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reignpage · 2 months ago

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Piercer!Geto

Ducati 350 Desmo : rev my engine

Contents: 18+ mdni, huge foreplay, teasing, insight into that one text between modern au!Suguru and reader, inappropriate workplace behaviour, not proofread (literally wrote this just now and felt an urge to post immediately)

A giggle escapes you.

Your boss just texted you to come to his office for a consultation on a possible tattoo. And you’re biting your lip, walking over to his door, weaving around the different stations of your fellow co-workers who simply grin at you. They have eyes, they can see he treats you differently, see that he’s softer, more patient around you.

And they definitely see the blush that stains your cheeks every time he winks at you or breezes past. You just hope they can’t see you press your thighs together when he places his large hand on the small of your back and whisper an ‘excuse me, pretty’ in your ear.

It’s a little silly to be getting so worked up over your boss — your sister would certainly not approve, but she’s not much better than you — but your boss is tall, dark and handsome. Anyone in your position would feel the same way.

You hear him say ‘come in’ when you knock, so you slip inside and close the door with a nervous smile. Suguru is sat behind his desk, hair tied up into a bun at the back, flicking through a portfolio. His leather jacket is strung on the back of his chair, tight black shirt clinging to his lean but muscular body in a way that makes you jealous.

“Hey, boss.” Your voice has a slight waver to it, a nervous tremor that catches his attention. He looks up through his thick lashes, a small smile pulling at his lips. Beckoning you to sit across from him, he leans back in his chair, seemingly taking in your figure.

Thank goodness you stole your sister’s pink sweater with a low v-line dipping to your cleavage. The simmering look he gives you makes facing her wrath so worth it.

Sitting down, you clasp your hands in your lap. You’ve been in his office many times, but those were quick moments: giving him coffee, informing him of an emergency or a sudden cancellation, grabbing something from his shelves. But you’ve never quite sat and basked in the slight vanilla smell in the air, never been on the opposite side of his desk like a client, and you’ve certainly never faced his flirtations head-on like this.

Suguru sits up, leaning on his elbow and tilting his head at you with a patient smile. A lock of hair follows with him and you want to feel it. Gosh, his hair looks so pretty. You wonder if it’s as silky as it looks.

“How have you been finding working here, Y/n? I hope you’re finding it easy enough to balance your studies with your part-time job.”

You pout at the paternal tone he’s taken on. “It’s great. Everyone is so nice. No matter how many times I mess up, no one gets mad at me. Everyone’s so patient, I really feel at home.”

He nods, smile widening ever so slightly. “Good, good. I’m glad to hear that.”

The pink polish on your pointer finger is flaking off as you scratch. You’re fidgeting, suddenly feeling alert and aware of every movement, every shuffle outside the door as people walk past. It feels wrong to be hidden away like this with everyone still working just behind that door. It isn’t even locked.

“So,” Suguru begins, a teasing lilt to his voice, “you want a tattoo.”

“I want to be tattooed by you,” you hurriedly correct. Why did you do that? That sounded so desperate. You wince but he only smiles wider, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You’re too obvious.

Suguru opens a drawer and places the leather sketchbook you found the other day. It’s thick, with scraps of paper poking out, and held together by an elastic band. The only thing in his entire office, and in his entire studio, that is messy. It feels scandalous, like you saw a peek through his soul and he had let you. Your heart clenches. So does your pussy.

Nope.

Behave, you tell your body.

When you catches his gaze, he motions you over to his side. So you stand, pulling your short skirt down as discreetly as possible, and round his desk. This feels even more scandalous. You’re on the boss’ side, seeing the world from his perspective. He’s still sat down whilst you stand beside him, shuffling on your feet awkwardly.

Then he pushes his chair back ever so slightly to give you space to lean forward and look at the page he’s opened. It’s of the dragon you saw. A pearly white, elegant looking creature with captivating yellow eyes. Its body is twisted, curling as it takes flight, rising through the heavens. You had no idea tattoos could be so beautiful.

“I’m happy to broaden your perspective, pretty girl,” he replies.

You hadn’t even realise you said it out loud. You blush again.

You’re looking down on him, and he’s leaning back in his chair, legs spread in the loose trousers he wears, but it’s settled on his thick thighs, revealing the delectable muscles there and the bulge you’re trying not to look at.

When you glance back up at him, he’s pressing his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. Heat rises up your neck to your face. You should be fired.

Clearing your throat, you point to the dragon. “I want that one.”

“Yeah?” He’s studying you, no doubt trying to determine if you’re worthy. “Can you handle being tattooed, pretty? You’ll have needles poking you, will you manage?”

It’s clear he’s trying to test your limits, which is fair because you don’t have a single tattoo, unlike everyone else in the studio. You stand out with all your pastels and pinks contrasting with the sharp metals and ink of the place. But Suguru thinks you’re a scaredy cat. He thinks you’d tap out immediately and cry home about how he was too rough or too mean.

You raise a brow, trying to imitate that arrogant look your sister always has. “I think I’ll be able to handle whatever you give me,” and then you add, almost like an afterthought, “boss.”

Always smiling, Suguru lifts a hand and curls two fingers. You shuffle between his spread legs, slotting in so perfectly it makes the tips of your breasts tingle. It’d be so easy to just kneel between them, to take out that part of him you’ve been dreaming of since he interviewed you, and ask for his cum like a good girl. Or better yet, to just plop yourself down on his lap and ride him to oblivion.

You don’t do either, of course.

It’d be wrong to do any of that with your boss, though you’re sure you wouldn’t regret a thing. But you have no experience with men. Your fingers, and a couple times a pillow, have been your only company on night where the frustration has boiled over.

Suguru runs his gaze up the length of your body, from the smooth thighs peaking from your skirt, to your waist, to the nipples pebbling under your thin sweater, and the curves rounding out beyond the neckline, your neck, and your face. Then back down again.

You gulp.

There are phantom grazes running along your skin, tickling your skin wherever it goes. It’s making you ache between your legs and you want to rub yourself along his thigh, or his face, or both. How is he doing that?

Slowly, like a panther stalking its prey, he straightens his posture and his hand lifts. You’re both watching his fingertips graze the side of your thigh at a snail’s pace, as if intent on carving the feeling of your skin to memory.

Your heart is pounding in your ribcage, threatening to burst out and dance on his desk. It’s pulsing at a beat that matches the down at the apex of your thighs. Can he hear it?

His eyes meet yours. His smile is gone. That cool temperament has disappeared, replaced with a strain in his eyes, in the way it flickers between yours. And when you gasp as his fingers reach the hem of your tight skirt, feeling the soft pudge, his eyes narrow.

“Where do you want it?”

Through the haze, you barely hear what he’s saying. You stutter out, “Anywhere you want, boss.”

That was the wrong thing to say apparently because in a flash he’s standing behind you, pinning your hips to the desk with his own. Oh goodness, his body feels so firm against yours. And he smells so good, like thrill and danger wrapped in one.

Your head falls back against his chest when his hands grip your hips, fingers splaying over your tummy, so close to where you want them but still not close enough.

His lips scrape the shell of your ear and his deep timbre enters you and vibrates your very being. “Be careful, angel. I might just brand you everywhere.”

Head tilting to the side, you’re gasping at him. “Brand?”

You breathed it out like it was the dirtiest word in the English vocabulary, like he had just suggested he spit in your mouth in front of the clients. But when you make eye contact, he raises his hand to lift your sweater just a little, thumb settling on your bare skin, all warm from the blood rushing through you.

You’re growing dizzy, so lightheaded you hardly remember where you even are. That must be why he has an impression that looks so innocent, like he hadn’t said anything at all. You’re mistaken. The rush is ruining your perception.

Suguru leans down and he’s so close, you’re just a tiptoe away from feeling his lips against yours, from tasting him and exploring anything and everything he’s willing to give. His hands are burning his imprints and you already know you’ll feel them later when you’re no doubt sliding your own hand into your soaked panties.

But then he pulls away just as there’s a knock at his door.

You hear Miguel’s muffled voice and you scramble back from Sugar, who’s gracefully sitting back down like nothing’s happened. Your mind is frantically trying to catch up, and it leaves you breathless.

Stumbling over to the door, you fix your sweater and pull down your skirt hurriedly before opening the door to see the man polite smile at you and then at the boss.

He enters and you exit, the door remains open. But when you sneak one last glance at the room, you see Miguel admiring something on the wall, and then you catch Suguru’s heated gaze, his stare not faltering even as he presses a hand to his crotch and adjusts himself like a promise.

You walk back to your desk at the front of the shop and desperately try to catch your breath just in time as a pink-haired man you recognise as being a member of the student council and a friend of your sister introduces himself and ask to see Suguru on a ‘personal matter’.

It’s as if you’re moving on auto-pilot, nodding with a polite smile and gesturing to the direction of his office unnecessarily because the man’s already walking off. Your phone pings and you open it to see a text from your friend about how she’s on her way.

You exhale one last time, replying something to her and ignoring the embers flickering on the places your boss has touched.

And then you giggle.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #Suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru fluff #suguru smut #jjk drabble #jjk oneshot #suguru geto #suguru drabble

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aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

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A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?”

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home.

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well.

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it.

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement.

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was.

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk.

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it.

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face.

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you.

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings.

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly.

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does.

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin.

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks.

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor.

“A… A great victory, master!”

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare.

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?”

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you.

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall.

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded.

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –”

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately.

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always!

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything.

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.”

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow.

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours.

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad.

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer.

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet.

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone.

A kindness, even now.

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly.

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.”

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head.

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers.

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot.

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter.

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace.

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow.

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.”

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.”

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them.

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way.

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill.

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again.

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?”

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip.

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his.

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same.

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you.

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers.

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself.

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises.

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples.

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm.

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold.

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine.

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking.

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives.

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason.

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his.

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend.

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine.

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her.

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion.

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore.

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now.

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again.

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you.

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say.

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly.

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close.

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew.

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips.

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you.

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else.

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet.

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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bigfatbimbo · 5 months ago

Note

Silly request but imagine helping Bill "groom" his triangle self. Gently wipe him with a cloth. Carefully dip it in the little space between the bricks, can't leave that zone unclean! Alternatively, a classic soapy bubble bath. Silly straws included, what the hell, he's probably drinking the bath water and listing the chemical ingredients back at you while you gently rub him clean. Fun times

The Bug Collector

1.1k words,, Bill Cipher x reader

a/n — Procrastination killed my soul during this, I think it turned out okay, though! Sorry for typos, your girl is tired.

warnings — SFW, post!weirdmaggedon, as ‘fluffy’ as you can get with Bill cipher, he is his own warning, kinda toxic relationships, fluff and bill being pathetic

summary — Reader assists a recently fallen Bill Cipher in self care, despite his general all-mighty asshole-ness.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, a water-tight barrier most commonly known for muscle attachments, and its use to shelter and protect the insects gushy insides from its harsh environment.

The exoskeleton of a triangle was for mostly for aesthetics, as the underneath was far more horrifying than anything in the harsh environment around it. Or so the triangle claims.

You dipped a soapy sponge into the bucket in front of you, as bill propped his feet up on the bathtub.

“You conquer worlds and destroy planets, but yeah, why not draw the line at cleaning yourself.”

“Please, what better way to make use out of my new human pet— partner, than this?” He corrected loudly and purposefully. Then looking to the side, he mumbled, “And besides, kid, you have no idea how hard it is to clean between the bricks. Euck— So many blind spots.”

The first part was a throwaway reminder that he had far more power than you in this dynamic, something you’d picked up on Bill casually doing in his time with you.

Being roommates with a butt-hurt demon, given the ending of weirdmaggedon, allowed you the privilege of being more cautious than previous humans were with Bill. For example, you’ve taken to keeping track of his repeated habits and patterns.

On of which, just so happened to be reminding you how small you were compared to him.

You jabbed the sponge in-between on of the bricks, “Ow!” He narrowed his eye at you, “Watch it, pal. I’m starting to think you’ve never cleaned a triangle before.”

“I’d hate to give that impression.” You softened your hold on him, “Delicate work, I always say.”

And it was delicate work. After his defeat, he’d been roughed up a surprising bit, powers even weakened.

Weakened.

“Not too delicate,” he shot you glance. Guess he’d heard that thought process.

Although, most days he’d seemed to be in a thought process of his own. Weird.

You cleared your throat, “How often does this even need to be done?”

He blinked, “Well, let’s see. Once every—“ he waved his hand around “—few hundred years. Very high maintenance, do not recommend it.”

High maintenance, yeah. At this point, Bill had taken to talking about some other topic, you hadn’t been really listening, something about intergalactic food joints.

Every once and a while he’d bring up something that happened with one of his ‘henchmaniacs’ before getting slightly irritated at the lack of presence in his life now, and changing the subject.

Bill was interesting to study, you couldn’t lie. His eyelashes curled away from each other, like the mangled legs of a recently dead spider. His hands were very present when he talked, like most people of business. His body flicked side to side slightly at certain moments.

You became more gentle naturally, taking care of every crevice, and for some reason Bill becomes gradually quieter.

“Something wrong?” You asked, not stopping.

Bill blinked, “Eh, been a minute since i’ve had a human servant. Maybe, I was thinking of other things you can help with!”

You sigh, “Yeah, because i’m your servant. As if.” In your mind, your thinking do the fact he was your roommate, in your house, eating your food.

“Hey, don’t get all butt-hurt. You’re all ants to me, buddy, nothing to be ashamed of!” His eye flicked back and forth between you and the room.

Then you stop scrubbing, “Bill, I might as well be your landlord.” You know he can read your thoughts, so you make a point to justify yourself. Already weakened from his failed apocalypse, anything other than vague respect for you would land him homeless. Most likely, his response to this would be killing you, but there’s only so much he can do afterwards.

He’d have a place to stay, but with no electricity or heating, and in his damaged physical form he actively does need those things. And trying to get a new human would be a hassle, and unlike you, no guarantee they’d let him stay there without calling the authorities.

“Yeesh,” Bill remarks, “Buzzkill… You are still a bug compared to me, though—“

You drop the sponge in the bucket, “I think you’re done.”

He looks taken aback when you pull away, “What? Come on, over the bug comment? Jeez, buddy—“

“No I mean you’re actually done,” you gesture to his body, now shining and slick with soap suds. “I got everything, there’s nothing else to do.”

You go to turn around before you feel a small hand grabbing for the back of your shirt.

“Wait, wait!” He breathes, eye farting from side to side, “… You have to dry me off first.”

He looked slightly panicked, like if you stopped taking care of him now, you’d leave and never come back. Your thought process earlier couldn’t have helped.

The way he scurried and gasped for you was reminiscent of panicked earwig and a rock is lifted up. The comparison should have grossed you out, but it kinda just made you feel a little bad.

If he was paying attention to your thoughts, he didn’t show it. This would have usually given you the impression he’d wanted you to be thinking the way you were, but he seemed a little wrapped up in his own head.

“Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re gonna kick me out because I asked you to dry me off. One last thing and then you don’t even have to talk to me the rest of the night! Sounds like a good deal, right?”

His slightly desperate looking sales pitch was met with a sigh, you picked up a dry towel and began to pat the soap suds off of him. His body slowly breathed in, making it look like he was sighing, but no noise came out.

You wondered then if he was actually touch-starved, but cut your thoughts there because this time he had nothing better to do then pay attention to what you were thinking.

“Ouch, i’m not that desperate, pal.” But he was.

His exoskeleton was dry, but you didn’t stop patting him down. His eyelid shut slowly, and the spider-legs on them curled into each other once more.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, but one of a triangle seemed to simply be for aesthetics.

However, on some rare occasions, it possesses the same desire for love as human bodies. Only, when very desperate, of course.

#bill cipher x reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #bill cipher x you #bill cipher fluff #fluff x reader #bill cipher #x reader #gravity falls imagines #bill cipher imagines #inbox open

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hesperisms · 3 months ago

Text

// Beyond Sanctuary

"I would like it if, what helps you get better isn't medicine, but rather, me…"

// summary: Zayne expands on the research he did into how to relieve your menstrual cramping he mentions during the Affinity 70 Secret Time, Sanctuary.

// content warnings: 18+ (mdni), menstruation, soft-dom, established history, pet names, stimulation, aftercare

// a/n: I was in pain and out of advil when I wrote this, but who needs advil when you have Linkon's best? x-posted to AO3 - likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

"I would like it if, what helps you get better isn't medicine, but rather, me..." Zayne whispered quietly, his breath fluttering warmly across the curve of your ear while his fingers brush firm but gentle circles on your lower abdomen. While the words were sweet, there was a tone of intention behind his words that you picked up on immediately.

You reach down and slide your hand over the back of his while his fingers loop across your soft skin and tilt your head back towards him slightly, your curiosity piqued. "What else did your research teach you, Dr Zayne?" you say teasingly, catching the edge of a smirk he tries to hide from you out of the corner of your eye.

Zayne pecks a little kiss on the curve of your neck before he answers, trying to make sure his voice remains steady and measured; that it won't betray him into appearing too needy. Lying pressed up against your back stroking your delicate flesh and smelling your hair was making things hard for him. "Well," he began, a slight edge of huskiness to his voice, "while ibuprofen and other NSAIDS may help with pain relief, their usage is limited by dosage caps. I've read studies that a combination of dopamine and oxytocin topically applied can be just as effective...would you like to try it my love?"

As he finishes his sentence, his fingertips dip out from under yours and start trailing lower, finding the waistband of your sweats and teasing their way inside to brush against the fabric of your panties as he starts pecking kisses along the curve of your neck up towards your ear, nibbling gently on the edge of it while he waits for you to answer him. He already knows what your answer will be, of course, but he wants to hear you voice your consent. Your comfort is a priority for him, after all.

You bite your bottom lip as you comprehend his meaning; he wants to give you orgasms. He's waiting for you to tell him you want him to.

"Aren't you concerned about the mess?" you begin to ask hesitantly, but Zayne cuts you off with a gentle reprimand. "Silly girl," he chides in a sinful whisper against the shell of your ear, using his other hand to tug at the well-loved blanket beneath you. "I brought this old blanket in along with the tea I served you earlier with this very purpose in mind. Not to mention, being a surgeon, you know I'm very familiar with getting blood out of fabrics. The only thing I need you to concern yourself with is enjoying my efforts."

Your objections thoroughly and confidently handled, you feel a flush of heat rise in your stomach and you nod your head in agreement but this isn't enough for Zayne. "Use your words, Darling...would you like to try it?" he hums in a quiet growl, his warm breath and tone sending a flash of heat down your spine.

"Yes." "Yes what?" He challenges instantly, mouth paused mid-suck on your flushing earlobe.

"Yes please, Zayne." You whine, far needier than you intended to and your pulse quickens as he lets out a gentle little laugh, the slivery sound of it and the little puffs of air teasing your neck, making you shiver.

"That's much better my love," he coos soothingly as he takes a deep breath of the scent of your hair, bending his arm you've been using as a pillow to wrap around your chest and grip your shoulder, firmly locking you into his embrace as his little spoon. "Now let's do something about this pain of yours, hmm?"

He moves his other hand to ease down your panties, rolling the sides down your thighs to give him some space to move without brushing against your still-fresh pad and once they've been sufficiently rolled down, he reaches over you to the nightstand. As his larger weight presses you slightly into the sheets he pulls the drawer open and rummages, finding the small bottle of lube he insisted you keep nearby. You notice him juggle the bottle for a second, unsure how he's going to be able to open it and apply it with the one same hand and you giggle at his dilemma. You reach out, taking the bottle from him and uncapping it. "Thank you y/n." he praises appreciatively in your ear with a pecked kiss on your neck as he holds out his fingers to you and you drip some onto him.

As his slicked fingertips slide down between your thighs your breath catches in your throat and your heart starts to hammer in your chest. Ever attentive to your body's signals, Zayne licks and kisses at your neck, paying close attention to your pulse thrumming in the delicate arteries of your throat. Though he'll never admit it to you, it's a game for him to manipulate your pulse this way, his years of medical training making it second nature for him to read your reactions via the heart he studied so intensely. A soft sigh leaves your lips as Zayne's lithe fingertips start to explore, circling your aching bud and sliding between your folds, while he watches you intensely with those golden-green eyes sparkling with desire. "Close your eyes and relax," he instructs, praising you as you do so with a throaty whisper. "Trust me to make you feel good." You melt back into his warm chest, his right arm still wrapped tightly around you while his other hand roams.

Feeling you settle in and squirm gently in his arms, he slips his long middle finger into your rapidly soaking folds, curling them to stroke your spot as his thumb finds your swelling clit, eliciting little moans of pleasure from you, the painful ache of your cramps gradually being replaced with an ache of longing and desire the more his fingers lavish their attentions on you.

"Can you take more?" he growls against your neck in a raspy whisper, dry humping his growing erection up against your backside. You let out a low moan and grind against his hand in response and he stops his movements, waiting for a real answer. "That's twice I've had to tell you to use your words, my love, don't make me have to repeat myself please." "Please keep going Zayne." You whimper, grasping onto his hand holding onto your shoulder. "Please don't stop, I want you." He lets out a little moan of his own against the back of your neck and resumes grinding his length against you, closing his eyes and acting on sheer instinct. As he presses himself into you, he slips a second finger into your aching walls, it joining his middle finger in seeking out your pleasure. He scissors his long fingers inside you, stretching your walls wider as he crooks them just right to hit that sweet spongy spot again and again. His thumb works your clit in tight circles, sending jolts of electricity shooting up your spine and your grip on his hands tightens.

Your vision starts to blur and sparkles dance in your eyelids as you throw your head back against his shoulder, moaning his name loudly as you come undone on his fingers, rhythmic clenches keeping his fingers trapped deeply inside you. As you come down and the orgasm subsides, he slowly withdraws his hand, sliding your panties back up your hips ensuring they're snug and securely back in place, pecking kisses on your neck. "That's my good girl" he purrs, peppering you with kisses. "You go ahead and rest, I'll be back in a minute after I clean up." Zayne gently slides his arm out from underneath you and you roll over to watch him, blushing as you see his left hand covered in blood. He notices your gaze has caught his hand and he leans over to plant a warm gentle kiss on your lips, before he presses his forehead against yours. "Don't be embarrassed, this is nothing I'm not used to y/n, I see blood all the time." he smiles against your lips and you can't help but smile back, your blush receding.

After a couple of minutes in the bathroom washing up he returns to the bedroom with a wry smile at you and slides into bed beside you, snuggling you up against his broad chest in a big bear hug, his chin resting on your hair while he gently rubs your back in slow, easy circles. You drift off to sleep, your cheek pressed against his chest, the scent of his aftershave filling your senses and the cramps long gone.

#lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace imagines #zayne smut #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #lads zayne #l&ds zayne #love and deepspace imagine #18+ mdni #mdni

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zegrasdrysdale · 6 months ago

Note

Wyatt Johnston request!!

Y/n giving Wyatt some birthday "fun" celebrations after Wyatt was on a hatty watch and for winning game 4 on his birthday....smut included please

[ it’s supposed to be fun turning 21 ] w. johnston

paring : Wyatt Johnston x fem!reader

summary : the boys take Wyatt out after the game 4 win for his 21st birthday. Wyatt’s girlfriend goes with him but she has her own celebration plans in store for Wyatt that might not be able to wait until they get back to the hotel

warning(s) : smut ! oral (m receiving), drunk sex, semi public sex, bathroom sex, p in v unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), alcohol consumption and drunkenness

author’s note : got these two requests and i decided to combine them since they were so similar :)) enjoy bc i very much got carried away (pls pretend i posted this around wyatt’s birthday bc it’s sooo late but i started writing it on his birthday )

༺═──────────────═��

She knew before his first goal that it was a special game since it's the night before Wyatt's 21st birthday. She's been waiting months for this night since she turned 21 in December. It makes tonight even better that Dallas is playing in game four of the second round of the playoffs too.

Wyatt scores again in the second period and she is on her feet for the rest of the game just in case he gets the hatty. It would be the perfect way to end being 20. He gives the puck to Steel on an empty net attempt though and that’s the end of his last game at 20 years old.

That’s Wyatt. He could’ve had a hat trick in his last game as a 20 year old but he let Sam have his first goal of the playoffs instead. So selfless. That’s her boyfriend though and it’s one of the reasons she loves him.

She goes back to the hotel where the Stars are staying to wait for Wyatt. It’s not quite midnight in Colorado so they have to wait a little bit before taking Wyatt out.

She changes out of her borrowed stolen Stars jersey into something a little more bar friendly. The Stars jersey and leggings turns into a skintight black mini dress with thin straps and heels. The dress accentuates her curves and pushes her breasts up. She pulls out the double French braids that she had in to make her hair naturally wavy then touches up her makeup.

A key is used in the door and it’s pushes open about 30 minutes after she gets back to the hotel. She peeks her head out of the bathroom and watches Wyatt walk into the room. He isn’t alone. Pavs, Tyler, Jamie, Roope, Miro and Logan walk in with him. She smiles and walks out of the bathroom.

“Hi, handsome,” she says to get Wyatt’s attention. “Nice goals tonight.”

Wyatt looks up from his phone and smiles when he sees his girlfriend. “Like what you saw, pretty girl?” he asks as she approaches him.

“I’ve very much enjoyed all seven of your playoff goals this season,” she laughs. “And three last season. Good job at scoring ten playoff goals before turning 21.”

One of his hands falls to her waist and he pulls her flush against him before crashing their lips together. His other hand rests on her lower back and he dips her backward a bit. She smiles and cups his jaw with both her hands.

The kiss heats up and for a second, she forgets that six other people are in the room. It’s not until one of said other people clears his throat that she remembers that they’re not alone.

Wyatt breaks the kiss and looks at his teammates. She turns her own head to look at the other hockey players in the room.

“The six of you insisted that you come back to my room with me knowing she was here and I scored two goals tonight while also being the eighth player in NHL history to score 10 playoff goals before turning 21,” he says. “I apologize for getting a little carried away.”

“A little?” Tyler asks. “You were trying to eat her face, Johnny.” She giggles at Tyler’s comment and looks up at Wyatt. He stands her back up but doesn’t let her go.

Her boyfriend rolls his eyes and asks, “What time are we going out and who else is coming? There’s no way that it is just the six of you taking me out tonight. Not after the win.”

Jamie, who was typing away on his phone, says, “All the guys that can legally drink are coming, which I’m pretty sure it’s everyone once the clock strikes midnight in an hour.” The Stars captain looks at her. “You’re 21, right?”

“Turned 21 in December,” she explains.

“Good,” Jamie replies. “We leave at quarter of twelve so we are at the bar by midnight to buy Johnny here his first legal drink. I’m giving Pavs that honor, but I’m buying his second drink as his captain.”

The guys laugh then begin fighting over who else is going to buy Wyatt a drink. All she got from the entire argument is that Wyatt is going to get very drunk tonight and will be very hungover when they wake up for their early afternoon flight back to Dallas tomorrow.

In the forty minutes between when Wyatt got back to the room and when they leave, more Stars players make their way into the hotel room after showering or eating something. It’s not a very big room and there are nearly 20 grown men standing around. She spends the entire time in Wyatt’s arms or sitting on his lap to save some space.

At quarter of twelve, she and the Stars leave the hotel in the van that they all pitched in to rent so they don’t take the team bus to the bar. Pavs is the designated driver so they can make it back in one piece. Ten minutes later, the van arrives at a bar in downtown Denver.

Considering it’s a Monday night in the middle of May, the bar is very crowded. Maybe it’s people who went out to watch the game or maybe it’s people that decided to just go drinking on a Monday night. Either way, it’s very crowded and the music is loud. ESPN is on multiple TVs so the game was on at some point. Their group gets stared at as they find a large high top table to sit at.

Wyatt sits at the head of the table. She sits on one side of him and Pavs sits across from her. Tyler sits on the other side of her and Jamie is on the other side of Pavs.

A waitress walks up to the table with her pad and says, “I guess you’re all here to celebrate your win. I guess you’re also here for his birthday.” She nods at Wyatt. “You guys still have like three minutes before I can legally serve him a drink.”

Jamie speaks up. “Well, by the time the drinks get to the table, it’ll be midnight and he’ll be 21,” he comments.

“Touché,” she replies with a smile. “What can I get you guys?”

They go around the table and order their drinks. Pavs orders for Wyatt since technically, it’s not midnight yet and he can’t order his own drink. He’s got two minutes before he can do that. IDs are checked, including Wyatt’s to make sure he isn’t lying about turning 21 in a minute.

Then she’s off with their drink orders. Pavs has the first round.

Tyler is the first to acknowledge when the clock strikes midnight. He lets the entire bar know when he screams, “He’s 21!” Hoots, hollers, and happy birthdays sound from around the table. Wyatt turns a bright shade of red but has a huge smile on his face as he thanks his teammates.

She smiles at her birthday boy. Wyatt eventually looks at her. “Happy birthday, baby,” she says to him.

“Thank you, my pretty girl,” Wyatt replies.

She hops out of her seat so she can give Wyatt a hug. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and she pecks his jaw. “We have a lot to celebrate tonight,” she mumbles against his ear. “Just so you know.”

He looks down at her with a grin on his face. “I can’t wait.”

Their drinks all arrive about two minutes later. The guys all hold their drinks up and Jamie makes a little toast.

“To Wyatt Johnston’s 21st birthday,” he says. “He is just getting started. That being said, here’s to us going up in the series and being one game away from moving onto the next round. Let’s win it on Wednesday and make it to the Western Conference finals for the second year in a row.”

The boys cheers their drinks and take a sip. Wyatt downs his in a few chugs. Some of the guys are impressed and others are surprised. She gives Wyatt a knowing look so he can relax because it’s so obvious that he’s had drinks before.

Jamie orders a round of shots, and everyone orders their favorite shot. Tyler gets the round of drinks after that and everyone is two drinks and a shot deep already. They’ve been at the bar for maybe fifteen minutes, ten of those where Wyatt has been legal.

A couple of the single guys go and try to find a girl for the night, but it’s rough being a Dallas Star in Avalanche territory. She just laughs at their attempts as the alcohol she has been drinking begins to run through her veins.

An hour later, things are spinning even though she’s in a chair. She’s had four drinks and five shots. All were very strong and she doesn’t have the highest tolerance. Wyatt has a higher tolerance, or maybe it’s because he’s several inches taller than her and weighs more than she does.

Wyatt excuses himself to go get a drink at the bar. Her eyes linger on him as he weaves his way through the crowd to get his drink. She sips her drink as her eyes fall to his ass. It looks good in the dress pants he never got out of when he got back to the hotel after the game. The button up he’s wearing hugs his arms in the right places as he leans against the bar.

She crosses her legs as she imagines both articles of clothing on their hotel room floor while they celebrate the win and his birthday.

Suddenly, she isn’t sure if she’ll make it back to the hotel. The room gets hot very quickly and she presses her lips in a line. Her mind betrays her despite every attempt to stop thinking about her plans for when they leave the bar in a few hours.

He comes back with a handful of drinks for the table, including another drink for her since she was almost finished her drink when he walked away. Wyatt hands her the glass and her eyes focus on his hand around it. All she can think about is his fingers in her hair while his dick is in her mouth.

She really cannot stop thinking about Wyatt fucking her and she’s had enough. She needs him. Now. Not in a few hours when they leave.

“Wy,” she says to get his attention. He hums as he sips his new drink. “Wyatt.” He finally puts his glass down and looks at her. She glances around the table. “I, um … need to use the bathroom. Can you show me where it is?”

“It’s back there,” Wyatt replies as he points over his right shoulder. “Big neon sign that says ‘restroom’. Can’t miss it.”

With a pout, she tries again. This time with intention in her voice. “Wyatt,” she sternly says. “Please come with me to the bathroom because there are so many people here right now and I don’t want to go alone.”

Wyatt turns his full attention to her and she raises her eyebrows. A lightbulb goes off in his head and he gets up from his seat. “Right, okay,” he stammers. “Let’s go.”

Happy that he finally got the idea, she hops down from her seat at the table and takes the hand that Wyatt offers her. Neither of them says a word to anyone at the table. They just walk toward the bathroom.

Luckily, it’s a single stall bathroom with a lock on the door. She checks her surroundings to make sure no one is looking before dragging Wyatt into the ladies room behind her.

She presses Wyatt against the door to shut it and clicks the lock so no one walks in. Wyatt takes her face in his hands and crashes their lips together in a heated kiss. He ravishes her mouth with his and it only makes things worse for her. She whines into his mouth and he swallows the sound.

It’s probably because she’s drunk, but she’s very turned on right now. With every kiss, she feels the need to cross her legs just for some pressure on her core.

Her fingers trail down his chest and torso until they land on the belt around Wyatt’s waist. Without looking, she undoes the clasp and unbuttons his pants. Wyatt groans when her hand slides into his boxers and wraps her hand around his hardening dick. With a flick of her wrist, she begins to pump his cock.

Wyatt hums before he breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead against her and pants, “Baby, I cannot come in these pants because I don’t know how much longer we will be out for and I don’t want to sit around with come in my pants.”

“No one said anything about coming in pants,” she says. Wyatt is about to say something but she drops to her knees on the tile floor of the bathroom before he could get a word out. It’s probably cleaner than the men’s bathroom floor but it’s still a bathroom floor.

She pulls his pants and boxers down until they pool at his ankles. His cock springs free and nearly hits her in the face. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes him in her hand. Wyatt leans back against the door and mumbles something under his breath.

After a few slow pumps, she wraps her lips around the leaking tip. Wyatt’s fingers slide into her hair and he grips her locks very lightly as she takes him in her mouth. She is careful not to choke herself on his dick so she has to use her hand to make up some of what doesn’t fit in her mouth.

Wyatt lets out soft pants as she begins to suck him. The back of his head softly hit the door and he looks down at her with his eyes. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Never thought that I would see you on your knees for me in a bar bathroom.”

She pulls off of him and wipes away some saliva that has started to roll down her chin. “I would get on my knees for you literally anywhere,” she admits. Wyatt smiles and she wraps her lips around him again with a wink.

Soft pants pass Wyatt’s lips the closer he gets to his orgasm. His fingers run through her hair and she hums around him. One hand rests at the base of his dick and the other rests in his thigh above his knee to keep herself steady.

Heat pools at her core the longer she stays on her knees. She can only imagine what she looks like on her knees on the bathroom floor of a bar. Her knees do begin to hurt from the tile floor at some point but she tries to pay no mind to the pain.

She occasionally flicks her wrist to pump what she can’t fit in her mouth. Her cheeks hollow out as she sucks since she knows that’s one of Wyatt’s favorite things. It causes a moan to pass Wyatt’s lips and he quickly covers his mouth with his hand in case anyone is outside the door.

The only time she alerts Wyatt to the fact that her knees hurt is when she shifts her weight and winces around his dick.

He looks down at her and asks, “Do your knees hurt?” She nods in response. “Come here, baby.” She pulls off his dick with a soft pop and slowly gets to her feet. Wyatt has her by the waist so she doesn’t stumble and fall.

When she’s fully on her feet and finds her balance, Wyatt leans down and kisses her deeply. His tongue parts her lips and she hums. Her hands find his hair and his hands slide down to her butt. Wyatt squeezes once then picks her up by the back of her thighs.

She squeals in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wyatt sets her down on the counter next to the sink. She leans against the mirror behind her but keeps her arms wrapped around his neck.

Wyatt smiles at her and wraps his pointer fingers into the thin straps of her dress. He’s always been a boob guy so this doesn’t surprise her at all. He leans into her and presses light kisses to her breasts. He gropes one while he gives attention to the other, then alternates. Moans pass her lips and she leans her head back against the mirror.

“Wyatt,” she whines. “I need you. Please, baby.”

He snaps his head up when she talks. “Oh, you’re so nerdy that you want me to fuck you in a bar bathroom,” he comments with a sly smirk on his face. “Being legal is great.”

She pushes his shoulder. “Wyatt Johnston, fuck me before I go find one of your single teammates who wouldn’t hesitate,” she blurts out. “Quit yapping.”

With a laugh, he pushes the bottom of her already short skirt over her butt so the entire dress sits around just her waist. “You’re all mine, pretty girl,” Wyatt tells her. “Your threat is nothing more than a bark. I fuck you too good for you to go find someone else.”

She rolls her eyes because she knows he’s right. She’ll always come back to him, no matter what.

He pushes her black lace panties over and she presses her lips into a line. She shivers when the cool air hits her wet core. She kicks off her shoes and puts one of her heels on the counter so Wyatt has easy access because her legs have already fallen apart.

Wyatt leans into her and catches her lips in a deep kiss. She gasps against his lips when she feels him run his tip through her soaked folds. She grips the collar of his shirt as he pushes into her. "God, Wyatt," she mumbles. "Fuck."

He nips at her bottom lip as he slowly pushes himself into her. Her legs begin to shake with anticipation as Wyatt deepens the kiss and bottoms out in her at the same time. She hums and Wyatt swallows the noise.

After a second or waiting so she can adjust to him, Wyatt begins to roll his hips against hers. She cries out and he nips at her bottom lip. “Baby, you have to be quiet,” he reminds her. “Anyone could walk by and hear you.”

She nods in response and pulls back so she can look at her boyfriend. Wyatt’s lips are swollen and kiss bruised. His eyes are dark with lust and hazy from the alcohol he has been drinking over the last few hours. His hair is a mess from her running her fingers through it. He’s so pretty and so disheveled at the same time.

He splays his hands on either side of her on the counter to keep his balance. She keeps her arms around his neck so she doesn’t fall off the counter.

If anyone would catch her falling off a counter because of sex, it’s Wyatt. Wyatt would be the one to catch her.

His speed picks up after a minute and he move as deep into her as he can at this angle. She has to bite her lip to keep herself from getting too loud in case anyone walks by the bathroom or comes knocking. Wyatt lets out soft pants as he moves. A layer of sweat forms on both of them since it’s so hot in the tiny room.

One of Wyatt’s hands eventually slithers down between them and he find her clit. She cries out but Wyatt quiets her with a kiss. He plays with the little bundle of nerves and her entire body shakes as she tries to delay her own orgasm.

“Wyatt,” she groans against his mouth. “Wyatt, baby.”

“I have you,” he tells her between kisses. “Let go. I can feel you clenching so I know you want to come for me.”

His pace slows but he continues to slam into her every time he thrusts. She hums and feels the knot in her stomach threaten to come undone.

Wyatt flicks her clit and she comes with a squeal since she can’t shout. She feels her entire body clench around him. He pulls out of her quickly and comes all over her thighs and core. She pulls him in for messy kisses as they come down from their highs. Wyatt slouches against her and she slouches against the mirror. The kisses are hot and open-mouthed as they recover.

The kisses slow and she smiles against his lips. Wyatt pulls back and looks at her. She can only imagine what they look like right now. Sweaty, half naked, and blissed out in a bar bathroom. Come is rolling down her thighs.

“God, I love you,” Wyatt tells her.

“Oh, now you tell me after we fucked in a bar bathroom on your birthday and your come is all over my thighs,” she teases with a smile on her face. Wyatt laughs. “I love you too. Let me go pee and clean myself up if you love me though.”

He pecks her lips one more time before she reaches over and grabs a handful of paper towels to clean her legs. She fixes her dress when Wyatt helps her down then goes to pee because she’s not catching a UTI from having sex in a public bathroom. He cleans up the counter and uses the hand soap to wash it down.

When she’s done peeing, she helps Wyatt fix his shirt. She fixes his hair before fixing her hair. She can’t do a thing about the marks on her knees from the tile floor so she knows that if someone sees them, she’s gonna get teased for it and Wyatt will never hear the end of his from his teammates.

After they decide they’re decent enough, they sneak out of the bathroom.

Music still blares from every corner of the bar when they make their way back to the table. They take their seats and sip their drinks like they didn’t just fuck in the bathroom.

Unfortunately, someone did notice they left.

Logan leans on the table between them. “So, wanna tell me which bathroom you two got freaky in so I know if I have to wait to pee or not?” he asks.

“Shut up,” Wyatt retorts. “It’s supposed to be fun turning 21 so I’m gonna have the time of my life tonight. Also, it’s not my fault that my girlfriend is hot.”

He shudders and Tyler laughs. “You two are insane,” he comments. “Risky considering you’re a NHL player, Johnny.”

“I’d take a thousand risks for her,” Wyatt says. “End of story.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna be attending a wedding next year,” Jamie says after he swallows a sip of his drink. “Two years tops.”

She smiles behind her glass because she knows Wyatt is planning to propose at some point. She has no idea when but maybe Jamie isn’t wrong about the two years tops.

༺═──────────────═༻

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 5 months ago

Note

Hear me out. Can you write a small fic or hc post about Jake with an S/O who's chubby or on the more plump side?

I can see all three of the moon boys liking and appreciating a partner who's chubby, don't get me wrong, I'm sure Steven and Marc would enjoy someone with that body type too. (You can slip them in if you'd like) But I'm lowkey feral for Jake and I just know that this man would love an s/o who's nice and soft

(You can add in some nsfw and some spice if you want)

I am so sorry, this became like 99% smut. (I have a problem).

The Gutter's Where My Mind Is

Jake Lockey x Chubby!F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

A/N: A huge thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this and saving me from myself.

Summary: Jake can't help himself.

Warnings: chubby!reader, thigh fucking, Jake being a menace, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), over use of italics, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1254

Jake moans loudly as he hugs you from behind, unintentionally pressing his throbbing erection against your plump backside. He buries his face into your neck, breathing deeply and trying to stifle his groans. He doesn’t want you to think he only wants physical contact with you as a way for it to lead to sex.

It’s a problem though, because even if he didn’t have a boner he’d definitely get one instantly from hugging you. He just can’t help it.

You’ve just come from the shower, your towel wrapped around your body and your skin still slightly damp. The plan had been to get changed for the day, but you hadn’t anticipated a koala Jake.

“Jake,” you giggle as he nuzzles closer, sliding his hands up your chest to squeeze your heavy breasts. He’s careful with them, cupping them through your towel, making sure he doesn’t cause you any discomfort as he kneads them with his fingers.

“Hmm?” He lightly kisses your neck, his voice innocent as if he wasn’t doing anything at all.

“I’ve got to get ready.”

“Not yet, not for another hour.” He says a little pleadingly.

You chuckle, “I was going to try on some outfits, find something that-”

“Just go naked. You’ll look perfect, amor.”

You snort. “Sure, and arrested.”

“No one would arrest art.” He lays on thickly.

You roll your eyes and it’s like he can feel the shift in your expression because he tuts and nips at your neck.

“Ow!” You laugh, purposefully being a little more dramatic than you need to.

“Shh, silly thing,” he kisses along your shoulder, slowly undoing the towel and easing it off. “I didn’t bite you that hard.”

“Jake…”

He turns you around gently, grinning wickedly. But he stops and feigns a look of innocence when he sees your face. “What amor? I’m just admiring you…”

“You’re gonna make me late, is what you’re doing.” You give him the most serious look you can muster (which isn’t very serious at all.)

Jake nods, pushing you gently back towards the bed, “I’m gonna make you come, is what I’m doing.”

You don’t even get to open your mouth to react before he’s pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue inside. He groans as he licks, one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the small of your back, pressing you close so he can feel your soft stomach and thighs against his body. His cock twitches, throbbing almost to the point of maddening pain as he feels your soft flesh.

His hands shift, languidly teasing you; plucking at your nipples until they pebble under his fingers, dragging his tongue over yours until you’re following the movement of his lips desperately.

Heat begins to build in your belly, sparking along your muscles. You rub your legs together absentmindedly, just trying to take off some of the ache.

Jake chuckles when he notices, dipping his hand lower and squeezing your thigh before he presses his fingers at your core.

He groans at the wetness he finds there, rubbing his fingers together momentarily to marvel at the slipperiness before he lightly rubs your clit.

You let out a soft moan, pulling at his shirt, “Jake…”

“Mhmmm, amor, I know,” he pushes you back against the bed and expertly pulls off his clothes in record time before he climbs on top of you.

“I need to get ready.” You pout, putting up the smallest insistence because you feel like you have to.

“If you don’t behave I’m going to tie you to the bed and not let you get dressed the whole day.” He mumbles, grinning cheekily as he pulls your left leg to his chest and kisses your ankle. You know the threat is empty, but your body squirms excitedly against him anyway.

“Oh? Maybe you want that actually, hmm?”

You pull a face and he laughs, throaty and deep.

“I’ll wipe that look right off your face amor, don’t worry.”

He takes hold of his thick cock, and shifts on his knees, inching closer to you so that he can rest his length against your folds. He hums in approval as his skin touches your heat and rocks against you, rubbing his hard cock and balls all over your slippery cunt.

You squirm, swallowing as he moves languidly and buck up against him.

“So greedy.” He tuts, grinning wildly knowing that if the positions were reversed he would be just as needy.

Jake takes hold of your other leg, squeezing your thick thigh and groaning before he places it against his chest as well. He presses them close so that your soft inner thighs squeeze his cock wonderfully.

“Ah, that’s perfect amor, so good,” he groans, keeping a firm hand on your legs as he begins to move in earnest. Long, slow thrust as he fucks your thighs, sliding up and along your pussy with every buck, smearing your slick and his precome all over your soft skin.

“Fuck, yes,” his breath catches in his throat, his hips moving a fraction faster.

You whimper, trying to bite back the sound so that you don’t overshadow the pretty sounds he's making. Your eyes glued to his face, his eyebrows pinched in tension, his mouth open in bliss.

He groans again, low and feral, “Amor, you’re so soft, so perfect, gonna make me come just like this.” He thrusts against you slowly, trying to drag out the sensation, make it last as long as possible before he has to succumb to the pleasure.

He slides one hand down your thigh, squeezing until he reaches your plump hip and then squeezing even harder before he palms your soft belly, moaning at the feel of you under his fingers.

“Fuck, I wanna fuck your thighs and come all over you, then fuck your belly, and breasts and mouth and pussy and ass,” he gasps, low and soft, “wanna come all over you and in you, wanna lick you until you pass out from how good my tongue feels.” He presses his thumb to your clit, alternating the pressure gently in time with the rhythm of his hips.

You gasp, letting out a low whine at how desperate he sounds and how good he feels rubbing against you. Building that pressure deep in your stomach until you almost can’t breathe, can’t think or do anything except chase it practically sobbing.

“Amor, fuck,” he bends forward slightly, groaning as he bites his lip. He wants to burn your expression into his eyelids so he can see it the second before he goes to sleep.

It’s too much, too perfect, and the knot tightens to breaking point and beyond. He moans your name, low and deep in his chest as his hips buck twice, two sharp shudders before he comes. He splashes across your skin, hitting your stomach and thighs and core with a sob.

He looks so beautiful, like a blissed out angel staring at a god.

For a moment he breathes deeply, resting his forehead against your leg, his eyes closed.

You can’t help but smile at how sweet he looks, satiated and peaceful.

That serenity is short lived however.

Before you even have a chance to say his name Jake is pressing at your inner thighs, spreading you wide and diving down to clean up the mess he made with his tongue against your pussy, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming and rubbing his cum into your belly and thighs.

Thank you for reading!

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polkadotpenguin16 · 29 days ago

Text

Subtle Hints

Fills the Only 1 Bed square for @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo 2024

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x female reader

Tags: smut (that might be a strong word for this—smut lite?)

Word count: 2K

Beta'd by: @misscharlielulu + @escapingrealtiylovinginsanity

A/N: my Christmas present to you – my first attempt dipping my toes into smut! I’m very much a beginner writing in this genre, and want to improve my skills so I can do my saucy ideas justice. So please bear with me as I’m learning <3

Also posted on AO3

Today was your first holiday spent with Sonny’s family. While you’d already met his parents and sisters individually, this was your first time fully immersed in the Carisi clan. Sonny wasn’t worried about it, but you were irrationally concerned about making a good impression. It was important to you that they thought you were a good match for Sonny.

His sisters seemed to like you, and his nieces and nephews thought you were pretty cool. But you had a hard time getting a read on his mother. She was cordial, smiling whenever you chatted. But her demeanor seemed guarded, if not a little cold. Definitely not the enthusiasm you’d hoped for. But you were dating her one and only son, her baby boy, so her trepidation was not unexpected.

It was getting dark outside, and the snow was falling much harder than forecasted. Because of the late hour and the unfavorable weather, Sonny’s parents offered to let everyone stay at their house for the night. When Mrs. Carisi divvied up the rooms amongst all the guests, somehow, the only one left for you and Sonny was Gina and Bella’s childhood bedroom. Which you wouldn’t have minded, except for one thing…

Gina and Bella had shared bunk beds.

Mrs. Carisi tried to play innocent. “What do you want me to do? It’s the only bed left. You wanna sleep in the closet?” But you strongly suspected this was her not so subtle way of hinting that she didn’t want any out-of-wedlock shenanigans happening under her roof.

You and Sonny entered the bedroom, dumbfounded how you found yourself in this situation. The walls were covered in pastel floral wallpaper that reminded you of the 80s. Next to the closet sat a well-worn oak dresser with scuffs along the side—probably from having the closet door slammed into it. The window was adorned with pink striped curtains that appeared to have been homemade, perhaps by Mrs. Carisi. And at the back of the room stood the dreaded set of bunk beds.

The closer you got, the smaller the beds seemed.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Sonny rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He’d like to say he was surprised, but this honestly wasn’t even the craziest of his mother’s antics. “I, uh, I could go talk to Ma…” he trailed off as he glanced at you hesitantly, looking for you to tell him what to do next.

You thought about it for a split second, but the defeated look on his face told you that Sonny didn’t want to fight with his mom tonight. “No, it’s fine. It’s just for one night, anyways.” As utterly silly as this was, you were still worried about making a good impression with his mother. You thought there was the slightest chance you’d earn her respect if you went along with this madness.

Relief washed over Sonny’s face. He made a mental note to thank God at Mass tomorrow for blessing him with such an understanding girlfriend. He looked back at the bunk beds, reminded of the uncomfortable night ahead of him. With a deep sigh, he accepted his fate. “Okay, roomie, which bunk do you want?”

“Which would you be more comfortable in?” You wanted to be mindful of his size. You weren’t necessarily tiny, but certainly smaller than him.

His eyes darted between you and the beds before gesturing to his lengthy frame. “Babe, it’s not gonna make a difference.”

“Well…” A wicked smirk crept onto your lips. “I’ve never slept in a bunk bed before.” You mischievously climbed up the ladder to claim the top bunk as yours.

Sonny rolled his eyes, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t charmed by your childish spirit. “Alright, doll, you can be on top tonight.” You glared at his immature joke, but desperately tried to suppress the warmth rising in your cheeks. “Why don’t you get down from there so we can get ready for bed?”

Sonny stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, offering you his dress shirt to sleep in. He had worn his blue and white polka dot one, which was your favorite on him. You shamelessly held the shirt to your face. Breathing in its musky scent, enjoying the warmth still clinging to the fabric.

While getting ready, you turned to see Sonny struggling as he tried to squish himself into the bedframe. He regretted he hadn’t taken you up on that offer to join your yoga class. He bonked his head against the wall and jammed his knee into the bedpost. Too exhausted to be fighting a literal piece of furniture, he resigned himself to sticking his feet off the edge and resting his arm on the floor.

Swallowing your giggles, you tiptoed to the bed, kneeling to look at a very defeated Sonny. “Are you going to be okay down here?” You had to whisper otherwise you’d bust out into a cackle.

“Oh, yeah, just like a five-star hotel.” At least he was able to fit his sense of humor in there.

You exchanged “I love yous” and a quick kiss, then you climbed up to your own bunk. It took a minute of tossing and turning, but you found a comfortable position for the night.

Fifteen minutes later, you were on the edge of sleep when you heard Sonny let out a disgruntled groan. The bed started to shift. Before you knew it, Sonny was up the ladder, crawling into your bunk.

“No, no, Sonny! What’re you doing?” You quietly tried to shoo him, afraid he’d break the bed. Ignoring your protests he tried to squeeze in beside you.

“Doll, it’s cold down there,” he whined. You knew that was a lie. Sonny, true to his name, radiated heat like the sun. He was never cold.

You playfully tilted your head and raised your eyebrow. “You sure you weren’t just lonely?”.

Sonny was grateful the darkness hid his boyish blush. It was an awkward dance trying to get you both to fit. Giggles erupted as your legs and arms tangled together. Eventually, Sonny pulled you on top of him, wrapping his arms around your waist. You curled up under his chin, finally settling.

You tried to fall asleep but were distracted by the gently snoring man beneath you. You felt enveloped by his warmth, intoxicated by the smell of his cologne. You knew this was quite possibly the worst time and place to be horny, but you couldn’t ignore the heat growing in your belly. You needed to relieve the tension, so you slowly ground into Sonny.

You felt a groan reverberate in his chest. “Doll, whatcha doin’?” His voice was low, thick with sleep.

“Well, you were complaining about being cold.” You ground your hips harder into his, hoping he would get the message.

Sonny’s laugh was cut off by a wanton moan. He slowly tightened his hands around your hips. You felt him growing hard beneath you.

Your message was clearly received.

He gently flipped you onto your back. “You're gonna be the death of me, ya know that...possibly literally.” He looked over the side of the bed, gauging how far the ground was.

He knew this was a bad idea. But you were so effortlessly beautiful laid out beneath him, wearing nothing but panties and his shirt. His desire for you had been building all night. Watching you blend in so easily with his crazy family, strutting around in your green party dress. He’d barely been able to keep his hands to himself. Now, hovering above you, his resolve was quickly slipping away. Your skin was soft under his fingertips, and he could smell remnants of your gingerbread perfume. You felt like the perfect Christmas present—handpicked just for him, waiting to be unwrapped. How could he resist?

He pulled you into a searing kiss. You kissed him back with the same intensity, rubbing your hands up and down his back. You moaned into his mouth, louder than you’d intended. Sonny shushed you, reminding you that you had to be quiet. You carefully peeled Sonny out of his undershirt. A goofy smile spread onto his face as he watched you struggle against the fabric. He realized how juvenile this was, but he was enjoying every minute of it. He looked deeply into your eyes, feeling the closeness he’d been desperately craving the whole evening.

He balanced himself on his forearms, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible. He hiked up your shirt just enough to gain access to your chest. He gently massaged your sensitive breast. His calloused fingers dragged gently against your skin and across your nipple, making it harden beneath his touch. You gasped as you arched your back to meet his hand. The whimpers coming from your throat were nothing compared to Sonny’s.

He enjoyed giving you pleasure infinitely more than receiving it.

He tried to ignore the burning in his shoulders. But suddenly his muscles gave out, throwing him off balance. Making a split-second decision to avoid collapsing on top of you, he tumbled over the side of the bed. He landed with a comical thud that echoed throughout the silent room.

“Sonny!” you whisper yelled, as if you hadn’t just awakened the entire house with your raunchy escapades. You quickly climbed down to check on Sonny where he lay groaning on the floor. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, taking stock of his body. “Besides my pride?” Wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. “I think I’ll live.” You kissed his forehead. Thankfully, the bed hadn’t been that tall, so a serious injury was unlikely.

As you sat on the floor looking up at the bunk beds, a thought popped into your head. “Hey, Sonny?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t we just put the mattress on the floor?”

Sonny’s face went blank at the realization. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips tightly. He groaned in frustration as he laid his head back on the floor, and you busted out into a fit of giggles. You pulled the mattresses off the bunks and lined them up next to each other on the floor. You couldn’t help but feel incredibly stupid that you hadn’t thought of this in the first place.

Well, hindsight is 20/20…or about 5 feet off the floor.

You cuddled up under the blankets, much cozier on the floor than in the beds. Sonny’s eyebrows were laced together deep in thought.

“You doing alright, sunshine?” You brushed the hair away that had fallen into his eyes.

His face relaxed under your touch. “Yeah, I’m just wondering why I couldn’t be the favorite child.” You shook your head in amusement, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Bella would never have been asked to share a bunk bed.”

You scooched in close to teasingly whisper in his ear, “That’s because Tommy popped the question.”

Sonny threw his head back and laughed so hard, you worried it would wake up the house yet again. “Ya trying to tell me something, doll?”

“All I’m saying is maybe some new jewelry could get us better accommodations next year.” You wiggled the fingers of your left hand.

He took your hand and lovingly kissed each of your fingers, pausing before your ring finger. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You snuggled deeper under the covers, happily entangled together. You closed your eyes, playing back the evening’s events in your mind. It was certainly a night you wouldn’t soon forget. You wondered how big the lump on Sonny’s head would be. Or if maybe you’d be engaged by next Christmas…

And how to explain all of this to his mother in the morning.

#saucy #kattsholidaybingo2024 #oh god she writes now #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi x you #sonny carisi imagine #dominick carisi #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #svu

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wishuroses · 2 years ago

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.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 make a wish, spider soccoro.

✶ pairings: spider x sully!reader

✶ warnings: fluff, lovesick fools, confessions, reader is a cutiepie and spider agrees wholeheartedly, you fell first he fell harder type deal, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 854

✶ na’vi glossary: tawtute – human.

✶ a/n: i remember seeing a post asking for more spider fics, so i thought why not feed all my spider lovers out there? i’ve also been breathing down jack champions neck a lot recently (he is so fine) happy reading! :-)

“C’mon Spi, keep up!”

“Ugh. I’m trying, your legs are too long!”

The forest glowed beautifully beneath your feet with every step you took, pointed ears fluttering from the echoed sounds of chittering flora and fauna. You and Spider had fallen into the steady, yet risky rhythm of sneaking out past eclipse; disregarding the fact that your mother would skin him and then knot your tail right after if she ever caught both of you out, alone for that matter. Yet you–stubborn and hardheaded– never listened to what your mother had to say, easily blocking out her irritated hisses of frustration when you openly expressed your interest in the little tawtute.

Little did you know, that little tawtute also took interest in you. Much more than you did him, for that matter.

You giggled at his exasperated comment, looking over your shoulder and flicking your eyes downward to find that he is, indeed, struggling to catch up with you. Spider was, for a fact, small compared to your lithe 7ft frame, but if you plopped him next to the rest of the sky people, he beats at least a handful of them in the height department.

“Want me to carry you?” You asked genuinely, coming to a complete halt as you watched him trail beside you carefully. Spider scoffed at your silly question, not missing the way his heart rattled in his chest at the fact that you cared for him, looking up at you with mirth and adoration shining in his eyes. “No need for that, not yet at least. We’re here anyway.”

At his words, you craned your neck to look around, beads thudding together in a chorus at the sudden movement, a smile blooming on your face as quick as it came. The familiar stream of crystal clear water and shroud of colorful flora confirming that you both were here. Your secret spot.

“Look Spider, look!” You stretched your arm and pointed a strong finger towards the darkened sky, tracing over the rushing streak of light that ran across the horizon. “Make a wish!”

He turned his full attention to you with a furrowed brow, tilting his head. “Make a what?” Like a moth to a flame, he leaned into you, happily taking in your presence.

“A wish! It’s just.. something you really want that you don’t already have. Something you long for. Dad said it was a tawtute tradition! Make one, quickly!” Spider hummed in understanding, watching you with a lovesick expression etched on his face. His eyes traced over your wide eyes filled with astonishment, twinkling stars reflecting off adored pools of honey.

“Well..” Spider paused and licked his chapped lips, “What if it’s.. someone I long for?” His palpating heart only increased violently when you locked eyes with him, the pretty smile on your face only widening further, gasping softly at his bashful confession.

You shuffled closer to the boy, warm thighs pressed against each other. “Spider,” You cooed, proud of him for finding a person to give his heart to, “You like someone? Who, who!” You wrapped your four-fingered hand around his forearm, tugging at it with excitement. “You must tell me!” He flushed strawberry pink, dipping his chin down to shy away from the intensity of your gaze–making a pout form on your face.

“C’mon, I won’t tell! Swear it!”

Spider then looked at you with a playful grin, heart soaring like a multitude of shooting stars when you quickly reciprocated his grin. He exhaled, and with a random surge of confidence, he intertwined his hand with yours, the obvious difference in size making it quite tricky–but he made it work.

You wonder how much he needed to hype himself up to go through with going so far as to hold your hand–he’s never been this bold, up until now, at least.

You looked at your entangled hands with raised eyebrows, wide, curious eyes flickering back to stare into his softened brown ones. Spider nodded briskly, answering your wordless question with a nervous look on his face. In your eyes, he looked slightly constipated–like he was worried about what your reaction would be– and if you two weren’t tangled up in each other, you would’ve laughed at him.

But realistically, in your eyes, he was the prettiest he could ever be. You smiled, eyes forming crescent moons.

As if you two hadn’t already popped your personal space bubbles, you scooted even closer, leaning your forehead over the sleek glass of his exopack. Spider never wanted to kiss you more than he did now–to press his lips against your face, trailing down to your neck, and onto the expanse of your striped tummy, all while thumbing gentle circles into the jut of your hips. He found you so beautiful, no words could ever suffice.

“My wish..” Spider started breathlessly after a long beat of silence. Your ears flicked forward to selfishly take in his next words, watching as his pupils dilate the more he took in your appearance, eyes already so brown that if you didn’t have such good eyesight–you would’ve missed it.

“My wish is you.”

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chelseeebe · 1 year ago

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do you think i have forgotten (about you)

a part two to come pick me up.

summary: eddie finds himself out of jail and right back on your doorstep. running from his past while trying desperately to fix the mess he had left you in only leads to complicated situations.

a/n: so this is actually not what i had expected to post lmfao but similar to part one i reread this in my drafts and literally fell in love.. like it needed to be posted.

18+. smut, smoking, drug and alcohol use. mentions of jail and creepy therapists. angst.. sweet sweet angst. as before, this is stevexreader however this part is way more about eddie and r.

you can’t lie. the last few months had been pretty tough, on both you and steve. through no fault of his own though.

you were just.. unwell. perhaps you always had been and the process of seeing someone you regarded as your best friend beat the shit out of someone and subsequently be jailed for it had brought all those feelings up.

‎♡‧₊˚

not to mention the emotional toll of him dipping in and out of your life and the countless other reckless shit he’d pulled you into before.

currently things were stable, yours and steve’s relationship was good, you were going to work and succeeding in being mostly sober. a little help from a short stay in a psychiatric ward and some nice new pills had you feeling semi-okay again.

it had started not long after eddie was sentenced, you’d sat in the docks of the courtroom and watched the judge bang the gavel down as he was sentenced to twenty four months. it stung knowing that he’d gotten himself in this position because you’d dared to kiss your boyfriend in front of him.

nevertheless, a few short weeks after the horrid court date you’d suffered a complete breakdown at a party. throwing anything you could get your hands on, sobbing hysterically as steve tried his best to calm you. right in front of everybody, their gawping eyes prying as you were escorted out by the police who had then issued a caution and had recommended to the judge that you needed some sort of mental health intervention.

at the time it was humiliating. the worst part being that it felt like everyone around you was walking on eggshells, trying to coddle you and tell you that it was all okay. you’d known it wasn’t. maybe it could be, but for right then, no.

coming back into the apartment and the real world had been quite frankly, awful. missing the safety of the ward, you couldn’t hurt anyone in there.

steve had been your saviour through it all. making sure he was there for every visit with a great big smile on his. he was gentle, giving you your meds, making sure you were eating and he’d even found you a job, helping you apply, christ he’d even ran through a mock interview with you, putting on a deep voice and asking you silly questions.

and do you know what?

eventually things got back to some sense of normality. braving your first gathering, trembling as you walked through the door, terrified that everyone would hate you only to find that all anyone had really cared about was making sure you were well again.

and that lands us here, finally finishing a dragging shift and traipsing home to collapse into bed to wait for steve to get home.

except, nearing the front door you notice it’s cracked open slightly. the door handle looks busted and you’re ninety percent sure that either someone was currently in your apartment or had been in and ransacked it.

you push the door open with one finger, it freaks loudly as it opens slowly, startling the intruder who curses and drops whatever they were holding.

‘you have five seconds to get the fuck out,’ you warn, creeping from behind the door frame nervously.

there’s a figure stood in the middle of the room, back turned to you who very slowly puts his hands in the air, surrendering.

he turns to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face and you finally recognise the cocky face staring back at you.

‘eddie?!’

he breathes a sigh of relief, ‘holy shit i was startin’ to think you’d moved out and i’d just broken into some strangers apartment,’ cackling as his arms outstretch to hug you.

‘what the fuck- what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be in jail!’ in utter disbelief that he was stood before you, debating whether pinching yourself would wake you up from this strange dream.

‘i got out! duh,’ he grins, making his way towards you, arms still outstretched.

‘you.. you got out? what? you’re not supposed to be out for like another year.. i don’t- i’m not understanding,’ carefully wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a hug.

he felt stronger, sturdy as his arms wrap around your waist. the hug lasts for what feels like an eternity until you back to properly examine his face and to once again check that you weren’t hallucinating.

‘i can’t believe you’re actually here.. how are you? i’m sorry i’ve been.. busy,’ trying to recover over the last few months had meant that you’d sorta neglected eddie, his last letter still in the clutter on your desk somewhere.. unanswered.

unfortunately for him, you’d had a few more important things to focus on. like trying not to break down and keep your relationship with steve afloat.

‘i’m good, i’m always good.. what’ve you been up to? i missed your letters,’ it was a simple statement but you’d never truly comprehend just how much receiving anything from you had meant to him, how much it kept him going.

you let go of him fully, motioning for him to take a seat, ‘it’s a super long story..’ sighing as you jam the bursted door shut, steve would have to look at it on his day off.

‘well it’s a good thing i’ve got time,’ collapsing into the cushions, making himself right at home.

you and eddie are sat on the couch smoking when the key turns in the door and steve walks in, looking just as exhausted as he did when he left this morning. the tiny shadow of a smile that was on his face is dropped the second he see’s eddie, replaced with a state of pure confusion.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, dropping his bag onto the floor as eddie clambers off of the sofa to greet him.

steve’s face is a picture, eyebrows knitted together as eddie’s hand claps his back, ‘you’re supposed to be in prison?’

eddie pulls back, holding onto steves shoulder’s, ‘and you’re supposed to be happy to see me,’ faux-offended by steve’s confused stature.

‘no.. i am, what? why are you out?’

eddie shrugs him off, coming back to the couch, ‘ehh it’s a long story.. come.. sit, how was work, big boy?’ taking the spliff from your outstretched hand to offer to steve.

steve plonks himself down next to you, placing your legs over his thighs instead of the couch, ‘yeah.. it was alright, i’m sorry- why the fuck are you in my living room and not in federal prison?’ taking the burning joint from eddie’s fingers.

‘i got out,’ eddie offers back, the exact same thing he’d said to you. you had come to the conclusion that his departure from jail had perhaps not been entirely legal but it was way easier to brush it off rather than trying to probe him.

steve narrows his eye’s, obviously also not buying his bullshit but decides instead to smoke whatever had been handed to him, humming as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

‘i said that he could stay here.. just for a few days, if that’s okay?’ you ask, looking up at your boyfriend with hopeful eyes.

he pauses, contemplating if harbouring a, presumed, escaped convict was really a great idea, ‘uhh.. yeah i’m sure a few days is fine..’ he didn’t sound so sure himself.

‘thanks man,’ eddie nods, eyeing the door to his old bedroom.

the thing is, when eddie was convicted, his uncle had come to collect most of his stuff, taking it back to hawkins in his van. you’d thought he’d be locked up for at least two years so sending his things back to hawkins was the smartest idea. that meant when you guys moved out, you weren’t left to deal with his mountains of crap.

you catch him looking, feeling a tad guilty that he’d come back to nothing, ‘the bed’s still in there but.. it’s mostly storage now,’ scrunching your nose as you grimace.

‘that’s alright.. anything’s better than prison,’ he jokes, offering a saddened chuckle.

‘yeah.. exactly,’ not that you had much idea what prison was like, but from what eddie had told you, your living room floor would be an improvement.

the three of you spend a few hours right there on the couch, listening to eddie’s tales from jail, entangled with your stories of all the thing he’d missed. steve nudges you at some point, muttering something about bed which you agree with, rushing around to find eddie a spare blanket.

‘you’ll be okay in here?’ you ask, poised in the doorway.

‘yeah it’s great.. thank you,’ he smiles, sitting down on the edge of his old bed, peering around the now mostly empty room.

it felt a little suffocating if he was honest, the sheer amount of memories these blank four walls held. he swore he could hear echoes of your laugh from the times before, remembering the nights where you’d stumble back here and subsequently pass out in a heap on his bed. he shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thought before it got too deep.

‘okay, well.. goodnight,’ flashing him a tight-lipped smile before closing the door and making your way to your own room.

steve is stood facing the window, already stripped out of his clothes, ready for bed. he spins when he hears the door click shut, walking over to where you stood undressing with a grin, hands finding their place on your waist.

you hum at the feeling of his palms on your skin, ‘what’re you doing?’ shimmying out of your horrendous grey work trousers.

his lips softly press against the back of your neck and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s spite but he can’t help himself, fingers coming down to mess with the waistband of your panties. placing your hand over his to stop him from going any further.

‘we can’t,’ you hush, acutely aware that eddie was just a few doors down and would most certainly hear.

‘we can.. you’ll just have to be quiet,’ murmuring against the back of your neck, your hand doing absolutely nothing to really try and stop him. ‘can you do that for me?’

he travels further down, past the flimsy waistband, feeling his smirk widen against your skin as you sigh softly, sliding your hand onto his forearm, using it for leverage while his middle finger begins to circle your already sensitive clit.

your sex life hadn’t been what it was in the beginning, both of you busy with work and mental health crises that it was now more of a rarity to find the time. it’s not really lost on you as to why steve is so eager for it tonight but you couldn’t help but to feel at least a little turned on by this sudden bout of possessiveness.

your eyes flutter closed as he adds another finger to the equation, letting your body lean back against his bare chest, ‘my god,’ you moan softly, leaving crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

‘hmm? is that good, baby?’ his plump, pink lips pressing gentle kisses to you neck and shoulders, teeth grazing the agile skin. he’s unforgiving and really not trying to be quiet at all.

it was definitely spite.

you can feel his erect cock against your ass, unknowingly writhing around, brushing up against him. his fingers hastily leave the safety of your now sodden underwear, manoeuvring your body to face him.

‘you’re such an asshole,’ you hush, gripping onto his arms for balance, walked backwards towards the bed.

a menacing smirk plastered on his face as he falls on top of you, knowing full well that eddie could definitely hear your soft pants and the way your lips echoed his name. stevestevesteve.

his fingers are brushing the hair from your face, making sure you were looking at him. it’s disgusting how attractive you find this. steve wasn’t usually one for such outward jealousy but you couldn’t say you hated it. legs wrapping around his torso after he had slipped your underwear off.

you don’t even attempt to conceal the whimper that ripples through your throat when he slides into your cunt. gripping onto his shoulders as the bed begins to creak, headboard knocking into the dry wall, unapologetic with his movements.

completely unashamed.

you’re eternally grateful that eddie doesn’t mention anything the next morning though he avoids steve’s eye and keeps his head low until he leaves for work. breathing an almost undetected sigh of relief when the door clicks shut.

the pair of spend most of the day lounging on the couch in front of the television, watching the overdue videos steve had neglected to return. the darkness eventually creeps up on you. the moon shining through the windows.

‘c’mon.. let’s go out,’ eddie nudges your knee with his, a devilish grin plastered across his face. he’d been bored shitless all day, as much as he enjoyed the mundane with you.. he wanted to go out. feel that rush through his veins as you got into something you shouldn’t.

‘i shouldn’t.. i’ve been doing good lately, it’s.. i can’t,’ sinking further into the sofa. you wanted to go out, really. but you and eddie going out alone together was a recipe for disaster.

‘and that’s why you deserve a treat.. c’mon, i know you want to,’ egging you on, now poking your knee with his finger, his other hand gripping onto the warm beer can.

you ponder for a second, pursing your lips as you weigh up the pros and cons. you don’t have to get wasted.. you could go out with eddie and be back before steve got home from work. yeah. you could do that.

‘where?’

eddie’s smile widens, he’d anticipate a hell of a lot more nagging and pleading than this, ‘fucking.. anywhere, the night is young and so are we.’

‘okay.. but, we’re having a normal night.. nothing crazy and i wanna be back here before steve is, got it?’ raising your eyebrows as you down the last sliver of wine.

‘absolutely.. whatever you want,’ eddie chuckles, slapping his knees as he stands from the couch, ‘c’mon.. get dressed.’

you stare up at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and slinking into yours and steve’s room. he wouldn’t be happy about this but if you were home and in bed before he was, he wouldn’t have much to complain about and if he did, he’d get over it.

and hey, maybe you could prove to him that you were okay now. that you were ready and able to handle things on your own.

everyone goes absolutely crazy when eddie walks in, almost as if he’d been locked up for a year. there are a few unhappy murmurs, worried onlookers who had been there that night.

but he doesn’t seem to care, shaking hands and chatting to everyone that came up to him. people handing him cups of mystery liquor which eventually got passed onto you.

you’re perched next to him on the couch, drinking the vile tasting liquid without a second thought. the odd person still coming up to him in shock, asking all sorts about what life was like on the inside.

and he just laughs and tell them the same generic story about earning his way and how eventually people listened to him. you doubt much of it is actually true but let him continue nonetheless. what did you know about prison?

bedsides, you’d seen the scars that now littered his knuckles and forearms. how his muscles had grown and the way his nose now bent slightly to the left. he must’ve done something to earn them.

your head is pretty fuzzy the first time the plate full of mystery white powder is passed around. respectfully declining and mumbling about sticking to drink.

but by the second time it comes your way, you’re glancing down at the porcelain with eager eyes. one tiny line couldn’t hurt, right? you still had plenty of time to sober up and get home before steve.

so you pick up the rolled up note, eddie’s eyes watching like a hawk, ‘hey.. you sure?’ his own jaw clenching from his previous line.

‘it’s fine,’ you nod reassuringly, holding one nostril and sniffing the pre-cut line, sniffing harshly. you’d forgotten how much it stung, making your eyes water as you pass the plate onwards.

you sit back into the couch, watching as the conversation roars around you. waiting for that sweet, sweet feeling when it finally hit.

and oh boy, does it.

one second you’re sat on the couch and the next you’re pulling eddie up onto his feet, trying to make him dance along to the pounding music with you. it all sounded so good. your body warm and loose. heart pounding in your chest as the beat vibrates through your limbs.

you’re not sure how long you’re dancing for, keeping your eyes closed while other people start getting up to join you.

not even questioning the second line when it re-emerges. still slowly sipping on what was now a dark liquor, bitter in taste, burning your throat on the way down.

eddie’s hand gingerly touches your waist causing you to pull your eyes to him. he’s dancing too, clutching onto the beer bottle, pupils dilated as they cling to you. cling to your body. moving in time with his.

everything’s a little blurry but you keep your eyes steady on eddie, smiling as the music distorts in your ears. it sounded robotic and weird but still had you wiggling your hips in time with the odd beat.

his other hand meets your waist, more confidently this time, pulling your body towards his. you think nothing of it, focussed on moving in time to the music.

eddie’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, the party bleating on around you as he tips your chin up towards his. a soft smile on his face as your eyes meet his fully.

the next few seconds happen so quickly that you’re not even sure if it actually happened.

his lips crash against yours, pressing himself to your chest, hand clinging to your cheek. he’s desperate with it, hungry and insatiable.

the magic dust you’d just inhaled must have softened your inhibitions because you’re kissing him back. palm pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

until you finally realise exactly what you’re doing.

pulling yourself away from him, stumbling backwards as you blink up at him. had you actually just kissed him? no, why the fuck had he kissed you?

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you exclaim, mind still hazy under the influence of whatever narcotics they were passing around.

your stomach twists. steve was probably sat at home waiting for you to get back, worried sick about where you’d gone. all the while you’re kissing his best friend at a party he had no idea was happening. it makes your stomach twist, guilt coursing through your chest.

you back away from eddie, tripping over another party goers outstretched legs as you go. head pounding, hands tingling. everything surrounding you had become a massive blur of flashing lights and distorted faces.

‘fuck.. wait!’ eddie calls out from the living room but you’re already gone, pushing past the gaggle of people in the hallway as you fumble for the doorknob.

the cold air hitting you the second the door is open, you hadn’t brought a jacket. or had you? you can’t really remember.

there are people strewn across the front yard, watching as you stumble down the path, fumbling for your phone in you pocket. the letters all jumble into one as you click through searching for steve's contact. slamming the green button the second you recognise the slight curve of the s.

he answers on the first ring, ‘hello? where are you?’ you’d missed the tens of missed calls from his number.

‘i’m.. i don’t know,’ sobbing into the receiver as one of the onlookers from the party approaches you, ‘where are we?’

from what you can make out, it’s a young girl, she looks worried as she takes the phone from your hand and places it to her ear, telling steve whatever street you were on. her spare hand reaches out to rub your back, keeping you close to her body as steve fucking sprints from your apartment to the address.

eddie makes absolutely zero attempts to try and find you, assuming that you’d already run off home. fuck it, he was out now. might as well prolong the inevitable argument with steve for as long as possible.

when steve arrives, he’s practically frantic, taking you from the kind girl as he leads you off home. his arm keeping your body held upright as you wail the entire way home.

‘steve..’ you sniffle, being guided into the empty apartment, ‘we kissed- eddie kissed me.. i didn’t mean to, i promise,’ clinging onto his neck as you’re lead into your bedroom.

he’s weirdly silent, placing you gently onto the bed, taking off your shoes before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

‘have you taken anything?’ he questions, choosing to ignore your confession, for his own sanity mostly.

you nod into the pillow, sprawled out on the mattress as the room spins around you. it’s dizzying, and not just the room spinning but the fact that steve was still so gentle even after your admission.

‘what? what d’you take?’

‘i don’t know.. coke i think.’

he nods, swallowing the growing fury in his throat, ‘i’ll get you some water, try and sleep yeah?’

he goes to get up but you’re already grabbing onto his forearm, keeping him firmly on the bed, ‘don’t go.. please,’ your voice hoarse from the party.

god, you thought. you sound utterly pitiful, ashamed that even after all he had done for you, you couldn’t hold your shit together on your own and were still relying on steve.

‘okay,’ he whispers, kicking his shoes off and swinging his legs over and onto the bed, sitting up on the pillows rather than joining you properly.

his arm snakes around your back, lifting your body ever so slightly to slide his arm under, pulling you onto his warm chest. stubbly chin coming to rest atop of your head.

you nestle your head into his cotton shirt, ‘i love you,’ head rising with every breath he took, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep despite the fact it felt like there was something stabbing into the side of your brain.

steve’s sat, deadpanned on the couch when eddie attempts to creep back in. startled by his presence in the darkened room. by this time, the birds had begun to chirp as the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds.

‘shit man..’ eddie clutches his chest, ‘you scared me,’ he fumbles his way through the room, still pretty intoxicated, lips sore from chewing on them all night.

steve blinks, scrunching up his face as the other boy takes a seat next to him. eddie’s sure he knows. you had definitely told him. jesus christ, why wouldn’t you? he fucked up. again.

‘you can’t stay here anymore,’ steve states, stoic.

he wasn’t letting much on here. eddie almost wishes he’d just beat his ass and get it over with at least it’d be better than this creepy shit he had going on.

‘bro.. i’m sorry, i was fucked up.. i don’t know what the hell i was doing,’ he’s staring wide-eyed at steve who’s staring straight ahead, jaw tense, ‘shit, punch me if you want.. god knows i’d deserve it.’

‘i don’t care,’ steve presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, ‘you come back and you fuck everything up.. do you know how hard i’ve tried to help her.. all these meds and doctors appointments,’ steve’s shoulder’s slump, ‘fuck man, i even had to take her to this creepy ass therapist and try not to beat the shit out of him every time i dropped her off.. d’you know how hard that was?’ he sounds desperate now, dropping the weird, unsettling facade, turning to eddie with a genuine look of hurt upon his face.

eddie’s mouth opens to reply, but he has nothing to say. hasn’t a clue how to answer that because he didn’t know. yeah, you’d told him about it and how steve hadn’t left your side throughout it all but he had no idea that this was how steve had felt.

‘no,’ steve scoffs, ‘no you don’t know.. because you weren’t there,’ he sighs before continuing, ‘you didn’t have to watch the love of your life be dragged away because some judge had deemed her crazy. you weren’t there week in, week out in that hospital.. helpless.’

steve wouldn’t ever think of you as a burden but fuck, he needed to tell literally anyone the shit he had bottled up and eddie was now the (un)willing participant to catch the brunt of his frustration.

eddie swallows, staring out into the dark room, ‘i didn’t know.. i’m sorry,’ he’s scrambling now, trying to think of something, anything to say that could help, but he can’t. in steve’s eyes, he’s the one who continually seems to ruin shit for you. ruin you.

‘so no, i don’t want to hit you because you kissed my girlfriend but i do want to fucking kill you for coming in here and messing her up all over again,’ steve spits, his words like venom as they hit eddie square in the face.

any traces of intoxication had been pummelled from his body, head beginning to pound from the impending hangover, chest heavy under the weight of steve’s words.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was a fuck up and he knew it. he wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. you just looked so pretty and blissful and.. and you’d smiled at him the way you used to and he’d thought that maybe that had meant something. the few seconds that you’d kissed him back had felt like euphoria, for the first time in so long everything felt right again.

steve interrupts his train of self-pitying thought by standing from the couch, turning to walk away but pauses, ‘i’ll help you find somewhere tomorrow.. maybe nance n’ all will let you stay,’ and even through all of this steve couldn’t help but be kind to the man.

that’s what hit eddie the hardest, that even though he had hurt his best friend.. he was still stood in front of him throwing him a line and offering a sense of patience and understanding that eddie hadn’t felt in far too long.

he watches in silence as steve slinks off to your shared bedroom, head hanging low in utter shame. he’d never admit aloud, and especially not to steve, but the thought of you was the one thing getting him through his sentence.

the first few months were pretty rocky, having to prove himself time and time again, resulting in a multitude of different injuries but at the end of the day, he’d climb into his bunk and re-read the letters you’d sent. thumbing the pages until they were yellowed and worn. the mere thought of you still thinking about him was enough to make him get out of bed each morning.

he peers down at his scarred hands, tracing over the glistening white indentations. they all told their own individual story, the big one that ran across the large part of his hand was the worst after being slashed with a makeshift shiv during a fight. he was quite lucky really, his hand had taken the majority of the damage and had meant he wasn’t left to bleed out on the floor.

so he’d gotten stitches, kept his mouth shut and things had started to change. and yet still, every night he’d go to bed thinking of your face, telling himself that it wasn’t long to go.

you were his saving grace. the only thing that had stopped him slipping into darkness. he’d thought about it plenty, hurting himself or one of the douchebag inmates he shared the small space with. at least that way he’d get moved into solitary, maybe he’d even prove himself to the other guys.

you keep quiet when steve comes into your bedroom, unsure of whether to let him know you had practically heard their entire conversation. the mattress dips when he gets into bed, exhaling softly and making sure the blanket is covering both of you.

he sits in silence for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning into your face before he eventually settles in and lies back on the pillow.

‘are you mad at me?’ you squeak, gazing at him from tired eyes.

your voice startles him, so sure that you were still asleep but he answers quickly, ‘no, never,’ turning on his side to face you, inches from your face. it felt so intimate like this, vulnerable.

‘i heard what you said.. i’m sorry for..’ your bottom lip wobbles and you try hard to blink away the brimming tears, ‘for putting you through that.’

he’s immediately comforting you, placing a warm hand on your sodden cheek, ‘you’re okay.. it’s okay, you didn’t do anything,’ steve’s gut twisted, he hadn’t meant for you to hear any of it and the thought of you feeling guilty for eddie’s sake pricked at his heart.

you nod, not completely believing his words but for the sake of not causing a problem so early in the morning, deciding to just accept it. no matter how much it had been parroted to you, there was no accepting that none of this was your fault.

‘it’s just the way your brain is wired,’ dr. foster had said during one of your sessions, ‘but i’m here to make it all better,’ his eyes were narrowed, carefully watching you from his leather chair.

the memory alone makes you shudder, he’d been all for this authentic, organic approach.. hosting the sessions in his home and perhaps at times, becoming a little too familiar. his hand patting your knee as you spoke, asking creepy questions about your relationship with steve and overstepping a shit ton of boundaries. he had these icy blue eyes that lingered on yours for too long, there was something deeply unsettling about the way they narrowed when steve was mentioned. the utter anger they held when you brought up eddie. oh no, he really didn’t like eddie.

he’d been the one to suggest that you slow down with the letters to eddie, telling you that focusing on recovery was more important. it had worked in his favour anyway, the letters becoming the least of your concerns as you navigated recovery.

nonetheless, he didn’t last long. you were still in that mellow adjustment period, getting used to the meds when steve had informed you that dr. foster was no longer going to be your therapist. something about a conflict of schedules but you weren’t sure how true that really was.

it had been a few weeks since you’d last seen eddie, unsure of where he was or what trouble he’d gotten himself into. maybe even a minuscule part of you was hoping that he’d got himself arrested, at least that way you’d know he was safe inside and not wrecked in a ditch somewhere.

for the most part, you’d managed to put him to the back of your mind. it was only when things got quiet did you worry about him. deep down, you knew it was for the best. you couldn’t be around him without that niggling voice in the back of your head creeping back up. there was too much history there.

and steve had been so wonderful. you’re not sure you’d ever felt love like this. so transparent and pure, so void of expectations that he could see you at your worst and still be just as content to love you.

it all makes your heart ache, were you enough for steve even when you were like this? he had bore witness to the most horrific times of your life and yet, he’d be there everyday with a smile on his face and an open heart prepared for whatever that day may bring.

he’d taken the day off of work to purely spend it with you. granted, you’d only wanted to sit on the couch and watch a bunch of terrible movies with him but it was good enough. you’re not sure how long you’ve now been on this couch, but you knew it was late as the street lights glimmer that harsh orange through the blinds.

this film has you falling asleep, steve’s pick, obviously. you’d slid down the couch to rest your head on his lap, eyelids weighing heavy as sleep threatens to take over.

until you’re both startled by the incessant banging on the door, fist pummelling into the already brittle wood. your head snaps upward towards steve, pouting at the rude awakening. who on earth could find the need to pound the door at this time?

‘you expectin’ anyone?’ steve asks curiously, sliding your head from his thigh, very cautiously getting off of the couch to answer the door.

‘no? robin, maybe?’ unless robin had turned into a rabid zombie, you were sure it probably wasn’t her on the other side.

steve peers through the peep hole, seemingly taken aback but what or whoever he sees on the other side, ‘shit..’ cursing under his breath as he slides the chain from the door, opening it just slightly.

‘what?’ petrified by his reaction, sitting up on the couch to prepare for the impending insanity on the other side.

‘jesus man.. what are you doing here?’ he’s pushed aside as what looks like one eddie munson barges through the door, gasping for air and looking worse for wear.

he’s clutching his knees, doubled over as he tries to catch his breath, ‘i fucking.. ran the whole way here..’

if you’re being honest, he looks terrible. hair limp as it hangs around his face, clothes dirtied and you can’t see his face properly but you’re sure there’s a shiner of a bruise on his cheek.

‘what are you doing? what’s wrong?’ you fret, swinging your legs over the side of the couch as steve closes the door, bolting it up again in hopes that whatever eddie was running from was not following him.

he exhales before standing up straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ‘i need your help.. both of you,’ looking to steve who was stood with his hand on his hip, concerned about the inevitable mess eddie had just welcomed back into your lives.

‘why? where have you been?’

the last you’d heard from him, nancy had, very reluctantly, agreed to let him stay in their couch for a few days until he got himself sorted. but they’d woken up the next morning to find that he was no longer on said couch, not a trace of him left behind. he was completely unreachable, no phone, no idea where he had escaped off to and absolutely no one had seen or heard from him.

initially it had been a frenzy to try and find him until you collectively realised that he didn’t want to be found this time. and you had to mourn him all over again.

‘steve, d’you still know how to make fakes?’ completely ignoring your question, blinking at a puzzled steve.

your eyes flit to steve, unaware that he apparently had a history in counterfeit goods. perhaps a crucial bit of information he’d glossed over there.

‘not anymore.. what the fuck do you need that for?’

‘you know anyone that does? i’m desperate man.. i- i’ll pay,’ eddie pants, ‘name your price,’ chest heaving as he stands in the middle of your living room. he felt out of place here now, stuck out like a sore thumb.

steve ponders for a second, ‘uhh.. i dunno, maybe.. what’ve you done?’ sighing softly.

‘i need to leave the country.. i fucked up.. big time,’ eyes flitting to you with a certain sadness. even now, he didn’t want to disappoint you yet it seemed to be all he could do.

‘what’ve you done?’ you press, chewing on the inside of your cheek. mind running to the worst possibly conclusion. murder wasn’t out of the equation if you were honest.

eddie runs a dirtied, ringed hand over his face, ‘you know how i’m kinda s’posed to be in jail right now?’ it was already glaringly obvious that he hadn’t been released early.

‘yeah..’

‘well, i uh- i paid some guys off, they said they could get me out.. get me away from here,’ only now is he realising how fucking stupid that sounded.

‘eddie.. what?’ you exclaim, astonished by the sheer stupidity he constantly displayed. you’d thought that maybe he’d have learnt something from jail, that was the point of it, wasn’t it? learn from your mistakes and better yourself.

‘look, it doesn’t matter.. they’re asking for more money and i don’t have it,’ he says exasperated, ‘i need to disappear.. just for a little while, til they forget about it,’ eyes steady on you, as if to seek your approval.

you blink, where was he even planning to go? were you just never going to see him again?

‘i can’t get you outta the country but.. i might have a friend that can help,’ steve’s voice pipes up, tearing your eyes from eddie to look at him.

‘how?’ you exclaim, wondering what other things he had kept secret from you.

‘my friend’s out in california.. i think he’d put you up there,’ nodding at eddie, he probably didn’t deserve this kindness but steve couldn’t just leave him stranded. there was too much history to ever turn his back on his friend, even now, after everything, he was still holding his hand out for eddie.

‘that’d be.. fuck, that’d be.. good,’ eddie nods along, appreciative of anything you could do for him. turning to meet your gaze once more.

he knows this is it.

there wasn’t any coming back from this. no next time. it was california or it was death. and he sure as shit wasn’t a fan of the second option.

you think, deep down, that you know it too.

the likelihood of seeing him again is next to nothing. if he didn’t get himself killed, he’d certainly never be coming back here. this wasn’t for him, never had been really. well, maybe once upon a time when you looked at him without that sadness in your eye it had been.

when he thought back to it, he was sure the he knew you’d never loved him, he’d just been pretending for so long that his mind had played tricks on him, made him believe it. that’s why he’d lashed out that night, he’d convinced himself that you were in love with him. but you weren’t, and his heart had realised that fact quicker than his head had.

steve disappears into your bedroom in search of his phone, leaving you two alone in the living room. everything you want to say stays unsaid. heavy as it lingers between you. there’s not really much you can say in this moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

instead, you just nod.

as if to say that he could go. he could let you go.

eddie understands. but he’s not sure he ever will.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader

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numberonetastemakerwhispers · 1 year ago

Text

Lustful Desires

Miguel O'hara series...

Pairing: !pornstarmiguel x !smallcampaignreader

TW: NSFW BELOW CUT ✂️

Miguel o'hara. Known for his work and videos online through his years of working as a pornstar. Hes only posted little to few videos, but the outcome of them all were beautiful.

You had found him after scrolling through some videos on your browser, the title reading 'Lust and Fuck'. You pressed it reluctantly, expecting something boring than what the title was. Instead you were greeted with a muscular tanned man. Your eyes following how his muscles flexed, the way his lips curled up as he smirked. Shit he was hot.

And god you swore you almost came at the sight unraveling. (You did) The end where he was grunting loudly as his hips moved sloppily to where he finally came.

Your hands seemingly moving on their own as they dipped down to your panties, rubbing slow circles on your clit, making you shudder. (rewatching the video, hehe)

You watched the rest of his videos, cumming almost twice as much as you usually have in months. All being breath taking and exhausting as your hand cramped from chasing your high each time.

You were also a pornstar, but not on his level. You usually did solo videos, wearing pretty lacy lingerie, indulging yourself with your sways and swoons as you unraveled yourself for the camera. Maybe even fucking yourself silly with whatever toys you had, having you moaning like a slutty bitch. Your neighbors probably have heard.

Although you did solo, you did take some requests on considering to work with others, maybe those who also did solo, or more experience but god you weren't expecting the email you were just about to get sent...

----

Few hours go by as you were getting settled in your bed, getting ready to knock out when your phone suddenly buzzed. You thought it was from one of your managers, maybe even a notifiction from one of those thristy men on your porn site. You were oh, so wrong, looking at your phone as you gasped. Your eyes scanning the name from whom the email was from before opening it. Miguel O'hara.

You thought you must have been dreaming? The one and only? It couldn't have been! But you read the message over and over and that you almost peed your pants! (or maybe you did. jk)

The message was mind blowing to you, but still it was unexpected.

' