#cries in small calves

[apnourry]

and it was a GOOD DAY

[baka-bakeneko]

Minute Man - Logan Howlett x F!Reader [Shortie]

tags: doggy-style, extended f*ck, wrap it before you tap it psa, delayed org*sm, service dom Logan Howlett, Wolverine creampie, aftercare cuddle

wc: 441

synopsis: Logan has been at it for almost an hour....

a/n: scratching, yowling, digging a hole; thank you Megan Thee Stallion for hatching such a dastardly idea [i don't need a minute man/ fuck me for some hours ~ Boa]

You had lost the feeling of your knuckles clutching the bedsheets, you'd been holding on for so long. It was mind-numbing, overstimulating, your mouth gaped open with droll panting. Logan's hands gripped at your hips, his pace relentless as he speared into you.

Every thrust of Logan's drew out a whine, your knees buckling as you were ready to give up and succumb. His short nails dug into your skin, his hips slapping against your thighs with a echoing thwap. Your bodies were slicked with a film of sweat, your pussy gripping tighter around Logan's length with each stroke.

"L-Logan," you mewled, finally releasing your white knuckle grip on the bedsheets to brace Logan's hairy thigh. You cried out as Logan thrust harsher in an instant, ringing at your inside walls.

Your chest lowered to the bed, your nipples chafing against the cotton. Your stomach turned, your hand gripping tighter at Logan's leg. Your breaths came out as shivers, your calves quaking around Logan's knees.

"Fuck, I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." you tried to say, gasping with his thrusts slowing, getting longer in the stroke.

"Do it," Logan barked, moving a hand to rest on the small of your back.

When you were just coaxed enough into doing so, you were stricken with a sharp hand on your ass. You whimpered, spiraling undone and turning your face into the bedsheets to cry out.

Logan paused, rolling his shoulders back to relish in your pulsating walls, then took grip of the back of your neck to pull you out of the bed. "I-I need to hear you," he grit, suddenly gasping on his words with his dry throat.

You moaned, backing onto Logan's length, and panting your praises.

"Fuck, yes, Logan, God." Your words were metered into singular phrases, your body alight with euphoria, sweat and Logan's body heat.

"Fuck yes," he repeated, exhaling sharply as he finally released inside of you.

It was sudden, gushing into you and dousing your inner walls with further heat. You hissed, your body floating down to the bed with Logan's bed to collapse over yours.

He sprawled over you, running his hands up your sides before taking your hands and stretching you out under him. Logan kissed at your temple, nosed into your neck to inhale your new scent.

He curled his arms around you, turned you onto your sides. Logan pulled you further into his hold, his cock lazily flexing inside you as he growled.

You felt him shift on the bed, his arm pulling up to tuck under your head. You tilted your head back at Logan, noted his eyes fluttering to fight off sleep.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: nerd!anakin x reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER had been hesitant at first. You brought it up so casually. On a random day, at random moment, suggesting the idea while the two of you were tangled in bed one night - your hand running through his soft curls, face buried in your cleavage. Cheeks had turned red faster than you could blink, and he mumbled something about 'researching angles' before burying his face further into your body as if he was trying to hide himself.

But here you were now, in his small, nerdy room surrounded by shelves and posters of fictional characters, laptop playing a soft instrumental playlist in the background -- nothing remotely sexy, but so him coded.

You were kneeling on all fours on the bed, body arching to Anakin’s as his shaky hands traced over the curve of your back, lips brushing kisses along your spine.

Gentle

Wet

Yet so tentative

“Are…are you really sure about this?” question repeating for the fifth time, voice breathless, almost shaky. Glasses were slipping down his nose, and he pushed them up nervously once more, swallowing hard as his hands roamed down to grip your plushy hips.

“Yes, Ani,” ass pushing against his hard-on “I want this. I want you.”

Whimper leaving his throat, fingers squeezing your hips as he lined himself up. Star Wars socks brushing against your calves, soft fabric a hilarious yet strangely comforting reminder of how much you just adored your nerdy boyfriend.

When he slid into you, his head tipped back with a broken moan, hips stuttering. He had no idea that angle would give him “Oh my god,” he whined, voice impossibly high-pitched. “Oh my—y-you’re so tight… It’s—oh f-fuck…” pink lips trembling, your fingers digging into the soft carpet

You couldn’t help but let out a breathless giggle, which quickly turned into a gasp when his cock pushed deeper, the angle hitting you in ways that made your toes curl, eyes roll behind your head.

For some he may not get any bitches but oh, honey, that dick was eleven inches

“Anakin,” you gasped, “move, baby.”

“I-I’m trying,” he stammered, hands trembling as they moved to your round globes, fingers digging into the pushiness of it. The sign of it made his mouth part, shaky moan leaving his throat.

He started to thrust slowly at first, movements tentative, almost experimental, but the sounds falling from his lips were anything but reserved.

And he was loud.

So loud.

Moaning, gasping, groaning like he was about to lose his mind. Every time his thick cock pushed in, stretching you so deliciously, his, and even yours, body trembled, and he let out these helpless, whimpering noises that went straight to your core.

“You feel so good,” he cried, voice cracking so much as if he was in pain he didn't want to end “Oh my god, you feel s-so… warm, and--fuck, this position is insane.”

Grin spread on your lips before you stretched like a cat, giving him even a better angles “You’re so loud, Ani,” you teased, throwing a look over your shoulder at him.

Face flushing, curls sticking to his damp forehead, and his lips parted as he panted heavily. "Y/n..” he exclaimed, thrusting deeper, harder, making you moan and gasp like a slut "s'too much -- too much--"

He clutched at your hips like they were his lifeline, fingers digging into your skin as his head fell forward, glasses askew on his nose.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whimpered, hips snapping forward a bit harder. “I can’t—oh, god, I c-can’t stop… you feel too good. I love you. I love you so much..I love this—oh fuck, I think I’m gonna—”

You cut him off with a moan of your own, body arching as pleasure began to pool/hit. His erratic movements and desperate sounds were pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and you felt your walls clench around him as he let out a loud, drawn-out groan.

“Ani!” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he pressed even deeper, his thrusts now more frantic than controlled.

“I—I can’t—oh my god,” he sobbed, body trembling as he pushed into you one last time, burying himself deep as he spilled into you with a broken cry. He collapsed onto your back, panting heavily, arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder before collapsing next to you, chest raising and falling as he tried to catch his breath

“Y-you’re amazing,” he mumbled between breaths, his glasses fogged up “But next time… warn me before we do something so--so insane. I think I saw stars.”

[shirakow]

MSBY Bokuto Koutarou won another match <3 ; sub male reader , mentions of breeding , overstimulation , crying reader , praise kink

ㅤ

“Y-Yeah, we won another game… Aren't you just so proud of me, sweetheart?” Bokuto grunted into your ear, pushing your legs further against your chest as he pumped his cock into your hole.

He wore that stupid smug grin on his face, a clear indication that he knew you were proud of him— he just reveled in hearing it come out your mouth personally. ”S-So proud of you, Kou…~” You'd cry out, arching your back off the bed as Bokuto repeatedly hit your prostate.

Bokuto laughed breathily and pulled back to gently kiss your calves, “Keep praising me, baby… Fuck I'm almost there…” He moaned, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with sticky white liquid running down the skin.

And so you did, you babbled praises like they were prayers until they began to get more incoherent with each thrust to your hole.

At this point you were crying from the overstimulation and Bokuto noticed, with your head turned to the side while tears ran down your pretty face. He leaned down and wiped the tears away: whispering small apologies as he let go of your legs and slowed down, letting them fall back down on the bed.

“Sorry, baby… I just couldn't help it… I wanted to reward you for cheering me on…” Bokuto said as he kissed your lips, welcoming his tongue inside as he grinded his pelvis against yours. You mewled into the kiss as you felt your cock get rubbed in between your sweaty bodies.

Bokuto smiled and gently nibbled on your bottom lip, “‘m gonna keep fucking you, s'that okay?” He asked for confirmation. You could only give him a nod of approval which made him grin. “Thank you, I'll take you out later for being such a good boy.”

He pulled back and placed a hand on your abdomen, “Ohh…~ Feel how deep I am? I could practically put a baby in you.” He teased before wasting no time in fucking you again. You squealed, slamming your hand on his built chest to ground yourself as your eyes rolled back. You felt your vision going dark, and he cooed.

Bokuto shushed you and helped you wrap your arms around his neck, “Don't pass out on me, baby… I'm so close…” He moaned. The bed creaked beneath you two, and it was obvious you were gonna get a noise complaint from your neighbors tomorrow but neither of you cared enough.

He reached down and wrapped his hand around your cock before beginning to pump it in time with his harsh thrusts. You sobbed and cried at the overstimulation, your hand immediately grabbing a fistful of his hair.

Bokuto groaned, pressing down on your abdomen even harder to help angle his thrusts into your prostate. “F-Fuck, I'm coming…” He panted breathlessly, closing his eyes at the sheer bliss he felt whenever you squeezed around his fat cock.

It didn't take long for you to come with him following right after, both of your bodies convulsed as Bokuto desperately grinded against your hips to push his release deeper into your ass. Bokuto pressed his forehead against yours after he was fully sated, and chuckled tiredly.

“I love you so much… I'll give you the best dinner date ever, my sweet boy…” He gently kissed your lips.

© shirakow ; he's been my obsession for 6 years <3

ㅤ

[nova-amor]

“my pretty girl, i missed you so much, darling.” nanami kento softly cooed to you, his honey brown eyes brimmed with love and adoration. his gaze warmed every fiber of your being, tugging at the strings of your heart and filling you with the familiar warmth only he could provide. “you feel so good against me; can’t believe i survived so long without you.”

your legs were wrapped around the small of kento’s waist, his cock kissing at the sensitive edges of your cervix. “i missed you more, ken,” you smiled up at him, the sweet stretch of his cock bottoming out inside you making your body grow as light as a feather. kento craddled your cheek with one hand while supporting his body weight hovering above you with the other, his hand scorching hot against your cold cheek. “missed your warmth, missed your touch.”

kento pressed a tender kiss to your lips, slowly retracting his hips from the warmth depths of your cunt before deeply driving his cock right back in. “god, i missed this pussy so much— still taken me so well, baby girl, pussy made just f’r me. i fit so perfectly inside.” he rambled, resting his forehead against yours, completely losing himself to the feeling of you. his hips snapped against yours at a steady, intense pace— yanking moan after sweet moan from your eager throat.

“fuck, ken— s’ good, s’ fuckin’ good—” you cried beneath him, back arching off the flat surface of the bed and chasing after kento’s thrusts. the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the air, the union of heavy pants and moans bouncing off the walls. “missed your cock so much—” the bed frame squeaked with each timed movement of kento’s hips, your hands caressing the soft terrain of kento’s muscular back. “missed how good you are t’ me. never letting you go again.”

