumps before the dam burst yet again, flooding the inside of Taeyeon’s waiting pussy yet again while simultaneously splattering Tiffany’s boobs, her chin, her neck, her clavicle, and even parts of her areola and nipples with the sticky white substance.

The most precarious strip was a streak that landed on the corner of her lip, extending to her cheek. Seojun could see the temptation in Tiffany’s eyes, her mouth parting briefly but summarily closing upon meeting Seojun’s cocked eyebrow. Her hand shot up and collected the two streaks that landed on her face, planting his seed on the soft bags of flesh on her chest. Seojun watched, Tiffany’s hot gaze trained on Seojun’s as she ran her hands all along her upper body, smearing the globules of cum all about her pearly white skin until what was left was a thin, shiny covering of Seojun’s seed.

“Good girl, good job, Tiffany.”

Taeyeon sneakily unplugged her pussy and reverted her tail back to its original state before separating herself from him.

“Does this mean…?”

The hopeful expression in her eyes caused another smile to sprout on Seojun’s face, the expression quickly changing when Seojun confirmed with her, “How do you want it?”

Next chapter here.

[vampirebloodie]

Caught | Homelander x reader

Summary: Butcher send you to steal secret documents in Homelander's penthouse, but Firecracker and him seem to be smarter than you.

Warnings: smut 18+, dubcon/non con, homelander being an asshole, forced pregnancy (?)

You just had to be as quick and discreet as possible, infiltrating Vought had even been a not so complicated task, but stealing documents from Homelander's penthouse... Well, it was something very risky and that could go extremely wrong.

Butcher had been clear in what he wanted, Homelander had congresswoman Victoria Neuman's documents, very important documents about her that could be used as enough evidence to destroy her career and still take a little bit of Vought with her.

"Where is it? Where is it?"

You said in agony going through all the drawers possible, a conference was taking place at Vought for the presentation of the new members of the Seven, Firecracker and Sister Sage. Anyway, you didn't have time, you had to get those documents and get out of there as soon as possible, the van with Butcher, French, M.M and Kimiko would arrive to pick you up and if they missed you and entered the building it would turn into a bloodbath.

A throat clearing was heard behind you and your blood ran cold, you took your hands out of the drawer and turned slowly seeing Homelander and Firecracker staring at you.

"Looking for something?"

Homelander asks sarcastically and Firecracker raises the documents that were in her hand, she had the documents with her all the time, they knew that one of the boys would go after it.

"I must say, thank you Firecracker, without you I wouldn't have known there was a little mouse in my penthouse."

"Everything for you, really everything..."

She says in a seductive voice and you hold the disgusted face.

"I bet the little mouse thought there was no hidden camera in the vent, right?"

Firecracker mocks and you roll your eyes. Stupid annoying bitch.

"Where is the rest?"

Homelander asks.

"Who? Nobody is here.

You answer and he smiles, Firecracker laughs softly.

"Oh? So they sent you here and didn't even put someone to come along in case something went wrong? It shows that they really care about you."

"Or no!! Because they don't care about you!!!"

He and Firecracker scoff, as you continue to stare at them expressionlessly, and Firecracker laughs absurdly.

"Ok, enough enough."

Homelander says and she stops immediately, like an obedient puppy. Firecracker was one of the most self-interested and needy women you had ever seen.

"Leave us alone, i want to talk to her."

"What? But..."

"Leave. Now."

He demands and the redhead blink a few times before leaving the penthouse in silence.

"So, Butcher sent you here?"

"Something like that."

"I should burn your brains out right now just for your audacity to break into MY house."

He said gritting his teeth, annoyed.

"And what's stopping you?"

You asked crossing your arms challenging him, even though you knew that inside you were afraid, everyone was afraid of Homelander and rightly so, especially the laser beams.

"You look usable... for me."

He responds looking you up and down, with an interested look, you arch your eyebrow, not liking that look of his at all.

"Excuse me?"

"Take off your clothes."

You widen your eyes and immediately deny that horrendous request.

"No way! I'm not going to do that!"

"I said. Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

He repeats. In a desperate act you try to run, but the laser in his eyes hits the ground next to you, in a clear silent threat.

"Don't even try."

His eyes sparkle showing the red laser beams in an act of intimidation. There was no point in running, the room had plenty of space and the laser would easily catch you. Your hands shake and you swallow hard knowing you have no option, your hands go to your clothes and you remove them, leaving only your bra and panties, your arms hug your own body.

"Good body. Would be perfect to carry a baby."

He says malicious and you freeze, reminding you that he could have children and that Ryan was proof of that. He walks in your direction.

"You're too beautiful, I can't kill you so quickly"

He compliments you by touching your hair, in an almost affectionate act if it didn't come from him. His fingers play with the strap of your bra.

"I want to taste it."

"W-what?"

"Milk."

"What do you mean? I don't..."

"I like the size and I want to suck it so bad"

He whispers and your cheeks turn red, your body temperature getting warmer by every second. His eyes shine again and your hand goes to the fro of your bra, opening it and revealing your breasts, Homelander's blue eyes gain an intense glow, almost like a child seeing his favorite candy. He stared at your breasts in wonder.

"Sit"

He points to the couch and you sit watching him, he walks up to you and sits on your side, then he practically throws himself on your legs, lying with his back on your thighs.

"Breastfeed me"

You blink a few times at that request, but you decide to fulfill it so as not to risk it becoming a barbecue, you lean forward and raise his head a little. Your breath stops feeling his tongue on the nipple of your breast, licking and sucking with desire. Your other hand squeezes the sofa. While he use his tongue, his hand caress your waist.

You shouldn't like that.

You should despise him.

You should hate him.

You bit your lips to avoid letting out a moan because it was so good.

"Enough."

He takes his mouth off and says, then in a surprise act he gets up and pushes you against the couch, climbing on top of you.

"Get off me!"

You protest but he holds you tighter, immobilizing you.

"I know you like that."

He smiles, showing his perfectly white teeth, before attacking your lips hard, kissing you with a little violence, his tongue moved hard and you couldn't even move, just hold on. The kiss was aggressive and needy, in a clear feeling of possession. You just let out little murmurs. He stops kissing you and his lips go down to your neck, you breathe heavily, feeling a little saliva run down the corner of your mouth, his hands held your arms and his weight between your legs made you keep them open, you could clearly feel something rubbing down there.

He stops kissing your neck and pulls away for a few seconds and his hand goes to the zipper of the pants of his supe uniform, opening it, your eyes widen seeing the size of that. Perhaps it was one of the consequences of compound v as well. He approaches again and you close his legs automatically, he opens them rudely in a way that almost hurts.

"Keep it fucking open."

He says in a rude tone, ppulling your panties to the side, he spits against the red glove and rubs it on your pussy, you turn your face to the side not wanting to see that. Your chin is pulled tightly.

"Look. At. Me!"

He says it and before you could say anything he burrows inside you, surprising you, you open your mouth and let out a moan divided between pain and pleasure, damn, that was non-humanly big. He stops for a few seconds, which wasn't enough, until he starts to move inside you, back and forth hard, his balls hit your skin, he looked like a ferocious animal. His pelvis slammed against yours aggressively as he held your legs up, leaving you as open as possible, just for him.

You shouldn't like that.

You should despise him.

You should hate him.

But damn, that was so fucking good.

You were in a mess of moans as your breasts swayed, his blue eyes penetrated your soul.

"I'm going to make you fucking pregnant, I'm going to put a baby in you"

He groans going harder in his moviments inside you.

"What? No!"

"Oh yes, I'm going! Who knows, maybe you'll stop trespassing on other people's property, hm?"

He slaps your breasts, making you moan softly in pain. Getting pregnant with Homelander seemed like the worst idea in the world, but it was either that or getting burned. His movements increase more and more, grabbing your waist tightly, his thumb rubs your clit hard making your head throw back, delirious with pleasure, his hands hold you in place stronger by your waist, which would surely leave purple marks later, with a loud whimper you cum on his dick, he takes it as an encouragement to dig deeper inside you, if it was possible, you could feel everything inside of you, buried, and then with a loud, almost animalistic grunt, he cums inside you, shaking. He comes out of you, watching the cum drip from inside you, you were panting and your hair stuck to your forehead.

"You going to look so pretty with your breasts full of milk and carrying my baby."

He says going up the zipper of his pants again.

"Put your clothes and get off. You have 10 minutes before I go back and burn your brain."

He threatens and leaves the penthouse, leaving you alone, your clock beeps, indicating that the van with The Boys had arrived. You sigh putting your clothes again and ready to go to a pharmacy to buy a morning-after pill

Or a pregnancy test.

[drdemonprince]

I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.

Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.

I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!sorcerer!reader, rough sex, orgasm denial, sukuna’s mean, begging, degradation, pussy spanking, suggested noncon prior to the beginning of the fic, name calling ( brat, whore, bitch ), dacryphilia, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day six [ sukuna ryomen ( megumi ) + orgasm denial ]

“W-wait, please— fuck!!”

another howl of disapproval tears from your throat as the King of Curses pushes you off of his cock, again. your body trembles and twitches; your used cunt trying to clench around air and hold on to the orgasm that you’d been right on the cusp of.

“Let me…” you’re panting, trying to stabilize your weight on your scuffed-up knees, but the muscles in your body had all but turned to gelatin after hours of relentless fucking. “Let me cum…” it’s an attempt to demand, to sound tougher than you were, but you sound pathetic and weak, pushing your ass back towards the bastardized visage of your best friend.

beyond the curse marks that etched into his complexion, Sukuna Ryomen had twisted Megumi into a monster that you didn’t even recognize. or, perhaps, it was because of the tears blurring your vision or the haze your poor brain had been fucked into. you didn’t know anymore.

“So entitled for a little, fucking whore. You’re not acting like you don’t want this, anymore.” one powerful hand grabs most of your hair at the roots in a tight vice and pushes you forward, smearing your face into the floor, and he hunches over you. you squirm and whine, but not from the screaming pain in your scalp or the taste of blood in your mouth, but because you could feel his cock, hard and throbbing, as it rubs against your ass cheeks when he hunches forward. his body is on fire against yours, smearing sweat from his broad chest across your shoulder blades. “A few hours ago you were trying to kill me, screaming for me to stop, and trying to threaten me, and now you’re yipping for my cock like a wild animal. Begging to be mounted. Cum-hungry. You’re an easy one to break.”

“Go to hell,” you groaned, but you still writhed, winding your hips in an attempt to convince him to push back inside.

“I’m taking you with me.” he retorts with a raspy chuckle, before doing just that— and none too gently. with a forceful thrust, every inch of solid cock and pulsating vein barrels through your spongy canal, filling you to the brim and knocking the wind out of your lungs, before he uses his free hand to dig his digits into your fleshy hip and fall into the same, brutal rhythm he’s been decimating you with. you mewl and clamor to hold on to something. your nails scrape against the tiles on the floor, some of them chipping into jagged edges as your eyes roll back. “You know that, don’t you, brat? You’re damned— you were damned the moment you started to enjoy the way I fuck your helpless, little cunt.” his breath is hot and heavy against the shell of your ear as he ruts against your body, pounding it mercilessly. you try to shake your head, but his grip holds it steady and smeared against the floor and he guffaws, “Don’t think I can’t feel you, whore. Your cunt is sloppy wet, but the harder and faster I fuck you, the more I deny your release, the more frantically your hole squeezes.” your stomach feels like it’s in knots, your climax quickly approaching, and he must’ve felt your body start to tighten and prepare to cum, because he snickers and jerks on your hair tighter. “Just like that,” a low grunt dies in the back of his throat, “you’re already going to try and cum again.”

“Please,” you moan, trying to convince him to allow you release by pleasing him, since begging hasn’t seemed to be working. your ass bounces back to meet his violent thrusting, and the way you squelch and the sound of your wet skin slapping against his fills you with shame. “Please, let me cum! I need— need rest— can’t do this—“

“Greedy bitch.” but you could tell by the way he grinds his jaw when he says it that he likes the way it feels. pulling himself back up on to his knees, Sukuna places both hands on your ass cheeks, which were already sore from his relentless spanking, and he digs his sharp nails in. “What makes you think you deserve it? Because you can take my cock, you think I owe you pleasure or something?” he stills you with his strength, and pulls himself from your abused cavern right as you’ve started to hold your breath and knit your brows, on the edge of your climax, much to your dismay. “You get wet because I abuse your pussy, that’s because you’re filthy, not because I want you to like this.”

“Noooo!” you squeal, deflating like a balloon as he soils yet another orgasm. this time, the sensation slipping away was so intense, that your eyes had begun to water, and you try to look over your shoulder at him, glare daggers up at him for being so cruel, but you find his form, massive and daunting and flushed pink with sparkling sweat trickling over marked skin, too dizzying, and you gawk instead.

Sukuna smirks, wide— red eyes alight with malevolence upon seeing your tears. “Pitiful, aren’t you? Ah, but seeing that look of despair on your face only makes me harder. You want it so badly, it’s almost cute.” he looms over you, pushing on your ass to force your chest back down to the floor, your back arching so your ass sticks higher in the air. your thighs tremble hopelessly, and he enjoys the way you shake and sniffle. “Go ahead and cry, brat. Beg me until your voice goes out. I still won’t let you cum. I love this too much.” grabbing his massive cock at the base, he guides the swollen tip to tease your sticky folds, and for a moment, you try to open up and welcome back inside, regardless of the way your walls ache from the stretch, but he doesn’t force his way back inside. rubbing up and down, he teases your cunt from hole to clit, before slapping the squishy head of his cock against you in rapid-fire spanks.

when you start to squirm and babble, working up the nerve to beg once again to be blessed with an orgasm and relief, he leans closer, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your chin to the apple of your cheek, gathering a mass of salty tears on the buds so that he may taste your anguish. “I’d so much rather watch you suffer.”

