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ramonathinks · 1 month

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HIGHEST BIDDER.

summary: tired of your virginity, you decide to auction it off — but you weren’t thinking it would be leader of the notorious group, onychinus who offers the most money of $10,000,000.

cw// 18+ virginity loss, soft sex, small plot but not really, pet names, slight? knife play, oral, she/her pronouns, choking, finger sucking, praise, dumbification, degradation, slight fingering, corruption kink( if you squint), female guided masturbation (? kinda? idk!), squirting, attempt at aftercare, the twins have a cameo. wc: 5.3k

tagging: @lvminy @kissxcore @sunasbon @preciousamethyst (hope it’s okay to tag you guys 🥹🫶🏾) @satorubi

You could only assume it was Luke or Kieran who had told Sylus where you were and perhaps what you were up to. Or maybe it was that damn crow, who insisted you stayed inside. But really, it didn’t matter who said anything because Sylus was grabbing you before a single hand flew up.

“10 million.” His voice was sharp — a hint of anger, annoyance and frustration on him, it oozed off his body and with the dazzling ruby eyes of him staring everyone down… they got the hint that he was throwing around. He was pissed. Too pissed to hear what anyone else had to say. Power rolled off of him in waves everyday but it was obvious that this day, and this girl and this place was provoking him.

The auctioneer's lips trembled in his presence. “T-ten million going at once.” He awkwardly scanned the room, not a cough of a mumble was heard. “Going twice.” Breads of sweat gathered around his forehead and he swallowed. “Sold!” He exclaimed, nodding his head rapidly in Slyus’ direction, guiding the both of you towards a secluded area.

He scoffed and tightened his grip on your body, it took him little to no effort to hand over his card and in a few seconds the transaction was completed; a portion for them and the bigger sum of the money going to you. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you briefly.

You couldn’t help but feel like the stupidest person ever and perhaps at this moment… you were. Being stuck inside and with nowhere to go most days because of the claims of dangers awaiting you, it was tiring. Plus, you had urges, like anyone else – womanly and carnal urges, desires and fantasies. You couldn’t help yourself when Luke mentioned it in passing and Kieran slapped him on the head telling him to shut up about it; it was simply interesting and something Linkon City would’ve never allowed.

You hated the silence. “Are…are you mad at me?” Walking out of the pale building and to the dark cold outside, moving close to his motorcycle. Looking around you think about how the tenebrific ambience that’s casted over this place, it really wasn’t the same as where you grew up, time moves differently here, almost.

“You went into the N109 Zone alone, potentially putting yourself in danger and you want to know if I’m mad at you?” He speaks with a hard tone, his touch scorching hot against your arm, his touch addicting. “Of all the times to be reckless…” He does a heavy sigh, followed by pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s handing you a helmet and putting his own, sitting down and waiting for your arms to wrap around his waist before he drives off. The wind rushes through you swiftly and no matter how many times you’re on his motorcycle, you can’t help but to feel fear course through every fiber of your body.

Time always seemed to move faster when you were with him and it moved especially fast being on his motorcycle, he drove dangerously and it always led to you clinging more closer to him than you realized.

Upon making it back, you jumped off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet, shaking your hair to make sure it looked halfway decent.

Stepping back inside of the Headquarters of Onychinus, Luke popped his head around the corner and you mustered up the angriest glare that you could make him cower away. You could hear him and Kieran chattering about something. “No use in being mad at them, you brought this on to yourself.” Sylus told you, ushering you into his room.

You just sighed, sitting with your legs crossed on a singular chair that was near a small table in the room. The air felt more tense and uncomfortable than the other times you were here and you couldn’t help but to think of how for once you wished that Mephisto was here so that you wouldn’t be alone with him, not with this temper he clearly had. “Listen Sylus, it was a stupid thing and I know that—”

Lightening wasn’t as quick as him when he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. Nothing with him was ever warm and inviting, always hard and even a bit mean but luckily not forceful. His tongue licked at your lips and you complied with no hesitation. His tongue felt hot against your own, it sent flames up your body and you could feel everything in the pit of your stomach and to your throat. When he pulled away, he looked at you and from the way he smirked… you knew you looked out of it. Your eyes alone felt heavy and your knees were wobbling, too weak to stand. With your eyes on his, you watched the dazzling red become harder to look away from.

The voices came strong and with a clear message: “fuck him… fulfill your desires…” they spoke to you and you both loved and hated the throbbing sensation that followed. You wanted to remind yourself that he was an enemy… it was too hard to do when he looked like he did and with a voice as deep and rich, it was almost unbearable. Yes, he was an enemy but you couldn’t lie to yourself; you knew the real reason you went to the auction was to make him jealous. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you react the way it does but it burns inside of you and to your very core.

When the light from his eye dimmed and with rapid blinks you were back and felt more stable. “Your little mind always tells me more than your lips do. If you wanted me… I would’ve given you all of me with no hesitation.” It sounded like a promise and it swayed you, you leaned into his arms. “I can try to be gentle.” He whispered close to you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Sylus,” His name trembles out of your lips. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make me…” You squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to make me feel good.” You felt too vulnerable in his presence but the truth slipped from your lips so fast as if you were forced to.

He looked as if something took over him, desire deep in his ruby eyes and you couldn’t look away from him, too turned on. “Take your clothes off.” His husky voice said above you. He didn’t move, just watched you shuffle your clothes off until you were in nothing but your panties; when you moved to take those off, it was then that he stopped you. “I’ll handle the rest.” He assured you before he laid you down — your head on his soft black pillows and your body rigid.

You don’t know where the knife came from until it’s rubbing up your calf and moving its way up to your underwear, the cool metal piercing your skin just barely. Your breathing labored and measured, trying not to show your fear but it was failing you. “Stay still, I would hate to nick your pretty skin.” The knife tickled your thighs when he finally snipped open the front that held your secret possession.

He groaned at the sight, audible and bit his lips to contain himself more. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt. There was a smile so deep on his lips as he spread your lips open for him to see. “You ever touched down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes. “Show me.”

“H-huh?” You stuttered out. “I can’t just…”

“Just show me what you normally do… when you’re all alone… in your room…under the covers.” He says it slowly, letting you absorb every word he says.

You’re bare and can feel just how comfortable his comforter set was. Your cunt wet and inviting but his eyes stay on yours, which makes it harder for you to breathe. “I just kinda just do…” Clumsily you spread your lips and simply slid your fingers around yourself, barely focusing on your clit but already overwhelmed. “But I can’t make myself cum, ‘m too sensitive.” His eyes transfixed on your fingers and pussy as you work yourself, your face contorting between pleasure and something else before you stop, heavily breathing.

“Oh? No wonder you’re so unsatisfied, you don’t know your own body. Good thing I’m here to help.” He’s closer, sitting at the end of the bed yet so close to you. He spreads your legs and you can see a glimpse of excitement dancing in his eyes. He inspects you – stroking up your legs and inching his way up and down your thighs, ignoring how with every touch your breath hitches and your toes curl. “I haven’t even touched you that much and you’re already a mess.” He spreads you; opens you up and closes your folds again completely immersed in the gushy noises that follows.

“This,” Sylus says, spreading your sticky lips apart and his breathing getting heavier. “This is your pretty little clit.” He taps the bud with the rough pads of his fingers. “She sits right here behind these lips.” His fingers are lighting a fire and trailing it around your body. “Open these up again… and this,” you gasp, his fingers sitting right in the spot you never touch. “This twitching little hole? That’s where I’m going to fill you up.” He chuckles humorously, circling the hole and gathering the leaking wetness there, your hips rising on their own accord before he pulls away.

“Now, your turn.”

“But I—” You’re close to tears, wetness gathered at your lash line daring to fall. “I can’t, I don’t think I can do it like you.” You hated how needy you sounded and how clingy you were being.

“I hardly did anything. Just simple touches, to show you where everything was. Pleasure points that you should follow. Did you want more? Did you like how I touched you, little one?” You couldn’t help but to gasp at the nickname, it filled your body with more wetness and he watched it leak down to his sheets.

Your insides continue to flutter at the name and your face feels hot. “This is what you paid for right? Might as well get your fill from it.” You try to sound bold and intimidating but his demeanor just softens at your attempt.

“As you wish.” He bends down and cups your cheek before placing a delicate kiss on your lips and you can’t help but to squeal a bit at the warmth that his lips bring you. His fingers brush your face before he moves his mouth down to your neck, licking a stripe before sucking on your skin. You can feel his lips curling into a smile at every noise you make. “I could do this all day… but where’s the fun in that? I’m sure you’ll make even better noises when I touch here.” Cupping the palm of his hand and gently slapping it against your core, your back arches and a whiny moan slips out.

��See? So much better.” You hate the smug look on his face, his red eyes radiant in the dim room staring you down makes you self conscious and ready to hide yourself from him. “I’m going to put my fingers right here,” His breath tickling your core. “Then my tongue, okay?”

You just nod…unable to speak, he watches your face and holds his fingers up to your lips.“Put 'em in your mouth for me, get' em all wet…” Your tongue slides between them, saliva spilling out of the corners of your mouth. “Good girl,” he patted your head, ruffling your hair and you couldn’t help the feeling that took over you. Your mind was everywhere yet nowhere, just him… that was all your mind could think of and be consumed with. The praise had your body on a different kind of high.

He uses those same cool wet fingers to open you wider. Slowly dipping inside of you, circling your center and easing inside, making you tighten up. “Don’t clench, just relax. It’ll only hurt more if you do that.” You take a few deep breaths, allowing your chest to fill up and expand before a release. He spreads your lips and he just looks. There’s a hum on his lips before he kisses your clit; full tongue running across the sensitive area. Your back lifts and arches off the bed but putting his hand on your lower stomach – he forces you to take it. There’s a look in his eyes that’s daring you to disobey him and it makes your tummy flutter.

He puts his full tongue against your clit and you try not to move but your body trembles. His fingers draw circles around your thighs, inching closer to your slit. It makes you realize that he was simply distracting you to alleviate the slight pain from when his fingers actually slipped inside. When they did, you gasped aloud. “Sly–us… please.” Your legs threatened to close but you forced yourself to keep them open and it took a lot out of you.

“Good girl.” He muttered, obviously appreciating your efforts. “So tight…” He tries to move his finger but you only flinch and groan, which makes him use two fingers from his opposite hand to rub lazy circles against your clit. That alongside your breathing helps your body relax and brings a lot of ease to you, opening yourself up. He slowly strokes your insides, taking his time to drag it forward and back, slipping it out before bringing it back inside. You can’t help but notice how eyes flicker from your lower half to your face occasionally but you don’t say anything. “Deep breath.” He tells you before he slips another finger in beside the other.

You whine when he moves them both inside of you, your body rocking against his fingers with a circular motion of your hips. He opens them up before closing them again, you grip the sheets. He felt so deep inside of you with just his fingers… the real thing would be different – longer and thicker – you didn’t know if you were ready. “You’re overthinking aren't you? Just focus on how you’re feeling right now.” His eyes are on yours, his fingers curling inside of you so deliciously that you forget to breathe. When he takes them out, you feel incredibly empty, your hole clenching for more. You're huffing and shaking when you look his way again, he’s opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of you; playing with the slick that was there before he sucks them off. He slips them back inside, sliding them on your inner walls and pressing upwards – the pads of his fingers rubbing circles inside of your soft insides; which makes you squeeze his fingers tight. Rubbing your clit again to soothe you, he slowly curves them as he slips them out – you gasp at the feeling.

He grips your hips and forces you to slide down, his breath knocking the wind out of you when you feel it right by your slit. Your fingers tightly gripping the duvet in anticipation, awaiting his tongue. You gasp when his tongue circles over the hole, nudging there just a bit before he licks up a wet trail; moving back to your clit. He plants a small kiss on the pink throbbing bud, then another before he takes it in his mouth and sucks. His tongue moving around in shapes you can’t make out until you feel the hard S he craves in with his mouth, his head rocking against your legs. When the Y comes, he’s peeling back the hood of your clit and flicking the initial inside rapidly. He slides his face down before he finishes, he pulls your sticky lips apart and dives inside. The tip of his tongue sliding back and forth achingly and painfully slow, his head shaking to the sides when he licks upwards, curving his tongue to hit a particular spongy spot that makes your thighs shake. Your fingers now dig through his silvery hair, pulling when he does a harsh lick against your core. “Taste so good…” He mumbles, rolling your clit between his tongue.

The obscene noises that you hear comes from his mouth feasting on you – slurping, sucking and even the noises of his own groans. Groans that were akin to a dying man giving his last prayer, his groans were drowning out the sounds of your own moans. “I can’t take it–” Slushing sloppy noises are what drowns out your moans and pleads. “Sylus please…” You can feel your own wetness under your bottom and embarrassment floods through you, and at the right time his nose bumps into your clit and you grind into it more with a huff; nothing but useless babbling coming out of your mouth. Another lick causes your toes to curl and your body to twist and coil when a leaking orgasm passes through you; which doesn’t stop him from sucking everything that you have to offer.

His hair now disheveled from you tugging and pulling on it — his face sopping wet from your juices and you can’t help but look away from him, he sits completely upwards. “Look at me.” Your eyes back on his, biting your lip before you looked down at the bulge in his pants – it looked so big and your mouth ran dry. It was an accident and unconscious thing but you licked your lips while staring and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “You look really interested in pleasing me.” His brow is arched and his voice low. “This is going to be fun.” He said more to himself than you, standing and unzipping his pants.

You were still completely naked yet he was clothed – almost fully – just his cock sitting out of his pants standing hard and proud against his stomach. This sight before you made you remember who was in power and just how much power you lacked. But wordlessly, you got on your knees. “You want it? Want my cock? ‘Can see how you’re panting for it.” He was truly condescending and knew how to put you in your place, but the way he made you cum made you see nothing but starlight and you wanted to please him.“Come and take what you want sweetie, take what you need.” You stared – 7 and a half inches of a tanned cock and two firm balls blocked your view of everything else – the tip leaking with white sticky precum dripping down. You trace your tongue up the sides, licking up anything you can to get the taste of him before you kiss the head; then you open your mouth around him and let your teeth run against the sides before you suck him in.

“Watch your teeth, kitten.” His nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes, his shoulders growing relaxed, you take what you can’t fit in your mouth in your hand and give it a few gentle strokes. “And be careful around the— thehead.” He says when your tongue runs a circle around the tip and one wet suck. His face relaxes for a second and you can’t help but to look him over. You knew he was good looking but right now with pleasure all over him, he looks a thousand times better.

The heaviness in your mouth felt so foreign but you welcomed it, the masculine salty taste that followed when you bobbled your head back and the way your cheeks puffed out because of him; it felt good. Your saliva dripped on the floor beneath you, your technique sloppy but when Sylus gripped the back of your head, you felt like you were on cloud nine. He gently guided you, pulling you forward and back – letting your mouth take him as deep as you can, before he pulled you back off. He inches himself inside, you suck and swallow around him, hearing him groan above you sent your body into a frenzy. You choke a bit but he keeps a steady pace to train your mouth again, muffled moans erupt from you when he moves your head again, hitting a deeper spot almost reaching the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl…” He cooed and a whine slipped through your lips, his praise making your thighs clench together. When he finally pulled you off, strings of spit broke off from your mouth and his dick. “I’m going to come inside of you.” He tells you, but you can barely register what he’s saying too far gone on your high of being used. You’re smiling a dopey grin and he squeezes the sides of your face to make you look at him, your glossy eyes in a permanent daze. “That was only the beginning, are you sure you can handle the rest?”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” Your voice is trembling and hoarse as you speak. You wanted to feel him cum inside of your throat but maybe you were being too greedy, your body swayed. He lifted you up from the floor, your knees burning. You lay there, your eyes droopy as you wait for him, all you hear is movement and a zipper before he returns to you.

“You belong to me, got it?” His hand wrapped around your throat. “Your body is mine to please, to fuck with… to do whatever I want with. And I don’t plan on letting you forget it.” His voice is hard and mean again, his jaw tense as he stares in your eyes.

“I knowww.” A whimper mixed with a whine comes from your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just sighs. Your body trembles and you sniffle, it makes him cradle your hand in his hands.

“You’re shaking, are you that scared?” He asks you gently, as if you’re a flower who needs tending to. Your eyes wide but say nothing. He laced your fingers together, his hands covering the both of yours in an iron grip. “It’s okay kitten, I won’t hurt you.”

You yelp upon feeling a cool sensation hit your lower half, him rubbing it more inside. He’s hovering over you, his beautiful face watching over yours as he slides his cock over your pussy, not daring to push it inside. He just moves his hips well enough that you’re gasping every time, his tip bumps your clit and you bite your lip, your nails ready to pierce his back. You lean into his touch and he kisses your jaw, trailing them down and gently nibbling at your collarbone, sucking on the skin. “Relax,” He says, playing with your wet folds, he starts to play with your clit again and you shiver. “I’ll be gentle.” Did Sylus truly know the meaning of the word? You’re wailing when he slides just the head in, barely. Easing a small bit of his tip in and fucking you just a tiny bit.

Then you feel him nudging more inside of you – his head thick and the squelching noises of him moving in make you tense up, but he whispers in your hair to calm you down and then you’re sucking him in. Your voice is gurgly when more of him slides in, a new found warmth inside of you. “Still so tight…” A strained groan fell from his lips, you reached from him with tears in your eyes. Sylus didn’t move, he rubbed your hair but stayed there then he did a tiny jerk of his hips, the stretch makes you sob, but you know that he’s only barely inside of you and that there was more to come. He tells you to take a deep breath and you listen, not wanting to be in any more pain; he slips more of it inside, a thumb on your clit. He presses his thumb and does small circles around it – strangled sounds come out of your lips – he still hasn't moved.

You look at him, you put his face in your hands and look in his eyes, telling him just how ready you are for this. He’s working his cock in slowly, inch by inch but he looks like he's scared to overwhelm you. When his pelvis meets yours you gasp…your hips buckle when he completely bottoms out, a sigh dying on your lips and tears free falling… it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to but the pain still lingered. Your eyes rolling back and you squeal, your fingers holding tightly against him. “Oh…oh… Sylus.” Panting – your eyes probably filled with hearts — as you look at him, lovingly. The stringing stretch subsides when he does a small thrust, not too deep but enough to make you feel good. He pulls back and pushes himself back inside, watching your expression as you take him.

He’s being as gentle as he can, you notice. His hips thrusting soft, just nudging the soft spots inside of you. He pushes inside of you again, the first painless thrust and you both moan. Your belly tenses when he speeds up and the noises of wet skin slapping makes your body heat up. He’s rocking his hips against yours, circling his hips clockwise in a way that makes you shudder. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, he fucks you a bit harder than before. The sound of his balls slapping against you is all you can hear – his strokes getting deeper as he slows down, you look down and see the strings of wetness coating his cock as he stuffs you full of it again. “God, feels so good inside of you.” His mouth slightly agape.

A small squirt of wetness spills out of you as he thrusts inside, some of it under your bodies and some of it splashing upwards as he digs deeper inside of you. You’re squirming and squirting, eyes crossing over when you hear him say: “Marking your territory, kitten?” It only makes you gush more, squeezing around him. You can feel his deep chuckles as it vibrates from his chest to yours – he’s always mocking you but right now you could care less —the way your body feels has you ready to bend to his whim. “This little kitten and these sharp claws…” he hisses when you press your nails deeper into his skin, you dig them down his back. The long drag of his cock felt amazing against your walls, a small sharp thrust inside has you both grunting.“Clenching around me so hard.” He kisses the top part of your head and you relish in how caring he’s been, you almost forgot how any of this started.

“What’s my name?” His voice thick with a bit of annoyance, it was clear that he didn’t forget how any of this started. You felt full, lifting your hips trying to meet his thrust, his cock hitting spongy parts inside of you that made you see nothing but bright colors.

“Sy-Sylus!” Your eyes rolling back in your skull and your mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape as he’s inside of you, pure bliss in the form of the gentle thrusting of his body into yours.

“Who do you belong to?” His teeth clenched and he’s squeezing your waist hard, staring at you… his ruby red eyes glowing in the dim room. His pace picking up faster, squelching plopping noises from the two of you grew louder.

“Youuuu. Sylus.” You admit, puffy pussy sucking him inside. “I belong to you.” He touches your stomach, gazing at it as he fucks himself inside of you.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” His hand on your throat. Grinding his pelvis against yours, your clit pulsing against him. He stops and slides out before he jerks back in, gripping your thighs.

“Sylus!” You’re breathing hard and feel him twitching inside of you when you say his name again.

“And you tried to give it away.” He slapped your cunt and you jolted, a small squirt coming out of you.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is muffled and tears fall; you feel so good and you can’t believe you made the stupid decision in the first place when you could’ve asked him to do this… to make you feel this good. Closing your eyes, you focus on the feeling. He’s stretching you out, squeezing your ass in both of his hands to further spread your body open for his pleasure.

“Eyes on me. Keep looking at me. Look at me while I touch you. Look at me when I make you cum.” Your eyes still closed and he sighs. “Look at me or I’ll stop.” He gives a sloppy wet thrust pumping his cock inside of you.