“that’s right, pretty girl,” kento’s pelvis rubbed against your clit, dragging against the sensitive bud with each roll of his hips. “no one else is ever touching you again— this is all mine again, baby girl— right?” kento’s statements rang in your ears, your squishy walls clamping down hard on his cock. “you’re ruined for anyone else but me now, baby girl— no one knows you better than i do— you’re all mine. say it.”

your hips bounced against kento’s as his thrusts slowed down, allowing you to take control even while laying sprawled out beneath him. your thighs and calves flexed around him, pushing him out and pulling him back into you at your desired pace. “all your’s, kento. always will be, promise.” your eyelashes were wet with tears, your tight walls squeezing the life out of kento’s cock. you were on the precipice of release, body tingling in anticipation as kento’s cock nudged against the sensitive spot along your gummy walls.

kento was so close too, his muscles tightening and pretty pink lips slightly parted as he got closer to the edge. “fuck, darling,” he hissed, his balls getting heavier and tighter with each smack to your ass. he turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut. if you kept looking up at him with such a desperate expression, he wasn’t sure if he was going to last any longer. and, he wanted to last longer to cum with you at the same time. “keep makin’ that face and you’re gonna be the death of me.”

[steviewashere]

Take Up Space

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (it is minor, but the themes are there), Implied/Referenced Child Neglect Pairings: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Wants to Be Loved, Steve Harrington Feels Like a Burden, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Moves in With Eddie & Wayne, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, And Gets One

🫂—————🫂 Couldn’t even say it.

Didn’t want to look him in the eyes and just say it.

Steve’s been holding on. He has. Hands to the ground, fingers in the soil, gravel under his nails. Been holding fast to his parents. Claw marks on his mom’s calves and a ring of teeth on his dad’s neck. Fighting for purchase against everything his parents want him to be; the words they have to say when he’s behind his bedroom door and feigning sleep. When he’s ear against the wood, teeth in his bottom lip, holding back cries—“How does our kid get a fucking D in math class? We’re business people!”

He’ll always be absurd to his parents.

To his mom, he is the long lost love of her life. He is the flower nearly wilted in her palms, plucked fresh from the grass, tufts of petals blowing behind her. The thing she always wanted; that she gave name to; that she thought she needed. She knew his name before anything else. Said it her self, holding the remnants of her childhood doll—“I named him Steven,” she had told him, “a mighty little lion with a great, big roar. I held him close every night, just as I will do with you, my little lion.” He was born small, premature, wrinkled and crying. He was placed upon her chest the same way a bouquet is laid on a casket—with love and loss, grieving just begun. It didn’t take long for her to change. For her voice to grow sharp and loud and angry. Disappointed, too.

Just a disappointment to them, that’s what he was. Didn’t win the championships? Disappointment. Got third in the second grade spelling bee? Disappointment. Barely graduated high school? Dis-a-fucking-ppointment.

It was shown in the way he never met his dad’s expectations. Ruler slaps on the wrists, wooden spoon to his bottom, the time out corner. Sometimes, he’d drop his homework on “accident”, to explain why he didn’t have it. Why they couldn’t see the big, fat, red F on his assignments, scrawled dark and heavy, circled with that perfect penmanship his teachers always had—always had for the failures in class. He’d have to get his report cards signed, but he’d forge them. He’d have conferences, but he’d always “forget” to invite his parents.

And it was better when they’d leave for business trips. Always too long, over staying their welcome in out-of-state hotels, in foreign countries they’d never be built for. It was better because he didn’t have to explain. It was better because he could get away with being human. He could show up tired to school, could get a bad grade and feel relief, could fuck up big time on a test and have no repercussions (especially if he went home and deleted voicemails from their answering machine), and he could graduate by the skin of his teeth. Take up the extracurriculars, do the bare minimum, not have to try so hard to be somebody he isn’t.

Of course he didn’t make it into college, not with his skill set. Of course he didn’t try again—not because he didn’t care, but because he simply couldn’t. Of course he worked dead-end retail full time; it’s all his parents could think to do with him—it gave him time away from home for eight hours or more, so it was a win for everybody.

But underneath all of that—beneath the scoldings and the physical punishments and the hot spit in his face—there were absent words, too. Absent gestures.

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he embraced his parents. Doesn’t remember the last time he heard ‘I love you.’ Doesn’t remember the sweetness of growing up. It was all tainted, taken from him, buried under the soil—the soil he grips to, nose deep in it, sniffing for where the bones have been buried.

He’s twenty now. None of it should matter. It shouldn’t matter at all that he can’t get those three words out of his parents’ mouth. Or that he can’t gauge the weight of arms on his shoulders, arms that aren’t his friends, arms that aren’t the ex-chief of police. Yet, of course it all does.

Nearly six months after Vecna, after the earthquake, after he helped save the world like some vigilante superhero, his parents finally come home. They come home with overflowing suitcases and permanent scowls, stomping and clicking through the front door, keys heavy in a bowl, jackets hung firmly, and his name on their tongue: “Steven!”

They come home with a medical bill in their hands. Thousands of dollars “down the drain.”

And Steve greets them with a neck scar visible above the collar of his current blue henley. His hair down to his shoulders, bangs itching to stab his eyeballs. With thin white lines on his knuckles. A gritted smile on his sullen, tired, pasty face.

“What is this?” His dad had hissed, flicking his right wrist, the paper wrinkled and noisy in his hand. “Thousands! You’ve cost us thousands of dollars!”

“I had surgery,” Steve tried to explain—voice meek, small, already timid—“got mauled by some…vicious and frightened dogs during the earthquake that happened. Guess that’s what happens when you try and help out.” He gave a nervous chuckle and stepped side to side. Buy that, he internally plead, just buy it and berate me and we can move on with our day.

His mom didn’t say anything in this. Face hard-set, painted lips flat, eyes sharp. She was unclasping the earrings hanging heavy from her earlobes, fisting them in her palms, bending down to pick up the stilettos she stepped out of, and then she evaded the conversation. Just went up the steps like a ghost, barely making a sound, simply gliding. He wanted her to come back, to stop this, to stand up for him—wanted what they had when he was really little, when she cared. When she held him close. When she promised.

His dad scoffed. “And you didn’t use your own insurance?”

“I don’t…I thought that I was still on the family plan?”

Steve was then leveled with a stare. A familiar stare. One that conveys exactly what his dad won’t say yet, “Disappointment.” His dad sighed. “Well, you aren’t. Which you would know if you listened”—

“Nobody told me! How am I supposed to”—

“Don’t talk back, Steven. You shouldn’t have to be told everything.” The paper had been thrusted forward, right into Steve’s chest. He gripped for it before it fell to the ground—where his heart has already been mushed into the hardwood. His dad stepped around him, around his heart, retreating towards the dining room and kitchen, fiddling with the band of his watch. “Have you found a job yet? Any college acceptance letters? An apartment?”

He huffed and followed. Bitter, “No. I’ve been recovering from surgery. Physical therapy, a couple skin grafts, my antibiotics…I told you about it over the phone the last time you cared to even call and check in on me.” Immediately, Steve had bit his tongue. Too much, too fast.

The Stare.

“That’s no way to talk to people, Steven.”

“But I”—

“When did you become so uncouth?” His dad scoffed a humorless laugh and drifted towards the kitchen sink.

The kitchen had always been too big for just the two of them. Spacious, many cabinets, the best of the best in terms of appliances. Not a single stain on the countertop. No cracks in the tiles. All of it clean, seemingly unused. Maintained to be picture perfect.

Just as Steve had been most of his life.

His dad continued on, “You’re supposed to be in college right now. Making something of yourself. Instead you’re—what—standing in the kitchen, holding a medical bill you cost me because you were trying to save dogs? Dogs, Steven? You could be doing something with your life! Could be going to school to become a doctor like that Hagan boy. Whatever happened to Thomas anyway?”

Steve stayed silent, still biting his tongue—his dad already knew about Tommy. Small in the doorway. Hunched in and looking at the ground, bile risen in his throat, the scars on his back and sides aching.

“But”—a sigh—“nope. Saving dogs. What are we going to do with you? Should’ve sent you to military school like Robert Kelly’s kid, I heard he’s doing great these days. You’ve always been defiant, though, so I’m sure that gig would’ve been drilled straight into the ground.”

The sink turned on, his dad had washed his hands. Wiped away the residual weight of the medical bill from his palms. A medical bill that he never bothered to ask about before. Just like the other ones. Like the other concussions. The fights that put the family name at risk. The bruises and blood that ruined poor Steve’s reputation.

If only he knew the truth.

His dad went to say something else, but instead—

“Why don’t you care?” Steve bit, “you never cared. This isn’t the first bill. Why does it even matter how much you have to spend? You’re my dad; you’re supposed to care about me.”

A different stare this time. Squinted eyes. Furrowed eyebrows.

Are you challenging me, is what this one said, are you doubting me?

“When you’re saving dogs? Why should I bother, Steven?”

“Because I’m your son! Because I—I need your help! It shouldn’t matter what I’ve been doing. It should matter that I almost died.”

He rolled his eyes. “Died,” his dad muttered—a soft, bewildered echo. “Stop being so”—

“Why don’t you just love me? Why won’t you love me just as I am? I need you to care. I need you to…to treat me like I’m your kid. Not some friend. Or some business partner. Your son. But you…you don’t love me?” He shifted again, side to side, boiling and ashamed and ready to puddle into the fine porcelain of the tiles. “You don’t love me enough to call and ask why you need to pay a medical bill. You didn’t bother to even know an ounce.

“It’s like that every time with you. All those stupid concussions. You didn’t want to take me to the hospital. Didn’t want to pay it off. Worried about your stupid last name. About the family image. I almost die and all you care about is the fact my life is costing you money.

“Money is more important than me, that’s all you’ve shown.”

Another scoff. “Don’t be so”—

“Ridiculous? Unreasonable? Dramatic? Stupid?

“Why are you so incapable of loving me? That’s all I want! For you and mom to…to hold me and tell me that you love me! But you…you only care when I cost you money! Why can’t you care?! I want you to—I want you to be my dad! What’s so wrong with that? With loving me? Why am I such a hard person to love? Why can’t I just…just be enough for you?!”

Finally fallen silent, Steve stood still in the kitchen’s entryway. A world between worlds. Tired, heaving, stomach turning. Palms sweating, wetting the dumb bill that ruined this all.

It remained silent. With his dad looking at him.

Those hazel eyes and his square jaw. The same face Steve sees staring back at him in the mirror. And yet his own isn’t enough to love.

There is nothing.

And so he kept standing, empty, words dead to the floor, heart by the front door. He took a deep breath through his nose, remembered the path to his get-away bag—a bag he packed in sophomore year of high school, after a terrible basketball game, when he was slapped on the back of the head for failing to make the winning shot. It has a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, emergency cash, hygiene products, a new wardrobe that coincides with his current size, and all his important documents—nothing of his family’s. He had what he needed packed in his closet.

So, he left. Chose to go. Before his dad had the chance.

Let the possibilities die in the air. What could’ve been if there wasn’t so much space and so many expectations between them.

Who knew saving the world would be the ending of your own?

Who knew love was such a price to pay?

——— Now, he finds himself parked outside of Eddie’s. The backpack in the passenger seat. Leaves it for now, unsure if he’ll be wanted. But he knocks on the door regardless.

There’s a moment where there’s nothing.

Him and the blackness of the trailer park. The rustle of grass in the gentle, autumn breeze. People chattering a few doors down, over cigarettes it smells like. Max’s own bedroom light is out, most likely asleep right now. Chain link fence glinting with the very little moonlight that’s there. Fresh weeds on the outskirts, born from the rain.