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 14

starring: billy loomis x male reader

request: Billy Loomis x SubTop shy nerdy Male Reader

warnings: smut, riding, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cursing, orgasm denial, punishment, gagging, creampie

fuck why did it have to go like this, you were just supposed to be hanging at billy's place to study but he knew the real reason you were over here, you hadn't seen him in a week due to the overwhelming amount of exams you had to do and you were hella pent up.

the way you were looking him up and down each and every minute while trying your hardest to keep your eyes on the book in front of you was a telling sign "need some help" billy asks lifting from his spot on the bed and walking over to the desk.

he leaned over you, his hand sitting on the desk to hold him up while his other moved to drape over your shoulder "no i'm good" you shudder feeling yourself get harder by the second "c'mon you look like you're having a hard time staying focused" billy scoffs taking the pencil out of your hand, his slightly rough digits grazing the back of your hand.

sending you into an immediate spiral, you were thinking of buying a ring, getting a house, and marrying this fine ass man, yes you were getting a little ahead of yourself but my god you wanted him bad now, lifting up from your seat and kissing him.

"well damn took you long enough" billy smirked taking off his clothes as you followed suit, after you both became naked he pushed you onto the bed and straddled your lap, spitting a little spit onto your tip and rubbing his thumb over it making you jolt in sensation before he let you into him.

you letting out a long drawled out moan in response, he had the tightness of a sex toy fresh out the box, a feeling you became all to familiar with that also made lose all interest in using them after the... halloween incident, just thinking about it made shivers run down your spine but that's another story for another day.

billy bounced up and down on your cock like he was riding a rodeo, tightening around you on every bounce practically trying to make you cum in seconds and it was a shame to admit that he could but this time you wouldn't let him but in holding back the whole neighborhood could hear your moans.

no literally, your next door neighbor were calling the cops to file a noise complaint, but that still didn't stop the man above you from fucking himself on your cock like you two were the only people in the world, it felt to good to stop and after not getting off in a week you needed this break because studying is hard.

but not as hard as you were right now, billy could feel your cock pulsing in him, your heart racing as the room around you spun quickly, your hands instinctively finding their way to hide your blushing face from the world.

"ah ah take 'em off now" billy demanded and with your cock basically in his control you had choice but to oblige and lowered your hands, he took both your hands and placed one on his cock and the other on his hips "look at that, a much better place for those huh" he asked starting to thrust his cock into your hand.

"mhm" you choked out to his question, it felt like your body was sinking into the bed, with the bouncing on your cock you wanted to cum so badly it hurt "bi...billy can i cum" you asked looking up at him begging "not yet daddy, i wanna cum with you" he smiled at your weak self.

he loved the sight of seeing you being so submissive for him, he owned you and your cock and you knew that but followed his commands willingly, you were shaking to be able to cum but you couldn't dare disobey billy.

billy leaned down to kiss you, messily laying kisses from your lips to your chest to you stomach "you're so handsome" he complimented and you couldn't handle when he made compliments to you it was to much for your brain to handle and with his wrapped around your cock to it was just even worse making you spurt your cum into him.

"y/nnnn" he teased you, never stopping his riding to overstimulate you "m'sorry billy, i'm so sorry i didn't mean too" you try to hold your case but billy doesn't wanna hear it, shoving a pair of his used underwear into your mouth and continued riding you until he came, cumming all over your chest with satisfied moans.

your fucked out body amused him, maybe it was a kind of thing he got from being ghostface, the love of seeing his victim scared or just fucked up, you were in a dazed state, not a single thought behind those eyes as billy layed next to you "im sorry billy" you sounded almost puppy like in billys ears, begging for your masters forgiveness.

"don't be i got my fill out of it" billy smirks wiping some of his cum off your chest to lick off his finger before he hears someone knock at the door "police department, open up" shit i guess that neighbor really did call the cops.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[ultravioletrayz]

Hiiiii since u take nsfw requests, can I get one of FEM!reader pegging Miguel? I just need to see his tight hole pounded by his sweet girl's strap for a change. Thank you!

SO yummy omg.

Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, praise kink, prone bone, use of strap-on, anal (m. receiving)

Summary: you give miguel a well-deserved break

A/N: was weighing up making this mean dom or soft dom reader but opted for soft dom because migs is just a stressed little baby 🥺 (he's a 6'9, mutant adult man who could kick me so hard I fly into the sun and disintegrate)

Word Count: 831 (not proofread, probably some errors towards the end)

After a long, demanding day of work, all Miguel wanted was some kind of relief, which he immediately found in your embrace. Your touch, your scent, your smile, it all made Miguel feel at ease. Your presence allowed him to sink further into the mattress as you sit on top of his ass, your hands kneading and massaging the taut musculature of his broad shoulders. He couldn’t help the breathy moans leaving his plump lips as his muscles unravelled from their tense knots… and your hips pressed against his ass after a particularly deep thrust.

You pull your sparkly black strap-on almost all the way out so that the silicone is just kissing his puckered hole, before bottoming out once again in a slow, sensual rhythm that has Miguel mewling. His body lays flat against the bed, handsome face tucked away on top of his folded arms to muffle his pretty sounds, his heavy cock messily grinding against the plush mattress in time with your thrusts, the sheets damp and stained with cum and sweat.

“Así, mami. Se siente tan bien, tan jodidamente bien.” Miguel whimpers, lifting his hips up to meet your deep strokes with a choked whine. The sound of the lube squelching inside of his ass and both of your exasperated huffs make Miguel feel lightheaded, his renowned intellect becoming unintelligible babbling as the big dildo strapped to your stunning body stretches him out and drags against his tight walls. This moment with you, not worrying about his responsibilities or being in control, feels like heaven. Miguel has been craving a release, a way to force himself to escape the pressures of being a leader, and a protector. What better way than getting fucked by his pretty girl? (“Just like that, mommy. Feels so good, so fucking good.”)

With his fangs exposed, his claws tearing through the sheets, and throaty groans escaping from his lips, Miguel melts onto your cock. Miguel feels his stress dissipating with each thrust, your fat strap's bulbous head nuzzling his most sensitive, deepest parts and massaging his prostate. To keep Miguel somewhat grounded, you place a hand on his toned, slender waist. You also remind yourself to keep your gentle rhythm and concentrate on Miguel's pleasure, even though part of you wants to see the man who regularly spears you on his cock receive the same, deliciously rough treatment. But Miguel needs this moment of love and devotion, and you’ll do anything to remind your handsome man of your devotion to him and how proud you are of him.