That simple statement made your eyes snap open, “Sylus please…please don’t stop!” There’s a tremor in your voice and the bed creaks at the same time; your wet walls swallowing him deeper inside. “Please fill me up. I need it.” You’re babbling and the curve of his cock hits a new spot inside of you, the tip grazing your cervix just slightly… just enough to make you feel good and to gasp around him.

It felt like he was going to devour you.

And you craved it.

So you let him.

It was one last thrust that was your undoing as you both cum, your back arched and your body feeling completely boneless, wetness slipping out of you as he pulled away. Your body shaking, he kisses you and pulls you close to his bare chest. As you’re drifting to sleep you hear him whisper in the sweetest voice, “I truly do adore you.”

But maybe you dreamt it.

When you wake, your body is covered in sweat and a heavy arm has you caged in. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and you feel wetness there too, you shiver. You slide from behind the arm and attempt to stand. “Fuck.” You mutter, looking for your clothes or for any clothes. You mentally slap yourself upon remembering that Sylus cut your panties as you rummage through his closet. You pull out a folded plain dress and slip it on, making your way out of his bedroom. You close the door gently so that he can stay asleep and you walk towards the main hall.

“Sounds like Boss really taught you a lesson.” You heard snickering and with a slight limp to your walk, you moved over to slap Luke’s arm.

“Looks like it too.” Kieran said, making you hit him too. “It’s not like we didn’t hear it, you two were so loud that Mephisto left and I swear before he left that he tried to cover his ears. I would’ve done it too, if I thought it would drown off the ‘Sylus don’t stop’ you kept moanin.” Mimicking your voice made you kick him in the shin, which he yelped at.

“Both of you just hush. I-I’m leaving.” You make your way for the door as they trail behind you.

“So this is you attempting to sneak off?” Luke snorts, you know he’s rolling his eyes behind the mask.

“Yeah right, boss really isn’t letting you leave now.” Kieran chuckles.

“They’re right, you know.” For a split second your body is lifted in the air and slammed against the front of a hard naked chest and for possibly the millionth time today, your body felt hot all over. “You really won’t be leaving my side now.”

But you already knew that.

6K notes · View notes

rowarn · 3 months

Text

IF YOU NEEDED ME !

simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)

; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.

or.

he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.

Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable.

You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.

A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.

“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.

“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.

He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator.

“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.

You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”

He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”

“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.

A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money.

You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared.

But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing.

You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.

Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava.

You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.

You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest.

You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you.

Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit.

Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time.

Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.

“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”

“I–”

“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”

“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.

You’re so pissed.

Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth.

But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.

How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason.

“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.

“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.

You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck.

By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend.

You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought.

When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone.

You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.

It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit.

You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible.

You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment.

You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound.

The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open.

Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time.

He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.

He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it.

He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger.

“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”

He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.

“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”

“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.

“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.

“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”

Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”

“And now you have it,” he says with finality.

He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military.

“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles.

“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”

“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”

You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.

You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”

“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.

You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy.

He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”

“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.

“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”

The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true.

You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.

There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his.

He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you.

“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.

He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”

“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice.

The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more.

You want him.

Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you.

He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight.

A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before.

Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.

He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss.

Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs.

You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”

“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it.

“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.

“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest.

“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”

“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words.

You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon.

“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”

“I-I’m just–”

“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”

“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”

“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time.

Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.

As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this.

He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more.

When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration.

“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment.

His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one.

The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.

Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe.

“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically.

He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same.

He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.

To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.

He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.

He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating.

Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too.

He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected.

And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser.

“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering.

He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”

“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room.

“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up.

He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel.

You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident.

He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down.

Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view.

You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs.

His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.

As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force.

He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open.

Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body.

You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit.

“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud.

Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth.

You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples.

He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.

“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends.

You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”

“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole.

“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.

“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”

You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you.

He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time.

It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you.

As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling.

Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest.

He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm.

It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you.

“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think.

He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not.

And fuck, do you love it.

The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.

You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now.

Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers.

He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt.

You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever.

His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke.

He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short.

“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.

“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.

“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet,

You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.

“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately.

Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against.

He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock.

You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you.

“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately.

He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again.

More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him.

He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest.

He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself.

“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”

“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”

“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right.

He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up.

He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you.

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure.

Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly.

Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs.

You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.

“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”

“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.

“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face.

“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.

“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”

You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley.

He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you.

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.

Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved.

You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock.

His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.

His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”

His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm.

When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong.

He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips.

“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”

“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession.

He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”

You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms.

You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he.

this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod x reader #cod smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut

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textmel8r · 5 months

Text

[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( fifth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , mommy kink , drug + alcohol usage , smut drabble , submissive toji , soft sex , profanity

୨୧˚ an; guys… i don’t know what took over me when i wrote this one….im sorry ,, also yes drabble time, you all knew this would happen eventually don’t act surprised 🙄🙄🙄

come over and show me then

The last message Toji had sent you. He was bold, heart racing just the slightest bit when he thumbed that frightening, little arrow icon to send a text that would most likely change his whole relationship chemistry with you. You, the kind hearted woman who graced him with your undying benevolence and wealth.

You, the woman Toji called mommy not even twelve hours ago during an idiotic, drunken stupor.

You, the woman who graced his bed, peering up to him with the softest gaze Toji’d ever been observed with. It was an odd sight–you splayed on his mattress. Dawning a lavish top; silken, Toji absentmindedly recognizes the fabric ( then proceeds to grimace at the fact that he can actually discern between different breeds of fabric. Your lifestyle was rubbing off on him ) and thinks you look out of place. An expensive jewel among the dank cave of his shoddy bedroom.

Toji crawls in after you, winding up your side, clinging akin to a baby koala bear. Still, he doesn’t speak, preferring to let the sounds of sheets sliding against each other fill the gaps of silence. You take his hulking body in those loving arms and break the quiet. “I’m not buying you for the night.” You cradle his cheek; you make him look up to you and Toji nods under your hand. “You know that, right?”

He nods again. “Sure,” and for once, it comes out without a modicum of sarcasm. Because Toji believes it when you tell him that you’re not looking to gain access to his body through flimsy transactions. Your sincerity is displayed through the months of torturous anticipation. Months of him on the cusp of begging–and Toji Fushiguro has never begged for anything in his goddamned miserable life. Your sincerity is displayed through the gingerness in which you hold his face. Because how could someone with such gentle hands ever tell a lie? And your sincerity is displayed through your words. You tell Toji things that nobody has ever told him before. Nice things, reassuring things despite his insistence on being an asshole to you.

Toji pushes his torso to be propped up on an elbow before he leans in. It’s not a tame first kiss by any means; Toji is mammalian in the way his teeth gnash yours and his tongue laves your cupid’s bow. “Slow,” you whisper in the short absence of his lips. “Slowly.” A command that he feels inclined to follow like some kept mutt, swapping out the animalistic pace with a more refined, controlled tempo. Your face was swallowed by two massive hands; they clamped on either side of your jaw, calloused and dry and forcefully pulling you closer. “Just like that, Toji.”

The way you say his name… Fuck. Toji grunts, swinging a heavy thigh over your own to situate between your legs. “I’ve never,” there's a pause when he leans in to suck the tip of your tongue, “been so desperate to be inside a woman.” His thick tongue worms back into your mouth, pushing smoky saliva down your throat. You were writhing; your hand slides over his, the one still tending to your cheek, and you guide it lower. He let you drag his hand down the smooth slope of your neck, over the hill of your delicate chest, across the plain of your soft tummy to meet the waistband of your designer pants.

Your head tilts, something devious glinting in the colored rings of your eyes that have Toji so enchanted. He plucks at the brass button of your pants, nudging the point of his nose to the high of your cheekbone. Breathing in the luxury branded perfume that overpowered the cigarette stench still lingering in his room from his morning smoke; evidenced by the stub crumbled in the glass tray on his wobbly nightstand. “What about the girl…Girl from last night?”

Toji smiles at the breathy question. “What girl?” He hums cheekily against your mouth, letting his tongue slip back through the seam of your delicious lips. You slap his face rather playful, but his breath hitches all the same.

“Dick.”

At last, he pops the button. The acrylic of your nails sink into the meat of his forearm, legs widening, ass shifting; all of the signs that Toji hyperfixated on. The way you tell him to keep going without so much as saying a word has him hotter than anytime another woman has begged for his touch in bed. Toji kisses you as he dips beneath the ajar slacks, then those sheer panties, slipping down to where you needed him most. You’re wet, he notes to himself. Wet, squelching and red hot when his thick middle finger sandwiches itself between the labia.

Both pairs of legs tangled together amidst the desperation. While Toji touches you, you’re hiking your leg up–the one snuggled between two of the man’s built thighs. It presses to his clothed crotch, and you reach around grab a handful of his ass. “Hump it,” you dictate, using his ass cheek as leverage to pull his hips down against your awaiting thigh. Toji jolts; never had his ass been grabbed like that, but he thinks he likes it.

So he grinds. His groin crashes against your leg with rough enthusiasm, so rough that it should be a threat to your poor femur bone. But he doesn’t let up. Toji’s arm tenses and shakes with exertion as he fingers you, forearm burning from the intensity at which he moves. But he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fuck.”

What is he, some kind of dog? Chasing his high against a leg, licking your neck, barking obscenities into existence. Had you been anyone else, Toji would have had them bent at the waist over his bed, forcing their face into his lonesome pillow and taking what he needed. But you had this certain authority–you’d always had–as if you owned him. Not that you would ever admit that, nor did you believe it, but Toji did. You pay for his living quarters, his meals, his clothes, his car, hell, his time. The leash was cuffed at his throat, leather digging into his flesh, and he fucking loved it. Toji would wait for your instructions like a well behaved puppy.

“Take my pants off,” you utter, and it’s only then does Toji realize that the both of you hadn’t bothered shedding any layers, taking favor in rutting clothed bodies together like a couple of immature teens. His hips pause their humping, and his tongue finds one long, last lick to your jugular before pulling back.

Two thumbs hook beneath both layers of material at your hips. “Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” he mutters offhandedly, dragging your pants down.

You’re bare. His mouth waters at the sight of glistening moisture between your legs, encapsulated by a dusting of hair. Toji stares, nestled on his knees, straddling your thigh. He just stares.

“I told you my reasons,” you say.

He doesn’t respond to that. “I want to fuck you.”

Your chest rises. Are you arching for him? “Ask me.” When he cocks a confused brow, you lightly elaborate. “Show me some of that respect I taught you and ask me nicely.”

The sole of your foot caresses his pec over the black tee shirt he sports, a gentle notion that he is allowed to take his time. Toji doesn’t need time though; he’s got your twisted little request all figured out. It’s funny, he shouldn’t have expected any less. To him, respect didn’t exist in the bedroom, but Toji would make an exception. “Will you let me fuck you tonight?” You’re not letting him get off that easy, your pointed eyes say it all. So, in an uncharacteristically piteous voice, the man adds “please, ma’am” and strokes your calf for good measure.

That does it.

Your legs spread, arms racing up to coil around the thick post of his neck. He lets you pull him down, lets you kiss him tenderly, lets your tongue curl behind his teeth. Toji groans, reaching a sticky hand down to clumsily shove his sweatpants around his ass. “You have no–” kiss “idea what you–” kiss “you do to me–” kiss, kiss “when you call me that.”

His length drags over your core, hot and heavy and thick and raw. He doesn’t move to grab a condom knowing damn well there’s a box that sits in his nightstand to the left of them. A box that has been forgotten, left untouched in the waking months of his realization that he doesn’t want to fuck other people. Why would he? When you take such good fucking care of him, what’s the point in sleeping around anymore?

“Be grateful,” Toji husks, rubbing up against the warmth beneath him. “‘M never this nice in bed.”

“I’m not, either.”

He throbs at that. A small hand snakes behind his head, weaving into the raven shag of his hair, and tugs. “I really never meant for this to happen.” Toji narrows those steely eyes at you. “To end up in your bed, I mean. I thought I had more resolve than this.”

Too bad money can’t buy resolve, he thinks inwardly. Hand still between bodies, Toji jerks himself slowly, soaking his tip in your entrance. His gaze is glued to your face, flitting amidst all the gorgeous features it had to offer. “I knew I’d get you here eventually,” he speaks with a lilt of confidence, prodding the point of his nose to yours. And then he pushes inside without warning. You’re gooey; a hot, wet heat encasing his body from head to toe. He feels you shudder, feels nails in his nape. He feels your sticky breaths on his cheek, feels your pillowy thighs squish against his hip bones. Toji serves you the entire length in one slow thrust, holding himself inside. “Fuck.”

“Slow,” you warn once more in a broken voice. His hair was grabbed again, you used it as a makeshift handlebar to yank Toji’s head down. His handsome face plummeted into the divot between your breasts, still gift wrapped in that undoubtedly overpriced shirt. His nose pressed to your sternum, taking deep inhales.

Slow.

Slow sex was unfamiliar territory to Toji, one among the list of foreign concepts you had introduced to him during your time together. Fucking was animalistic practice between two people, fast-paced and greedy and surprisingly lonely. Toji fucked with the intention of climaxing; intimacy is irrelevant. Was irrelevant.

Toji slips a hand beneath your back, locking a grip on the underside of your shoulder to weld your chest to his face. Slow, timely thrusts met your cunt, watery squelches filled the room. “Oh, fuck.”

Your hands wander. Crawling down the base of his spine, breezing over his tail bone, clutching his bare ass. Guiding him in a way, and he doesn’t entirely mind. “My boy,” you moan in the throes of pleasure, a free hand blindly feeling for the back of his sweaty neck. Fingers stroke the precious skin there, sensitive flesh that nobody has ever paid attention to, not even himself. Toji trembles.

“Take it,” he whispers back, as if he still had any semblance of control. But you let him, and he thinks you’re too fucking nice for sparing his pride like that. “Take it, goddamn it.”

“Yes, my sweet boy.”

Idiotic. He is no longer a boy, nor does he even slightly compare to anything sweet. God, if you knew him. If you knew what he did for work… How many people he’s gutted and bled like livestock for quick cash… You would leave. He knows this to be a fact of life, you’re simply too moralistic and caring and selfless to keep in contact with a monster like him.

“Let mommy take care of you.”

Oh Jesus Christ, he’s done for. You wax praises so sincere that Toji starts to let himself believe he’s good. He pretends he’s worthy of being here with you right now in this bed, with your lithe fingers petting his damp hair and your breasts against his cheek, and fucks you harder. The toes of two socked feet bury into the mattress.

You successfully conquered his flimsy pride. “Mom… my…,” Toji breathes out, stifling down the impending whine caught at the back of his esophagus. He bucks deep inside, pubic bone to pubic bone, and grabs a handful of tit. So fucking soft even under this stupid shirt.

The sex plays out this way until the very end. A gentle tango that reminds Toji he hadn’t actually fucked in missionary position for some time. But at last, you came around him. “Toji, baby I’m here.” As if you were charged with electricity, you twitched and jumped beneath him. Toji fucked you through it, grinding his hips in a trajectory that caught your clit with his pubic hair. The friction was passionate, and you came with your jaw unhinged on a silent yelp.

“Give it to me,” he rasped, tongue lolling out to lick at your cleavage through your shirt. Drool rolled down the palate, collecting into a small puddle and dampening the fabric. A messy puppy, drooling all over you like that. Toji fucked harder, much too hard to be considered ‘slow’ anymore, but you didn’t stop him.

“Come on.” A hand dips beneath the collar of Toji’s tight shirt, scratching the ever loving fuck out of his upper back. “Cum baby boy.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck.” The thrusts halt abruptly; Toji rams himself deep inside and holds onto you for dear life. There’s a brief pause before he empties himself into the deepest depths of your pussy, twitching as he does so. You coo, talking him through it with an inoffensive hand raking his bangs back. They stick, his sweat acting like a sort of natural gel, and Toji’s forehead is on display. You drag him up and press your lips to it—he flushes and drops back onto you, hiding in your neck.

Toji gasps on his come down, gulping in air through his nose. He’s weak and it’s strange. Despite the stupid amount of strength trapped within that Herculean body, Toji cannot find it in him to hover anymore. His entire weight drops onto your much tinier frame, but he hears no objections so he keeps himself there.

“Worth the buildup?” You ask at last, rubbing soothing circles into the plates of his shoulder blades. Your voice is a little strained, no doubt the effects of a two-hundred-and-something-pound man crushing your lungs, but Toji likes the funny grate of it in his ears.

“You already know the answer.” It’s written in the way your cum mixes together and wets the crease of his inner thighs. He’s not exactly going to say that was the most intimate and passionate sex i’ve ever had, but he’ll show you how much it meant to him by letting you cradle him to your chest.

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kleftiko · 11 months

Text

❦ CHERRY SMOKE CLOUDS

“upon learning that your new plug is a virgin, you come up with a new way to pay for your weed”

cw: slight dubcon (sex under the influence), virginity loss (choso), car sex, corruption kink, unprotected sex, blowjobs

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You met Choso through your little sister's friend.

Without knowing Megumi and Yuji were over, you started ranting to Nobara about how your plug was moving across the country, and it was a travesty. When she gave you edibles, she packed them in cute little heart baggies, and you were never gonna find another one as good as her.

It wasn't until you turned the corner that you saw her and her two friends lounging on the couch.

Luckily, Yuji spoke up, telling you his brother grows and you could get from him.

That got you his number, and having known Yuji, you expected his brother to be a much more enthusiastic texter. You hardly expected one- to two-word responses, absolutely no emojis, and a period at the end of a sentence.

But if it got you what you wanted, you were fine with that.

Most transactions were made through Yuji or Nobara, and despite the lack of customer service that you got from your old plug, his stuff was good, so you couldn't complain.

Then, one day, Yuji messaged you, saying he was having a party at his place and you should come meet his brother. You didn't see why not, so you and Nobara got dressed up together and went.

It was unsurprising that there were a lot of people—Yuji loved making friends, after all—so it took a minute to find him. But he had a wide smile when he saw you two, giving you hugs and telling you his brother was in the garage.

You didn't have to excuse yourself cause your sister was already gone by the time you turned back, so you made your way to the garage.

Inside, there was only one person. A taller man with longer hair who was taking stuff out of the trunk of a car, and when he turned to you, you noticed his tired eyes looking at you. He was cute.

"What?" He asked.

"Choso?" You asked, and he nodded. You smiled a bit and said, "Y/N."

A look of recognition flashed across his face.

"Yuji told me you'd be coming." He then lifted the box in his arms slightly, as if to show you the alcohol. "Leave it to my brother to think a six-pack would be enough for a party."

You couldn't help the amused hum that passed your lips as your gaze traced the strained muscles in his arms.

"Want some help?"

After the two of you brought in a couple cases of liquor, you followed him back to the garage. Besides your sister and her friends, you didn't know anyone, and you figured at least Choso would have some weed on him if nothing else.

He leaned against his car and fished a lighter out of his pocket before looking at you and holding it up as an invitation. You smiled and moved to stand in front of him as he took out a case from his other pocket, placing the joint from inside between his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your brother?" You asked as he lit it.

Choso just raised an eyebrow at you, blowing out the smoke slowly and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your sister?" He retaliated casually, holding out the blunt for you.

With a couple puffs of your own, you shift your weight onto your other leg. Choso's soft gaze stays on you, waiting for you to continue.

"Why smoke out here?" You asked, and he shrugged.

"Not a fan of people." He explained, and you gave him a look. He shakes his head, "don't make it seem like I'm a loner; I just don't wanna hang out with my younger brother's friends."

"Not a fan of younger people?" You don't give him time to answer before you say, "pretty sure I'm younger than you."

"You're fine." It's casual in the way he says it, but it does something to you, and you end up shifting again when he hands you the blunt.

His eyes flicked down to your legs, taking notice of your movement. "Wanna sit?"

Choso patted the hood of the car beside him as an offer, and you looked at his fingers sitting on top of the metal. They were long and lanky, with prominent veins running through his hand and up his arm. It led you back to his face, which is waiting for your answer.

So you hopped on top of the hood, taking one more puff than is courteous, but Choso didn't say anything as he took it back.

It was a couple minutes of silence; the two of you smoked until it was just the filter, and Choso threw it away. You started to feel the familiar feeling of your head becoming heavier—or, you were just more aware of the weight of it—and you sank back onto your hands with contentment.

"So, were you just here for the weed?" Choso's voice was pretty monotone, but you could tell he was making a joke.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you noticed the red creeping up in his tired eyes.

"I mean, I won't say no if you wanna share another, but I think hanging out with you is fine by itself." You admitted, and he shook his head at you.

A couple blinks was all it took to remind you that he really did grow some good shit, and you grabbed the bottom of his shirt to tell him the compliment when you looked up at his face and forgot your train of thought.

Instead, you tugged on his shirt and coaxed him to stand in front of you as you tilted your head up at him.

"You don't look like what I thought you would." You drawled out.

"What'd you expect?" He prompted.

You pouted, "pink hair."

Choso let out a soft chuckle, and you almost melted at the sight of his smile. Unintentionally, you leaned closer to him, your eyes focused on the bridge of his nose, where you noticed a faint scar that ran across it. With your noses almost touching, you looked up into his eyes, admiring the way they locked onto you.

"You're hotter than I thought." You mumbled, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

Choso pulled back.

"If you think this'll get you free stuff, you're outta luck."

You giggled and let go of his shirt, leaning back onto your hands with a lazy smile.

"I'd tell you that even if you weren't my plug." You said. "Though, I'm sure a lot of your customers offer favours instead of money."

Once again, he shook his head at you, his smile mirroring yours. You let your head fall back, feeling the stretch in your neck as you stared at the ceiling.

"Wouldn't blame you, sex while high is incredible."

"I wouldn't know." He said and you snapped your head at him.

"You've never had sex after smoking?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you understand what he was saying.

"You've never had sex?" You clarified, and Choso shakes his head in agreement, unbothered by it.

"Never had the time." He explained, and at the back of your clouded mind, you recalled Nobara mentioning that Yuji was raised by his older brother.

You slid off the car, standing toe to toe with Choso as you looked up at him. He didn't move, and you could smell his cologne and soft hints of weed.

"Do you wanna know what it's like?" You whispered, gazing up at him through your lashes.

The thought that you could give this man everything made that small pulse of arousal that's been sitting between your legs light on fire. As you stared into Choso's eyes, a mischievous smile played on your lips. The anticipation of what you could do with him sent a rush of excitement through your body.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Choso bent down and attached his lips to yours.

He tasted smokey, but it didn't bother you as you brought your hands up into his messy hair. His large hands travelled down your sides and roughly pulled you closer to him. Your knee bumped between his legs, and he uttered a deep moan into your mouth.

Detaching yourself from him, you grabbed his shirt and tugged him to switch places with him, pushing his legs into the hood of his car and forcing him to sit atop it.

Your hands then moved to his jeans as you kissed him again, undoing the button and zipper as you bit his lips. Choso let out a little whine, shakey fingers grasping at your own shirt when you stuck your hand down his pants and cupped his half-hard cock. As you stroked him, you scattered kisses and bites down his neck and along his jaw, leaving nothing to catch the hisses he let out of his mouth in response to your attack. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as his breathing grew heavier. The intensity of the moment heightened as you whispered in his ear, teasing him with promises of what was to come.

Then you sank your knees onto the concrete floor between his legs, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his cock and balls, your mouth watering at the size.

As you looked up into his eyes, you gently licked his red tip and watched him shut his eyes in pleasure, his hand coming to the top of your head. Then you took him to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud and wanton moan from the man above you. Despite slapping his other hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, you felt a shiver at the noise, knowing that you were driving him wild with something so simple. With each movement of your mouth, you could feel his grip on your hair tighten, urging you to go deeper. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you lost yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of giving him ecstasy. His dick was slobbered with your spit, and besides the faint music coming from the house, the garage was filled with the disgusting sounds of you slurping and choking on his cock and Choso's beautiful stuttering noises of bliss.

Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him; the salty precum and weight of his dick on your tongue had you rocking your neglected pussy into your heel. When his moans and whimpers started to catch at the back of his throat, you cupped his heavy balls in your hands, gently massaging them as you continued to pleasure him. The intensity of the moment heightened as you felt his body tense and his breathing become more erratic, signalling that he was about to cum. With a mischievous smile, you increased the speed and pressure of your movements, determined to push him over the edge and make him lose control completely.

The grip on your hair tightened as he let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking uncontrollably against your touch. The raw desire in his eyes fueled your own excitement, and you revelled in the power you had over him in the moment. As he finally reached his climax, you continued to stroke him through his release, savouring the feeling of his pulse against your tongue and his cum running down your throat.

His tired eyes were glazed with lust when you popped him out and stood up. His chest was breathing heavily, but that didn't stop him from grabbing your face and pulling you into a searing kiss, licking up the drops of his cum that slipped from your lips. You moaned at his eagerness to clean his own grime from your face and ran your hands down his clothed body, fingernails scraping along his muscles as they twitched.

"Please," He begged between kisses. "Please fuck me."

You pulled away, looking at the man in front of you with hunger.

"Back seat." You commanded, and Choso listened to you.

The two of you stumbled to the car, pawing at each other as you removed your clothes. By the time you shut the door behind you, the two of you were in your underwear. Choso was hard once again as you mounted him.

Taking off your bra, his eyes locked onto your tits before eagerly going for them with his mouth. but you grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He nearly whimpered at the denial, but you were firm.

"I need to see your face when I take your virginity, baby." You told him.

Choso nodded his head and helped you two rid yourself of the last bit of clothing. Grabbing his cock, you lined it up with your soaking lips as Choso's fingers fluttered over your hips in anticipation. You looked at him, only to find his watery eyes locked on your pussy as he swallowed harshly. You were sure that if you led him on any longer, he would start crying.

"Choso," your sweet voice cooed.

When he locked eyes with yours, you sheathed yourself over his cock, watching firsthand as his mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back as a broken moan pushed past his lips. It was filthy and erotic, and it made you lift your hips and slam back down onto him just to see his reaction again. His body trembled beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him. The intensity of the moment fueled your own desire, igniting a primal need to dominate and explore every inch of his body.

"That feel good, baby?" You asked, knowing he couldn't answer. "Feel good to get fucked in the back of your car?"

Choso whimpered.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear, as you whispered, "You love being used like this for your first time, don't you?"

The sound of his desperate moans only fueled your attack further, pushing you to take him even harder.

"Your cock feels so good inside me, Choso." You continued to enjoy his reactive body. "so big, I don't think I can just fuck you once."

In his first bout of control, Choso grabbed the back of your head and shut you up with a kiss, hips lifting against yours in desperation.

"So fucking perfect." He managed to huff out, and you rewarded him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts. The intensity of the moment heightened as Choso's grip tightened on your head, his kiss silencing your words. With each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.

He managed to gasp, overcome with the pleasure you were giving him, "You're absolutely incredible." The squeeze of your pussy caused him to lose his rhythm, further intensifying the passion between you.

You smiled wickedly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Yea?" You asked. "Wanna cum inside me?"

It was as if a switch had been flipped. His eyes darkened with desire, and a primal growl escaped his lips. Without hesitation, he grasped your hips firmly and increased the pace, thrusting into you with an urgency that matched your own. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and you let out your own noises of pleasure at Choso's actions.

Feeling your climax near, you dug your nails into his bare chest, urging him on. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you reached the peak of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy. Spurts of his cum painted the inside of you, making you moan at the feeling before collapsing against him, sweaty bodies entangling. For a long moment, heavy breathing was the only sound in the hot car. As the air slowly cooled, you both basked in the afterglow.

With a satisfied smile, Choso gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "That was incredible."

You breathed out a laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cuddling into him.

"Yea," you agreed. "We need to smoke together more often."

#kleftiko’s kinktober #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut

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blueywrites · 5 months

Text

u-haul 'cause I might let you move in it (1/2)

dom dealer!eddie x sub fem!reader Inspired by @2jihiir0's fanart 'make it quick... baby's sleeping'. leave them some love! read part two here.

2.5k

cw (both parts): 18+. smut, drug use (weed), situationship becoming something more (???), shame kink, praise & degradation, pet names, exhibitionism-adjacent, no y/n, no physical descriptors, eddie's still a fairly soft dom bc I'm just not hard like that 😭

an: this is just the start of the filth, y'all - most of it occurs in part two 😌 shout out to @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @word-wytch and @the-unforgivenn for their feral support and @fracturedarkness bc this wouldn't exist without her.

enjoy part one! 🩵

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow through the dusty blinds of the trailer. The air inside is thick with the scent of smoke and stale beer, a heady mixture that clings to the walls. It’s the kind of smell that seeps into your clothes, your hair, your skin. It should leave you feeling slightly suffocated, especially considering the oppressive humidity also clinging to every surface, but somehow, there's a measure of comfort in the acrid scent.

You’re sitting on the threadbare couch, the fabric worn with age creaking as you shift restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the heat. The fabric scratches your soles as you prop your feet up, leaning against the couch arm, fanning the neck of your thin tank top to peel the dampness from your chest. Beneath the old coffee table, your flip-flops lay forgotten, abandoned on the threadbare carpet. A beer bottle sits nearby, sweating rings onto the surface of the table, a testament to the lazy haze of the afternoon.

On the other side of the couch, your dealer lounges against the cushions, his movements fluid and practiced as he rolls a joint with deft, inked fingers. You look over at Eddie as he watches the TV, his head lolled back against the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded, relaxed. He looks good. You can’t help but spend a long moment staring at him: the angles of his face, his big brown eyes and puffy lips, his long, shaggy curls that frame his high cheekbones. He’s pretty, and he’d look downright innocent if it wasn’t for the long nick of white scar tissue kissing the edge of his lip and the scruff darkening his cheeks and jaw. Your gaze dips lower over his tight black jeans, lingering where they meet his rust-colored tank. The shirt is caught up around his hip, revealing a strip of pale skin and a tattoo that you can just see the bottom of. You want to run your tongue over it, then keep mapping all his ink until your mouth has touched each bit of darkness on him.

This thing with Eddie started when you broke up with Trevor and lost your go-to source for getting high. When you’d asked around, a friend of a friend recommended Eddie Munson, saying he was the best you could come by in the area: decent product, reasonable prices, and not a total creep. The first couple times were quick transactions, and then you started hanging around because the girl who hooked you up also told you Eddie would likely offer to smoke you out if you did. He let you hang around because he didn't much care either way, and he didn't find you hard to look at. That led quickly to casual sex whenever you saw each other, usually when you'd come by a couple times a month to restock your supply. And the sex is great– better than the weed, and Eddie's weed is always high quality. He just has this ability to make you feel special in the moment without having any expectations about whatever-you-and-he-were as soon as you pull your panties back on, leaving you free to date whoever you wanted when you left his trailer.

It’s ecstasy to have all of his attention focused on you in those moments because, though Eddie looks like a mean bastard, he gets off on your pleasure. He's not one to make you feel used or neglected; he's a thorough lover. And he has a knack for straddling the perfect line between sweet and sour. He'd praise you then humiliate you in the next breath, and it drove you wild. Kept you coming back even though he never expressed interest in taking you out or doing anything with you other than just getting high, watching TV, and fucking you 'til you screamed.

And then, at some point, you find yourself declining guys' offers for dinner or drinks. You just don’t feel like going out anymore, because trying to find Mr. Right was getting exhausting— at least, that's what you tell yourself. And Eddie starts calling you sometimes to let you know he had a new strain he thought you'd like, some of Rick's fancy shit. Soon enough, you go from seeing him twice a month to twice a week, sometimes more. And slowly but surely, you begin to notice a change in yourself. You start staring at all his tattoos and wondering what the stories are behind them. Feeling an odd flutter when you flop down next to him and he'd sling his arm around your shoulder without a thought. Laying tangled in his musty bedsheets, and when he leaves to go to the bathroom, secretly burying your nose against his pillow because the smell of him has suddenly become... comforting.

Things are changing for you, and you really hope they are for him, too. 'Cause if not, it seems your traitorous heart has determined you'll be in for a world of hurt.

"Y'want some of this?" Eddie's voice cuts through the haze, drawing your attention away from the television. You glance over to see him holding up the joint, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The glow of the joint illuminates his features, soft against the curve of his cheek.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your own lips as you shift closer to him. He pats his thigh, a silent invitation, and you don’t hesitate to straddle his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your pajama shorts. His jeans are rough against your tender inner thighs as you shift, grazing the hardening bulge pressing against his zipper; your stomach tightens with the first whispers of arousal as you feel it brush against you.

"Gimme a show then, kitten," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making that arousal bloom fuller as you grow excited. It’s a playful taunt, a challenge, but beneath the teasing facade, you can sense something more—a hint of possessiveness, maybe even of longing. That could just be your wishful thinking, but nonetheless, your heart races at the prospect as you meet his gaze, accepting his challenge.

With a coy smile, you slip off the couch, settling on your knees and running your nails up his thighs on your way to his lap. You take your time unbuckling his belt, keeping your movements slow and unhurried, though you secretly throb as you begin to unwrap him. It’s crazy how quickly he turns you on— how all he has to do is smirk and pin you with a look, or murmur a few words in that low, husky tone, and you’re already wetting your panties for him.

Eddie waits just long enough for you to shimmy his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and then he catches you by the jaw with a broad, rough palm. You look up at him as he guides you back up with his light grip on your face. His eyes flick down to your mouth as he leans forward, curls swinging to kiss his jaw. You brighten, eager to feel his mouth on yours, wondering what kind of kiss he’ll reward you with— something slow and sweet, or wet and filthy. But he leaves just a peck on your lips before drawing back, tightening his hold on your jaw to keep you firmly in place when you instinctively go to chase him.

You fall immediately into a pout, slumping back on your heels as he breathes a chuckle at you. Eddie bends to lightly pat your cheek a few times in consolation before settling back into the cushions, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He must know the gesture would rile you up, and it does— you feel your disappointment churn in your belly, turning to petulance. In retaliation, you clamber up to your feet, abandoning your position kneeling before his boots. With narrowed eyes, you drop your shorts and panties together without ceremony, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, denying him the chance to enjoy watching you strip. You cross your arms when your bratting only makes him smirk even wider at you. He quirks an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?”

You resent how much you like his stupid face.

The couch creaks its protest as you climb up onto it, slinging a leg over his lap again, this time with nothing separating your skin from his, which is hot and slightly sticky with the humidity. His cock kicks subtly when your pussy grazes him, and you bite your lip, feeling an answering pulse of desire within yourself. When you mount him, reaching behind to grip him at the base and notch his fat head at your entrance, Eddie prepares for your performance: draping his arms casually over the backrest, fingers idly tapping against the worn fabric, his other arm hinging to bring the joint lazily to his lips.

He looks like such an asshole, waiting for you to service him. And you might've goaded him more because of it, but you forget about being bratty the second you sink down on his lap, taking him all the way into you.

A quiet moan sighs from between your cracked lips when you sit fully on his cock, your eyes slipping closed as you get lost in that initial stretch. He's not the only guy you've fucked— far from it— but there’s just something about the way he slots inside, nudging against the end of you, that always leaves you feeling more perfectly filled than anyone else. Eddie watches with a sly glint in his half-lidded eyes as you start to grind on him, letting yourself drift into the space he always brings you into. With him, you can be soft, sensual, and needy, but also desperate and pathetic. You can act out all your secret desires, know that Eddie will flay you open and force you to acknowledge them, and let the shame of it get you off all at once.

Eddie lets you be a freak, and better yet, he likes it.

Desperate to earn his approval, you run your hands up your body, dragging over your hips and up to your neck as you ride him. Your abdomen rolls as you grind with fluid, sensual movements, doing your best to put on the show he’d requested. You look at him through your lashes as your wandering fingers catch on the hem of your tank top, dragging it slowly up to reveal your soft belly. You hold it just below your breasts so Eddie can watch the way your curves bend and move while you work his cock.

In some respects, the dance is for you as much as it’s for him because the way Eddie watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring every inch of your body, really turns you on. You bite your lip, your clit swelling with anticipation as you tease him with a glimpse of the underside of your breasts. He hums approvingly, taking a leisurely hit from the joint. As the smoke curls around him in a tantalizing haze, you give in sooner than you’d been intending and ruck up your top to let your breasts fall out. You start to play with them, squeezing and kneading as you rock your hips harder, your own need mounting.

Gradually, your performance ceases being a performance. Your nipples begin to ache, begging to be touched, and a moan spills unbidden from your lips as you tweak and pinch them, sending pleasure zinging straight down within you. You close your eyes, a tiny frown forming as you try to concentrate on the low flame of your arousal, but it remains at a frustratingly low simmer. You rock faster, grind harder, pinch harsher, your movements a silent plea for the sweet relief only Eddie can give. You’ve built your own pleasure as much as you can on your own, and now, you need him. The coyness is wiped from your expression, replaced with a begging pinch in your brow, a needy, wet shine in your eyes as you blink unseeingly at him, all pretty and pathetic on his lap.

At the border between satisfaction and desperation— that’s where he wanted you.

A hand at your hip stills your movements, and as your eyes snap to focus on Eddie's face, you see he’s leaned forward, his nose scant inches from yours. His other elbow is planted on the couch arm, the joint poised tantalizingly nearby in his ringed fingers. Eddie squeezes your hip firmly, then again more gratuitously, and when you obediently fall still to sit motionless on his cock, he lets his palm slide up the curve of your waist in a drag that makes you gasp, you're so wired and ready for his touch. You watch, rapt, as he brings the joint toward his lips, salivating as a swipe of his tongue moistens them.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap up to his, captured completely by his unwavering gaze. As he inhales, those brown eyes glitter in the orange that flares bright at the joint’s end. And he keeps that point of contact between you as his broad palm travels up, up, up— over the supple heft of your breast, grazing the hard peak of your nipple, skimming the thrumming pulse in your neck, his thumb catching on the underside of your jaw as he cups your cheek. He closes those scant inches between you, and when the bulb of his nose nudges yours, your mouth falls open as your eyes slip closed.

He exhales, you inhale. When the warm rush of Eddie’s breath kisses your lips, you take it into you, your chest expanding as your lungs fill with smoke. The taste of him mingles with a heady rush of arousal, and you continue to take, even through the twinge of discomfort as your lungs stretch to accommodate it all. As Eddie gives you the last of his smoke, you close your mouth, keeping it all inside.

“Hold it,” he murmurs against your skin. His lips trail kisses along your jaw as you obey, fighting your diaphragm as it hitches, wanting to cough. You make a little noise in the back of your throat when he nips you, the brief sharp sting soothed soon after by the flat of his tongue. You hold as long as you can, and when you finally exhale, Eddie rewards you by taking hold of your hips, pulling you into a slow, sensual grind as he kisses you sloppy, wet lips wide and devouring. The friction and fervor crash over you in an intense wave of pleasure, one that has you whining, twisting your fingers in his hair, pressing your tits to his chest, ready to ignite—

The front door shakes with the pounding of a heavy fist.

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

i recently started following you and i absolutely love your writing! you have such great talent!

no pressure at all and feel free to scream at me if this is out of your boundaries (i read ur guidelines so it shouldn’t be but you never know). I’m curious if you could write reader with literally anyone, just in denial that they like them. like she used to go out with really shifty guys and is just appalled that this person actually likes them

(this definitely isn’t self-indulgent at all….)

Thanks for requesting baby! (I would never scream at you lmao) I did this with dealer Eddie, hope that's alright :)

cw: weed, mention of transactional sex

dealer!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Eddie’s grinning big when he opens the door to his trailer. He takes off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. You can hear Black Sabbath still playing from the speakers.

“Hey.” His voice has a slightly raspy quality to it, and you wonder if he’s been singing or smoking. “You lookin’ for a fix, pretty?”

You grasp the strap of your bag self-consciously, forcing a bouncy “yep” past your lips. Eddie’s got a way of saying things that makes you feel awkward and flighty, like your heart might lurch right out of your ribcage at any moment. It should be routine by now, but you’ll probably never get over it.

Eddie only nods and opens the door further, inviting you in. He sets a hand on your back as you go by, and you try not to look as shy as the touch makes you feel.

“Same as usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You lean against the counter while he crosses the room to the drawer where he keeps his stash.

You’ve been coming to Eddie for years now. You weren’t exactly friends in high school but you were always friendly, and every time you leave his place you’re freshly shocked by the realization that you actually really like him. You appreciate that he keeps it business. Well, as business as anything can be with Eddie. Flirting is just part of the package, but he doesn’t try to smoke your stuff after he sells it to you and doesn’t seem to expect anything other than money in return. Shitty as it sounds, a dealer like that can be hard to come by in your experience.

“I’ve been missing you, sweet thing,” he says, taking out a big zip lock bag of bud and a smaller one to portion yours into. “Thought you might’ve found someone else to keep you happy.”

You don’t respond for a second, and Eddie’s head tilts up from where he’s picking through the bag, eyebrows going up in intrigue.

“I was seeing this guy for awhile,” you say, looking sideways out the window. “He got pre-rolls from someone else, and he’d let me have them sometimes.”

“Well shit, I can roll for you if it’ll keep you coming over.”

You look at Eddie in surprise. He grins at you, jutting his chin towards the couch.

“Sit down, I’ll get you set up.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say.

“Gotta keep my favorite customer happy, don’t I?” You don’t move, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “It’s no problem, just sit down. Tell me about this guy. Does he treat you right?”

You follow directions, going to sit on the less saggy and dingy-looking of the couch cushions while Eddie bends over the counter across from you. “Not really,” you say indifferently. As if thinking about it doesn’t send a dull ache blooming through your middle. “We aren’t together anymore.”

Eddie glances up at you, something odd flitting across his expression. “That sucks,” he says bluntly. “I’m sorry. I mean, it sounds like he sucked, so I guess I’m not sorry that it’s over even if I’m sorry that you’re sad. Are you sad?”

A little laugh startles out of you. “Not really,” you say, and it’s halfway to honest. You’d been sad to break up with him, but Eddie is right; he sucked. You’re not really sad it’s over either.

“Good.” He nods, appeased. “Thought I’d have to go beat someone up or something.”

You snort, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in offense. He looks back down at the roll, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Feels like you’re not taking my threat of vengeance super seriously.”

“No, I am,” you laugh. “I am, it’s just—you don’t seem like someone who wins a ton of fights.”

“Ah!” He clutches a fist over his heart, looking at you in absolute betrayal. “So little faith! I’ve fought worse monsters than your jilted beaux, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing it’s a little different in real life than in your game.”

Eddie pauses for a half a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far in your teasing, but then he bends back over the table, bringing the paper to his mouth. “Right.” He runs his tongue quickly across the roll. “Well, anyway, I have a spear in my garage if you want me to give it a try.”

You smile at the thought of Eddie jabbing his (in your imagination, plastic and nerdy) spear at your most recent ex.

“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you say.

He shrugs. “Your loss. I’d have taken off my shirt for the battle, but I guess you’ll have to get that show another time.”

You laugh, crossing your legs as he starts on another roll. “Hey, you don’t actually have to roll all this,” you say. “I won’t stop coming to you.”

“I don’t mind it,” he replies, packing the next with easy, practiced movements. “Unless you’re in a rush or something. Do you have to go?”

“No, I’m…I’m good.” You’ve never spent this long at Eddie’s place before. It’s usually that you show up, he gives you a bag, you pay, and you leave. You’ve never taken much time to survey the trailer, the way Eddie moves around the cramped furniture with such ease or the way the windows let in just enough light to make his skin look softer and his eyes browner. “You can leave half of it, though, if that’s okay. I’ve still got a bowl at home.”

“Whatever you want.” He keeps his focus downward, ringed fingers moving carefully. “You know, I’ve actually kind of missed having you come around.”

“You said that already.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling even though he’s not looking. “I told you I’ll keep coming back, Eddie, you don’t have to butter me up.”

His gaze flicks to you, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “I’m not,” he says.

Something about his tone has the hairs raising on the back of your neck. You keep intentionally still as a slight chill goes through you.

“I like hanging out with you.” He shrugs, looking back at his roll. “Would you want to hang out again soon?”

You hesitate. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing any more for a bit.”

“Well, ideally you wouldn’t be here to buy.”

For a second, you’re confused, and then realization and dread collide in your gut with enough force to make you nauseous. The disappointment is more potent than either of them.

“Oh.” Maybe Eddie isn’t so different from the other dealers you’ve had after all. “Um, I just feel like I’ve always paid in cash…”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face contorts. “Christ—no.” He drops the finished roll, holding up his palms as if to ward you off. “Not that! Ew—I mean—” His hands go to his head. “—not ew, like you’re not ew, I just—gah.” He drops his head back, and his fingers disappear into his hair, making fists. He looks almost pained. “I like you. Like, I’m not trying to have sex with you right now. Not that sex wouldn’t be cool—we could if you wanted to—but that’s not what I’m getting at.”

He blows out a big breath, hands dropping to his knees, and looks you in the eye.

“Can we just forget about the weed for a second?” he asks, sounding nearly desperate. “I’m trying to ask you on a date. Not to get you to fuck me for drugs.” Your mouth drops open, but Eddie keeps going. “And if you don’t want to go out, that’s totally cool. Very respectable, honestly. It doesn’t have to affect anything.” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say you were ew. I’m sorry.”

You’re too shell-shocked to even laugh. You have whiplash. But now he’s looking at you with his big eyes all expectant, and you feel like you have to say something.

“A date?” you ask.

“Uh, yeah.” He leans against the counter, looking a bit awkward but somehow all the more endearing for it. “Like, to the arcade or maybe dairy queen or something—I don’t know, you can pick.”

“And you…don’t want to have sex.”

“I don’t not want to have sex,” he clarifies. “But, uh, we don’t have to at all. Like, only if you want to, and definitely not if you think it’s some sort of…” Eddie winces “...transaction.”

You nod slowly, and now there’s a smile tugging persistently at your lips. “That sounds good,” you say. “The date part.”

“Yeah?” His head picks up. “Really?”

You smile. “Yeah. Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Eddie guffaws. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I’m getting a much better deal here. But no take-backs,” he says quickly, and his grin widens when you laugh. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah.” You think for a second, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing tomorrow.”

“Great.” Eddie presses his lips together like he’s trying to contain the full scope of his smile. He pushes his fingers into the countertop. “Okay, forget everything from today. I’m gonna be such a fucking gentleman when I pick you up tomorrow, you probably won’t even recognize me.”

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mcdynamite · 1 year

Text

CWs: discussions of sexuality (particularly demisexuality, though Steve and Eddie don’t know a term for it at the time), VERY mild sexual context

Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.

He's not, like, trying to brag about it, or anything. Frankly, he's not even sure it's something he would want to brag about in the first place. It's just an objective fact.

The sky is blue. The Earth is round. Water is wet.

And Steve Harrington has had a lot of sex.

Which is...well, a little bit bizarre, considering the fact that he's not entirely convinced he actually enjoys it most of the time.

At first, he chalks it up to inexperience. Everyone's first times were a little bit awkward, weren't they? Maybe everyone felt weird and a little bit off-kilter the first time someone touched them like that. Maybe everyone felt icky for hours afterwards, like something was just off. Steve had spent his childhood going to church on Sundays (at least, until he turned 10, and Richard and Susan decided he no longer needed luxuries like parents), so maybe it was just guilt.

That was a thing, right? Catholic guilt, or whatever? He'll get over it. He's sure of it.

Only...he's less sure of it several months later, when he still can't get rid of that stupid icky feeling, and he can never quite grasp what Tommy is talking about whenever the dude starts obsessing over wanting to fuck some pretty actress in whatever movie they’re watching. When he’s with a girl, he feels anxious the moment clothes start to come off, despite the fact that he wants this. He wants to have sex. He wants someone to touch him and make him feel good. He wants to do the same for someone else. But it always feels wrong.

The only part he really likes is what comes after, when he can wrap his arms around whatever girl he's with that week and just hold her - no more sex required, now that it's over and done with. That part feels good. Amazing, even. He loves having someone to cuddle up with - to make him feel less alone in his fucking mausoleum of a house. It's nice. It feels good.

He's pretty sure it's the only reason he keeps having sex in the first place. It's like a transaction. Steve gets the girls off, and in exchange, they stick around for a little while afterwards to fill the echoing silence of Steve's house with soft laughter and quiet words.

And sure...sometimes Steve sort of falls apart after they leave to get home before their curfews. Usually, it just leaves him feeling squirmy and anxious. But sometimes, when it's especially bad, Steve sits on the floor of the shower with his arms around his knees for ages and cries until the water gets cold, unable to wash the icky feeling away.

He knows he should stop doing this to himself, but God, he's so fucking lonely, and now he's made a reputation for himself. Now there are expectations, and if Steve has learned one thing from Richard Harrington, it's that living up to expectations is the most important thing in life.

So he keeps doing it. His technique gets better, despite how wrong he feels, and the girls keep coming. And Steve keeps wondering what the fuck is wrong with him - why he feels physically pleasured enough to come most of the time, but always hates himself afterwards.

Then, at the beginning of his junior year, he starts dating Nancy Wheeler.

He knows right away that this feels different from any of his other flings. Nancy is sweet, and smart, and just a bit of a firecracker, and Steve loves it. Even better, she doesn't try to get him into bed on their first date, or their second, or even their third. It's not until the pool party that things take a more intimate turn between them, and by then, Steve is smitten.

He waits for the ick to kick in while he caresses her and kisses her everywhere - waits for the feeling of weirdbadwrong to make itself known - but this time... it doesn't. This time, Steve looks down at his partner and is stunned by how beautiful she looks. It's never been like this with any of the other girls - he's never wanted any of them quite like this - and for the first time, Steve really, genuinely enjoys having sex.

There's no ick; no uncomfortable feeling in his belly that sort of makes him feel ill. There's just Nancy, who looks and sounds beautiful, and smiles at him as they doze off together afterwards. It's amazing. It's perfect.

Steve thinks that maybe he's normal, after all.

He should know better than to get his hopes up, by now.

The next year is a whirlwind of absolute insanity. There are monsters, and alternate dimensions, and little kids with honest-to-God superpowers, and funerals... and sex becomes the least of Steve's worries.

He and Nancy are only intimate a handful of other times, after that first night (it's hard to get in the mood when all either of them can think about is how the first time they did this, her best friend was dying), and despite everything else going on, the ick, at least, stays away. It seems to be proof that Steve isn't broken or weird. He just needed some time to get used to sex.

He realizes how wrong he is the first time he tries to hook up with someone after Nancy breaks his heart, when the ick comes back. After that, he only tries once more, and then he just stops trying to score entirely... pretends he's just lost his touch and feels secretly relieved every time Robin Buckley puts a tally under the "You Suck" side of the whiteboard in the back room.

It goes on like this until March of 1986, when Eddie Munson comes barrelling into his life and changes everything.

His relationship with Eddie is unlike any he's ever had. They start out as tentative friends after everything with Vecna is finally over, and then it grows from there.

They hang out with the kids at Steve's place, which eventually turns into them hanging out without the kids. They talk about the weather, and the Upside Down, and music, and DnD campaigns. Anything and everything that comes to mind. Eddie tells Steve how he came to live with Wayne, and in return, Steve tells Eddie about his parents - about how he sometimes feels like he's haunting his own home.

(Eddie starts making excuses to stay the night more often, after that conversation, and Steve doesn't mention it, but he notices.)

And one day he looks over at Eddie, who's talking animatedly to El while Steve pops popcorn for their movie night, and suddenly, it hits him like a goddamn truck.

Eddie Munson is beautiful.

Steve can barely breathe as the realization takes hold, because he's not used to seeing people this way. He can appreciate when someone is objectively attractive, sure, but he rarely looks at someone and wants like this. He rarely looks at a person and wonders what their lips would feel like against his own, or what sort of sounds they make when they come, or what they'd look like with Steve's love bites riddling their skin...

He's only looked at one other person this way before: Nancy, after they'd been dating for a few weeks and had gotten to know each other better.

He's so shocked by the sheer amount of wanting he's feeling for Eddie that he blows right past the gay panic part of his bisexual awakening, straight into bumbling idiot with a crush territory.

And really, it must be obvious, because two weeks later, Eddie's gaze locks onto Steve's while they're sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, and Eddie smiles. It's a soft, gentle thing - so different from the maniacal grins he gives the kids when they're all hanging out together - and it steals all of the breath from Steve's lungs. His heart races as the air around them shifts, and for once, it's out of excitement rather than anxiety.

Eddie's voice is devastatingly timid when he murmurs, "Stevie, can I kiss you?"

Steve feels like he could cry out of happiness. His answer is a simple nod, and when Eddie kisses him slowly, sweetly, chastely, Steve can feel any remaining anxiety melting away.

Because this kiss isn't a demand, or a prelude to all of those other activities that Steve wants but isn't sure he's quite ready for with Eddie, yet. It's not a challenge.

It's a promise - a promise that this thing that's been blossoming between them over the last few months is real. Wordlessly, Eddie vows to treat him with care, and Steve does the same in kind.

And it's perfect.

They take things slow - slower than Steve and Nancy did, and definitely slower than Steve's ever gone with anyone else. Steve doesn't ask for sex, now that he no longer has a persona to uphold, and Eddie doesn't push. They're both perfectly content to share soft kisses and quiet words while they lay tangled together in one of their beds with their pajamas on, for now.

It takes more than a month for Eddie to bring it up.

"Baby, can I ask you something?" Eddie asks quietly.

They're curled up in Steve's bed after a long day taking the kids swimming at the quarry, and neither of them have said much for the last half hour or so. Eddie has been flipping through one of his D&D books, and Steve has been laying with his head pillowed on Eddie's chest, listening to his boyfriend's occasional mutterings about tieflings and trolls and some sort of forest quest. He's not even sure Eddie realizes he mutters to himself while he reads, and that just makes Steve love it even more.

Steve just hums sleepily and props his chin on Eddie's sternum to look up at him, face immediately falling into a frown. Eddie looks contemplative and a little nervous, and Steve already hates whatever this conversation is going to be about. He doesn't like it when Eddie is upset. It breaks his heart every time.

Swallowing thickly, he pushes himself off of Eddie's chest so they can lay on their sides facing each other, hands tangling between them because they're always touching these days. "What's up, Eds?" Steve asks. He hopes his voice is encouraging and doesn't give away the anxiety beginning to roll in his stomach.

Eddie hesitates, face scrunching up adorably like it always does when he's thinking too hard about something.

"We don't have sex," Eddie finally blurts out unceremoniously.

Steve's heart plummets, but he tries to keep his tone light when he speaks. "Is there a question in that...?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie won't meet his eyes, and it makes Steve feel strangely off-kilter. Eddie hasn't been this skittish around him in months.

"I don't know, just... doesn't that bother you, or something?" he says finally.

Steve deflects. "Does it bother you?"

He's dreading Eddie's answer.

But he only dreads it for a moment, because Eddie's eyes go wide and apologetic immediately. "No! No, Stevie, I'm fine with what we've been doing," Eddie says quickly. "I mean, I want to do more, you know? But it's totally fine if you don't. I guess I'm just worried I'm... boring you?"

Steve's expression must be incredulous, because Eddie backtracks instantly.

"Wow, okay, that sounded way worse out loud than it did in my head. Jesus H. Christ," Eddie sighs.

"Why would you think you're boring me?" Steve asks, unable to let it go, because it's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Eddie has ever said (and that is a high bar to clear). In what world could Eddie - funny, unpredictable, unbearably sweet Eddie - be boring?

Eddie winces, then shrugs. "I don't know, man, you're just..." He pauses; Steve waits. "You're Steve Harrington, you know? It's not exactly a secret that you got around while we were in school. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing!" Eddie clarifies. "Whatever you did before doesn't bother me because it doesn't matter anymore, right? But you obviously like having sex, and we obviously haven't done anything more than kiss yet, and I was just wondering if that bothered you, I guess..."

For a moment, Steve considers lying. He considers telling Eddie that it doesn't bother him, but that he's ready for more if Eddie is, because it sounds like Eddie might be, and Steve doesn't want to disappoint him. He's pretty sure he could have a decent enough time having sex with Eddie if that's what Eddie wants. He could bite the bullet in the name of keeping everything else - the amazing parts of this little thing between them that make every part of Steve's soul feel warm and comforted and held.

So, yeah. He considers it - lying and putting on a good face while he gives Eddie what everyone always seems to want from Steve Harrington - but then he meets Eddie's eyes and reconsiders.

Eddie's gaze is open and kind and nervous, not expectant. He looks vulnerable and more than a little self-conscious, and in that moment, Steve decides that he's not going to let this thing with Eddie meet the same uncomfortable end as all the others. If Eddie can be vulnerable, if Eddie can be open and honest, then Steve can meet him halfway and do the same.

"What if I don't?" he asks, voice weak and unsure. He sounds so small - like a child, almost - and he hates it.

Eddie frowns. "What if you don't what?"

"You said it was obvious that I liked having sex," Steve replies shakily. He can't quite meet Eddie's eyes, but he sees Eddie's hesitant nod out of the corner of his eye. "Well... what if I don't?"

Steve wonders if the silence that follows feels as deafening and suffocating to Eddie as it does to him.

"I don't understand..." Eddie says. His voice is soft, like he's afraid he might scare Steve away, and Steve realizes suddenly that his own hands are trembling.

"I-" he murmurs haltingly. "It's just... sex is sort of weird for me, sometimes." He pauses, then quietly adds, "Most of the time, actually." He chances a look at Eddie's face and immediately wishes he hadn't, because Eddie's frown is deep and concerned and Steve doesn't know how to fix it.

"Okay," Eddie says slowly, giving Steve's hands a reassuring squeeze. "Do you think you could tell me what you mean by that?"

And, well... Steve does his best to explain. He tells Eddie about the way he'd felt icky back in high school, whenever he hooked up with some random girl from his class. He tells Eddie that he'd wanted to have sex, but for some reason it always seemed to feel like something was off. Sometimes, it felt like something was missing. Other times, it felt like too much.

Steve tells him about the times when he felt wrong-footed and uncomfortable for hours afterwards, even long after the girl had left. He quietly recounts, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, those few occasions that had made him feel so terrible he'd sat on the shower floor and cried until the hot water ran out, unable to wash the feeling away.

He tells Eddie everything - about those precious few times with Nancy when he'd felt normal, about his attempts after their breakup that made him feel weirdbadwrong once again, about his relief every time he scared a new girl off at Scoops with his purposefully dismal flirting.

Steve tells Eddie everything, and Eddie listens.

By the end, there are tear tracks on Steve's face, trailing downwards towards a small damp spot on his pillow, but Eddie takes it all in stride. He simply raises a hand to brush away the tears and presses his lips to Steve's forehead, all while thanking Steve for telling him, and assuring Steve that there's no pressure, with them. There's no timeline, no expectation of sex, and there never will be. Eddie is happy to wait as long as Steve needs, and if the time never comes, then that's alright, too.

The thought alone brings additional tears of relief to Steve's eyes, and he feels a part of his heart unclench when Eddie's arms wrap around him that night as they drift off to sleep, just as they've done most nights for the last month. He feels safe inside the cocoon of Eddie’s arms, in the knowledge that Eddie knows, now, and he’s not going anywhere. Any lingering anxiety dissipates entirely the following morning, when Eddie bitches and moans about being woken up for work, but still kisses Steve just as sweetly before he goes, no less adoring than the day before.

It gives Steve honest-to-God butterflies, and he feels a bit like a lovesick teenager when he watches Eddie pull out of the driveway that morning. He wonders if maybe they’ll just carry on as though nothing has changed at all.

In the end, things do change, but it doesn’t take long for Steve to realize they’ve changed for the better. Their conversation seems to have opened the door for the kind of vulnerability that Steve’s never had with anyone else before, and it’s nice. More than nice, actually. It comes with the sort of honesty and trust he’s longed for his entire life. It comes with sweet kisses that never become too insistent, and soft touches that never wander into unwanted places. For the first time, Steve can relax and let himself be cared for…let himself fall even deeper in love with Eddie Munson than he already is.

Things progress, despite remaining temporarily paused on the physical front. They tell Robin about their relationship, and after she’s done half-crying, half-laughing her way through congratulating them, she gives Eddie an astonishingly frightening shovel-talk. They tell Dustin a few days later, and then the rest of the kids and Nancy. They go on their first official date at the drive-in, where they can cuddle up without needing to worry about the prying eyes of the ignorant assholes who make up most of the population of Hawkins.

A little over a month after The Talk, Steve holds Eddie’s hand while Eddie tells his Uncle Wayne that they’re together, and after Wayne wraps Eddie up in the biggest bear-hug of all time, he does the same to Steve and assures him that as long as he never hurts Wayne’s boy, Steve will always be welcome in the Munson home. Steve doesn’t comment on the tears shining in Eddie’s eyes, but he holds Eddie extra tightly that night. Tells Eddie how proud he is. Wonders how much longer he’ll be able to stop himself from slipping up and confessing exactly how much he loves Eddie.

And one day, after months of chaste kisses and soft, conservative touches…Steve feels ready for more.

They start slow, at Eddie’s insistence and to Steve’s relief. At first, it’s nothing but the two of them laying in Eddie’s bed, jerking themselves off side by side. They’re barely touching, aside from the occasional brush of the arm, but Steve feels like he’s on fire in the best way. Eddie’s choked off gasps go straight to his dick, and they come within seconds of each other, too satisfied to be embarrassed about how quickly the whole thing happens.

The next night, when they get their hands on each other, Steve’s are trembling with nerves frayed from wondering if the icky weirdbadwrong feeling will rear its head. But Eddie’s voice is soft and soothing, and his touch is no less gentle than it always is when he wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock for the first time. Instead of the prickly, icy feeling he usually gets, Steve thinks that this feels perfect. Like slipping into a warm bath after a long day out in the cold. It doesn’t take long for him to forget all about his worry that it might feel wrong when he’s lost in Eddie’s whispered encouragement and soft touches.

He comes that night with Eddie’s name on his lips, and when his fingers tremble as he returns the favor for his boyfriend, it’s out of excitement, not fear.

Steve tells Eddie he loves him a little over a week later, after a Corroded Coffin show at the Hideout.

Eddie says it back.

And the icky feeling continues to stay away, for the most part.

Of course, there’s still a bit of a learning curve when it comes to their sex life. There are days when Steve feels detached - untethered to the world around him, like he’s just going through the motions of life - and he can’t do anything sexual without feeling a bit like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. And they never have sex when they’re angry with each other, because the one time they try, Steve breaks down halfway through, unable to shake the feeling of wrongness that courses through his veins like poison.

It’s a lot of trial and error, and many very honest conversations, but it works. Eddie is never pushy - never seems to get frustrated with Steve’s oddly fickle relationship with sex - and eventually, Steve stops getting frustrated with himself. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s not broken. He just is the way he is, and he doesn’t need to change that. Every once in a while, he wishes he knew someone else who felt like this, just to have someone to talk to, but it’s hard to feel lonely when he gets to fall asleep in Eddie’s arms every single night once they move in together in 1988.

Eventually, he sort of forgets about ever feeling broken in the first place, after years spent with a man who loves him unconditionally, exactly how he is.

Until a random day in the middle of June, 2015 when Eddie comes home from teaching guitar at the music center down the road with a pamphlet.

“Steve?” Eddie calls over the sound of the slamming screen door. Steve keeps meaning to replace the spring, so it won’t slam quite so hard every time, but every time he tries, he just gets distracted and forgets altogether.

“In here!” he replies from his place at the kitchen table, surrounded by dozens of middle school history essays.