Serenity around his turmoil. A constant anger still stewing, bubbling, steaming within him.

What if Eddie can’t handle him right now?

What if he has to crawl through Robin’s window, leave her with words, run for the hills?

What if…what if…what if?

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly, sing-song like he’s tried already.

He whips back around from where he’d been looking out at the grass. Shuffling. “Oh, hey, Eds. Sorry—I—Just…Can I come in, please?”

Eddie steps aside for him. Lets him in without words. Until, “You’re shaking, sweetheart. Is everythin’ alright?”

“Hm? Yeah…yeah, yeah…I think that I—Think I just moved out of my parents’ house?”

A soft, surprised sound behind him. The click of the door closing. “Yeah, you think?” Gentle.

Everything is gentle here.

The amber light in the living room. Rows of hats. Shelves of mugs. Family pictures proud on the fridge, next to yellowed drawings in crayon, all hung up with goofy Garfield magnets. There’s an open box of Honeycomb on the table, a fresh bowl poured. A carton of milk turned so that the missing persons report could be read.

When he was younger, Steve imagined being on one of those panels. What it would be like. To have gone missing. Not a note or a clue or a peep. To have his parents care enough to find him. Now, though…now it feels like they wouldn’t even bat an eye. Maybe it would’ve been the same back then, too.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, “he got mad about a medical bill for that surgery I had. And I just…god, it’s embarrassing.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, too similar to his dad’s—a sound he will always recognize as that, from his father’s chest. Horrid and wretched. Something rotten in him, too, it seems. “I asked him why he doesn’t…doesn’t care about me. Why he doesn’t love me. I mean…who does that?” Steve makes eye contact with Eddie, who must’ve gotten closer, stepped right in front of him. With very little courage, the last dredges of it in his veins, he speaks, “They let me live in their house, eat their food, use their shit. Was that wrong of me? Am I…am I stupid for asking?”

Eddie inhales hard and deep. “Oh, Steve,” he breathes.

“It had to be, right? Of course my parents love me. They’re my parents!”

“Steve, that’s”—

“I get it, y’know. I get that it’s hard to love me. I know that, you know. But I don’t…the way he looked at me, Eddie, I knew he knew that too. I don’t think they—Why am I such a hard person to love? Is it me? Is it something wrong with me?”

He’s unsure if that was rhetorical, if he really wanted that answer. But as it is, he’s aware of the ache in his head, the burn between his eyebrows, the need and want to pinch the bridge of his nose. The tears that rise—ones that won’t fall, not without his permission. Without permission at all.

Instead of an answer, at least not right away, Eddie envelops him with languid movements and a warm body. Heavy arms on his aching back, hands pressing firm to his taut muscles, rubbing up and down his rigid spine. There’s breaths and words and kisses murmured against his eardrum. A chest rising and falling against his own. Tickling hair.

And instead of protesting, Steve clings back hard. Harder than he’s ever held anything.

Digging fingers into a t-shirt—the soil. Not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Not when he’s finally getting part of what he wanted, to just be held. Maybe not by his parents, the real dream, but at least it’s something.

Somewhere in it all, in their mess of limbs and their mingled pulses, Steve cries—giving that allowance. Sobbing big, aching, roaring hiccups into the soft spots of Eddie’s neck. Wet breaths and wetter tears. Letting go until he has nothing left to give—and then some. His head is aching already, eyebrows pinching, eyes heavy on his already too heavy face.

He’s tired.

More tired than he thinks he’s ever been.

This must be the adrenaline crash. Makes him realize all the ways he’s hurting. His back and his legs and his fingers. His head and his teeth. His heart. And here he is, screaming all of his pain into the gentle parts of Eddie, where he’s offered and where he’s swaddled.

“Shhh,” Eddie’s whispering, “shh, Stevie, you gotta calm down a little for me. Just a little, I’ve gotcha.” They’re moving somewhere. Shoes scraping and dragging against carpet. Set down on a soft cushion—the couch, then—with words still murmured in his ear. “I’ve gotcha,” Eddie says, “he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha…I’ve gotcha.”

“Why can’t—I don’t—Love”—he stops himself with a wet, spraying cough-gag onto Eddie’s warm skin.

Hands press into his shoulder blades, dragging firmly down his spine. And then fingers at the ends of his hair, a thumb pressing into the knobs of his neck. Eddie sways them back and forth gently. “You’re gonna choke,” Eddie murmurs, “take a deep breath, baby. Just one breath for me, that’s all.” He obliges, inhaling hard through his nose, trying to release it as slow as possible through his mouth—not incredibly, but just enough. “Good,” Eddie says, “good job. You can cry, sweetheart, but you gotta keep breathing good for me.”

Again, he does what Eddie tells him to do. Wetting his skin more with each deep breath he blows out. And when he’s just a shivering, hiccuping mess in Eddie’s arms, he finally allows himself to relax—to loosen.

Eddie presses a kiss to his left temple. Then he pulls away just enough so they can see each other’s faces. He swipes the hair out of Steve’s face, gentle with every touch he gives. “You’re gonna stay here with me, alright?”

“What about”—

“Wayne’ll understand, I promise. I’ll grab your stuff. I want you to just sit right here, okay? And when I come back in, we’ll just relax for the rest of the night.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then we’ll just go to bed, okay?” Eddie kisses his temple again. He pulls himself off of Steve and gets off of the couch with a, “I’ll be right back.”

Steve only nods at Eddie’s back, now slumped into the couch.

Disappointment rings loud in his head. At least he didn’t let his parents say it this time. But once it’s ingrained in him, he knows the way it should sound. Dripping with ire—red and loud and bass boosted from his dad’s mouth. And yet he doesn’t know what ‘I love you’ sounds like coming from either of them; or at least he doesn’t remember.

He’s gone and unloaded himself here. Not that he intended for that to happen.

There wasn’t really a plan when he drove over to Forest Hills. Maybe the naked branches of one. He’d come over, tell Eddie what happened, maybe get so overworked that he started to cry, and then he’d slip out without another word. Just get back in his car, leave a note or something for Robin, and evade Hawkins all together. Though, now that he’s out of that house, maybe his parents will finally take the initiative on getting out of this town. It’s something they always wanted, something they always threatened they’d do if Steve didn’t shape up. Now would be the time, he supposes, now that he’s left with the last crumbs of his dignity.

A few minutes later, still stuck to the back of the couch, Eddie comes in through the front door. That one backpack in his grip. Fingers tight on one strap, looking at it with confusion.

“Is this all of your stuff?”

He shrugs. “My go bag.”

“Go bag,” Eddie echoes.

“Yeah, I’ve had it packed since sophomore year. Just in case, y’know.”

Eddie inhales in that slow way he does. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, I get that.” He hefts the bag up and down. “It’s just…just really light, sweetheart. Are you sure you have everything you need?”

He nods resolutely. “Stuff can be replaced. It’s fine.”

The couch dips beside him. His eyes drifting from his lap, up to where Eddie’s looking directly at him. That backpack between his feet—limp and folding in on itself from how empty it is. There’s a question on the tip of Eddie’s tongue. Hesitantly, “What was your plan, sweetheart?”

He shrugs again. “See if I could spend the night here and then…I don’t know? Figure it out as I go, I guess. Didn’t wanna be a burden or anything.”

“You’re not a burden,” Eddie states firmly, “you are never a burden to me or anybody else in our friend group.”

“But”—

Eddie lays his hand on his forearm, squeezing him tight. “I want you to stay right here with me. I want you to eat my food and sleep in my bed and take up space, you got that?”

Steve sniffles. Wetly, “Are you sure? I can get a hotel or some”—

“Stay here.” Eddie squeezes his forearm again. His eyes bounce between Steve’s own. Then, he murmurs, “I love you”—which is the first time he’s said it—“and I hate your parents with the most sincere hate I could send a person. But you…you, Steve, are worth loving and caring for. No matter what.”

“But what if you grow tired of me? I mean…my parents, they”—

“No matter what. Steve, I will always care and love and respect you as a human being even if our relationship fails—for some reason, which I can’t even think of a reason, so we’ll be okay.” Eddie hefts the backpack in his other hand, still light and still collapsing in on itself. “Now, how ‘bout we get ourselves to bed?”

Steve swallows, darts his eyes over Eddie’s face. Nods once, the last of his tears rescinding. “I’m so tired, Eds.” But it sounds like more than that. The weight of those words falling off his tongue, the hollowness of his mouth all that he has left afterwards.

Eddie frowns lightly. His hand goes up to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek gently, wiping his thumb under his left eye. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, “I know.” He sniffs himself, something small, but that’s when Steve notices that Eddie’s eyes are wet, too. “I wish I knew how to completely fix everything for you. I’m sorry your parents won’t be your parents.” Then, he stands up from the couch, hand out for Steve to grasp—which he does. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart. We’ll talk more about this when we’re rested up.”

In the bedroom, Eddie sits Steve’s bag on his dresser. Rifles through it and tutting the entire time he does. Steve probably could’ve packed some pajamas in there, but it’s fine. It’s fine because it needs to be fine. Instead of making some retort, Eddie easily grabs Steve a set of pajamas—some fleece red pants and a white t-shirt—and hands them off.

They change in silence. He brushes his teeth alongside Eddie’s, placing his own toothbrush in the same cup. Even as awful as this day has been, the sight of their toothbrushes together makes him a little giddy—something in him warm.

Once under the covers, Eddie drags Steve into him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, chin to the top of his head, stroking fingers up and down his spine, connecting the dots of the many moles on his back. Treating him with the same love and reverence as always, as if nothing in their lives has changed. The normal is…nice in the aftermath.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too,” Steve whispers, “thank you for this.” He shuffles in closer, probably too close. Arms bent awkwardly, legs tangled in one another, his cheek pressed flush with Eddie’s chest. His heart is beating strong and hard, Steve turns his head to kiss it. “I’ll figure out a way to make it up”—

“Nope,” Eddie mows over, voice soft, yet firm, “not doing that. No making up that needs to be done.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Okay, fine,” he sighs, relenting. “You’ll regret saying that once you realize how messy I am.”

Eddie snorts. “Have you met me? Think we’ll be a-okay. Go to sleep.”

Steve drags his lips over Eddie’s chest one more time, blowing a raspberry against his skin. Laughing when Eddie squawks.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Fine…fine, I’ll go to sleep. I love you, Eds.”

“Love you, too.” He squeezes Steve’s shoulders. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? But you’re safe here—take up space.”

Tonight doesn’t fix everything. But…but he can learn to be loud. With Eddie guiding him, that shouldn’t be much of a problem at all. Not at all.

🫂—————🫂

[misctf]

A New Daddy

Aaron sighed as he kicked another rock down the walking path. He found himself here a lot nowadays. It offered him some much needed peace and a place to think about his life. In reality, Aaron was overjoyed. His wife was due any day and he’d be a father soon. But Aaron was anxious. His dad was not much of a father and left the family when he was young. And because of that, the soon to be father was worried... what if he was a bad father? What if he messed up something? He never had a real role model. With another sigh, he sat down on the edge of a small pond and started skipping stones. As he looked out over the lake, he didn’t register the strange glow coming from the stone in his hand.