“This tight hole was made for me, taking me so well,” You whisper, leaning over his wide, muscular back so that your honeyed praises still reach his fucked-out brain. “Mi niño bonito. You love my cock so much, huh, Mig?”

Miguel struggles to lift his head from his forearms, but he does so to look back at you, his handsome face covered in drool and tears as your sweet words and deep thrusts cause his eyes to roll back and he nods dumbly in response. You watch with awe and parted lips as Miguel’s hole pulses around you, causing the remnants of lube inside of him to bubble and ooze down his cheeks. It makes you giggle to see him approaching his climax once again, your hips rolling against him passionately as your hands wander across the glistening tan skin of his back, gliding your fingertips across his muscles and scars to worship his body as you make love to him.

His jaw goes slack as he moans and whines as you angle your sparkly strap-on to caress his sweet spot, the benevolence of your thrusts making him conflicted between crying and cumming. Against his own will, he chooses the latter.

Miguel desperately humps the ruffled sheets beneath him as he bucks his hips back and forth to encourage the depth of your movements, but the second your hands squeeze his waist to remind him to calm down and let you take care of him, he’s shooting thick, sticky ropes of his delicious cum into the puddle of his past loads accumulating beneath his abs, the sudden warmth against his bare skin making him whimper as his thick thighs shake and his back arches, subsequently making his ass press against the base of your strap-on.

“Sh-Shock’s sake…” Miguel pants, letting his head fall back down against his sturdy arms as you pull out of him, tapping his spasming hole with the tip of your silicone cock to beckon a few more moans from Miguel. “Gracias, mi reina. N-Needed that. Needed you to make me feel good.”

“Of course, baby. Anytime. I’m here for you.” You whisper, climbing off of Miguel and laying on your side next to him, the bedsheets squelching underneath you as Miguel’s cum spreads and darkens the material. The mess of juices was gonna be a bitch to clean up. But then again, so was the mess that is Miguel O’Hara.

I'm feeling evil and wanna post some miguel angst soon.

[cherryredstars]

so I seen you 1k prompt ! And my eye gyat (😭 I need help ) something’s And I see you have a boss reader and I was just thinking . What about a boss FM reader who’s is dominant like 😏 think about it! and Miguel is like a civilian that is married to reader because of his love not because Of this look, his built body, no it how he laugh his, his eyes, the way he caring, and his ass personality 🤭..

so what about a sub/dom Miguel , like your game , and your assistant fic 😌☝️ can you mix these two pls !!

1k Prompts and Company Matters Extra

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Handjobs, Blowjobs, Unintended Edging/Orgasm Denial, Bondage, Praise

Summary: Appreciate your employees! 

A/N: Subby Migs!!! Welcome back, dear!!!

Word Count: 1.7K (Unedited)

Part 1. Part 1.5, Part 2

You needed a break. 

The paper work wasn’t helping your budding headache, and you were in desperate need of some coffee. As if he knew of your distress, Miguel knocks on your door. He slips in, a coffee cup in his hand. It makes your shoulders relax in relief, watching him as he smiles at you and places the coffee on your desk. 

“My savior,” You mutter while taking the coffee and sipping it. Just how you like it. 

He shrugs, looking at the ground as he chuckles with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s nothing. Just thought you’d need a little pick me up.”

You hum around the edge of your cup, eyes scanning Miguel. He’s wearing a grey button up that stretches over his wide torso, a loose charcoal black tie to match his slacks. You cross your legs as you pull the cup away, licking at your bottom lip. With your keen eyes, you can see how Miguel’s eyes track the movement, eyes slightly darkening before he blinks it away. He stutters a bit as he goes to excuse himself, turning around and giving you a perfect view of his ass. The way he looks right now has to be considered extremely unprofessional.

“Miguel,” You call out, standing up from your desk. Miguel turns around quickly, looking eager to meet your demands. “Come take a seat.”

You have no chairs in your office besides your own. Made it that way to make snobby businessmen uncomfortable when they come to your office to pester you. You can see Miguel’s obvious confusion on where he’s supposed to sit. His lips part in realization when you pull your large leather chair back slightly, and he walks over silently. He walks past you, watching you the whole time as he moves to sit. His eyes don’t leave you even as your hand pushes at the center of his chest, making him fall into the chair.

“How about you? Where will you sit?” He whispers out, nervous at being so close to you. He can still feel your hand at his chest. 

You smile down at him, an almost predatory one. How sweet, still wanting to take care of you. “Right here.”

Miguel’s breath catches in his throat when you throw your leg over his thighs, caging him in. You’re hovering over his lap, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear your flared slacks instead of your pencil skirt. Your arm is thrown lazily over Miguel’s shoulder, your other hand toying with his loose tie. 

Miguel swallows loudly as he stares at you, “What are you doing?”

“Y’know, I appreciate you so much, Miguel.” You ignore, eyes watching the way his tie unravels with a light tug. “You’re so sweet to me. Such a good boy for me.”

Miguel lets out a shuddering breath, squirming under you as he grips the chair’s arms tightly. His knuckles are blinding white. “I-it’s my job.”

You let out an airy giggle that makes his brain fuzzy. His eyes are lidded and hazy as he watches your finger trail down his chest, slowly starting to undo a few buttons. Your hands burn against his exposed chest, and you can feel his rapid heart beat against your fingers. You smirk, leaning in and mouthing at his jawline. It makes Miguel gasp out, hands twitching to grab onto you. Your hands continue to rub at his chest as your mouth comes to his ear. 

You give the lobe a small nip, breath hot against the shell of it, “Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

You can feel Miguel’s thighs twitch under you, pushing away from him. He almost whines as you get up, but it dies when you slowly part his legs and sink to the ground. You try to not laugh when he whimpers out an ‘oh shit’ as he watches you. Your hands rub at his clothed thighs, moving up until they’re at his belt. They slowly start to undo it, pulling the black leather out of his belt loops as you look up at him. 

“Would you like that?” You ask, basically cooing at him. He nods quickly muttering out a breathy ‘yes’. Good boy. 

You reward him by undoing his zipper, pride coursing through your veins when he instantly lifts his hips so you can pull them down. As you slip  them down to his thighs, your eyes zero in on the large bulge in his briefs. He whines when he finds you staring at it so intensely, his cheeks burning. Your hand ghosts over it, and he can feel your nails scraping against him gently. He curses softly when he bucks his hips into your hand, breathing in deeply. 