Eddie comes striding into the kitchen with his guitar case slung over his shoulder and a half-nervous, half-excited grin on his face, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. It’s a habit from youth that he never quite shook, and Steve will never admit this out loud, but he finds it disgustingly adorable.

“Can I help you?” Steve asks with a slight smirk when Eddie just stares at him for a long moment.

Eddie blinks, then suddenly looks a bit sheepish as he takes a breath and pulls a folded-up pamphlet out of his jacket pocket. “So, uh…this might sound weird, but one of my students went to the Pride parade downtown with her girlfriend this weekend, and I told her to bring me a souvenir. And I was joking, obviously! Only…she brought me this random pamphlet she got from some vendor while she was there, also as a joke, and I was reading it because I was bored between lessons - Jeremy canceled because he has strep, or something - and it really wasn’t all that interesting, because, like, been there, done that, right? But-”

“Eddie,” Steve says, smirk dissolving into a fond smile. “You’re rambling, babe.”

“Right, yeah. That I am,” Eddie laughs nervously. He fidgets with the pamphlet, then abruptly holds it out for Steve to take.

Steve only hesitates for a moment before taking it and giving it a brief once-over. “Am I supposed to be-”

“Page five,” Eddie interrupts. His voice is soft, and fond, and a little nervous in a way it rarely is around Steve these days. Nearly thirty years of (unofficial) marriage has left little to be nervous about.

Steve stares at his husband, then flips open the little booklet to a page sporting a black, purple, grey, and white flag, and the word demisexuality. He frowns thoughtfully and pushes his reading glasses further up his nose as he begins to read the rest of the text on the page.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Eddie says softly, pulling up a chair so he can sit beside Steve. “But then I remembered that talk we had back when we first started dating…”

His voice trails off, but that’s okay. Steve already knows exactly what conversation Eddie is thinking about, because Steve is recalling it himself.

“There’s a word for it?” Steve’s voice comes out surprisingly fragile. Hopeful.

He can hear the smile in Eddie’s reply. “Yeah, sweetheart. Seems that way.”

“And there are…” Steve swallows down the tidal wave of emotion threatening to crash over him. “There are more people like me? It’s, like…a thing?”

“Sure is, baby,” Eddie says fondly, pressing a lingering kiss to Steve’s temple. “Got your own flag and everything!”

Steve chokes out a laugh just as the first tear falls down his cheek, and fuck, he can’t stop smiling. Because Eddie is right. There’s a word, and a community, and a goddamn flag. And yeah, maybe it’s been years since Steve last worried about the weirdbadwrong feeling he used to get so frequently when he was younger, but something inside of him feels like it’s settled into place. Like the final piece of a puzzle, pulled from beneath the couch years after the rest was completed: dusty and faded, almost forgotten, but a perfect fit nonetheless.

“Demisexual…” he murmurs reverently, tracing over the shape of the flag with his fingers. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks eagerly.

Through happy tears, Steve looks at the man who is his husband in everything but the eyes of the law. Eddie’s eyes are kind and excited - just like they always are - and God, Steve loves him. He’s loved him for decades, and he’s never going to stop.

“Yep,” Steve breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of Eddie’s head to pull him in for a slow kiss. “Love it,” he says. Another kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers in return.

The next year, Eddie’s students don’t need to bring him souvenirs from Pride, because he and Steve go together. They hold hands as they cheer on the parade, newly-acquired wedding rings (now that it’s been legalized in all fifty states) glinting in the sunlight, and Steve wonders if he’s ever been this happy before. He’s got his husband on one side, Robin and her wife on the other, and a flag of black, purple, grey, and white painted on one cheek.

The feeling is electric.

It’s perfect.

And Steve has never, ever been more certain that there’s nothing icky or wrong about it.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #demisexuality #demisexual steve harrington #fluff #author is demi and decided steve was too lol #bisexual steve harrington #theyre just very soft in this ok???#eddie is alive #and he’s an amazing boyfriend #and I love that for him #mcdynamite writes

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venuszn · 9 months

Text

☆ : 100 Days

Summary / Bada asks you to give her one hundred days to make you fall in love with her.

Cw / Best friends to lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Nipple play, Cunnilingus (Bada and reader give and receive), Scissoring, Dom!Bada, Fem!reader, Emotionally constipated reader, Whipped Bada, MDNI

Author’s note / Thank you for 100 followers ahhhh ! This is my gift from me to all of you. Thank you for liking and reading my fics ! I took inspiration from the movie ‘500 Days of Summer’ and mayhaps a little bit of dialogue inspo from the Netflix show ‘Queen Charlotte’ - if you can spot it then great. I hope you enjoy and as always feel free to let me know your thoughts 💗

Wc / 8.5K words

Day 7

Bada took your hand into hers, locking her fingers inbetween your own. The warmness and firmness of your hands together gave you an unfamiliar feeling as the taller girl walked ahead of you, shopping basket in one hand and you on her other as she snaked her way through the busy aisles muttering small ‘excuse me’’s and ‘thank you’’s as she went. You let Bada guide you and your gaze fell to meet her hand as it protectively gripped yours. You brushed the feeling off, deciding that it was normal - you were friends after all. It’s normal to feel certain emotions around your friends, especially friends who held your hand with such care and warmth as Bada did. It was a simple and cute gesture, that's all it was - cute. Nothing more.

“I don’t know why this has to be a two person job. I could have done the shopping, Bada.” You said as you both finally emerged from the chaos of people around you, your brows slightly furrowed at the busyness around you. Bada adjusted her speed and walked beside you, feet matching your pace and hand remaining firmly in yours.

She looked down at you with a small smile, “Well, this is what couples do,” she said your name with a hint of amusement at your small frown. “They go shopping together. It’s cute and it’s domestic.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Right, sure. Well, you don’t need to keep on holding my hand. I’m not a baby.”

Bada let go of your hand as she reached to add another item into the basket. She didn’t make a move to reconnect your hands but teased, "I could argue that you actually are my baby now.” You scoffed and jokingly smacked her arm and she laughed.

The cold breeze brushed against your once warm hand and you slightly missed the feeling.

As you walked Bada cleared her throat, “I know you’re used to being independent - doing everything by yourself. But you have me now, so let me be here for you.”

Your eyes fell to the floor as you digested her words. You knew you had your defences up. Your walls were impenetrable towers and Bada had made it her mission to scale upwards in hopes of reaching the top. She was prepared to defeat any fiery beast, whether it be of doubt and fear, that guarded you. Bada wanted to rescue you.

You said nothing but reached for her hand, eyes avoiding her direction as you took a hold of her palm in yours. You then muttered, “My hand was cold.”

Bada gazed down at you, a small smile on her lips as she adored you. She thought that you were the most adorable thing ever as she raised your intertwined hands and pressed her lips gently against the back of yours.

“You’re so cute.”

You felt a strange feeling rise up your body and your face felt warm. You ignored it and followed your instinct - to deflect.

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

Bada chuckled and squeezed your hand gently.

“Wasn’t it obvious ?”

Day 0

You stumbled through the front door, heels in one hand and bag in the other as you managed to twist the handle open with your elbow - a talent you had perfected due to your frequent walks of shame. Although, ‘shame’ wasn’t what you usually felt after such encounters. Sex was nothing but transactional to you, you had sexual needs that needed to be met and then you would repay the favour. You had mastered the act of separating your emotions from intimacy in all forms - especially romantic relationships. However, this time you did feel a little bit of shame and perhaps a little bit of rage as you kicked the door shut with the back of your foot before your body fell slack against it in defeat.

Your tired eyes scanned the apartment, there was no sign of your roommate apart from a steaming cup of herbal tea that sat on the kitchen island waiting for you. You smiled to yourself at how attentive she always was toward you. She always did small gestures like this, despite not being in support of your nightly escapades, she always made sure you came home to your go-to hangover relief. You dropped your bag and heels and made your way over to sit down before a distant voice you recognised called your name.

You turned to see your roommate, Bada Lee, as she speedwalked down the hallway to you. “You’re home. Good morning.” She quickly greeted with a small smile as she hurriedly beelined around your shared apartment, picking up her keys and then putting on her trainers.

“Good morning. Yes, I'm home. Thank goodness.”

Bada paused in her actions as she heard your words. “What happened ?”

You laughed dryly before taking a sip of your tea. “She had a girlfriend this entire time.”

It almost sounded like a cruel joke hearing yourself say it.

“Fuck. How did you find out ?”

“Long story short - I was hooking up with a sleazebag that couldn't go two weeks without sex. So she decided to lie and say she was single whilst her girlfriend was actually away visiting family . . . I feel like shit.” You groaned into your palm before running your fingers through your hair.

Bada walked over and sat beside you.

“I hope you know that’s not your fault.”

“I feel like I should have been more aware. This is exactly why I don’t do relationships - it gets messy. I should have cut it off after the first couple nights like I usually do, but I got comfortable thinking we could also be friends.”

Bada stared at your deflated frame and internally prayed for the moment that you would finally notice her. She had been by your side ever since you both met a couple years ago in college and had become roomies. You both became inseparable; but she saw you in a light which you did not reflect with her - she was in love with you but you had an aversion to the emotion.

“Anyways,” you said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You have somewhere to be don’t you ? I don’t want to make you late.”

Bada immediately interjected, “It can wait. It’s fine, if you need me to stay I will.”

“Go, Bada. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” You said as you stood up and gave her shoulder a squeeze as you walked past her. “I’ll be going to sleep now anyway. See you later.”

Bada watched you leave - a recurring pattern that she was becoming sick of. She was sick of watching you leave to go and spend the night with other people. She was sick of watching you leave to go and isolate yourself. You had your walls high up and you only ever depended on yourself - nobody else. But Bada knew that you deserved better. She knew that you could be happy with the right person.

So she decided that she would take a chance and try to be that person for you.

Later that evening, you found yourself on the couch in your bestfriends arms as you cuddled, her arms wrapped around you from behind and you both laid there - a gesture that wasn’t unusual to the both of you. You both lay in relative silence as she played with your hair, your eyes trained on the television in front of you but hers focused on you.

She swallowed her nerves and cleared her throat, “How are you feeling ?”

Her fingers twirled strands of your hair and her grip on you tightened slightly.

“I’m okay now. I’m over it. Shit happens but life goes on.”

Bada lightly called your name.

You hummed.

“Give me one hundred days.”

“What ?”

“Give me one hundred days and I can make you fall in love with me.”

You nearly burst out laughing, thinking she was joking but when you turned to face her you saw seriousness written on her face.

“You’re not joking ?” You said as you removed yourself from her arms and stood up; taking a couple steps back.

“No. I’m not.” Bada rose to her feet, her tall frame exceeding yours by inches as she stared down at you with eyes full of determination. “I am tired of watching you be miserable. I’m tired of sitting back and watching you leave and spend the night with random people that don’t care about you. I know you, and I know that you’re not happy. I know that you could be happier and I know that I can do that for you. I'm your best friend but give me one hundred days - give me one summer to show you how you deserve to be treated. I want to show you that you deserve to be loved and you deserve to feel it too.”

You stood there, words dying on your tongue as your head spinned. “Bada, where is this coming from ? You know how I feel about relationships . . .”

“I do know yes. But I know it’s because you’re afraid of being hurt.”

Bada took a step toward you.

“But you don’t have to be afraid with me,” your name fell from her lips as she gazed down at you. “I would never dream of hurting you. I’m not perfect, I know. But I can promise you that I am worth taking the chance with. Just one hundred days, spend the summer by my side and if you want to stop at any moment you can. We can end it at any time and forget it ever happened.”

“But the fact that you’re my best friend scares me even more, Bada . . .”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to make a decision right now. I just thought I'd put it out there. If you ever decide to give love a chance, I'm here to guide you through it.”

The next day you woke up, wondering if it was all a dream. That your best friend had not basically admitted to being in love with you. You had love for Bada, but it wasn’t romantic. She was your best friend. You loved spending time in her company, you loved how she would always make you laugh, you loved how she would hold you in her arms as you both laid on the couch watching a series that the both of you knew you would never finish. You loved how her fingers felt in your hair when she would mindlessly play with it and you loved how you both seemed to complete each other. But Bada was your best friend - it was simply platonic. And that is what you planned to tell her that morning when you made your way out of your room; but a familiar voice grabbed your attention.

“I know she’s here. Just let me see her, I want to apologise.”

“I told you to leave. She’s not here and even if she was, there’s no way I'd let you speak to her,” Bada’s chest puffed out slightly as she glared down at the girl standing at the door.

“Go home. Now.”

Goosebumps rose on your skin. You had never seen Bada like that before, her intimidating aura completely caught you off guard as you stood and watched the encounter unfold.

“Or what ?” The girl scoffed.

“Or I'll shove those shitty roses down your throat. And I mean what I say - which might be a foreign concept to you. So get lost.”

“Who the fuck are you ? You’re not her fucking girlfriend, let me speak to her for fucks sake.” The girl cursed, quickly losing the last ounce of her composure.

You knew Bada wouldn’t stand down and you quickly walked over and poked your head from behind her tall frame.

“Hi. You’re speaking to me now and I'm telling you to go home. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You lied - end of.”

Your eyes immediately caught the sight of the bouquet of roses in the girl's hands and you scoffed at the audacity.

“There’s no way. Please, go home. I don’t have time for this.”

The girl gripped the roses tighter as she held them out to you. “I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened and how things played out. I’m single now and I want to win you back. I hope that we can finally date now-”

“Of course you’re single, you're a liar and a cheater !” You laughed bitterly.

You hadn't noticed, but Bada had taken a step back, allowing you to take the reins. She stood to the side, hands in pockets and a small smirk on her face as she admired you right in that moment - your rage making her fall harder.

“And if I wanted to date someone it most certainly would not be you. Now leave and don’t come back. Don’t contact me either.”

You slammed the door.

You let out a breath and turned back to face Bada.

“Can you believe her ? Bringing me roses and asking me to date her . . .” You scoffed as the anger slowly sizzled within you.

“If only she knew that your favourite flowers are tulips.”

Her words extinguished any flicker of anger left within you.

You both stood there, looking at the other for a moment.

“Bada, are you in love with me ?” You breathed out.

She paused for a moment before responding.

“I am.”

You were so dazed that you weren't sure if your heart skipped a beat or sank into your chest.

“For how long ?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

You exhaled.

“What you said yesterday . . . Did you mean it ?”

“I did. I want to be the one to make you happy.”

You breathed out a nervous breath, “Bada, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise that I actually will fall in love with you at the end of the summer. I can’t promise that I won’t self sabotage and maybe ruin our friendship in the process. That’s if I agree to this.”

Bada took a tentative step toward you.

“I won’t let our friendship be ruined. I won’t give that up but if you choose to then there’s not much I can do. But just know that whatever you decide, right now or further down the line, I’ll respect it.”

You took a deep inhale and played with your fingers as the nerves crawled up your body. Disbelief in yourself at your following words.

“Then, okay.”

“Okay ?”

“You’re right, I am scared of being hurt and of love. But I also trust you - you’re my best friend and there’s nobody else I'd rather try this with.”

You took a step forward.

“So, okay. I’ll give you one hundred days to make me fall in love with you.”

Bada’s heart bounced around her chest in a dance of glee and she smiled down at you, her hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

And that was how it began - Day 1.

Day 16

Hushed laughter and giggles filled the summer evening air as you and Bada walked arm in arm down the dimly lit street.

“You are definitely drunk.” Bada laughed as she held onto you tighter, steadying your footsteps.

“I am not !” You gasped overdramatically as you snapped your head to face her. “I’m a little tipsy, that’s all. And so are youuuu.” You sang as you poked her chest, giggling as the alcohol made you feel light and free as a feather.

Bada grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside.

“Watch where you’re going. We only had about two drinks, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are.” She teased.

“You’re a little tipsy too, don’t lie.”

“But I’m not a lightweight like you.”

You whacked her arm jokingly and detached yourself from her hold, attempting to walk ahead of her but she chuckled and swiftly caught your arm, gently tugging you back.

“Now where do you think you’re going, hm ?”

“Away from you.” You stubbornly replied but allowed her to place her hand in yours once more.

“Did you enjoy dinner ?” The older girl asked, fingers now locked with yours.

“I did, yes. It was nice. Thank you again for taking me out.”

“And again, it’s my pleasure. I'm glad you had a good time.” Bada smiled down at you and you avoided her gaze.

Suddenly the night sky rumbled as thunder rippled through the air. Almost instantaneously, raindrops began falling, accelerating in speed as the heavens opened up.

You squealed with laughter and Bada’s grip tightened as she pulled you through the rain.

“Bada, run !” You laughed as the both of you picked up speed and ran for the trees in hopes of shelter.

“You just had to suggest that we walk.” You laughed as the raindrops fell mostly around the both of you now that you were under the protective umbrella of a tree’s leaves, the occasional droplet slipped its way through the gaps of the branches.

“I thought a moonlit walk would be romantic.” Bada laughed as she wiped her face, her fringe stuck to her forehead.

You smiled at the sight of her.

Bada smiled back as the both of you stood there, held hostage by the plummeting raindrops.

You tore yourself away from her gaze, cleared your throat and turned your back to her. The sight of the gleaming full moon stole your attention and you pointed to it, “Bada, look. We can still watch the moon.”

“Uhuh.” The taller girl muttered as she was, instead, watching you.

“It’s so pretty.” You gushed as you continued to face away from her.

“It is.” Bada wasn’t talking about the moon.

Bada reached out and gently took a hold of your fingers and turned you to face her.

“You know how you always said that kissing in the rain was overdramatic and overdone in the movies ?” Bada muttered as her fingers grazed over your knuckles.

“Yeah . . .”

She licked her lips and your heart thumped in your chest.

“Do you wanna be really overdramatic with me right now ?”

You swore it was the alcohol in your system but the rain had sobered you up.

“Ok.” You whispered.

Bada took a step out into the rain and pulled you against her, foreheads meeting in the middle as the rain showered over the both of you. You licked your lips in anticipation, and Bada let out a small hum before her thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You reminded yourself that it was just a kiss.

“Do you want this ?” She said in a breathless whisper.

“I do.”

Bada didn’t hesitate as she grabbed your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to her, your lips collided in a desperate dance of both certainty and uncertainty. Bada was certain that right at that moment, you had completed her. The way you fit so perfectly in her hands, the way your lips melted together and tongues danced - she was certain.

You, however, were uncertain. Uncertain of if you had just felt a crack form within the walls surrounding your heart. It was impossible. You imagined it.

Because it was just a kiss.

Day 18

“Achoo !”

You sneezed into the tissue and Bada passed you another.

“This is your fault.” You coughed out before letting out another sneeze.

Bada sat beside you and draped a thick blanket around your frame. “You’ve said that five times already.”

You curled into the blanket and Bada wrapped an arm around you, her other hand holding a bowl toward you.

“Now, drink your soup. I just made it.”

After your date in the rain you had fallen sick and despite your persistent arguments that you were fine and could take care of yourself - Bada was right beside you, nursing you back to health.

You had threatened her with the likely possibility that she too would fall sick but Bada responded by driving to the store, buying your favourite snacks and then making you a hot bowl of soup before she settled beside you on the couch, arms wrapped around you as they usually were.

You took a sip of your soup and you groaned.

“You’re making it so hard to stay mad at you.”

“You were never mad at me.”

Day 21

Bada groaned as she staggered into the living room, her duvet trailing behind her and swallowing her frame.

“I'm sick.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up.

“I told you you’d get sick. You didn’t listen, and you say I'm stubborn.”

Bada responded with another groan and a cough as she glided across the room in the oversized blanket before dramatically collapsing onto the couch.

“Go back to bed, Bada. You’ll be comfier there.” You said as you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for your roommate.

Bada raised her head to look over to you.

“Is that for me ?”

“It is.”

“You’re so - ACHOO ! - cute.”

She wiped her nose and you snorted.

“Go back to bed.”

Day 48

You stood, fingers gripping the rubber basketball as you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the target.

A few feet away from you stood three basketball hoops, and a row of soft plushies hung besides them on either side. There was only one last shot that stood in between you and your chosen soft toy. And you were aiming for the winning shot.

Bada stood behind you, her hands rested on your hips as she chanted words of encouragement into your ears.

“You got this. Just one last hoop.”

You took your stance and raised the ball slightly above your eye line, you then perched it on your fingertips as you aimed and then launched it at the hoop.

The basketball hit the backboard and then bounced onto the ring.

It edged along the circumference of the hoop almost in slow motion before it finally fell through the middle.

You cheered and jumped and Bada scooped you up into her strong embrace, spinning you around.

You laughed and she kissed your nose.

“Now, what will the lucky lady choose ?” The man working at the stall grinned as his arm stretched out, showcasing his collection of prizes.

You immediately pointed to a big dolphin plushie and the guy handed it over to you. You thanked him and then spun around before holding the cuddly toy out to Bada. She raised her brow slightly and you gently pushed the toy into her arms.

“It’s for you. A dolphin goes with the sea.”

Bada stood there, slightly taken aback but touched. She took the dolphin plushie from you and held it to her chest before she grabbed your chin with her thumb and index finger, angling your face upwards to face her.

“Thank you, baby.”

She closed the gap and softly kissed your lips.