“I just wish I’ll be a good dad.” He whispered as he tossed the stone.

He watched as the stone hopped across the pond and with each hop glowing slightly brighter. He was fixated on the strange glow- it was perhaps one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. But his amazement quickly subsided as he felt a cool breeze pass over his bare skin. Wait... bare skin!? Aaron jumped up and looked down at his naked form. He quickly covered his junk and looked around in terror. Where’d his clothes go? What if someone saw him? Wait... since when did his chest hair look like that? Aaron watched as the light dusting of chest hairs that adorned his toned chest started to darken. And as they darkened, more started to sprout across his pale skin. He raised his hand to his chest, confirming that these new growths were real, but quickly yelped in surprise when he noticed the same wiry dark hairs sprouting across his arms.  

“I need to get help.” He whispered, turning his attention away from the thick pelt that was growing over him, “Where’s my phone? Fuck did that disappear to? I’ll just need to ask someone... anyone...”

Aaron took a step forward to start his search and cried out in pain as his foot touched the ground. It felt like all the muscles in his body were contracting. He watched through teary eyes as his calves and thighs exploded with muscle- thickening and becoming large like tree trunks. He winced as he raised his arms and watched as his previously thin and toned musculature started to thicken. His forearms were first, followed by his biceps and triceps, which were becoming padded with thick layers of muscle and fat. While incredibly painful, he was amazed. What guy doesn’t dream of having muscles like this? But this wasn’t natural and he couldn’t do anything as his body continued to transform against his will. Aaron watched as his flat, but now hairy abdomen, pushed out with layers of fat. He’d never be called “beanpole” again, he realized. But just as his stomach was blossoming into a firm muscle gut, his hairy chest was following closely. He packed on layers of muscle and fat to his previously toned chest. All the while, a pleasure was building from nipples, which were becoming larger and perkier. Aaron let out a silent cry as a cold sweat washed over him and his muscles relaxed.

“I... need... help...” He breathed out, flipping over and forcing himself up.

He stood unsteadily on his thickened legs. He was certainly taller than before. And as he tried to reorient himself, he became unbalanced and fell to his knees. He met his reflection in the still pond water. It was still him. His light dirty blond hair, kind eyes, and youthful face. But... but he couldn’t help but noticed that his stubble looked slightly darker. And before he could do anything, he watched with dread as his facial hair became darker and started to form into a manly beard. He couldn’t turn away as he watched his dirty blond hair fall from the top of his head, until he was completely bald. And then a new feeling washed over him as his skin became tougher and weathered as his body aged rapidly.

“No... fuck no.” He whispered as he turned away from his new reflection, “This... how did this?” He winced at how gruff and deep his new voice was. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. He felt tears in his eyes as he looked down as his hairier, older, and thicker form.

And suddenly the world spun around him- shifting and changing rapidly. The now older man felt his head spin as the world around him changed. He was no longer in a park, but instead what looked like a home workout room. Weights and equipment scattered all around him. And as the world stopped spinning, he attempted to regain his footing, but fell with a loud bang.

“Fuck!” He shouted, his deeper voice again causing him to wince. He quickly looked around, but everything seemed to be tinted darker, “Sunglasses?” He whispered as he caught sight of himself in the gym’s mirror, “What am I wearing?” It looked like some type of leather harness wrapped around his chest, causing his muscular pecs to be more pronounced, “At least I’m not naked anymore.” He mused, looking down at the white jockstrap that covered his dick, “Where the fuck am I? I need to find Amy and get help...”

“Daddy?” Aaron froze when he heard the high-pitched, feminine, yet decidedly male voice. He turned and locked eyes with the man, “Oh my god, daddy are you okay?”

Aaron’s eyes widened as the younger man ran towards him, wearing nothing more than a light-blue jockstrap. Each step causing the platinum blond man’s ass to bounce. Aaron was mesmerized, his eyes fixated on the guy’s massive bubble butt. How perky and jiggly it was. How much he wanted to squeeze it. Wait? Squeeze it?

“I don’t need you.” Aaron spat, picking himself up, “Get away from me!” Wait... why was his cock growing? He wasn’t into men? Or their sexy asses. Sexy? Aaron gripped his head, “Wait... no... stop...”

“But daddy, I just want to help you.” The twink bit his lower lip and walked up to Aaron, “And you’ve been working so hard.” He traced his hands along Aaron’s hairy muscular torso, “Please daddy, just a taste.” He moaned as his hand slipped under Aaron’s jockstrap.

Aaron’s mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. He was going to be a father... but wasn’t he already a daddy? A daddy? A damn good daddy, right? But didn’t he like women? Wasn’t he married? Why would he be married? Since when was he ever with a woman? Since when did he ever want to be with a woman?

“Please daddy.” The twink moaned as he pulled down the jockstrap, freeing Aaron’s cock. And he didn’t protest.

As the twink wrapped his mouth around the older man’s cock, Aaron’s mind spun even faster. It felt so good, so much better than any time with a woman. And as he looked down at the slut on his knees, his ass jiggling with each thrust of Aaron’s monster cock, a new feeling washed over him.

“Deeper, boy.” Aaron commanded, gripping the back of the twink’s head and forcing his cock deeper, “Show daddy how much you want it.”

The twink obliged and Aaron threw his head back in pleasure. His spinning thoughts were settling down. His new identity taking hold. He was a dom daddy. A good daddy for his little slut. Nothing before this mattered- nothing ever mattered, just this. Even his old self was becoming content, quieting down and falling into a state of blissful pleasure. After all, he just wanted to be a good daddy? Wish granted, right?

“God damn, boy!” Aaron shouted as he came, sending torrents of cum down his slut’s throat. He sat down on the workout bench, while his slut breathed heavily.

“Oh daddy, thank you.” The twink moaned, “You’re the best daddy ever.”

Aaron smirked, “Damn right, boy.” He smirked at himself in the mirror. Fuck he looked good. A true man. His attention turned back to his slut, “Now boy, are you ready for round two?”

[soldiersareyourprotectors]

Greg had always been a night owl. For years, his nightly routine consisted of scrolling through fitness blogs and watching workout videos, dreaming of a day when he might have the body of a Greek god. At fifty-five, he was overweight, self-conscious, and hesitant to be seen at the gym during peak hours. It was this insecurity that led him to arrange private, after-hours training sessions with Nick, a young, muscular personal trainer renowned for his ability to transform even the most hopeless cases.

Nick was the epitome of physical perfection: six-foot-two, with chiseled abs, broad shoulders, and biceps that strained against the fabric of his workout shirts. He was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. But Nick was also kind, patient, and professional, which is why Greg chose him.

For the past month, Greg had been meeting Nick at the gym every night at 11 PM.

Despite their efforts, Greg saw little progress. His frustration grew each time he looked in the mirror, each time he saw his belly protruding, his arms flabby. Nick encouraged him, reminding him that real change takes time. But Greg was tired of waiting.

One night, after another grueling session that left him drenched in sweat but still feeling hopeless, Greg's desperation reached its peak. He had stumbled upon an obscure online forum that mentioned a mysterious cream capable of switching bodies. It sounded like nonsense, but Greg was desperate enough to try anything.

On the fateful night, Greg slipped the cream into his bag. He approached Nick, his heart pounding with a mixture of guilt and determination. As they wrapped up the session, Greg feigned a sudden cramp and asked Nick to help him stretch.

Nick, ever the professional, complied without question. Greg seized the moment. With a swift motion, he pulled out a small device from his bag—a stun gun he had bought online. Before Nick could react, Greg pressed it against Nick's side. The trainer's body convulsed before he collapsed, unconscious.

Greg's hands trembled as he stripped Nick of his clothes, revealing the sculpted body he had long envied. He marveled at the smooth, hard muscles, feeling the texture of Nick's skin, taut over solid muscle. His fingers traced the defined lines of Nick's abs, the powerful curves of his biceps, the strength in his thighs.

With Nick unconscious, Greg opened the jar of cream, its strange, pungent scent filling the air. He began to smear it over Nick's body, making sure to cover every single inch. He started with Nick's broad chest, rubbing the cream into the firm pectoral muscles, down to the rippling abs. He coated Nick's strong arms, his biceps and triceps glistening under the layer of cream.

Greg's hands moved lower, applying the cream to Nick's powerful thighs and calves.

He hesitated for a moment, then spread Nick's legs apart, ensuring that he rubbed the cream thoroughly into his buttocks. He marveled at the firmness, feeling a surge of both envy and excitement. Finally, with a deep breath, Greg reached for Nick's dick, carefully and methodically rubbing the cream onto every part of his genitals, ensuring not a single inch was left uncovered.

Satisfied, Greg stripped himself, feeling a mix of revulsion and hope as he applied the cream to his own flesh, mirroring the thoroughness with which he had treated Nick's body. He rubbed it over his own sagging chest, his flabby arms, his protruding belly, and finally his legs and genitals.

As he finished, a strange tingling sensation spread through his body. His vision blurred, and he felt a dizzying rush, as though he were being pulled apart and reassembled. When the sensation finally passed, Greg looked down and gasped.

His body was no longer his own. He flexed his new muscles, feeling the power in his limbs, the strength in his core. He was Nick.

Nick, now in Greg's old body, began to stir. Panic and confusion twisted his features as he looked up at Greg. "What did you do?" he cried, his voice weak and unfamiliar.

Greg, now towering over his former self, smirked. "I'm sorry, Nick. But l've waited too long to feel like this. To be admired. To be powerful."

Nick tried to stand, but the weight of Greg's old body overwhelmed him. "Switch us back," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

Greg shook his head, his smile cruel. "Not a chance. I plan to enjoy this new life. Your life."

Greg turned his attention to Nick's discarded clothes. He picked up Nick's sweaty tank top first, holding it up to his face and inhaling deeply. The scent of Nick's exertion was intoxicating. With a sense of reverence, he slipped the tank top over his head. It fit perfectly, hugging his new, muscular frame in all the right places. He admired how it clung to his new pectorals and biceps, a testament to his newfound physical perfection.

Next, he grabbed Nick's jockstrap. The fabric was still warm and damp from Nick's sweat. Greg shivered with delight as he stepped into it, adjusting the straps around his muscular thighs and feeling the snug support it provided. He relished the sensation of the tight material against his skin, a stark contrast to the loose underwear he was used to. He then took a moment to adjust his new, large manhood within the confines of the jockstrap. The feeling was exhilarating. It was a tight fit, but it felt incredible-just as Nick always must have felt.

Greg then reached for Nick's socks. They were soaked with sweat, but he didn't care. He pulled them on, one by one, feeling the damp fabric mold to his feet. The sensation of Nick's sweat-soaked socks against his new, powerful calves sent a thrill through him.

He continued with Nick's shorts, sliding them up his legs and fastening them around his waist. The shorts fit like a glove, accentuating his muscular thighs and providing just the right amount of freedom and support.

Finally, he picked up Nick's shoes. They were well-worn, molded to the shape of Nick's feet. Greg slipped them on, lacing them up tightly. As he stood up, he felt a surge of invincibility, the shoes giving him a sense of grounding and power.

"You can't do this," Nick pleaded again, desperation in his eyes. But Greg ignored him, too engrossed in the transformation and the feel of Nick's clothes on his new body.

With that, Greg opened the gym door and unceremoniously shoved Nick outside, locking the door behind him. As he turned to leave, he heard Nick pounding on the door. Suddenly, the pounding stopped, replaced by a gasping, choking sound. Greg turned around and saw Nick-his former self-clutching his chest, his face contorted in pain.

Nick's now old heart was failing under the stress of the transformation and the shock of his new reality. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, trying to draw breath.

As Greg walked away, leaving his old body-now Nick's-struggling on the ground, he felt a surge of excitement. He was no longer the fat old man, he now was Nick, the Adonis.

[sturnstarrz]

three times fwb!chris showed you one of his favorite hobbies, one time he chose to make you never forget… [one shot]

contains: smut, oral fem receiving, spanking, friends with benefits trope

ᰔ the first time, chris was so gentle. you had only known him for a few weeks, yet things had moved fast between you two. he was always talking about this obsession he had. who could blame you for wanting to find out what his "oral fixation" meant? when he had you beneath him for the first time, he showed a tenderness that you didn’t expect. he held your hand, knotting your fingers with his. he kept a soft grip on your thigh with his other hand, his mouth warm against your core. tongue sliding through your folds as you cried out, your body weakening against the sheets of his bed. it felt incredible. and you never wanted him to stop.

ᰔ the second time was on the wooden desk in your dorm room. you barely had time to lock the door when chris pressed against you, standing in between your legs as you sat on the edge. he had slipped his fingers under your skirt, tugging your panties down your legs. his breath fanned across your neck as he touched you, feeling how wet you were. your eyes darted to the door, the thrill and fear of someone walking in making your heart race in your chest. “chris…” you started, but he kneeled down then, pushed your legs apart and yanked your hips closer, making you yelp quietly. “shhh…” he hushed, smoothing his hands up your calves. he looked up at you, a glint in his eyes that left you dripping. “try not to be too loud.” he warned before placing your legs over his shoulders and burying his face into your pussy. you whimpered as softly as you could, your fingers tangled into his hair. he moaned lowly when your grip tightened, tugging on his roots as he fucked you with his tongue, already building a warmth in your belly.

ᰔ and the third time… was different. you didn’t know whether it was the argument you two had earlier that day or your constant attitude you’d had since then. he was frustrated with you, as much as you felt pissed off at him. yet the sexual tension was increased and you couldn’t deny how hot he looked when he was mad. “what d'ya want then? what do i need to do to get you to drop the fuckin' attitude huh?” he demanded as he towered over you from your spot at the end of his bed, a look of defiance across your face. you didn't really have an answer. you didn't know why you were so worked up. all you knew was that there was a throbbing ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing second. chris looked down then, noticing the way your thighs were squeezing together with need. he knew your body well enough by that time to figure out exactly what you wanted. a smirk appeared on his lips as he spoke. “mm, i see.. you just need me to make it all better don't you.." the tone of his voice had turned low and raspy, a shiver running down your spine as he slid his hands upwards on your bare thighs. chris knew exactly how to fix your little problem but he wanted to hear you say it. to know that you could only get the relief you needed from him and him only. he always did have a big ego.

within a matter of minutes, he had you flipped around on his bed, your panties shoved to the side and your face pressed into his pillow. your ass was up in the air, giving him complete access to your weeping pussy. he held a firm grip on the backside of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. he dragged his tongue through your core torturingly slow, circling around your clit before switching to your entrance, tasting you with an approving hum. the vibration of his sounds and the feeling of the wet muscle against you had your head spinning. you were moaning his name, a small puddle of drool forming from your mouth. you wanted more but he was enjoying teasing you a little too much. you whined impatiently, but it turned into a gasp as he landed his hand against your ass cheek with a quick but sharp sting. "be fuckin' patient." he scolded, before pressing a soothing kiss to your skin. "gonna make you feel good.. that's what you want, don't you baby?" you nod your head quickly in response and grip onto the sheets beneath you. "then stop bein' such a little brat." he replied, attaching his lips back onto your folds, his tongue sliding into you deeply.

[baby-yongbok]

Mine - Kim Seungmin x afab!Reader

Genre: Smut Drabble/ Hard Thought - MDNI Word Count: 672

Warnings: Degradation, cursing A/N: My head is spinning right now, I found out that there are BDSM muzzles. (I'm buying one immediately) and then I thought about Seungmin saying that he should muzzle you and it all went down hill from there. I might turn this into a longer fic eventually idk but my brain was rotting with this thought. ✧ Masterlist ✧

Thinking about how Seungmin would act when he finds out that you, his best friend, has a Twitter account dedicated to posting lewd photos and videos of yourself. You told him about it on a whim while the two of you were watching a movie on your couch and before you knew it he was scrolling down your shared media. A small grin on his face as he watches a video of you fucking some guy you hooked up with on a random night out. 

"You think this was good?" He'd look over at you with an expression so serious that you couldn't tell if he really wanted an answer to his question "I could fuck you way better than this" 

That's how you ended up with your back against his chest as the two of you sat on your couch. Your legs spread open and your exposed pussy on display to your best friend. "You must really be a slut, huh?" His fingers would trail light circles around your clit, teasing you so slowly that it made your head spin. You whine for more, bucking your hips up into his hand. 

"Do you just let any guy have access to this pretty pussy? And you're so fucking needy too. You want more?" He was inside of you in an instant, filling you up mercilessly and fucking into you like you belonged to him. He was right when he said that he could fuck you better, you could feel that delicious knot in your stomach as soon as he started fucking into your g-spot at the perfect angle. 

“Look at you, my dumb mutt is drooling. Is my cock so good that you need to make a fucking mess?” Yes, it is that good, you find yourself babbling as he fucks you harder. It’s so much but you keep asking for more and he keeps giving. His new favorite thing is watching you fall apart on his cock. He never would’ve thought that his sweet and innocent best friend could be so lewd. It was all an act. 

He’d laugh when you beg him to fuck you harder, landing a bruising slap on your ass as he rams into you. “You want more? Don’t run from it, pup you just asked for this.” He’d pull out right when you announce that you’re close and turn you around, propping your legs up over his shoulders so that he can reach spots that he couldn’t before. Your moans and cries drown out the sound of skin slapping and Seungmin’s own grunts of pleasure. He’d rub your clit to edge you a bit then stick those arousal covered digits in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Shut the fuck up, such a noisy bitch. I should muzzle you.”  He smiles when you clench around him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’d fucking like that wouldn’t you? You want me to fucking gag you? Such a slut.”

He’d get a bit sweeter when he gets close to finishing, he’d praise you with each sloppy thrust. Kissing your calves and sucking and nipping bruises into your ankle. You unravel as soon as his fingers brush against your clit, shaking underneath him and chanting his name like he created your entire universe. “Oh fuck oh fuck you’re so pretty when you cum, baby. That’s it.” 

He’d fall apart shortly after, the image of your eyes rolling back as you came around him throws him over the edge. He covers you in his sticky release with his head thrown back and his chest rising and falling violently. “So perfect, so fucking perfect.” He can’t get the image of you out of his head as he empties his balls. He’s going to need more of you immediately. He leans over and gives you a quick peck on the lips. He looks you in the eye with a sweet yet serious expression. 

“Mine, okay?” You nod your head with a fucked out smile and he kisses you again. “That’s my girl.”

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW // KNY characters that are serial humpers. There's nothing they won't rub themselves on for just a small chance to get off.

CW: GN Reader/ Both Genitals reffered to/ specific CW will be before each character so you can peruse as you see fit.

Karaku

Object Of choice : Anything and Everything.

CW: Genital Mutilation (he gets curious, no scene), Dub-con/Non-con, Somnophilia.

-While I think all of the Clones have a bit of a problem keeping it to themselves, I think Karaku, being, you know, the pleasure clone, is most certainly a cum chaser.

-He can barely keep his hand out of his pants in public, all but physically refuses to hide his boners, and, worst of all, you can't keep underwear in one piece, on, or even around.

-This man is disgusting. The only difference between him and the others is that he's unabashed about it. You'd think the honesty would help, but it just doesn't. Not after he's torn through your last set of undergarments and now what?

-'So what? I don't wear anything- eh? What do you mean it's digusting?!'

-He's so proud about it too, it's almost disheartening.

-Is not gentle with his dick. It can just regrow, I'm sure he's done- awful things to it.

-I think that pleasure thing comes at a cost. It's a signifier of Hantengu's lack of impulse control. Karaku probably can't stop himself, even if he wants to, which he never would because lusting is his only purpose.

-Everything is made to read as innately sexual to him- doesn't matter if it's your fist or a cheese grater- He's experimental with his nerves to a self destructive degree.

-'I didn't intend to cut it off- no! I saw a photo of a man that flayed it o- Hey! It's not that bad! Just liste- It'll fix itself soon!'

-I don't know what else He'd do other than jack off, or try and convince the other clones to jack off. I don't think he has- hobbies?

-Definitely tries to hump you in your sleep. If you don't wake up to him jerking off, you're waking up to him trying to slip between your thighs.

-'I just got horny- no no- just go back t- hey, no, you're not allowed to leave? Come back! Y/N!'

Aizetsu

Object of Choice : Your thigh

CW: Severe Depression / BDSM Dynamics (Severe degradation, both self and inflicted) (Aizetsu receiving)

-What a miserable fuck, he doesn't know what to do with himself half the time, so when he gets horny he just cries and begs.

-He's a manifestation of every awful thought Hantengu ever had in that big ol' head of his. Aizetsu just drips with the most gut wrenching, vomit inducing level of self-hatred you've ever seen anytime you're intimate.

-you begin to wonder if being talked down to appeals to him more than he'd like to admit.

-He's like a dog when he asks, because, at the end of the day, he's still Hantengu, a selfish bastard who self serves. Aizetsu just doesn't have the joy receptors for it- his nerves jump at the bud for any impulse they can fufill.

-When you let him ride your thigh, because he's pathetic, and he looked so... him asking, it became his favourite thing. Ever.

-When you two are alone, he'll just beg for it out loud. He has no self respect. So much shame that he'll never conquer.

-'Please, please- Y/N- I- I'll do whatever you want me to. You're the only person I can do this with, they'll all- laugh at me- please please- I'm sorry, I know, I'm- God I'm worthless- I can't do anything in return, nothing will be good enough-'

-he's practically jerking himself off on your calve as he spews his self hate. You might as well give in.

-When you're infront of the other clones, he'll tug at the edge of whatever you're wearing. They all toss him hauty looks. They're disgusted by him, too. He likes humping your thigh more than his dignity infront of his fellow cluster, I guess.

-Maybe he's... a bit of a.... a lot of a masochist. You stare at him like he's dirt, there. He's a grown man humping your thigh- drool spilling out of his mouth.

-'I'm- I'm sorry I- oh god- please don't hate me- please don't hate me- please please-'

-'You're pathetic. You can't make me cum, but you have no problem mak- did you just cum again? Are you cumming right now? In your pants?... Are you serious?'

-You could easily have him wailing in minutes, maybe even seconds if you hit the right nerve. And the whole time he'll just be thrusting away, chasing his own pleasure against your skin because that's all he knows how to do.