Your hand slips into his underwear, and he groans when your warm hand wraps around him. You pull him out gently, pumping him in an agonizingly slow pace. He cries out when your thumb brushes over his slit and you snap your face up to him. You coo at him, letting him go and standing up again. He whimpers at you as you let go of him, an apology is at the tip of his tongue. However, he quiets when you take the tie from around his neck. 

“Be a good boy and open your mouth for me.” You say sweetly, and he blinks up at you as he slowly relaxes his jaw. 

You hum, rewarding him with a slow caress to his cheek. He melts into the touch, but his eyes instantly widen as you shove the tie in between his parted lips and start tying it around his head. He speaks around it, his talk muffled. 

You bring a finger to your lips, shushing him gently. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Never know when someone might come up here.”

He nods in understanding, watching as you pry his hands away from the arm rests. You grab his belt, starting to tie his wrists together. “And this… is just for fun.”

Once the belt is secured, you sink back down to your knees again. He slumps in the chair, manspreading so you can sit comfortably between his legs. Your hand slowly begins to pump him again, and you can hear him sigh against his tie. You give him slow pumps, occasionally massaging under his mushroom head. It makes him whine and buck, eyes fluttering from the pleasure as he watches you play with him. You continue to praise him as you work him, muttering about how pretty he looks. 

Once you begin to tire of playing with him, you suck his tip into your mouth. It makes him moan out, tugging at his restraints. His hands itch to tangle in your hair as you bob your head around him. You take more and more of him into your mouth, pausing when he hits the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and try to take more of him in, and he moans loudly while bucking his hips. It makes you gag around him, and you push on his abdomen warningly. He whines apologies through the tie. They die down as his head rolls back, a dragged groan filling the room as you shake your head slightly. His eyes roll to the back of his head, nails leaving crescents into his palms as you move your head up and down with vigor. 

You can feel him twitch in your mouth, and you smirk from around him. Miguel’s whole body tenses in preparation of the orgasm that’s about to wash over him, babbling nonsense around his gag. You move faster, closing your eyes and letting him hit the back of your throat repeatedly. Miguel’s hand clenches and unclenches, hips lifting off of the chair as h-

Knock, knock.

Both you and Miguel freeze. The knocking continues once again, and the both of you look at each other. Miguel has a wide eyed and pleading look in his eyes. Is he begging you to stop or continue? You slowly pull off of Miguel as the person on the other side of the door calls your name, your thumb wiping away the spit from the side of your mouth. Miguel lets out a muffled whine, a pained look in his eyes as his poor cock aches with his built up release. You quickly throw your hand over his mouth to muffle him further, glaring at him as you hold a finger to your mouth. 

Both of you stay silent, until the person on the other side curses, mumbling something about forgetting a file at their desk. The sound of footsteps retreating meet your ears, and the two of you relax as it becomes quiet again. Miguel’s chest is heaving, brows furrowed. He whines again when you pull your hand away from his mouth. His orgasm has completely died down, and he bucks his hips up in hopes to lure you back in. 

Hope jumps in his chest when your hands reach down, but it quickly dies as you begin to undo his belt. His eyes are desperate as he mumbles ‘please’ around the tie and shakes his head. You coo at him, massaging his wrists before tucking him back into his pants and underwear before zipping him up. You button up his shirt again, removing the tie around his mouth last. 

“I know, I know. But break time is over. You gotta get back to your desk before that person comes back.” You shush as he begins to beg you to finish what you started. You caress his cheek lovingly, taking the wet tie and stuffing it into his pant pocket. He whines again, but nods his head in understanding as you ease him up from the chair. You give his cheek a small peck, before he’s rounding your desk and walking towards the door. 

You sit back in your chair, sighing as you pick up a pen and grab a piece of paper. Miguel readjusts his clothing as he opens the door, making sure he looks appropriate. 

“Miguel.” 

He turns quickly, gulping and half-hoping you call him back. But instead, you’re leaning against your desk with your coffee cup in your hand. “Be a doll and warm up my coffee.”

Miguel takes a deep breath, his grip on the doorknob tightening. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Taglist: @x0tw0d57 @sukioyakio @narcissa-anastasia @nikkiam16-blog @strawberryjuice9 @hexqueensupreme @babeyling @realhotgirlshitah @chichimisaki @caslistener @newerggps426 @sinners-98-world @tonystarksmonkeywrench @monkeyformingi @honeymarvel @luv3r999

Join the Taglist!

[gothic-thoughts]

Shameless

Sukuna Ryomen x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Enemies2Acquaintences, King!Sukuna, Knight!Reader,

CW: rough sex, dirty talking, 💦ing, unprotected cream🥧, implied 😻 eating, on the bed, against the wall

TW: blackmail

Word Count: 1828 (give or take)

"For someone that claims to hate me you seem to always find your way back to my castle."

(Y/n) squints at him before groaning heavily and hanging her head in annoyance. She looked up at him, knowing that bargaining was futile, but unfortunately, she was the only one brave enough to speak to Sukuna and return outside unscathed. His only request was that she come alone.

"I do hate you. You're a tyrant and a brute with no sense of mortals or human life. I loathe you as a king and individual."

The King of Curses chuckles, "And it is entertaining to say the least."

"You're unbearable."

"The last human to say that I turned them into a puddle, you should be praising my generosity, but I digress. You are here because I overheard your little plan with those friends of yours."

(Y/n gasps softly, before composing herself.

"I came to make a deal with you."

He smirks evilly, "Really now?" He sits up straight on his throne, "Never pegged you as the type to negotiate. I'm intrigued by the thought of what you could possibly offer me in return for any of your friends' foolish lives."

"That's what I came to ask; what would you want in return?"

"Hmm..."

"Something sensible, Sukuna. I'm not killing or allowing you to kill anyone."

He leans back in his chair, feigning empathy in an exaggerated pout.

"Last I checked, you were desperate enough to come to me for help. Not vice versa."

"So what...?"

"Beggers can't be choosers, now can they? With that said, you don't seem to be in any position to be making demands."

"I don't have to do this. But your help is the best way we can win this war without losing more than half our people."

"Oh. If that's all, then no."

"Thank-- I- wait what? Did you just say no?"

"If you don't have to, little one, then I don't either. I should just send you on your way."

"What?"

He stood up from the large golden throne and walked down the stairs in the opposite direction. His boots reach the floor and as he prepares to walk down the halls of his castle, (Y/n) gives in.

"Alright! Fine, fine, just tell me what you want and we'll go from there!"

He chuckles, knowing he won. He turned on his heels and walked closer and closer to the mortal woman, stepping around and behind her, holding her against his strong, body. His breath ghosted the shell of her ear making her tense with fear.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"How dare you."

"Was it not you that said killing was off the table?" He whispered in her ear, "Other than that, dear I don't desire much else. I already have a kingdom, an army, immense power that your mortal brain will never comprehend... My only desire left is to bed you."