Bada had taken you to the annual summer fair and you were honestly having a great time. There were times where you would forget the circumstances in which you were under - that your best friend was trying to make you fall in love with her. And days like this, where you both seemed to revel in each other’s company, overpowered the blaring sirens in your head each time you shared yearning touches and gentle kisses. You chalked it up to the fact that you were best friends, so of course it felt the way it did - so right.

Evening approached and you and Bada found yourselves in the carriage of a ferris wheel as it steadily travelled skywards. You mentioned that you wanted to see the fireworks and Bada took it upon herself to ensure that you did - from the sky.

The evening sky bled to a deep blue. You watched as remnants of the summer sun, still lingering in light brush strokes, soon faded into the darkness as the night sky took command.

Bada’s body pressed up behind you, her arms on either side of you as she held onto the railing. You absentmindedly leaned back into her chest and she placed her chin on your shoulder, before ghosting her lips against the skin of your neck.

Shivers ran down your spine.

You parted your lips to say something but a bright shooting light rushed up into the sky before exploding into thousands of spectacular sparks. Countless more followed as the once empty canvas, that was the night sky, became an artwork of shimmering colours.

The romantic ambience of the night didn't escape you and neither did the pestering butterflies that fluttered around your stomach.

Your carriage was nearing the top and Bada placed a hand on your waist and turned you around. Face to face with inches between you, ‘Have her eyes always shone like this ? Were they always this pretty ?’

“Bada . . .” You breathed out onto her nearing lips.

“Hm ?” Her hand snaked around your waist.

“I-I think I like you . . .”

Your words halted Bada in her motions and she stared at you as her eyes scanned your face.

“You do ?” She said with a hopeful breath.

You nod your head, swallowing hard.

“Don’t think about it.” You whisper to Bada but also to yourself as the realisation of your words hit you.

“But-”

“Just kiss me.”

You leaned in, eliminating all distance between the two of you. Your lips crashed against Bada’s and you felt her immediately pull you flush against her, in return, your arms found their way around her broad shoulders. Bada nibbled on your bottom lip and you parted them, making way for her wet tongue to explore your mouth. You felt her tongue meet yours and a moan escaped your lips. Hearing your desperate sounds, Bada’s hands slided down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before sliding back up your back and over your body as she worshipped you.

“Fuck. You’re so perfect.” The taller girl groaned before desperately reattaching her mouth to yours.

Sparks flew as your lips spoke in a dance of tenderness and yearning. Likewise, the sparks of fire that cascaded down the night sky fell around you both in a glistening waterfall of explosive vibrancy as you reached the top - lost in the hunger for each other.

Bada had never kissed you like that. She had never touched you like that or looked so deeply into your soul with such desire and the events and emotions from the night played over in your mind as you now sat besides her in the passenger seat as she drove the both of you home.

You entered into your shared apartment and Bada followed behind you, shutting the door. You turned to face her and she took a step toward you, eyes never breaking their contact.

Your heart wrestled with reason as you fought the urge to jump back into her arms.

You saw Bada bite her lip slightly as her eyes scanned your body.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “I’ll be going to bed now.”

“O-oh yeah. Me too, it’s late.”

“Yeah.”

You quickly set off for your room and shut the door behind you, body leant against it as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was the right call, for sure. The tension was too high right now and you didn’t want to cross any lines that you couldn’t go back on.

You sighed and then dragged yourself to your bathroom, ready to wash off the thoughts that plagued your mind.

Bada sat on the edge of her bed, face in her hands as she fought the urge to go over to your room. The last thing she wanted was to go too fast, especially after you had just confessed to harbouring some feelings for her; she didn’t want to overwhelm you. But Bada swore that she didn’t imagine the look in your eyes or the way you held onto her as you kissed and touched. Did you want her the way she wanted you ?

Down the hall you paced around in your room. Picking at your fingernails as you deliberated the consequences of walking down the hallway and knocking on your best friend's door.

A brief moment passed.

“Fuck it.” You said under your breath as you strode over to swing open your door.

But before you stood said best friend, with a hand frozen in motion as if about to knock.

Your heart skipped several beats and found its way into your throat. Words failed to leave your lips as you stood frozen, eyes locked with Bada’s.

“Hey.” She muttered, licking her lips slightly as her chest rose and fell with anticipation.

“Hey.” You whispered back, heat rushing through your veins.

“I thought you were going to bed ?” You breathed out.

“I thought you were.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.” Bada’s gaze intensified.

Your body took over your mind and you took a slow step backward into your room, eyes never leaving Bada’s.

She followed your lead and took a step forwards, shutting the door behind her with her foot, eyes never leaving yours.

“What are we doing ?” You whisper as the suffocating tension stole your breath away.

“Tell me to leave.” She breathed out as she stared into your eyes.

“I don't want that.”

“What do you want ?” Bada gazed at you with want.

“Stay . . . Please.”

You took a step forward.

“I’ll stay.” Bada muttered as she admired your features and took in the slight crease of your brow and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. She knew you were nervous.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Bada said as she reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“What if I want to . . .”

Bada’s eyes darkened slightly and she cupped your face in her gentle hands.

“What do you want to do, hm ?”

“This.”

You pressed your lips against hers in a fervent passion, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers grabbed onto your hips as she held you impossibly close. Your breaths mixed and small moans fell from your tongue as it danced along with hers.

“Are you sure about this ?” Bada said in between kisses as the both of you stumbled across your room in the direction of your bed, lips refusing to part.

“I’m sure, Bada.” You whisper before Bada gently lowered you onto the bed.

Bada climbed on top of you and you lay there, lashes fluttering as you held her stare.

She licked her lips and leaned in to press a kiss behind your ear. You shivered and she began a tender trail of kisses down your neck muttering gentle whispers onto your warm skin as her hands slid under and up your shirt, fingers grazing your delicate body.

“Relax for me.”

Time seemed to stop as you and Bada laid there exploring each other's bodies. With the barrier of clothes and fabrics long gone, your bodies pressed together merging into one as her fingers slid in and out of you. Your hips bucked against her, desperately chasing the pleasure but Bada’s grip on your waist firmed as she held you in place.

“You’re so sensitive aren’t you ?” Bada muttered, her gaze deep with craving as her fingers continued their relentless pounding into your dripping cunt. She licked her lips. Your body was beautiful and she struggled to comprehend that the person laid bare before her wasn’t actually a being - heaven sent. But to her you were one and the same.

Moans and whimpers of her name fell from your lips and you grabbed onto her arm. “I-I'm close, Bada.”

She smirked down at you and lowered her head down to meet your aching core. Bada wasted no time and attached her plump lips to your clit, sucking and licking it as her fingers pumped in and out of you - speed increasing.

Your back arched and your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you as an earth shattering wave of pleasure crashed through your body causing your legs to shake. Bada moaned onto your clit as she sucked on it; the feeling of your walls contracting around her fingers turned her on even more and she lowered her tongue before licking your cunt dry as it dripped with your sweet release.

You laid breathless and legs twitching as you came down from your climax. Bada ran her hands softly over your sides as they travelled up your body. One hand rested on your neck and the other took your left breast into its palm before gently massaging it.

“You’re so beautiful.” She muttered before pressing her lips to yours in a messy open mouthed kiss, your tongues fought against the other as you tasted yourself on her.

You broke away from the kiss and sat up. “I wanna make you feel good too . . .” You looked up at the taller girl with pleading eyes.

Bada felt her heart flip and she bit her lip at the thought of you touching her.

“C’mere then, princess.”

Bada pulled you up on top of her and you straddled her waist. Her fingers dug into your hot skin and yours trailed along her chest, grazing over her nipples.

She inhaled a sharp breath and you smirked a little before taking her nipples in between your thumb and pointer and began rolling them. You felt as they quickly hardened and you lowered your head to her chest, gazing up at Bada as she gazed back down at you. Your lips parted and took Bada’s erect nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you licked her chest, savouring the taste of her skin and the sounds she made above you.

Bada moaned a little, hands gripped your waist as she pushed her chest out further into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. Your tongue feels so good.” She whispered breathlessly. “You gonna let me use that pretty little mouth of yours ?”

You hummed in response and began a trail of kisses down her chest and torso. Bada smirked down at you and leaned back on her elbows as she spread her legs apart for you.

Your heart hammered in your chest and you didn't question why. You kissed Bada’s thighs, inching closer to core. You looked up at her through your lashes and her intense gaze bore into you, turning you on impossibly more. You held her gaze as you leaned in, your fingers slid up her wetness and then parted her pussy lips exposing her dripping hole to you. You stuck out your tongue and pressed it against her clit circling it in steady motions.

Bada jolted above you and she moaned out a curse.

Her noises and breathless moans fueled your tongue as you began sucking and licking her clit, moaning as you did so. You kept her lips parted, determined to taste every part of her as your wet muscle travelled down to her aching hole. You prodded your tongue against it, circling it and lapping up her juices as she jerked her hips onto your face.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Eat my pussy like the pretty little slut you are.” Bada groaned as her fingers reached down to tangle in your hair, gripping it in her palm as she held your face against her aching cunt.

You moaned at her words, sending vibrations onto her sensitive skin as you continued to lick her folds. You felt yourself grow wetter and you stretched your hand between your legs and began rubbing your clit, matching the pace of your tongue against her.

“Are you touching yourself ?” Bada breathed out as she pulled you away from her by your hair, making you look at her.

You paused in your actions and nodded wordlessly.

Bada’s eyes darkened and she licked her lips. “Such a needy whore.”

Bada flipped you over. You laid on the mattress and she perched above you. She grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to her, angling you on your side and then lay on her side before sliding her legs in between yours - your wet cunts inches away from touching.

“You wanna come again, hm ? Well come with me, princess.”

Bada gripped onto your ankle as she held your leg over her shoulder and then slid closer to join her pussy with yours. Your wet cunts rubbed against each other as Bada took control of the rhythm, jerking her hips forwards as her pussy lips kissed yours. Your clits bumped and slid against each other’s and whimpers and moans danced from your lips and hers.

“You feel so good, baby.” Bada moaned.

“F-fuck. Don’t stop . . .” You whimpered.

And Bada didn’t stop. The both of you spent the night tangled in each other, moaning praises as you worshipped each other’s bodies.

Day 73

The music boomed from the stereos and cheers and excited whispers danced alongside it in the air. Bada stood in the middle of the practice room as students gathered and watched from the sides. The tempo built up and Bada began to move her body to the beat, her aura of swagger encompassing her as she moved.

You had invited Bada to your dance class and everyone begged her to do her iconic choreo to ‘You Got It’. So there she was, dancing as the crowd around her ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’.

You watched from the front of the crowd, arms crossed as your eyes followed her every move - as if in a trance. A small smile sat on your lips as you watched the way she emulated the vibe of the lyrics through her body and expressions, you felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched her and blushed at the way her eyes flickered to you at certain lyrics.

Bada held your gaze as she continued to dance, she then smoothly made her way over to you as the beat came to a low point in the song. You laughed and shook your head at her - knowing exactly what part of the choreo she was about to do next. Bada smiled back at you and took your hand in hers, bringing you to the dance floor with her as she danced the lyrics to you.

Oh yeah, it's time to mix it up and get ya glow girl.

Bada slid right up to you with a smirk as she grabbed her pants and jerked her hips, eyes not leaving yours.

The practice room broke out into squeals and screams and you laughed and moved your body along with the music as Bada continued to dance around you.

I want you to know that girl you got it.

Bada ended her dance with her hands on your hips and yours around her shoulders.

The room exploded into chaos and you stepped back, laughing to hide the nerves that bubbled within you. Bada, on the other hand, just gazed at you with a grin on her face - you were all she saw in that moment.

Day 90

The morning sun poked through the curtains and you tossed and turned, opening your eyes slightly. Beside you laid Bada, snoring lightly. You smiled to yourself and brushed her messy fringe with your fingers as you found yourself admiring her peaceful face. The way her pink lips parted slightly, her long lashes that rested against her soft skin and cheeks tinted with a slight pink hue. You loved waking up to the sight of her. You don’t know when it began but you had been sleeping in her bed, regardless of sex. You enjoyed coming home and climbing into her warm embrace as she would cuddle you and kiss the top of your head - a usual practice between the two of you. You loved how she would hold your hand when in public and you loved how her fingers slid perfectly in yours. You loved how she still made you your favourite cup of herbal tea each morning and then would kiss your forehead after handing it to you.

You paused.

Realisation washed over you like an avalanche of repressed emotions.

You immediately got out of bed as quietly as your nerves would allow. You then picked up your clothes that were scattered on the floor and hurried out of Bada’s room.

If Bada was awake she would have heard the front door shut. But she wouldn’t have known that that would be the last time she saw you that week.

Day 97

Bada opened your messages and saw that you still had not responded to her since three days ago when you sent her a brief, ‘Busy all week. Don’t wait up.’

She sighed in frustration and gripped her hair in her hands. Thoughts weighed heavy on her mind, she wondered if she did something wrong, she wondered if she hurt you. Bada decided that enough was enough and she would speak to no matter what.

Later that night, you softly unlocked the front door, opening it in small intervals to avoid making any sounds. You had been avoiding Bada all week and as far as you were concerned you intended to continue, until you snapped out of whatever delusion you believed yourself to be in. Because that's what it is - delusion.

You creeped down the hallway and gently opened your room door and entered, you faltered in your step because before you sat your roommate. Bada looked up at you from her seat on your bed and stood up.

She said your name in a soft manner and you recoiled.

“What are you doing ?” You asked.

“Waiting for you. You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I’ve been busy. I told you.”

Bada’s eyes scan your frame, eyening your choice of attire.

“Busy going out in short dresses and heels and then coming home late at night ?”

Bada stepped forward.

“Whilst also reeking of alcohol ?”

You scoffed. “And so what ? Since when have you cared about what I wear or do ?”

Bada frowns. “Since you decided to ghost me for a week after things were going so well.”

“Things were going well for you.” You folded your arms.

Bada scanned your face, she knew you were lying.

She took another step forward, now in front of you, breaths away.

You stood your ground and stayed firm in place, trying your best to keep your walls upright and strong.

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t like the way I held you.” Bada whispered as her hands moved to rest on your waist, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You gulped and cleared your throat.

“Bada . . .”

“Or the way I touched you.” She tightened her grip on your waist and pushed you back against the door, trapping you in her arms.

Your heart pounded against your chest and you cursed at it.

“Tell me to stop.” She whispered as she looked at you with darkened eyes.

Your eyes flickered to her lips and you found yourself closing your eyes and leaning in.

Bada met you halfway and crashed her lips into yours. She pressed herself against you and your arms flew to her shoulders, securing your bodies together. The taller girl bit your bottom lip and groaned into your mouth before her tongue slid in and you let out a small moan in response.

Why did kissing your roommate - your best friend - feel so right ? You had spent the past week arguing with yourself and begging your heart to stop its yearning for the older girl. You liked her, that was it. It wasn’t love. It would never be love, because you did not do love. It was messy and it always ended in pain. You couldn’t fall in love with your best friend.

Your hands removed themselves from Bada’s shoulders and you roughly pushed her away. Breath heavy and lips slightly swollen as you blinked at her for a moment.

“Leave.” You whispered.

“What ?” Bada muttered, unsure of if she heard you correctly,

“Get out of my room, Bada.” You begged, eyes glossing with tears.

Bada’s brows twitched and she reached out for you.

“Get Out ! Now !” You cried out.

“I don’t love you. I will never love you. Fuck, I don’t know why I agreed to this,” You ran your fingers through your hair as you paced around your bedroom.

Bada’s eyes never left you as she stood frozen.

Your head snapped to look at her. “You deserve better. I can’t love you. So leave Bada.”

You had Bada’s heart in the palm of your hand. For as long as she could remember she knew that her heart belonged to you. But you had now grabbed the organ that beats for you and crushed it between your delicate fingers.

So Bada honoured your wishes and she left.

Day 99

Bada had been going out every night since that night. You knew this because you would hear the slam of the front door each evening when she left and then hours later when she came back home in a drunken state.

However, tonight was different.

Your phone rings and you see Bada’s name flash up on your screen. Your heart skips a beat and you stare at it for a moment.

“Hello ?” You say into the phone, unsure of what to expect.

“Hello ?” A muffled voice you don’t recognise responds as it asks your name to confirm.

“Yes, that’s me. Who are yo-”

“Can you come and get Bada ? She’s completely wasted.”

That's how you found yourself guiding a very drunken Bada back through your apartment doors and into her bedroom.

Bada stumbled onto her bed and you took a step back. “I’ll be back. I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

You returned to see Bada had kicked off her shoes and laid face first into the mattress.

“Bada ? Here.” You say, handing her the cup.

“I didn’t think you would actually come back.” She mumbled turning to face you. “You hate me.”

Your heart ached. “I don’t hate you, Bada.”

“I’m sorry for being in love with you.” She slurs as tears brim in her eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat and move to sit on the edge of her bed. “Don’t be sorry. Please just drink this and try to sleep.”

Bada takes the cup from you. “ Will you leave ?”

“Um, I-I can if you want me to.” You stammer, playing with your fingers nervously.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want my best friend to hate me. I don’t want to lose you . . .” You watch as a tear falls from Bada’s eye and your heart cracks.

As if by instinct you move closer to Bada and you hold her in your arms, comforting her with a hug. “I won’t leave you, Bada. And I don’t hate you . . . It’s the opposite.” You whisper the last part under your breath.

Bada wraps her arms around your waist before allowing her body to relax in your arms. Her eyes flutter shut and you stare down at her as she dozes off - this particular scene forcing memories and emotions back into your mind.

You then try to remove yourself from her hold but she grips onto you tighter.

“Stay.” You hear a small whisper and so you do.

You wrapped your arms back around Bada and you stayed.

Day 100

Morning came and your eyes fluttered open. Bada now lay behind you, arm slung over your body as she pressed up against you. Events of last night still clear in your mind, you intended to slip out of Bada’s arms and back into your room in hopes that she didn’t remember much.

You gently took Bada’s arm and raised it, slipping out of her hold and then inching closer to the edge of the bed. You let out a hushed exhale and then stood up, gently treading as you made your way to her door.

“Are you leaving ?”

A sleepy voice halts you in your tracks.

You swiftly turn and see a messy haired Bada rubbing her eyes as she sits up.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “I’m just going back to my room.”

“Oh, alright . . . Thank you for staying when I asked.”

Your stomach drops a little. “You remember asking ?”

“I remember a little bit.”

“O-oh, okay. Well I hope you feel a little better now.” You rushed as your hand grabbed onto the door handle and swung it open.

“What did you mean when you said that you didn’t hate me, that it was the opposite ?”

Your heart stopped.

“I didn’t say that. You were drunk, Bada.”

“I know what I heard,” Bada says your name firmly. “Why did you push me away ?”

Bada slowly rose to her feet, gaining her balance.

“Because I can’t love you.” You muttered, eyes avoiding hers.

Bada stepped forward. “And why can’t you love me ?”

Your feet refused to move.

“You deserve better than me. I’m not meant to love or be loved . . .”

Bada took another step closer.

“Do you love me ?”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

“Bada, I can’t-”

“Do you love me ?”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m not the one for yo-”

“I can decide that for myself, if you’re the one or not. You don’t get to make decisions regarding the both of us and how I feel toward you.” Bada breathes out as she takes another step, now standing directly before you. “My heart beats for you. It belongs to you like it was carved and sculpted to beat to the rhythm of your name. I know you and I know that I love you. Do you love me ?”

“I love you.” You choke out. Tears glossing your eyes. “I-I do love you. But I'm afraid, Bada.”

Bada takes you in her arms.

“You can love, so you’re meant to be loved. It is scary, yes. But I'm here and I love you in return.”

You cried into Bada’s chest as she held you to her heart as it pumped just for you.

The once impenetrable towers that stood mighty around your heart now crumbled. The remaining bricks fell away as Bada tamed the fiery beast that guarded your fragile heart, forcing the doubt and fear into submission as she held you and wiped your falling tears. Bada had rescued you.

“You deserve to be happy,” Bada mutters into your hair as she traces mindless patterns on your back, still holding you dear. “You deserve to be loved.”

“You make me happy.” You sniffle.

“And I'm glad. You make me happy too.” She whispers before you pull away from her embrace, wiping your teary eyes.

“I think I've always loved you, Bada.” You whisper, eyes locked with hers. “And that’s what frightened me.”

Bada took your face in her palm, thumb gently rubbing your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you and I don’t think I'll stop anytime soon.”

“Please don't stop.” You plead in one breath.

Bada gazes at you with eyes full of adoration.

“I won't. I love you,” your name gently falls from her lips.

“I love you too, Bada.”

Bada smiles and brings you closer. She leans in and joins her lips with yours in a tender exchange of love - love that the two of you always shared.

Tag List / / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight @nimixe ! [OPEN]

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada imagine #bada lee swf #bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee smut #grammar n punctuation always gna beat my ass

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thinkingofausername · 3 months

Text

Mutual Misunderstanding (Astarion x Tav)

Summary: Tav has doubts after sleeping with Astarion and leaves him to wake up alone. He draws the worst conclusion.

A/N: This was my first attempt at writing a fanfic and MAN do I have even more respect for fic writers than I already did. This is based on a request/prompt of mine that I posted some time ago.