-Push him off right as he's cumming and ruin his orgasm, he doesn't deserve to feel good (The abuse will just make him cum harder)

Kaigaku

Object Of Choice: You.

CW: Mention of Trad Wives

-Listen, I know we have a lot of Kaigaku haters in the crowd. I, however, see a man with a choker, and I see a potential slut. Give him his moment.

-I think Kaigaku would be a very selfish lover, obviously, but I don't think this is in natural capacity for him. I think he's like, brainwashed by societies standards of what attracts him, especially in a relationship.

-You know when you see a 'sigma' guy that's really upset his trad wife who he specifically picked out for being trad won't do anal? That's Kaigaku.

-So he's really, really upset when you won't put out.

-You see a chance, though. A chance for a life lesson.

-Kaigaku is allowed to fuck you... just not really fuck you. He's allowed to use your hand. He's allowed to use your thighs. He can rut in between your pussy lips/ up and down your shaft-

-He is not allowed in you. And it lights him up.

-'Thats a stupid rule! You think I'm not enough? Are you fucking someone else? Are you making fun of me?!' He'd probably try to insight a screaming match for a week, but you just won't give in-

-Fine. Whatever. He just won't touch you, won't talk to you- won't-

-The first time Kaigaku slides in between your thighs, he swears he sees stars. It'd been weeks... probably the longest he's ever held off on an impulse. Hadn't jerked off either, He'd been too pissed.

-Its there, in that little space between your sex and the top of your thighs, that Kaigaku finds God. At least he thinks it's god. It's got to be. He's never cum so hard in his life.

-Kaigaku becomes almost... willingly obedient. He continues to pretend he's so inconvenienced by the whole thing, but then he's sliding into your fist, and the world is just sliding away.

-I have a very specific image of standing infront of him, and him trying to angle his dick to slide in your underwear. He's really awkward, and he's struggling to stay upright because he's got to bend his knees to meet your cunt/cock- and it's just not working, but that's the only way you'd let him get off on you that day-

-It like, kind of gives me the ick thinking about him doing it, but also like- Aw? He'll literally do anything to get off now? You broke him?

-'I can't- it- it's too hard-' He'd mumble, voice sounding particularly defeated. 'I just- I want to cum-'

-'Too bad.' You'd go to walk away, and He'd jerk off on the floor, pissed as hell. He wouldn't be able to cum and that'd just make him angrier, because now he has to go beg his partner, who he's whipped for, to please let him use their pussy/dick again-

-He's like, never been this needy before, though. He's not supposed to want to chase you. He's supposed to have people throwing themselves at him- It's kind of... exciting, to be denied.

-You know, guys that whimper are really cool, but idk, I think Kaigaku's a whiner. I think he whines and groans and it's really unsightly but??? There's something so appealing about it? Like, he's so big and strong and his ego is so inflated, and he's just toppling for you?

Enmu

Object of Choice : Your pillow

CW: Enmu / Crossing of explicit sexual boundaries.

-Listen, he's not right in the head. Enmu never claimed to be right in the head, either, but he's particularly fond of cumming on your pillow. Not just humping it, cumming on it. He doesn't really know why either.

-'It just feels right, I think.' He'd reason.

-'Do you want to- cum in my hair? On my face-'

'No, I want to cum on your pillow. It's where you sleep.' Thats the only explanation you get from him. He cannot articulate anymore.

-He doesn't even think about it when he's doing it. He's just got one leg hiked up on the bed, a thumb pressing the head of his cock into the plush, and he's just thrusting- almost blind.

-He doesn't ever remember the build up to getting there, or what in his brain is satisfied by doing this, but if he doesn't do it, something... off will happen, he's sure.

-You catch him, one day. You thought he was just cumming on it- no, he's got his full weight in his pelvis, pitching his hips forward with all his might. You didn't even know Enmu could physically do such a thing.

-He's not weak, obviously. He's a demon, but you all rarely have sex where he's the one leading, so it's a bit of a shock to watch him be so... rough with the fabric.

-He's almost in a trance, it's kind of scary, until he cums, and he covers his mouth with both hands, and his hole body shakes. The fucker knows he has to keep this silent...

-Maybe you're...Maybe you're not right in the head either, because you really, really want to be that pillow.

This might have a part 2, because i think Mitsuri would be prone to this.

[valentine-cafe]

Hello! Can I order an almond jelly with an insecure chubby s/o that gets shown just how much he *really* loves them after people were being mean to them and being told they’re too ugly for him? (*cough* mating press *cough*) Thank you!

. ˚◞♡ 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒃𝒕𝒕𝒎 𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒃/𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒃 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 9948e yize / afab/amab reader ꒱  he has always seen you as beautiful, so he just has to remind you how much you mean to him when people insult you. 

𖹭. content warnings◞  explicit content . mating press . rough sex . topics of weight . 0.7k

𖹭. receipts◞  this request was honestly so refreshing we absolutely loved it 

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

your head spun at the merciless pounding of hips against yours, heavy breaths reduced to frantic, pleasured moans followed behind pants.

“yì-yìzé— yi- nghn!”

a pale hand moves down your calves and down to the plush of your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly, keeping it in a vice grip while your boyfriend continues his rough fucking. his lips attacking your neck and jaw. grunts and groans sending flutters through your sopping cunt/ass.

“fucking — nhg— dumb bitches,” he hisses to himself. enjoying each and every way your stomach rolls jiggle along with the fast and shallow rhythm.

with a whine leaving your throat, you grip at the sheets. nails scraping across the silky fabric.

you hear a scoff pass through the bounds of his lips after his low groan into your neck where he had decided to settle himself. ranting on in a whisper

“thinking they can get away with saying mean shit like that — ain’t nobody else I fucking want, not if it isn’t you, you’re perfect. don’t fucking listen to them” he huffs.

the sudden halt of thrusting into you did not help you in your flustered and disoriented state.

“yìzé” you whimper, hips bucking in a pathetic attempt to keep him going. only to feel him adjust you slightly, while a small, still energised chuckle rumbles through his chest and against yours.

“shhh, patience.” he whispers, grinding against your sore hole, before setting a pace ever so slowly. giving slow rolls with his hips, while he groans and tilts his head upwards. stomach pressed against your lower tummy.

“don’t fucking let them get to your head okay?” the grumble send pangs of emotions through you, arousal, shame, embarrassment, you couldn’t really put to words why but it did.

“i know. . . i try.”

your shaky sigh draws his piercing maroon eyes to meet yours.

“i know you do baobei, you do so well at it too.” the response is genuiene, softer than before. “don’t mean to sound frustrated with you. ‘m frustrated with them.” he hums, as he slowly increases his rolls to thrusts. the feel of your soft and plush skin against his sends him up to zenith.

he adores you, nevermind what shell your soul is in. fat, chubby, whatever average is, skinny — he loves you, he doesn’t care.

to him, you are as perfect as the fresh morning dew outside in the gardens of the zhào estate. covering the grass straws with your gentle, illuminated water droplets.

you are the mist is what holds all of your mysterious and captivating looks.

the wet trees covered in the morning fog, reminds him of the sheen layers of sweat that covers your body, your curves.

he worships all of it. it is so beautiful to him.

and yet, you have no understanding of why he loves it.

all because of insecure people who point fingers at you just because you apparantly look ‘worse’ than them. it is a concept he will never truly understand. to point out someone and call them flawed because of body weight. it makes no sense.

a few choked cries leave you as he moves his hands back up to your calves and press your knees against your shoulders to fuck further into you. throbbing cock hitting all of the good bundles of nerves. continuously poking and prodding in the same places when he sees you’re feeling good.

you blink away the blur in your eyes and take in a deep inhale to try and keep yourself steady. that is until you feel him pumping a few extra shallow thrusts into you. cold cum filling you partially.

“yì-ìz—éé!” you cry out.

“yeah don’t fucking run from it. c’mon you can do it. cuum f’me baby. thaaaaat’s it” he moans against your jaw. nipping at it gently with his sharp teeth.

you feel a bigger load of cold, white cum shoot into you, and so with covulsing thighs that shake in his hands from the sheer pleasure you go through, your poor, quivering cunt/dick squirts with cum. and he keeps going, fucking the orgasm out of you.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[pedge-page]

HIIIII UR LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAV WRITERS IN TUMBLR and ily so much 💝 i appreciate all your hard work that you poured into your writings, making them perfect to read. i've been obsessed with himbo!joel lately and i have an idea. idk if you've done this before but how ab himbo!joel and piss kink crossover? ignore this if you're feeling that you're not comfortable this ask! 🩷

Nonny, I know you submitted this back in May but this has been top of my mind for so long. When i first read this, I was ELATED because Himbo!Joel's original first draft was actually a piss kink! I went a different direction but I'm sooooo glad you've asked this because i didn't have to throw away the og after all :) Thank you for your patience and please enjoy!

Different Kind of Lovin'

Himbo!Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: Piss kink, Mommy kink, himbo!Joel, unprotected sex, peeing inside vagina, sub!Joel, dom-ish!Reader, public sex, slight somnophilia, brief piss drinking

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel howls as you clench around him, taking a moment to pant like a dog in heat.

He buries his nose into your neck, where it’s safe, where he belongs, as you stroke along his sweated back. “You okay, baby boy?” You coo softly into his ear.

You feel his head nod. “Mkay...” He shivers before kissing your cheek and resuming his thrusts. In, out, up, down, again and again, in ample rhythm. He’s practicing a beat today. There’s a time for wild fucking with the intent to cum his brains out, and there’s a time for slow, sensual, methodical sex, which is something he’s working so well on today.

“You’re doing so good for Mommy today."

He purrs. His hips stutter from excitement, and you feel his cock swell impossibly larger in your swollen, squelching pussy. Joel pauses briefly, collecting himself before returning to his steady pace.

“Mommy,” he hums dangerously. You turn your head to look at him, but he’s still buried into your neck. Almost as if embarrassed by something.

“What is it, baby? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

He grunts again, shaking his head. His pace falters again. Humping in quick, desperate succession. He’s straining hard, fists clenched under your upper back. 

You gather his face, and he nearly loses it right there. Your eyes on him, so soft and sincere, and there for him. Always there. Whenever he needs you and whenever he wants you. Even when he doesn’t know it yet. You’re there, you’re here, you’re his.

“Tell me,” you whisper lovingly while stroking along the stubble of his beard.

He gathers his courage. “Mommy. I—um. I need…I need to pee.”

You can laugh. but a small grin cracks at your lips. “Is that it?”

He nods quickly. You realize all the clenching, and the poor rhythm was most likely due to him trying to hold it, as opposed to trying to be steady. 

Your smooth calves slink along his taught ass before wrapping around, securing him to you.

“That’s okay, angel,” you nod encouragingly, using your ankles to start rocking his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you again. He moans, pleasure consuming his intuition. “You can do it inside.”

“I-Inside?”

His length pulses excitedly, but he’s trying so hard to act like that didn’t just give him a thrill. As if he can pretend he didn’t think of it before.

“Mhm. You can squirt all your juices into Mommy’s pussy. I want everything you give me. Give me your juices, Joel. Mommy wants to feel your warmth filling her. No matter what it is. Mommy will take it.”