"Absolutely not."

"The way I see it, I am quite the saint for helping you. The only thing I ask in return is to break your puny mortal imagination with ecstasy."

"Pick. something. else. I am not fucking you."

"So vulgar. But in that case, I'll be happy to send you back. Let me know where you're ready."

She stutters in confusion before groaning heavily in exasperation.

"Fine, just know I would never do this if the world wasn't at stake."

"Sticks and stones."

"Let's just get it over with."

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

After making a meal of the sweetness between her thighs, I stand from my bed and lick my lips clean, savoring every last second as it fades from my taste buds. I stared down at (Y/n)'s trembling form as she panted lightly, knowing she was glaring right back, focusing on every flexing muscle on my upper body making me chuckle at her lack of subtlety.

"Staring is impolite but I won't stop you."

(Y/n)'s cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Fuck off, it's not like I've been devoured by a fucking god before."

"I can tell."

"Whatever, we're finished here."

"Finished?" I chuckle, "I haven't reached my climax yet, darling."

"What, but you said my pleasure!"

"I can't help myself, I have the desire to stretch you apart. Don't worry, I plan to keep my promise after the deal is sealed. But, of course, that implies that they've been sealed first..."

"Ugh. Fine, whatever just...."

She sighed heavily in exasperation before she propped herself on her elbows, boldly staring at me as she spread her beautiful legs apart to reveal her delicious dripping parts to me.

"Just hurry up and get it over with..."

I give a cocky smirk at her newfound eagerness as I rip my pants from my body, making my 10 inches of girth flop out. (Y/n)'s eyes widen, legs tensing in fear as I climb across the bed, large, heavy cock bouncing with every movement until my hips are settled between her deliciously plump thighs. I rub the head of my shaft along her sensitive, saliva-slick bud before I push it past the tight, clenching entrance. Her hole seemed to be already struggling to take it in, but the expression on her face told me she was in pleasure-filled pain.

"All I did was slide in the tip."

"It's just a little th-thick..."

"Hm, but I'm only 3 inches in. Since I 'like' you, I'll be nice this once."

"W-what? What do you--"

"Let's try for at least 6. And don't worry, I don't break the toys I intend to play with for longer than a night."

Before she can question me, anymore, I grab her right hip to hold her still while guiding a few more inches into her, watching as it stretches her hole wider and wider with each new inch. I finally stopped once my tip was pressed tight against her cervix and looked down at her blissed-out face, eyes scanning down to where she was stretched around me.

"S-Shit...."

"Don't tell me you're done already, Lady (Y/n). I've seen you get stabbed worse than this."

"Shut the hell up and just m-move already."

I smile evilly. My hips draw back before plunging back into her, making her throw her head back into my mattress and pull at my sheets. I raise my eyebrows at the sensitivity of her body making the situation that much more surreal. I laugh at the feeling of her pussy desperately clenching around me as her gasps adorably morph into moans. I wrap my hand around her throat, holding tightly to see how her moans sound when her air's been restricted.

"You make the most delicious sounds, (Y/n)."

"Sh-shut... Ngh, y-you don't get to call me that."

"Do you like it?"

"I- ngh... N-no~"

"Well that can't be the truth since you're moaning so very loudly. Tell me honestly; your friends are not here to judge." I lean down to whisper in her ear, "And trust that this night will stay to me, alone."

She wraps her ankles around my waist, inevitably pulling me a couple of inches deeper as she tightens around me and reaches her clmax with a yelp. I looked down at where we were connected and saw a patch of slick on my pelvis. Hmm, that was...mmm. After making sure I had a good grip on her body, I moved our activity across the room and pinned her against the wall, continuing to thrust with my heavy balls slapping and grinding against the plush of her ass with every stroke.

"F-fuck, hah~!" She panted.

"How the mighty have fallen, I recall you saying that you hated me."

"I-- f-fuck- do."

"Oh but darling, that implies you hate all of me. But look at you, against the wall in my room, gushing on my cock. You talk so big, that's what I like about you really."

"Sh-shut up."

"I'd admire your stubbornness more if it wasn't bordering on stupidity. But I do admire this body and brain of yours, not broken yet despite roughly taking 10 inches of a god like it's nothing."

With a raised eyebrow, I push the last inch of my cock inside of (Y/n)'s and make her drop her head to my shoulder. She uses all her willpower to lift her head and look me in the eyes while weakly attempting to push against my hips but she's so weak from pleasure it only makes my hips go faster to spite her efforts.

"Where are you going? You're off the ground, darling, you can't run from me."

"F-fuck~!"

"Hm, someone has seemed to go dumb. What happened to that attitude you had when you entered my castle? What happened to that?"

"Y-You fuckin' bastard..."

"You just needed me to fuck it out, didn't you? Don't worry, wench, I'll fuck you back to a state where you can watch your tongue a little better."

"Sukuna~!"

I continue drilling into her hole, watching as her enchanting eyes swell with ecstasy-filled tears before rolling back into her skull. I take her back to the bed, placing her ankles on my shoulders and thrusting deeper, even taking it upon myself to softly kiss her calves when she suddenly gushes again making her cunt even easier to slip into while she convulsed and screamed my name.

"There we go, ugh~ even better. that feels really good. It's been forever since I had such a willful, tight lover in my bed."

I start to lose my own mind at the feeling so I grab the headboard to find some semblance of control while she looks for some herself by tugging at the sheets, and babbling incoherently underneath me.

"Will you give me the honor of being the first mortal I happily give my seed to? I need to hear you say it cuz I'm getting ready to put my seed deep inside your womb so you can be mine.”

My cock starts to throb, dripping more and more precum inside her with every slow deep thrust. My lips ghost the shell of her ear while I pant and whine about how good she feels squeezing the life out of my cock. (Y/n)'s breathy whine makes me chuckle between more deep thrusts.

"You ready, mortal?"

"Uh-huh, p-please..."

"That's more like it~” I bury my face into her neck, kissing at the love bite I left earlier, "Ooh that's it."

My balls tense finally ready as hot, thick cum rushes inside her walls, filling up all the space. (Y/n) claws at my back as she trembles underneath at the sudden heat rushing through her insides.

"Oh yesss..." I moaned, "Take it, mmh, take it all just like that, little one."

"Sh-shit, too much...."

"Shh, I know you can.”

My seemingly endless stream of my divine cum continued filling her insides to the brim, making her lower stomach bulge out from the amount I grind into her pussy, sealing every last drop inside. (Y/n) head lolls on the pillows, her mind trying to produce more thoughts or insults as some cum started to seep out in trickles down her thighs. A few more spurts of cum were shot inside and I sighed, finally finished and panting.

"There we are. Now I feel more inclined to help you."