CW: mention of sex, insecurity, mental health issues, PTSD, mention of noncon, mention of vomiting, bad coping mechanisms, miscommunication, it all ends well though

Tav woke up with the bright heat of the morning sun on their face. They rubbed their eyes and stretched with a pleased sigh before looking at their surrounding. When their gaze fell on Astarion, something in them tightened their chest and pulled the corners of their lips into a small, giddy smile.

For a person doomed to have the sun as his enemy, he looked divine in its glow. His soft curls looked even whiter than usual, his face uncommonly peaceful. No smirk, no snark, just his features, so soft and off guard it caused a fondness to bloom in their chest.

His shirtless chest rose and fell calmly, though he needn't take any breaths at all. Some phantom need, or habit, perhaps. Though his skin was like marble, practically golden in the light, it arose no heat within them. They simply found him beautiful.

They recalled the previous night like a warm, panting, thrilling rush of glimpses. Though filled with passion led by quite an experienced person, they found themselves seeing it as quite... genuine. Astarion knew they haven't had many experiences in the sheets and that they found themselves at a loss at what to do. He gently took the reigns and they had felt genuine safety and care.

Like the sudden feeling of grass beneath their naked back as grogginess gives way for clarity, some overthinking, insecure voice reared its head and paved the way for regret.

All the caresses felt smooth as silk, how many others felt them? All the whispers and rumbles of his voice toyed with their heartbeats, how many others can recall that? All the promises of pleasure and consent reassured them, how many others have had their doubts quelled in such ways?

All that had felt so true and blissful was rapidly becoming nauseating. With all the countless "dances" of his, how can one know spontaneous steps from practiced ones? How could they be sure they were pleasurable enough, appealing enough, exciting enough? They felt a new chapter turning for the two of them, a genuine and loyal one. Now they weren't sure of anything. Now they felt foolish, naïve, played. Gods forgive them, they cared for Astarion so much, but that damned elven, bastardly, precious vampire had them feeling like a cheap one-night-stand. They couldn't blame him but they couldn't think either.

As quickly and quietly as possible, they got dressed and rushed back towards the camp.

When Astarion woke up, he turned on his side towards Tav's smell which still lingered and reached out. His eyes sprang open as his hand met only air and ground. It took him a second to gather himself, remember where he was and what he had been doing. He couldn't even think of the fact he had slept without a nightmare in gods know how long, or that last night was a rarity during which he was fully and gladly present. Any good feelings got thrust into the background as an all too familiar one washed over him.

He couldn't even tell if it was his voice or Cazador's ringing in his head. "You were weak. You put your guard down. You enjoyed yourself. You are a fool. You are a dirty, cheap body to be gripped and groped and thrown away. You are a temporary pleasure with no face and no voice."

If he had a mortal body, he surely would've vomited.

A too complicated clashing of reasonings overwhelmed him. "They used you, but of course they did. Why are you even surprised? You approached them for your own gain, why would you expect a transaction to turn into anything real? Just swallow your trivial feelings and move on." And yet on the other hand - he had felt it was becoming real. It never should've, he never planned for it, but it happened. He subconsciously gave it a chance and look where it got him. Feeling like a naïve fool.

He got dressed, doing it mechanically through memories of filth, bruises, a ringing in his ears and a painful and shameful throbbing between his legs. He walked back to camp, readying his charm on the way.

When he approached them in camp, it felt like a play. Like last night was an episode and they were now back on track.

"Hello, darling", he purred, "Was the walk here terribly difficult? I imagine after last night's... performance, your legs would be quite shaky."

"I'm... fine."

"Well... that's good to hear. We wouldn't want our precious leader experiencing any unwanted effects after sleeping with the nasty, suspicious vampire, now would we?"

Something felt so terribly wrong and regretful. They found no humor in his smirk, no charm in his expertly seductive voice. They just saw... hurt. Poorly disguised at that.

"Wait, Star, I feel like there's a misunderstanding here. Can we just-"

"Oh, so it's 'Star' now, is it? See that's funny, I thought nicknames and other such mushy things were reserved for couples, not late night trysts. But what would I know, after all I have bedded many a person but not one have I greeted in the morning, so don't take my word for anything."

It felt like everything was falling apart with no prior warning, like last night was a crucial moment and they missed out on some defining que.

"Astarion, can we please talk? Something's gone wrong here."

"Whatever do you mean, darling? Nothing's wrong. We had fun last night, lots of fun I might add, and now it is the next day, simple as that. There's nothing to talk about. Now, let's leave this dramatic business behind us and move on, shall we?"

"Astarion, I-"

"Darling, I think we've used our mouths more than enough last night, let's give them a break, yes?"

As he sauntered off, the sinking feeling rattled. In a matter of hours, it seems whatever they had built has managed to fall apart and put them back at the start.

Astarion had quite a talent for ignoring a person while giving them attention. It was the most ironic, painful thing they had witnessed in a long while. He responded, but they felt it would've hurt less if he had stayed quiet. He kept charming, and they yearned for every uncovered softness they had managed to receive from him.

Whenever they attempted to talk to him, either another companion needed them, or Astarion went on a hunt, or they needed to get moving. A few days passed when they got desperate.

"Astarion, we have to talk."

That was it, he thought. He was finally getting thrown away. He tried pretending everything was fine, but he knew that couldn't be the case. They had tasted the only valuable thing about him and they needed nothing else from him.

"Hello, my sweet." His voice almost shook. Gods, he can feel his throat getting tighter. "Do you need something?"

They were still struggling to understand what exactly happened between them, but all they knew at the moment was that Astarion seemed strangely nervous. Afraid, even.

"Easy, Star. I really just want to clear some things up."

"Well... did something happen?"

"Something did, I would just like to know what."

"Whatever could you mean, darling? Things have been perfectly fine."

"Star, please. There's been enough of this. We've been growing more and more distant after a night when we were closer than ever, it really doesn't make sense."

"Darling, if we were to get any closer than we were that night, we would become conjoined", he said with a strained chuckle.

"Okay...", they sighed, "I know that whatever we did some nights ago was a dance very familiar to you and so it likely meant nothing special to you, but it did to me. I'm sorry if I have managed to ruin things between us, but I just couldn't digest the thought of it meaning so little when it felt like so much."

"Oh no, no, no. Wait a gods damned minute, darling. I feel you might have mixed up our lines somehow. 'Likely meant nothing to me'? You're the one who was conveniently absent the following morning, or has the worm messed with my memory?"

He seemed shocked, a bit angry and against all his effort and hesitation, hopeful.

"I...", they huffed a sigh of realization with a small, self-deprecating smile. "It seems I misread your intentions. I'm sorry, Star, I really never meant to hurt you."

His relief was very apparent.

"It's alright, my sweet. I might've also, perhaps, let my dark thoughts get the better of me. It seems old habits truly do die hard. But just to be sure - that night... did mean something, to the both of us?"

"It certainly seems so."

"Well. That is good to know. I'm not sure where this leaves us though."

"Me neither. I've never really done things like this before."

"Reassuring news, truly. I was about to start feeling a bit... lacking, in the area."

"Then we can lack together."

"That doesn't sound so bad", he said with a chuckle and a softness in his eyes they had missed so much.

"Then let's raise an imaginary toast to figuring things out", they said with their hand raised as if holding a glass.

"You're positively ridiculous, my sweet. But yes", he said raising his own "glass", "and also to not leaving me to wake up alone on the dirt as if I had been robbed and knocked unconscious."

"That too. I really am sorry, Star."

"Oh, it's quite alright. Just don't do it again."

"Pinky promise?"

"Now you're overdoing it."

They chuckled as they finally felt the heaviness in the air between them dissipate.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #angst #fluff #bg3

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webshooterrr9 · 1 year

Text

based on @nymphomatique's nerd!miguel au

CW: afab!reader, nerd!miguel, slapping, oral sex (f receiving), degrading, praise, got carried away, body worship, college students, smut under the cut!!!

"It's good enough, I guess."

Miguel just finished typing up a biology essay for you, his eyes slightly hazy from staring at a laptop for the past 2 hours. You were standing in front of your floor-length mirror, getting ready for the frat party you were planning on attending.

It took everything in his power not to stare at your body. The way the skimpy, black dress hugged your curves was a mouthwatering sight. Your freshly curled hair fell neatly over your shoulders, allowing Miguel perfect vision of your skin under your backless outfit.

His heart is racing faster than ever before as he watches you from the corner of his eyes. He places his laptop back in his backpack, before deciding that he has to say something.

He has to.

"You look... good" he manages to whisper out, half-hoping that you didn't hear it.

"Thanks." it was almost a mindless reply, like you weren't paying much attention to him. "Now get the fuck out."

"W-wait a second," Miguel suddenly gathers some courage as you brush aside his compliment. He knew you were somewhat of a mean girl, but he wanted to see this transaction through. "I... I deserve something - payment for finishing your homework for you."

You turn your head around to look at him, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" There's a bit of intrigue in your voice, but you're still harsh. He watches as you cross your arms and look at him in a demeaning fashion. It wasn't often that this nerd got the confidence to ask for any sort of reward. "And what exactly do you want? I'm not giving you money."

Miguel is a little shocked that you were willing to hear him out. "I-I'm sorry... I'm just..." He sighs cautiously.

You stare impatiently. He hesitates before forcing out his next words. "I just... I really like the way you look and-" his voice shakes when he notices the rude stare you're giving him. But he won't give up.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Just- you know, for doing your essay for you?" just as quickly as the words leave his mouth, he covers his face in shame. You laugh a bit at how dumb his request is.

"That's it?"

Miguel lowers his hands to look up at you. You can see the embarrassment painted all over his face. "You got all shy just to ask for a kiss?"

Your expression calmed and you relaxed your body language. He looked humiliated, feeling stupid for even asking that from someone as stunning and popular as you.

"Fine. C'mere." you wave him over dismissively.

He's taken by surprise, but doesn't hesitate to cross the room and approach you. His heartbeat is racing faster than ever before. Despite how he towers over you by almost a foot, he's staring down at you with doe eyes, like a lost puppy.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

You raise your hands to gently cup his cheeks, then bring his face in for a small kiss. Miguel's heart leaps into his throat when your lips make contact. It's so casual for you, but it's everything for him. A wave of euphoria washes over him, it's almost too overstimulating - to know he's finally able to kiss you.

He moans quietly and leans forward, trying to deepen the kiss. His mind races, his head spins. He's so giddy that he feels like he's going to die. All he wants now is more... so much more.

Your hands find his chest, pushing him back. His eyes shoot wide as you break the kiss.

"There. You got your reward. Happy?" Your hands rest on your hips while you speak nonchalantly.

"Y-yeah... super happy..." he chuckles nervously and runs his hands through his messy hair. It was kinda hot.

"Can I... can you do that again?"

"No, you've had enough." You return to your mirror, adjusting the little details of your outfit. "You got what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of my room."

"What?" despite how you were typically mean to him, he seemed to be surprised by that. "You can't... just be heartless like that."

That struck a nerve with you. "Heartless? You're calling me heartless?" There's a desperate look in his eyes, but you can tell that he doesn't have much courage to push the issue further. After all, he's just a nerd. But he can't shake the feeling your kiss gave his mind, his heart, his stomach, his cock...

"I did everything you wanted - I did your homework. I want something more... please." His body language shows that he's almost afraid of you and your dominatrix attitude. "Please, just one more."

"God, you're so pathetic..." you sigh, shaking your head. You can't help but laugh at his desperation - he clearly has never touched a woman in his life.

"Please..." he begs once more. "I want it more than anything..."

Something in his voice sends electricity up your spine. This is much more entertaining than that dumb party. "Mm, yeah? More than anything?"

You shove him back, causing him to stumble and fall onto your bed, his back making a thud on your mattress. "I don't think you deserve it, Miguelito... you haven't done anything for it."

His heart leaps into his throat. "I... I'll do anything. Please..."

"I want you to do something for me..." you grin with lowered eyes. "Can you guess what it is?"

"I don't know... I'm nervous." he didn't know what you meant. It made you roll your eyes. I mean come on, he was laying on your bed, with you practically on top of him - how could this dweeb not get the message?

You slap him across the cheek, hard. His cock twitches when he feels the sting, causing his cheeks to burn up in embarrassment. "You want another kiss? You have to earn it."

"Make me feel good."

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

He lets out a pathetic whimper when you sit on his dick, still clothed by his boxers. You haven't even started moving yet and he's already turning to mush. Virgin loser.

He watches anxiously as you reach for the elastic waistband of his underwear, sexily pulling them off. Fuck. What a sight. Proportionally, his dick is a pretty average size. But there was no way that it would fit all the way in.

A mean smirk forms on your lips as you stare at his boner, palming him gently and eliciting a frustrated whine from Miguel. "Your dick is so fucking pretty..." you mumble. "I don't know why you're so shy about it."

"Wait, re-really? You think so?" no one had ever seen his dick before, let alone call it pretty. His breathing shallowed.

"Mhm." Miguel whimpers again when you begin to stroke him, coating his entire shaft with all the precum he's releasing. "Aww, you poor thing..."

"You're already so whiny and I'm barely even touching you. You're such a baby."

"Please..." he breathes out.

"Please what? Use your words, baby." you don't call him "baby" as a pet name, you're mocking him. He tries to hide his face from you, but you grab his chin and pull it towards you so that you two make direct eye contact.

"Tell me what you want."

"You want me to use you, hm? You wanna be my little sex toy?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. He'd love that.

"Yes... please..." he whispers. He desperately needs your attention, so he'll take anything he can get. He'll be your toy, your lap dog, anything you want him to be. All those nights where he laid in bed alone, jerking off to the thought of someone wanting him, was finally becoming a reality.

Miguel's eyes shoot wide when he sees you lift up your dress, letting your panties drop to the floor. The frat party was long forgotten by you, since this was so much more fun.

"You wanna kiss me, yeah?" You smirk, crawling further onto him. His hardened cock leaks with pre, making you giggle a bit.

You hover over his face. "Then kiss me here."

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

He eats you like a man starved, needy for attention. Your hips roll firmly against his face, his mouth closing around your clit and suckling on it.

"Fuck- Miguel... so good." the nerd groans when your nails scrape at his scalp, gripping his dark hair tightly. His tongue explores every inch of your cunt, leaving behind traces of saliva as he licks and kisses the sensitive flesh.

Miguel feels his entire body tingle with joy. He's so excited to be pleasing you, to prove how good he is for you, that he's completely ignored his own needs. Lucky for him, the sound of your sweet moans are enough to get him off.

His hands grip your hips hard, pulling your wet cunt closer to his face as he feasts. His hands were sure to leave bruises later.

"Mm, god... yes..." he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice making your pussy throb even more. You grind against his face even more feverishly.

"Mig, I'm-" you sigh, trying to contain your moans as he gets more excited with his ministrations. "... 'm so fucking close, baby."

His hands run all over your hips and thighs, worshipping you like the goddess he thinks you are. His dick twitches some more, and his tongue becomes more furious around your hole.

"Mm- fuck!" you let out an unexpected wail as you feel your orgasm wash over you, your mind clouded with white. He eagerly laps up all of your juices, drinking in all of your release.

When you pull away from his face, you notice that he came too.

Miguel snaps back to reality after a moment, his cheeks flushing in a sort of embarrassment. He looks so fuckin' pretty. His hair is all messy, glasses discarded to the side, and of course, your sweet cum coating his puffy lips.

After you've caught your breath, you flash him a wicked smirk. He looks at you in panic. "Wh-What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You sink down on the bed, lowering your face towards his cock - which was dripping with his release. His face looks worried, he knows what you're doing.

"Since you've been so good for me," you start, letting your lips hover just above his aching cock. "I figured I'd help you out too. It's only fair..."

He was gonna be in for a long night.

Poor little thing. Such a sweet boy.

CREDIT TO @nymphomatique FOR THE NERD!MIGUEL

#i love subby men #miguel o'hara #webshooterrr9 #fanfic #atsv miguel #smut #im in love #omg #he's so hot #gonna cry

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lorelune · 1 year

Text

scrap metal

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 2.5k || ao3 || -> continued here

Elio sends a new script. A scrap trades hands.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: blade fic blade fic blade fic!!! this is a snippet of a larger au... stray reader and blade (and sometimes kafka too. bc. woof.) mind the tags as always <3 enjoy!!

CW: dark content, captive/pet reader, reader is implied to be a used for sex, violence, minor character death, reader wears a muzzle, descriptions of injury, beginnings yan blade

"Bladie," Kafka says, singsong. "Elio has a new script for us. Looks like we're picking up a stray."

Blade, who has been inspecting his sword for the past three hours, looks up but does not say anything in reply. He wipes the metal, broken and refused, over with a cloth soaked in oil.

Another script, another script, another script. Kafka will tell his thoughts to be quiet and he'll follow the script.

He runs the cloth over the metal. Again

"What do you mean by stray?" Silver Wolf pops her hip. She's already dressed up in what must be world-appropriate clothing— robes and tassels, sashes tied tightly around her waist

"You'll see when we meet them." Kafka pats her head, then turns her attention to Blade. "Listen, we'll be leaving within the hour. There's a parcel with your clothing. Don't be late, dearest. I think you'll like this one."

Blade is sure he won't care either way. A mission is a mission, a script is a script. Regardless, Kafka's words soothe the ever-itching beast in his mind, and he concedes to her gentle command. He hardly inspects the package and its contents before stripping (to which Silver Wolf runs off after gagging), though Kafka remains in the room to watch, amused. She eyes the scars on his body shamelessly as she always does.

Blade does not care either way.

...

You are the stray.

Blade first sees you, during what would most appropriately be called a 'business transaction', or at least a meeting made under the guise of being one. Kafka has him carry on a silver briefcase as they enter the stuffy, metal room their host had reserved for them. The air curls with tobacco smoke.

Kafka settles in a plush chair. She dresses finely, regally, even. The long swathes of fabric stretch over her curves and breasts are fine, soft to the touch and smell of the sticky sweet incense that the denizens of the Aiel Lasha binary system covet. Blade is dressed similarly, posed at her back. He does not care how he is dressed.

He has read the script, up to a point. Just before leaving their home vessel, Kafka darkened the screen of his phone and forbade him from reading to its end. She told him, with a wink, "Listen, just follow my lead, okay?" She sealed her request with a kiss on his cheek, which he bore. He follows her order without question.

The man they sit across from has you at his feet, kneeling on the gilded, bronzy flooring. (It must be hot.) There's a metal muzzle over your mouth, with slits only cut under the curve of your nose to breathe. It looks cruel but well-crafted. The metal gleams like itas been recently polished. (It must be very hot.) Your eyes are dulled, trained to the floor as the man pets you.

"The Stellaron Hunters," he whistles and folds two of his hands together. One of the others from his lower set of arms reaches out to pet your hair. Perhaps not petting, more like tugging. Manicured nails dig roughly into your scalp. Blade can see the way you almost wince, almost rise to react, but settle in yourself. “I must say, I’m not entirely looking forward to this meeting. I’m well aware of what you lot tend to bring in your wake.”

Kafka tilts her head, ever-confident, "Then, thank you for meeting today."

“How could I not? Your offer is simply too lucrative not to entertain, though you must know that. You know how too...”

The conversation drones on. The man is laying it on thick with Kafka. Silver Wolf, per the script, needs thirty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds to take down the solar system’s crypto-economic framework. Something about obliterating this planet's economic viability, disrupting in-galaxy trade, and crippling the two-star system for the next several millennia. "baby stuff", Silver Wolf had said, before taking a quantum ferry down to the planet's surface.

Blade only half-listens to the current exchange, and counts the seconds before this excruciating ordeal can be done with.

The man pets you more and more aggressively as Kafka swerves his advances. Whatever faux ‘deal’ she cooked up was being superseded by the man’s obvious lust. Kafka is used to such things, even if it's foolish.

The man takes his frustration out on you. He yanks your hair and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your shoulders shake.

(Something twinges, deep in his chest. Something that should be dead, but can't die.)

"How about this," Kafka lays a hand on Blade's lower back, almost startling him. "You give me that little scrap you've got by your knee, and we'll call it even. Everybody wins, hm?"

The man's eyes widen, before he leans back, belting out a laugh and dragging you to him. He winds your hair around his fist, and pulls your body up, over his lap. Your scramble to straddle him. Eyes dead. Lost. Almost vacant.

The man grabs your cheeks in between one palm and squeezes over the metal of your muzzle. The others grope your waist, slipping under your gossamer sheer robes. They're hardly clothes at all, Blade realizes. Just sheets of thin, hardly-there fabric. He can see the shadow of your body underneath. Blade itches in his skin.

"I'm afraid I can't accommodate that request, kind Kafka. This 'scrap' gave me such... trouble," your eyes scrunch, and the muzzle shifts over your mouth. "When I first acquired them. Training them was a hardship, but they're my most obedient thing now. I can't let my hard work go, just for a business deal, can I? You must understand."

His eyes shift to Blade, regarding him fully for the first time since they entered.

It’s not the first time he’s been regarded as something lesser and subservient. Hardly. It does not bother him. Not usually. And yet, he jolts and almost summons Shard Sword, but Kafka stops him with an arm, extended at his waist.

"My companion is not trained, nor does he need to be. He’s a lovely tool, but he has his own two feet." Kafka says. "You really only speak in insults, don't you?"