“But—ugh fuck Mommy please don’t squeeze like that—I don’t… wanna pee myself—“

“You’re not gonna pee yourself,” you say sternly. Your hands make their way to his ass, pulling him into you at your own desired pace. He can’t be left to be in control of his desires right now, so you need to take charge, to show him it’s really okay.

To show him what he’s missing out on.

“You’re gonna squirt your piss inside me. It’s gonna be okay. It’ll feel really good honey, I promise.”

“Oh my god,” he cries. His brows are drawn tightly together as he takes your lead. His throbbing member is practically forcing out your sweet pussy juices, making way to fill it with his own brew. 

You can barely see straight as he positions his knees to force himself deeper into your womb. Arching your back, Joel holds on tightly, arms tucked below your pits and hands snaked back over your shoulders as his whining increases. The room fills with your hot breaths, Joel’s throaty rasps, and the fastened slap of wet skin.

His voice catches in his throat when it happens. The tingling sensation feels free, and he releases inside of you. He can’t believe it. Can’t comprehend the feeling inside him, inside you right now. Dumping, pouring, squirting and stuffing you to the brim with his massive load of hot urine just shooting out of his cock and safely into your pussy. He never knew it could be this good. you were right, you always are of course, but to think it would amount to the level of pleasure, yet on a different end, as cumming inside you.

“That’s it—that’s my boy—ohhhh honey you had to go a lot didn’t you?” You tease, eyes rolling as you start to shake and cum around his cock. “Oh fuck! Oh baby that’s it. Keep squirting inside me. Fuck you always have big load. Always ready to fill Mommy with your sweet hot juices. Fuck Joel, keep going!”

You quiver as Joel’s mouth still is agape, watching you, having an out of bodied experience himself. He feels another stream, stronger than the last ready to make its way from his bladder to your cunt, and here it comes-- fuck yes!

Hot and wet, his urine plunges out of you in spurts, soaking your ass and the bed below. He pushes in further, feeling his balls and pelvis get soaked with his new juices that his Mommy loves so much. Why had he never peed inside you before? Given the blissed out look on your braindead face, he knows you liked it, you liked it so much. He starts thrusting again, eager to give you more of his warm juices from his body.

The squelch is phenomenal. So hot, hot, hot, sticky and wet all over. Fueled now the he still hasn’t cum. Where his piss ends and your slick begins, he can’t tell, and he loves it. Loves that he’s put something in you that couldn’t be contained, flows out like the love he fills you with each day.

You laugh off his hungry fucking again, no longer caring to practice rhythm. He can rut, hump, piss and cum to his hearts content. So long as he’s buried balls deep inside you, anything he wants to pour into you, he’s eager to put it in.

Eventually, he can’t pee anywhere comfortably unless it’s inside you. Which makes regular day to day routines… slightly more complicated than before. 

Like at night, when you’re fast asleep with his cum still sticky and leaking out of you. He fists his cock and slides right in, careful not to stir you. He holds his breath and starts to go, wetting the you and the bed. He passes out in a puddle of his own piss before you can really discipline him. 

He finds you without fail, whether you’re in the same house or 5 miles apart. When he needs to go, he gets hard too, and he knows only Mommy can handle that for him.

Pushes you against a wall and grinds his length against your ass. “Mommy,” he hums with a grin. “I need to go, please.”

It’s not really an ask, as he strips your pants down and pushes aside your panties, rolling his bulbous tip against your slit. He doesn’t wait for a reply. Poor thing, probably holding it in all day and doing a little funny dance as he rushed his way to find you and give you his juices.

“Have a big potty for ya today. Almost burst my juice everywhere. Got to ya just in time…”

He pushes in one go, his voice stuttering with a lazy grin. Not even a thrust later and he moaning in content as he pisses inside your hot pussy with even hotter urine. It rapidly spills and trickles down your thighs. Luckily from experience, you had known to discard and kick your pants away when he does this, so the yellow puddle of his liquid forms on the pavement below. 

He grips your hips with both meaty paws, grinding his front into your ass as closely as possible. It feels best when his tip can brush along your cervix before spurting out the last of his potty. 

“Joel Miller, you have made a mess of me,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smirk.

Rather than feeling any remorse, he returns your grin with an even bigger one of his own, slowly sliding down to his knees while maintaining eyes with you.

He swallows just as you lean back and spread your legs, fingers parting your folds to reveal the shiny translucent drips of his piss still wetting your cunt and down your inner legs. 

“Clean me spotless, and I’ll let you piss in Mommy’s ass, and I’ll plug it all day so I keep your love warm for the next time you have to go.” 

You never need to ask twice. His tongue is already lapping at your knees, between your thighs and up to your succulent, swollen, precious, pretty pussy. Sucking the little dribble on your clit. Straightening his tongue to dive deep into your entrance before flattening it, stretching your wall and making a slide so his pee and your juices can slide right into his mouth.

He smiles like a stupid, drunk, fantastic boy.

He can’t wait to put his piss in your ass next. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @peekyourinterest

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

(For ambiance~)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Eren Hc’s: Volume Down

Pairing: Eren x female!reader

Warnings: none.

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: After having sex, Eren tucks you in for the night and grabs his phone.

MDNI!

“Ah! Fuck, Eren.” Whimpering, you clutched onto Eren’s wrists as he pounded into you. Dirty moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every breath.

Eren stood over you at the edge of the bed. Your upper body sprawled over the sheets, legs spread apart and Eren gripping your thighs.

“Fuck, baby.” He grunted out, long hair dangling in his face.

His thrusts became faster and you cried out from the pleasure. Sweat was starting to bead down Eren’s face and he looked down at you through half-lidded eyes.

With a brief pause, his hands gripped your calves with a vice hold and dragged you to the edge of the bed, so only your upper back remained on the cushioned surface.

The new angle gave him the perfect chance to move deeper into you. Each thrust had him bottoming out completely, making you cry out louder.

“Shh, stay quiet, princess.” Eren said, swiping a hand over his face to brush his hair back.

“Uh- it feels so- ah! Eren I can’t.” You mewled out.

A sharp slap rang throughout the room as his large palm connected with your ass. “Yes you can.”

He removed your legs from his waist and he crawled on top of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His forearms rested on either side of your head. “You don’t wanna wake up everyone do you?” He teased and started to rock his hips at a quickening pace.

Eren was right, you all shared an apartment with Jean, Connie, and Sasha. They’d literally kill you if you woke them up from doing the nasty.

He leaned up to your face and kissed your lips, eager to silence you. Your moans dwindling down to muffled whimpers. His hand reached up to squeeze one of your bouncing tits.

“That’s it, fuck-” Eren pulled away and his forehead rested against yours. Your orgasm was coming closer with every movement. Pressing your lips tightly together, you tried to silence your moans.

Eren bucked his hips up suddenly.

“Hmm-!”

“Quiet.” He whispered harshly against your skin and gave a hard squeeze to your boob. Eren dragged his lips across your neck and collarbone, leaving tender kisses.

The burning sensation in your stomach grew stronger.

“Eren, I’m g-gonna-”

Eren’s hand quickly moved to cover your mouth. Scrunching the sheets in between his other fist, he gritted his teeth as he felt his orgasm approaching as well. Your legs quivered over his shoulder with small tears of pleasure prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“Let go, baby. I’m right here.” He grunted out, placing sloppy kisses along your neck.

Your orgasm finally washed over you, your cries muffled from under his hand. A few stray tears dribbled down your face.

Eren quickly pulled out when he came, long ribbons of cum shooting out and landing on your stomach.

He was breathing heavily on top of you and removed his hand from your mouth. As he sat up, he moved your legs from his shoulders and sat above you, catching his breath.

“You okay?” He asked in a raspy voice while his thumb brushed the tears from your face.

You nodded and leaned into his touch, still feeling the effects of your orgasm.

“Lemme clean you up, Princess.” Eren told you and quickly disappeared into the bathroom before returning with a damp rag. He ran it over your skin, ridding it of any cum left over. The cool touch of the rag made you shiver as it dragged against your hot skin.

He gently trailed it down your thighs and threw it across the room. Your body laid still, exhausted and mind foggy.

“Come on, baby.” Eren pulled your body to the top of the bed and tucked you in under the covers, planting kisses along your face as he did so. You watched him through lazy eyes as he grabbed a stray hair tie and wrapped his hair up in a bun. He climbed in next to you and pulled you into his arms.

Silently, you laid on his chest, his arm curling under your neck after he grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Your eyes fluttered closed, listening to the sound of Eren’s heartbeat. He held his phone with his right hand, the left stroking your cheek tenderly.

Almost falling asleep, the sudden sounds of horns and drums echoed from Eren’s phone.

An all too familiar sound.

“You are not playing clash of clans right now.”

Eren froze, eyes widening at your voice.

“You just fucked the shit out of me, and you’re playing that stupid game?”

“Armin’s on top of the leaderboard!” He quickly defended.

“This is our cuddle time.”

“I am cuddling you.”

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you scoffed. “I need both arms, Eren.”

He let out a dramatic sigh and rolled over, facing you. You leaned your head against his chest once more as you felt his other arm rest on your shoulder, both hands still holding his phone. You chuckled softly at his reaction and pulled the blankets over you more. “I can’t believe you.”

Eren kissed your forehead and laid his head lazily against the pillow. “This better, princess?”

“Mhm. I’m just teasing though, I don’t actually mind. I like the sound it plays when you get defeated.”

“Okay, I’m muting it just cause you said that.”

—————

Tag list: @cullenswife @sad-darksoul

[forthelostones]

♛ masc!reader x masc!abby - “our competitive streak” ♛ (nsfw, 18+)

round two.

CLICK ME

after you lay the ground rules for abby, she stalked you around the mat. she was inexperienced in hand to hand which gave you an advantage. however, her weight gave her hers. if she got you to the ground, you were done for. you needed to clear your mind of what you saw yesterday and get her to the ground first.

her first move came quickly as she aimed for your legs, head pressing against your waist. you plant your feet, left behind right, and push down to release her grip that came through your legs. she could've dropped you right there, those fingers squeezing your inner thighs, but she was too slow. her hands slip off your thighs like they were slick with butter. she grunts as she realizes she lost you. you bounce on your toes to twist your hips to throw a left at her which lands on her cheek. she stumbles back a little.

“come on anderson, im falling asleep.” you smile.

abby’s right hand comes up fast but you see it first and duck to land a blow on her right side. the short-tempered woman was twitching with anger and rubbing the spot you attacked. it didn’t phase you, you liked to see her angry, especially if you were responsible for her tantrum.

you throw your left foot at her calve and she bares it. she rushes forward, going for another way to get you to the floor. your head slams against the mat and for a moment your eyes close as your head bounces up. you couldn't believe she managed to get you down. she bends your leg up from the knee to press into your chest. it was evident that you didn’t stretch enough because it burned like hell and was tight. abby's hips were almost flush with yours and the thought led down a nasty road. one you shouldn't be thinking of right now.

that stupid grin she wore on her face disappeared as you shoved her off with your foot. digging it into her shoulder caused her to swear out loud and fall to her knees. just as she was going to rise, you got her on her back by tackling her down. you straddle her waist, pinning both hands above her head. she wriggles underneath you as she tries to breathe. you knew it, her endurance was shit.

she thrusted her pelvis into you, tossing you upwards to free her hands. you were inches away from her face, finally getting a closer look at her beauty and damn, she was beautiful. amid your admiration, she found her way back on top of you. her knee lying on top of your belly, closer to your lungs than you’d like.

“it was you.” she growled.

“wh—wha?” you say, breathlessly.

“you took my book.” she spat, pressing harder.

“ab, and—” you tap the mat.

she releases you and you roll over, palms down and crouching over. the tightening of your stomach was a dangerous feeling, the fear of vomiting right now was strong.

“what the fuck!” you cough.

“oh, shut up.”

“that wasn’t allowed, what’s wrong with you.”

she stood over you, looking down at you like you were so beneath her. her eyebrows raised as if she won this round fair and square. it made you burn angrily. you found the last bit of strength to come to her hips and tug her down. now your knee was in her ribs and you weren’t letting up.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” you spit.

“fuck you.” she cries with her eyes closed, mouth open.

“are you mad?” you poke.

“i have a system.” she groans.

“tap out abby, come on.” you say bored.

“no.”

you press harder and she stifles her groan between her lips. a small tear falls past her cheek onto the mat. you bend down to her ear, “are you mad that i found the one place where you show your true self. you like this, that’s why you haven’t tapped out yet. you’re fucking pathetic.”

“call me what you want.” she smiled, eyes wide.

finally, her hand came in contact with the mat. without speaking you walked over to the showers with your gym bag on your shoulder.

once the warm water touched your skin you fully relaxed. you knew in the morning your body would be stiff as all what. but you felt gratitude for the current moment. that’s until the door swung open and abby came through.

the dividers of the showers were up to just below your breast were, leaving you exposed in the draft. you've gotten used to it now but with anderson here you felt particularly vulnerable. it wasn't the cool air flowing that made your nipples hard right now, it was what transpired before. she stripped down beside you and stepped into the stall on your left side.

“there’s so many other options.” you groan.

she didn’t reply. good, you thought.

you took your washcloth and began to scrub your back, working a good lather on. abby poured a handful of shampoo and began massaging her scalp acting as if she wasn't pining you into the mat just moments ago.

“i know you took my book.”

“enough with the book abby.” you snap.

“i know that you watched me. i saw you.”

before you could breathe and speak, the silence grew stronger, and it seemed like the water was now fire. your heartbeat was accelerated and you were losing all your composure.

“a-abby, what? when i was in the library there was no one there.” you lie.

“okay, you wanna play dumb. fine. but what you saw stays between you and i.”

“or what?”

you hear her finger stop scratching her scalp. she takes a moment to rinse out the suds and turn to you. you do the same and wait for her response. her sharp eyes on you made your pussy tremble.

“you need a good fucking, don’t you?” her brows furrowed.

“abby—” you scoff.

“i know you do. that’s why you watched. any normal person would’ve left but you watched me fuck her. what are you jealous?”

“i don’t have to be jealous of anyone.”

“seems like you are,” she says leaving her shower.

she followed the wall to walk into your space. her body was even more stunning with no clothes on. her small breasts were wet with the remnants of shampoo and the dark hair between her legs was trimmed. her rock-like muscles swallowed her cunt. her body was home to freckles and stretch marks and you almost ran your tongue across your lips, she looked delicious.

“see, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

she backs you into the wall just beside the shower head. you look down at her and the darkness she had while pining you to the mat was gone. she stared at you like she was ready to devour you and you were so weak, you might let her.

“anderson, you need to leave.”

“come on,” she wraps her hands round your waist. “let’s settle this.”

it had been a long time since you even felt the touch of a woman. being tied up in your responsibilities left little pleasure to be found and fulfilled. you wanted her hands to drift lower, between your legs where there was an ache so strong you could barely stand.

“let me make you feel good.” she whispered, then slowly brought her mouth to yours, kissing it softly.

you remove her hands and turn around to rinse off your body with her eyes stalking your every move. why did a small kiss set you ablaze like this?

if abby wanted to play this game, then fine. later that night you stopped by the library to return the book. she sat at the front desk with her notepad and lamp, organizing the titles on her desk. she opened and closed them, writing the details of each book she picked up. once she heard the door close she looked up to you quickly with the novel in her hand and then back down.

she wore a pair of boxers and a white tank top that left little to the imagination. much like your own outfit — sports bra and boxers.

“hey,” you say.

“‘sup?” she doesn’t look up.

you lay the book on the table and her frown turns into a quick smile.

“i liked that book.”

you read it overnight on the day you took it. unbeknownst to you, the romance was soon overcome with plenty of smutty scenes that had you flicking pages with one hand and the other in your shorts.

“me too.”

“abby…”

clearly, she was embarrassed at the advance that she made. but you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have the woman bent over begging for you.

“look, im sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

you slowly make your way around the desk. abby's chest falls heavily as you brush a hand up the side of her arm and sweep it upwards to her neck. where your finger lands, you kiss. you pull her backward into you, making her gasp a little.

“it’s okay.”

you mutter as you drag your hands over her breasts and start massaging them over her t-shirt. you grip them just before brushing your palm over her nipples and pressing them into her body.

“this okay?” you ask.

“fuck. yes.” she whispers.

you see her instinctively widen her legs in the chair and relax. you take your index and thumb to pinch them gently and roll them inward just before stretching them to plop back.

“don’t be embarrassed, big girl,” you say in her ear as you suck her lobe into your mouth. abby’s hands grip the arms of the chair to the point where you think she’ll snap them into two.

“you know what i liked about that book the most?”

“tell me, handsome,” she mutters heatedly.

“is the scene where the protagonist finger fucks her partner up against a window where everyone can see.”

abby barely managed a moan as she actively recalled that chapter.

your lips come into contact with a throbbing vein on her neck. you suck at it, wanting the reward of a full moan from abby before taking her deeper into the library. you push the chair out with your foot and bend down to her, you take her biceps to stand her up and lean her against the desk. you scoot her ass back so you're in between her thighs. abby grinds her hips in an attempt for some connection.

you plant your lips onto hers and slowly enter your tongue while bringing her waist closer to you. your thumbs guide you up her shirt to take it off in one swoop. your fingertips danced on her breasts again, tugging and pinching them as abby fought the desire growing in her shorts. the darkness in the center of her boxers was laughable.

"already soaked?" you ask staring into her eyes.

abby moans quietly but that won't suffice as an answer. so you grip her jaw with your dominant hand and slap her pussy twice for a proper reply.

"sorry, i didn't hear you anderson."

she mewls and covers her mouth before confessing. "yes, yes. since i last saw you, i touched myself, i couldn't help it."

you drop your hand and kiss her slowly, sucking her tongue into your mouth.

you bent your knees and lifted her off the desk, showing off all your gains. she wrapped her legs around your waist finally giving her cunt relief as it pressed against your hipbones. her arms draped over you while she peppered kisses on your neck, weakening your legs instantly.

the chaise was right where you last saw it, but you two need more space. so, once you sat her down you spread a blanket on the floor with a few pillows.

abby slipped off her boxers and that’s when you could see how desperate the woman was. her pink lips were more red now, slathered in arousal, and you hadn’t given her any satisfaction yet. almost as if she could read your mind, abby propped herself down onto the blanket. she was upright on her knees when she started to rub her body, performing for you. you hate to admit your cunt was throbbing as anderson sucked her fingers, massaged her nipples, and gripped her ass.

“you’re so pathetic.” you laughed in a friendly way.

“you’re taking too long, come here.” she says. abby lays on her stomach with her ass up in the air and back beautifully arched.

you lay your hips on top of her ass and push up. you bring her arms above her head and spread her legs a little more to position her ass cheek on your clit.

“gonna use you to feel good, ‘kay abby?” you moan.

abby just nods as you press into her. you’re so wet that your boxers are sticky and slipping easily up and down her body. your hips ride her so smoothly, humping her so hard that her body is jutting up a little. once you get a rhythm abby can’t take it anymore. “i need to taste you, please?”

“you wanna taste, beautiful? come ‘ere,”

you get up to spread your legs open on the opposite end of the blanket. abby tucks her fingers in the waistband of your boxers.

“no, i stay like this.” you correct.

she happily obeys as she flattens her tongue to make a wet stripe against the checkered fabric. a moan vibrates against your clit as abby basks in the taste of you. you shiver as she does it again, this time harder.

you take a fistful of hair and tug her back she nearly comes from that alone.

“i want you to eat my pussy, like it’s your last meal.”

she hesitates before pulling your shorts off but you allow her to. you tug on her hair more, harder, letting all your jealousy overcome you. the woman who gloated around the base was about to be tongue deep inside your cunt, you chuckle.

you lower her head and she brings her lips to yours and begins to lap up your pre-cum. finally, her lips make it to your clit where she massages it with such mechanical care. you moan, watching her lap you up.

“look at you — i wish i had a camera to show everyone on the base how good of a girl you are behind closed doors.”

you raise your hips to get her deeper between your lips. she teases your hole with the tip of her tongue before slipping it in as far as it could go. you cry out as the thick muscle penetrates you. the bump on abby’s freckled nose nudges your clit and you already feel overstimulated by the pleasure.

“fuck abby.” you whisper.

you look down to see her eyes on you, pupils dilated and hungry. she slips two fingers in so easily and without warning, curling up to your spot.

“let me swallow your cum beautiful," she said plainly before returning her tongue to your clit.

her moans get louder and the pressure inside of you gets harder and your legs tense around her body. you tuck them on her back to pull her closer. and just as you feel yourself come to your peak, abby pinches your clit between her teeth gently, making you crash so hard you twitch.

as you push her away she doesn’t stop. she keeps pumping into you and lapping at your lips until you actually cry out. she slows down and removes her fingers and brings the digits to your mouth.

she hooks her fingers gently in your mouth to pull you onto her as she lays on her back. she guides your sensitive pussy over hers without missing a beat.

you shake as you press downwards to meet her bulging clit. the pearl was so wet and erect that your mouth watered at the thought of sucking it. abby closes her eyes and finally finds some relief. her sighs are not shy and she freely groans with each stroke you make.

“you want mommy to cum on this cunt?” you ask.

“hmmhm. y-yes.”

so, you get to work. you lean down further to take a nipple into your mouth and slap your cunt onto hers and then move upwards to slip over her clit.

abby moans your name so recklessly and you suddenly wish the whole base could hear. hell, she's so loud you think they might.

“you’re so desperate. how long you been wanting me? a month? a year… two?”

“since… i … saw you.” she admits and you thump her harder.

“you like watching me, huh? imagining how i’d fuck. such an easy girl, aren’t you?”

“i am. i am.” she’s gone.

you feel another one coming so you increase your speed. thrusting into abby as she’s doing the same back — and just to think you two were both in a simular position hours ago.

abby could only grunt as her hips came into contact with yours. her body nearly vibrated as she was preparing for her release. you pull her thighs up and push them back to get the closest connection possible. you slipped your clit between her lips and nudged against hers as you both erupted.

someone could’ve thought a runner was mutilating you both in here by the way abby nearly screamed. you covered her mouth and fucked her until you both couldn't take it.

🏷 @bookpagecandlescent ; @lesbian-useless ; @ghgygd ; @maneskinwh0re