[soonyoungs]

OH MY GOD HI!!! PLEASE THINK ABOUT THIS WITH ME BECAUSE I'M GOING CRAZY: https://x.com/kinulta/status/1758079004891119867?t=gqoiVpFsS-sWDhu2m910jw&s=19

this is SO woozi... he hasn't touched you properly for exactly 2 weeks and you are so so needy... so on a normal day at the studio you go to check it out if he is eating, he simply decides to take a break. he sits with you on the couch, talks a little, until kisses automatically appear. at first, small kisses with smiles on both sides, but everything goes wrong when he puts you on his lap. the pink mouth attacking yours and you can't hold back, letting out a soft moan between the contact. you want him SO MUCH, but you don't force him to do anything or demand anything from him, because you know how busy he is. HOWEVER, he surprises you when he takes out his own cell phone and starts recording a video. you find it strange, but then you understand the real function. he asks you to sit on the floor, so that the camera captures his pretty face well ☝🏻 and his only demand is that you stay quiet. nothing else. like a good girl you obey. you're still so turned on and you only realize how much when he has his fingers in you and his hand over your mouth, working to really keep you still. the little body that hasn't felt this for so many days is overloaded and that's why you cum faster than normal, letting a squeaky, sly noise leave your lips when the orgasm comes... and you think he'll probably finish and go back to work, but once again he surprises you by continuing to play with your sensitive clit and your intimacy, It's SO MUCH, your legs are shaking nonstop and you you can hear the wet noises throughout the studio. you know it’s too much but you still leave him there because you know he probably needed it more than you did and only after the fourth orgasm does he stop, you're exhausted and he hasn't used anything other than his fingers. your mind is blank and you desperately need a hug... he kisses your forehead and fixes your hair, saying that you are a good girl and obeyed him just as he asked. so he stops the recording and whether he'll fuck you afterwards or not... it's up to you, love

please please please please PLEASE

ఇ woozi and gn!reader (mentions of a clit and vagninal insertion!)

ఇ warnings: smut! not proofread! implied squirting maybe? as usual i do not know how to end things so abrupt ending :(

ఇ wc: 2,052

ఇ notes: baby you basically wrote this yourself!! i hope this is okay and im so sorry it’s taken me forever to get it out! ♡︎

weeks. it had been weeks since you last properly saw him, let alone touched him. it was becoming a problem, a very difficult and needy problem. however you had come to the conclusion that you can’t be too upset with him, as your job has kept you away from home just as much as his.

it wasn’t until you had a day off that you had reached your breaking point. you had to see him, today. sitting on your couch all day just waiting for the hours to tick by so you could catch a glimpse of your lover. it was around 7:00 pm when you had given in to your curiosities and decided to go see him yourself. 

throwing on a hoodie you grab your essentials and order a taxi. anxiety and anticipation rumble in your tummy, almost bubbling over, along the way. questions bouncing all over your brain. has he been eating? does he rest properly? as you continue thinking the worst your taxi pulls up beside an all too familiar building. you jump out, tip the driver and make your way upstairs, muscle memory taking over.

once you get to where you need to be you hesitantly knock on the door before opening it, briefly exposing his studio to the outside world. “hello,” you call out, softly, only to make your presence known “is anyone here?”

you can hear the sound of keys clacking as you move farther into the room. once you’ve made it far enough in you shyly clear your throat, trying to get his attention, again. this time he reacts to you, jumping slightly before turning his neck to see how has interrupted his brainstorming. “oh,” he exclaims “babe, what are you doing here?” he’s not able to hide his excitement as his smile grows wide on his face.

he moves over to you and embraces you tightly. “is this mine,” he asks tugging at the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing. you laugh and nod, mumbling something about how it smells like him and whatnot. the sound of your laugh gets his heart racing and has the tips of his ears burning red at record speed. he’s missed you, that much you can clearly tell.

you lean in to his touch, nuzzling your head into his neck, leaving small pecks. “missed you. missed you a lot, ji” you sigh, finally letting your body relax against his. he hums as he rubs your back. after standing in the middle of his studio for a solid five minutes, muttering “missed you”’s and “i love you”’s to one another, woozi takes your hand and leads you to the couch he has, off to the side, for late nights. 

once he’s sat on the cushions he pulls you down, onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you in place. he’s rocking you back and forth as you both catch up on the activities and work that’s kept you from each other. “it sucks,” you pout “hate that you’re so good at what you do. it keeps you away from home too much”. he knows you only mildly mean it, knows you’re just being needy and pouty so he lets it go.

you sigh and lean back in to him as he begins to rub soothing circles on your hips, before tapping his fingers to create a beat in his mind. you turn your head into his neck and leave small kisses there, trying to divert his attention away from work and back to you. “ji,” you voice comes out breathy, needy “missed you,” you say it again, batting your eyelashes at him, hoping he catches on this time. he laughs at your failed attempt at nonchalance before adjusting the both of you, so he can plant kisses on your face, your nose, your eyes, your ears, your neck, anywhere he’s able to reach.

woozi lifts your chin and leans in to give you a soft kiss on your lips. you sigh into the kiss, reaching up to run your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, gently massaging his scalp. after a few minutes of soft kisses and taking small breathers, woozi leans in to give you a deep, longing, kiss. catching you off guard, you let out a small moan and let your hips lift off of his lap a little, signaling that your neediness is almost to the point of uncontrollable. woozi smiles into the kiss and deepens it even further. “be good for me,” he nips at your bottom lip “okay, baby?”

you nod frantically, waiting for instruction. woozi moves you to his side, placing you on the couch directly. you begin to pout before realizing woozi has gotten up and placed his phone on the counter in front of you, making sure it’s able to capture the couch and anything that might happen there. he looks at you, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. you nod before opening your mouth “yes, it’s okay, want it”. you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you’re hoping to find out soon.

woozi makes his way back to the couch, and you. sitting himself back in the spot he had vacated earlier, he motions for you to place yourself back on his lap. you quickly do as instructed. as you take your seat, you can feel the beginning of his excitement starting to grow. once nestled back in his lap you begin to move your hips slowly, looking back to see his reaction. woozi has his head tilted back, neck pressed against the head rest of the couch. he slowly lifts his head, bringing his hands to your hips to halt your movements. “said you’d be good, remember,” he questions, cocking an eyebrow. you let out a small “yes” before facing forward. “good baby,” he mutters, leaning forward to kiss your neck “now, i need you to be so quiet, okay”.  he’s bringing his hands down to the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing and dragging his fingers up the length of your thigh, all the way to your panties. your breath catches in your throat, it’s been weeks without his touch and the gentle way he’s handling you now is driving you insane. the slow pace that he’s going causes your frustrated hips to push up, wanting to force him into applying pressure, but he’s not ready for that yet.

removing his hand from your panties, woozi moves to remove your hoodie, leaving you only in your undies. the cool air in the studio creates chills all over your skin and you arch your back at the feeling. woozi puts his hand back where it had originally been, against your core. he can feel the heat through the thin fabric of you panties. “needy, huh” he asks, knowing damn well he was just as needy as you. “yes, ji” you confirm “i’m so needy for you. i’ve missed you so much, it’s been hell without you there to take care of me.”

woozi nods in agreement, it’s been hell for him without you too, but now’s not the time to discuss that. he pushes the center of your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through your warm slick. you sigh and throw your head back against his shoulder, reaching down to steady yourself against his wrist. “feel good,” he questions, lips pressed against the side of your head in a small kiss. you nod, letting out a whiny “uh-huh”. he continues to softly get his finger wet, teasing you along the way.

once he’s deemed his fingers wet enough he inserts two at once, scissoring them in order to give you a good stretch. you bite your lip, remembering your vow of silence. your breaths come out in heavy puffs as you try not to moan. he continues to stretch you for just a bit longer before he’s inserting another finger and moving at a slightly faster pace. his fingers hit deep inside you and do wonders to fill you to the brim. your chest is heaving at your nearing climax. woozi knows you’re close by the small squeaking noises you’re making. he moves his fingers faster, adjusting his wrist so his fingers hit the deepest part inside of you, knowing it drives you mad. your back is arching off of his chest as he catapults you into your orgasm. “so good baby,” he’s whispering “so hot, want you to cum just like this. cum all over my fingers baby,” and at his command you do such. your eyes roll back and your mouth is open in a silent scream as woozi continues to move his fingers inside of you, helping you to ride out your high. 

your body is so exhausted the it slumps against woozi, sliding down on to the ground in front of the couch. realizing he isn’t finished with you, woozi leans forward spreading your knees baring them to his phone, who’s camera is still recording. you bend your neck to look up at him. he leans down, giving you a kiss before reaching down to slide your panties off of you completely. once he’s removed the garment he places a finger against your core, teasing your clit. you groan and toss your head back, resting against his knee. “quiet baby,” he warns, placing his free hand over your mouth. the fingers on his other hand begin rubbing harsher circles against you. he continues alternating between gentle and harsh touches before he inserts them again. it doesn’t take much for you to be launched into your second and third consecutive orgasms. 

he removes his hand from your core and places his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. his other hand has moved from you mouth to your head, petting you softly as you pant. woozi removes his fingers from his mouth and holds your chin so he can make eye contact with you. “one more baby, okay,” he asks gently, knowing it’s been a while since you’ve been intimate with one another. you lazily nod your head and lean your cheek against his thigh, turning every once and a while to leave a kiss or love bite.

woozi reaches down again, this time without restraint. he knows that if it’s going to be the last time you cum tonight he will make it the best. he’s moving his fingers at lightning speed, eliciting loud groans and whines from you. as he previously did before, he reaches his other hand up to your mouth, only this time pushing his two middle fingers in your mouth and down your throat. the fingers on your clit continue moving faster and harder throwing you to the brink of orgasm in seconds. your back is arched to a point that worries woozi, but he doesn’t dare stop. the wet, squelching sounds that are coming from you would normally embarrass you, but you feel like you’re experiencing everything out of body at the moment. tears and drool are running down your face as your pleasure reaches an almost fever pitch. woozi finally feels he needs to show you some mercy and pinches your clit in between his rubs.

your eyes cross one last time, as you are thrashing against woozi’s body. your thighs are shaking so violently you are certain you won’t be able to use them for days. a heat forms in your gut as you approach your climax and when it hits you see white, tossing your head back, the fingers in your mouth do little to muffle your screams and cries. woozi’s fingers continue to work at your core, gently swiping your clit every so often, making sure to rub the clear slick, pouring out of you, everywhere he can. 

once you’ve gotten through your high, woozi kisses your head, pets your sides and rocks you back and forth “you did so good,” he whispers in your ear. “i’m so proud of you, what a good baby,” he kisses your eyes and your nose before giving you a sweet kiss on the lips. you moan into the kiss and look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “ji,” you whimper, letting him know you’re not finished. “i know baby,” he smiles “i’m not done either,”

[storusangel]

https://www.tumblr.com/storusangel/761086463145377792/meansatoru-makes-you-spread-your-cunt-open-so-he?source=share

I NEED YOU TO POST MORE ONE LINER THOUGHTS UR BRAIN IS JUST CHEF'S KISS

a/n: LOLLL THANK YOU, this didn't turn out the way i wanted it to but just know i am obsessed with mean satoru and would love to write more about him (my inbox will always be open for mean/bully satoru!!)

cw: impact play, mdni

“baby” satoru drags the word out, a blaring sign that he is more than vexed at your previous actions. you’d only been ignoring him the whole day, opting to parade around in your mini skirt and “chat” with suguru instead. satoru has your bare body splayed out for him on the edge of your shared bed. your legs are pushed apart, your hands doing their best to keep your pussy spread open for him. 

“you’re soaked. you got this wet from talking to suguru? or is it because everyone could see your panties and recognize you for the slut you are?” you shake your head at the accusation. “no? no you aren’t this wet from talking to suguru or no you aren’t a slut? which one is it, baby.” it’s less of a question and more of a demand. when you open your mouth to answer, satoru brings his hand down harshly, giving a strong spank to your pussy. 

you yelp at the contact, yet you don’t close your legs or move your hands. something inside of you tells you that you may have pushed satoru too far today. “’toru! ‘m sor-” he cuts you off once more by another spank to your drooling cunt. this time though, he makes sure to target your clit. the swollen nub only throbbing from the after effects. 

satoru stares at your quivering fingers, indents forming under your hold as you do your best to keep yourself spread for him. he gives you two more quick spanks before he takes a break. two fingers slide up and down your slit, teasing your entrance. he dips a single finger inside of you before immediately removing it, only to repeat the process until you whine out his name. 

he coos at your trembling figure. at your naivety when you let your body relax at the thought of your punishment being over when he presses a loving kiss to your pussy. he lets you bask in the feeling for a moment, and when he thinks you’ve had enough time, he pinches your clit. you gasp loudly and a proud grin finds a way onto satoru’s face when he sees your nails dig into the surrounding skin of your leaking slit. at the end of the day, you’re still his sweet girl who loves to push his limits but always does her best to follow his directions.

satoru almost feels guilty continuing. almost. he starts back up, sharp spanks have your back jolting and your legs shaking from holding your position. you don’t want to disappoint satoru but it’s an impossible task to do when satoru hasn’t let up the current abuse on your poor cunny. when satoru sees you struggling, he reminds you that he’s far from letting you go. “you better keep your legs open, princess. we’re not even close to being done.”