The man goes red in the face, and the arms around you constrict. You clearly try to steel yourself. You are trained. Poor thing. But there's only so much you can take.

The man’s form changes... bursts, seemingly in anger. He is almost melting, half-corporeal as his hold on you becomes tighter. Like a lasso drawn too snuggly over your tummy.

There's an audibly sickening snap (nothing Blade isn't familiar with, yet why—?), and your eyes blow wide. Alight. Awake. You shove against the man but sink into his oozing flesh. Your muzzle shifts over your face, panic in your eyes.

The man roars something in a tongue Blade doesn't know and a wet looking... hand, more than likely, slaps across your cheek. He grips over your muzzle, liquid flesh clogging the air slits in the muzzle.

Blade begins his count.

"What a tantrum." Kafka sighs, stands, and stretches. "I thought you really liked that 'thing', yet you treat them so roughly."

Thirty-two minutes and ten seconds

"They like to struggle, I assure you. I made sure they do." the man says. Blade doubts that. "Besides, I do not need your judgments. I heard you were a wretched woman. I know of your calamities."

Thirty-two minutes and twenty-two seconds.

"And yet, you invited me all the way down to your planet for a silly deal you don't have the currency or sway to accept. Pretty bold move."

Thirty-two minutes and thirty-five seconds.

The man sputters, something like an excuse, who knows or cares. you struggle in his arms, a few more snaps of bone. Your shoulder may be dislocated. Blade could pop it back into place easily.

Thirty-two minutes and forty-five seconds.

The last thing Blade had been able to read on the script was the crashing of the ion grid after Silver Wolf's hack. Everything else from there is in Kafka's hands. Things are clearly going to plan as an alarm begins to blare, screens and projections go alight in the room. Disaster, disaster, disaster. Destruction and all.

The man shoots them a look, enraged, and the dripping lump of his hand wraps around your throat.

(The thing in Blade writhes. Violence does not phase him. It shouldn’t. It hasn’t been in a long... long time, right? He remembers— maybe?)

Kafka draws her weapon and shoots the man in between the eyes. Or what's left of them. Blood and electricity shoot from the wound, spattering over your face.

You flinch with it and shriek. You scramble away from his body once it melts to the ground in a puddle. You paw at the muzzle, trying to clear the clogged air slits. Kafka, however, is faster and more efficient. She's kneeling by your side in moments, brushing away remnants of a dead man from the muzzle. Blade follows at her heels.

"Oh dear," she coos, soft and easy. "Let's get this off of you, hm?"

You shake your head and push at Kafka. You do not know her. This is logical.

Who is this stray? Blade only thinks to ask that now, but keeps his mouth shut as Kafka cows you enough to let her touch you. There's the whirring of sirens just outside.

"Bladie, dearest, a hand please?" Kafka urges him and taps the clasp of the muzzle. A platinum lock keeps it flush to your face. more than flush, really. Painfully tight.

Blade takes the lock in between two (shaking, arthritic ) fingers and crushes the mechanism. He pulls it off you a moment later— gently—

(When was the last time he was gentle?)

Kafka unsticks it from your cheeks, and you let out a gasping breath now that your mouth is free. There are indentations across your jaw, cuts, and wounds all over you, now that Blade looks closely.

Kafka does, too. She traces an angry-looking scar over your clavicle as you leer away, lip wobbling, "Oh, Bladie, look. You match. How cute."

You try to say something, but your voice is nothing but a wisp of sound. Your throat must be so dry. Or maybe your voice is unused? Probably both, now that he thinks of it. You look to be in horrible shape— neglected. A stray.

(Something in him screams. His consciousness is too fragmented and corrupted to trace the origin, other than that it is recessed. A dormant urge, yawning awake at the sight of a scared little thing. Yingxing— Blade— does not care to know. He knows the heat of a forge and the way flesh melts around molten metal and the swift flourish of a blade. He does not know the feeling growing in his chest like a lush rot. Birthed maggots crawling between his ribs. A fungus bloom on the inside of his lungs.)

His dilemma is so swiftly interrupted. Kafka smacks the butt of her gun against your temple before you can panic any further, and you slump forward into her. Your cheek rests on the cushion of her breast, and Kafka looks pleased. She pets over your hair for a moment and shushes you. There's no need to, you're limp and still. But Kafka does anyway. Blade is unsure why.

Blade is jealous— maybe.

Kafka presses a kiss to your forehead, then turns her focus to him, pin-prick gaze all on him, "Could you, Bladie?"

He complies.

Blade throws you over his shoulder just as Silver Wolf arrives, dropping down from a vent in the ceiling. This is not necessary, but Silver Wolf likes the flare of these things sometimes. Some days, he thinks it's almost—

(Endearing.)

Maybe he needs Kafka to wipe his memory again.

"All wrapped up?" Kafka asks with a smile.

"Yup." Silver Wolf unwraps a sucker from their last mission and pops it in her mouth. It's bright green. Her mouth will stain. "The system is irreparable at this point. The infrastructure will be fried too."

"Perfect, Elio will be delighted," Kafka hums. "Let's get back, then. We have a new pet to settle in."

"Wait, we're keeping them? Actually?" Silver Wolf circles Blade, studying your slack features and bruised cheeks. "Why is their face like that?"

"They were wearing a muzzle." Blade answers. Silver Wolf looks shocked that he replied.

(Blade does not see the way Kafka is looking at him. Conniving, smitten, and so utterly pleased with herself.)

"Gross." Silver Wolf scowls.

"Let's get them home, then." Kafka walks lazily to the balcony, taking out her phone to presumably dial Sam and their transport. "Our new pet needs a good bath and a hot meal. Some care, don't you think?"

Kafka flashes a look to Blade. Something in him twists.

It makes him aware of you, over his shoulder. You're soft in a way he isn't used to. He's carried many bodies over his shoulder many times at the behest of Kafka. Those were flesh weighs to him. Dead and still. You feel alive to him. The thump of your heart, the pressure of your chest and your breath against him. He can feel the way the fat and flesh of your body curve around him. How you mold to him, naturally.

It’s familiar, almost? It reminds him of—

"Listen, let's get going. You can play with them later, once we find out if they bite or not. They may need their shots." Kafka says. Blade cannot tell if she's joking.

Silver Wolf snorts a laugh regardless.

And... who's to say if Blade ruminates longer than usual as they board the sky ferry back up to their ship. The alarms and sirens drone on as they ascend, idling in the cockpit as they debrief with Elio's emissary.

Blade has not set you down.

He runs a hand up the back of your leg, high up your thigh, squeezing flesh along the way. He drags his nails over your skin on the way back down, and you stir with a whine. Kafka looks at him, knowingly as usual, and guides him to your... room. It should be a cell, probably, but it’s not.

(Kafka had prepared, it seemed. The room has been decorated, softened, with a plush bed replacing the cheap cot that reeked like petroleum and acrylic. Instead, there’s a gentle, floral scent. The bathroom looks freshened, with a bathtub big enough for two.)

(There are seven locks on the door.)

"Listen, set them down, Bladie. Nice and steady."

Blade does as is directed. You grumble and groan, pressing your face into the sheets.

"I'll fetch some medicine, hm? You stay with them. Greet them. Be good, alright?" Kafka says with a grin in her voice.

Blade is not good. He is something awful.

A high-pitched, breathy sound leaks from your throat as you fumble for the rising lump on your forehead.

Blade is not good. He does not know how to be good. But he... he wants. He will— be something for you. Maybe it'll be poison, or maybe he will learn the language of the roiling, human thing in his chest that he can't believe still breathes.

Blade shushes you and rubs over the scar on your collarbone with his thumb. You quiet beneath him, and Blade swears you almost turn into his touch.

Kafka was right, you do match.

#lore writes #blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x you #blade reader insert #dark content

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mintmatcha · 5 months

Note

talk about fatgum, Mint 🎤 tell us about how he yearns. tell us what goes through his head when he’s with her

cw: sex work mentioned, reader is bruised, implied abuse

He should be more concerned about you being seen coming to his apartment, especially when you're dressed like that.

"Mmm, I'm so glad you called." You gently close the door with your hip, hands full with a large brown bag and your purse. Your dress is short enough that he's afraid to see you bend over, tight enough that he can't help but watch. "Hope you like take out because I ordered a lot."

He's starving, of course. He's always this ravenous after a big fight, but he's been holding off for you. If he gains the weight and you end up figuring out who he is... he's not sure what the consequences will be. Nothing good could come from seeing an escort, but he can't keep you away.

You stride in like you belong here, placing your things on the coffee table before flashing him a smile. Then, you frown, comically big.

"Tai, baby, you look worse than ever." You reach over to his place on the couch and pinch his cheek. The little pressure aches, but not as badly as his chest does when you sound like that. "Is your nose broken?"

It's fractured up to the ridge, but it'll get healed tomorrow. "Just a little."

"Part of the job, I guess," you say, even though you don't sound convinced. You still think he's a boxer, spending his little winnings on nights with you.

"Don't worry about me." He reaches out and pats your side. "I'm just happy to see you."

You glow at that and Taishiro pretends it means something. He's not naive. He understands this is a business transaction to you, but he still lets himself pretend that this thing between you is something.

"Can I borrow one of your shirts?" You're already up and walking towards his bedroom. "This dress isn't comfortable."

"Second drawer down." You already know that. The real perk of being so tall and (normally) big is how cozy you look in his clothing. "I'll put on a movie."

"You're the best."

A couple minutes later, you're back, a comically oversized shirt acting as your new dress. Despite himself, he wonders if you're naked under there. He'll never act on it, he'll never expect or ask for sex from you during these little dates, but he can't pretend that his mind doesn't go there, especially when you bend down just like that and your neckline gaps-

A string of dark, uneven bruises trails down your bare chest. You're picking through the bag of food you ordered, none the wiser, but he's watching you, picking the spots that have been painted with concealer; the middle of your throat, a line straight under your jaw of both sides.

"You're bruised too."

You start at that.

"Yeah, well-" you inhale, then pop a dumpling into your mouth. You chew for a very long time, trying to postpone an answer. "Part of the job."

Again, he's not naive. He knows what men do to you, what you do to them. That doesn't bother him; what makes his skin crawl is the thought of their hands, closing a bit too tight, or coming down to make marks-

"It shouldn't be. If anyone's hurting you-"

"It's not like that." Suddenly, you settle down on his lap, feet tucked under one thigh. Your skin smells like saffron and sweetness, a hint of sweat underneath. Upclose, he can see your foundation is thicker than usual, poorly evened up over one cheek. "Here, say 'aw.'"

You hold a piece of food out by your fingers.

"I'm not hungry."

You sniff the air. "That's a lie-- come on, you're too skinny."

He hates and loves your little quirk, the ability to literally sniff out when something is wrong--

His lips close around your fingers for a moment longer than they need to.

"You're sweet." You say. "I wish all of my regulars are as sweet as you."

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kit-williams · 3 months

Text

Transactions

Male Lead: Konrad Curze/Solruthis Uadasha/The Night Haunter (Sol being his nickname) Female Lead: Reader/Sorsollia (sun that illuminates) CW: SEX, Obsession, baby trapping, yandere, not exactly dubcon but some sexual boundaries aren't respected Word Count: 2256

Know what the best thing about Dividers are... I can use them when I don't wanna spend time talking about the boring stuff

Again using this for the Nostroman words (I included translations this time)

thanks @squishyowl for the lovely 40k dividers

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

You took to him like flies do to rotting meat and he was pleased with that. Conversations dragged on and beyond what they were meant to as more often then not you would stay in his presence as you worked on the more tedious duties being a scribe brought you. But this allowed you to get closer to him which he wanted.

You paused as he was talking about something and you looked at him. He knew that look, a dark smile passed his lips, "What did you think of me like Lorgar? Unaware of such capricious and often bawdy thoughts and glances of the opposite sex?" He gets up slowly walking over to where you worked, "Or would libidinous fit better?" He leans in watching you get smaller as he enters your space more and more, "Perhaps even concupiscent!" He trills before mouthing the back of your neck and smelling that sharp change in your scent.

"I just... I..." You stutter as you are flustered and squirming as one of his hands comes and cups your breast.

"It's alright if you made that mistake. Unlike you mortals sex isn't as... required to function as most of you need."

"Sol you know its more than that." You say as if stating the obvious.

He grinned into your hair playing dumb as he knew Nostromo was far from normal or sane. Seeing what items you needed to keep yourself sane in the dark ship as your room, like the other non natives, was so much brighter than most. Its why he called you his Sorsollia. "No Sorsollia I do not know. Upon Nostromo sex is a transaction like many things. If I gave you sex either it is because I am after something you have or you are giving me something I want." He explains as she looks up disappointed.

"Surely just love and affection can be a reason to have sex. I really doubt-"

"Perhaps amongst the hill people." He hums softly, "But I smell your desire..." and your fecundity, "Do you want to partake in the transaction?"

You shake your head surprising the Primarch yet again, "Solruthis Uadasha, I don't want anything other than affection and actual I suppose desire and care. I don't like the idea of sex just being a transaction between us... like what do you feel like you owe it to me?" You look up at him bewildered as he continues to have a soft patient smile.

"Slightly." He admits as for him he was indebted to you. You were freely giving him affection and treating him like a human like an untrained whore giving too much and not getting enough money for it. But he was ready to make up for it by paying you back with giving you his baby. How adorable you are looking up at him horrified at that revelation.

"Sol." You say sadly.

He cupped your face, "Easy solution to make me not feel this way... stop being so affectionate." He says knowing you won't do that.

"But... I want to be... can't I just give you this freely."

"You would be called very unflattering things back on Nostromo."

"Well good thing I'm not Nostroman." You said back unflinchingly and as if you didn't have to think about it.

His eyes sparkled with deviant delight. And this was why he adored you and exactly why he had given you sugar pills in place of what you were using for birth control. But his little Sorsollia was a forgetful thing as you weren't using it as often... but that only benefited him.

"I've warned you Sorsollia it's transactional..." He whispers leaning in and kissing you as his hair falls free of the loose tie he had it in the black strands caressing your face, "I just want you to keep treating me like you do." He admits with sincerity.

"Sol... you don't have to do this if you don't want to I'll still give you everything I do." You say continuing to damn yourself to his side... damning yourself to being the object of his love and desire. You damned yourself to being the object of his obsession... to be the object of his gaze... to be the object that would truly be the only good thing he could have as a reference for all the disorder and disgust this universe would have. You would be the one thing he could have that no one else would take from him.

"Sorsollia I will do my best to not see it as... transactional... just-"

"A mutual exchange of flesh?" You try to make it better and you do... you always do.

"Hardly mutual."

"How come?"

"I don't think you realize how big I am." He takes your hand and puts it against his crotch.

"I don't see how..." Your eyes widen and he just smiles.

"I am unaroused right now do you still want to try?" Bless the human spirit as you nod and he just grins as he cups your chin trilling down at you. "It will hardly be mutual as I believe I will be... ruining your body for the next man for a long while."

How cute you looked sticking your tongue out while thinking before those beautiful eyes of yours sparkled and you nodded as he ushered you away to lay with him.

How pretty you looked in the pitch black room eyes darting around wanting some bit of light... the flutter of your singular heart made him feel something delightful. He hands you his shirt and in return, after you fiddle with the buttons of your own, you hand him your own. Little transactions you played up the benign discomfort for not participating in it as he drank the sweetness of your reassurances. Greedy slovenly thing he was taking so much more from this... but he would make up for all the unasked for humanizing of him.

His hands wandered over the contours of your naked body... feeling each curve and pressing against the skin. His fingers dipping into the V between your legs his fingers probing. His mouth presses a kiss into the side of your head as he pushes a finger inside of you as you whimper with pleasure. "Say my name." He growls into your ear.

"Solruthis... Uadasha." You moan as his fingers feel so big... you try to grope him but he keeps himself away.

"Not that one... say the other name."

This causes you to pause as he watches you look up at him, where you think he is, "But you aren't that name."

"I want to hear it from you." He pushes his finger deeper and deeper in and listens to you whimper and moan, "I want to hear you say it with the same care and affection in which you call me Sol."

You pause for a moment as if debating on if he really wants to hear it but your mouth moves in its pleasing shapes, "Konrad... Konrad Curze!" You say with such affection... you say with such adoration and tenderness that is the opposite of the cold impassiveness that name was thrust upon him.

"Oh my Sorsollia!" He moans kissing your neck as you feel weightless and dizzy as soon you are pressed onto the bed his cock pushing against your entrance. "Your songlike voice makes hearing that name so bearable."

You giggle as it was very clear he was using his time with Fulgrim to good use, "How very poetic."

"Gothic is far too plain you need to learn Nostroman then I wouldn't have to speak like Fulgrim." By how he speaks you can imagine his nose wrinkling. You can't help but giggle as Sol... Konrad could be affectionate... in his own way. You wonder in that moment when the last time a man's cock had rubbed against your folds raw. You can't help but close your thighs together. You feel his dark grin press into your skin, "Sorsollia... are you scared to take me?" His tongue pressed into the pulse of her neck feeling the quick fluttering pulse.

"Yes..." You say softly.

"Jasha (Good)" He says biting into your skin as he pushes in. You writhe under him, panic floods your basal brain. He learned quickly you fall back on instinct when pain is applied. You bleating his name as your nails try to dig into his flesh trying to pull away. Seconds bleed together for you till the tightness gives way, "Corshia Sey (Breathe now)" He coos to you as he holds you tightly.

Tears slip from your eyes as you lay there trembling bleating in pain unable to see the malicious grin from your lover above you. The way those black eyes of his fixate on your tears... the way your heart beats quickly... almost the same quick beat of fear. "Shhh Sorsollia Shhh you're okay. You feel so warm so tight." He says to you as you twitch and whimper in pain as he stays so still, "Wont it be nice when you can just handle me easily?"

You whimper out and nod. He runs his hands over your body and seduces you with morbid poetry. His tongue running over your salty skin before darting into your mouth as he finally begins to move. "Sol!" You gasp out causing him to chuckle.

"You can call me Konrad you know." And yet he adores as you try to call him Konrad but slipping into that chant of Sol... Sol... Sol! Sweat rolls down your skin as his warmth overwhelms you. The pained whimpers soon turned to wails of pleasure unlike the wails of screams and the shrieks for mercy as you scream for more. The pain long passed leaving only a heated pleasure in its wake.

You ride him, as best you can, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down on him as you arch your back, your breasts bouncing as you make your noises, your body going ridgid as your toes curl from an orgasm... he flips you over as your eyes glaze over at the sound of the wet slaps as his cock jackhammers into your body. His nails dig into your flesh as he knows your scent will linger in this room for so long, he hardly uses it, but he might have to if the smell of you is going to stain his bedding.

His mouth moves over the hollow of your throat mouthing it... sucking on it... his spine arching to move his mouth against your flesh. The discomfort worth the way your eyes sparkle as he fucks you dumb... his long tongue pushing into your mouth as you grab a fistful of his hair trying to keep him close. He grins at your boldness... the breakdown of decorum he will allow for now in the darkness of this room after all you tend to be good either way.

He pulls out hearing you whine as he bends you over and fucks you like the animals that you two are. Whining and mewling like a bitch in heat. He once more bites your skin hearing your shriek again causes him to bite down harder for a moment as his completion hits him and he cums deep inside of you. His biting causing you to orgasm as well.

You whimper and bleat out in pain, Konrad can taste blood in his mouth. Konrad rolls his jaw forcing his saliva ducts to work more as he can feel his mouth go numb slightly as he runs his tongue over the bite mark. You flinch and twitch, "It tingles." You say your voice hoarse from screaming.

"That means its working," He slurs slightly explaining how he got his saliva to overproduce the mild anesthetics and painkillers naturally found in human saliva.

"You're just an elevated human." You say with a smile as you feel him tend to your wound. Your eyes closing as you feel so tired after that full body experience. "So... have I shown you that sex doesn't have to be a transaction?"

You can't see the wild smile on his face, the madness in his eyes, the craving inside of him to give you more then the simple mess between your legs as a showing of his affection... perhaps some bone trinkets made from his own bones... but that will be for later for when he can make sure you will be his forever. "It will take more than one encounter like this Sorsollia." He says calmly as he was an expert in hiding his true perverse excitement.

"It's a start." You say with a smile struggling to get up before his large hand pushes you down.

"Rest Sorsollia. I'll clean you up. At least let me take care of you..."

"Is this to make you feel better about the transaction?"

"Yes." He lies as easily as he kills.

You take his hand and gently kiss his knuckles. "Thank you Sol. I just need a little bit after that." As you quickly close your eyes and your breathing shifts

He smiles wickedly at to be in his aura for so long... any primarch aura does things to people. It took you such a long time to no longer feel that unnatural fear. He'll make sure to clean you up... and to make sure that things eventually will take. He contains his giddiness allowing the darkness to hide his emotions from your sun gifted eyes as he vanishes into the dark to collect things.

#tw: sex #tw: smut #tw: baby trapping #tw: obsession #tw: yandere #he messes with her birth control #tw: pain #I have a particular VISION about yandere Konrad #yandere konrad curze #konrad curze #primarch #night lord #warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #this is set before Konrad goes insane #probably even before he kills that one scribe which starts his descent really #gosh imagine the angst potential if it was her that he nearly kills #because momrad isn't gonna have spouses kill each other

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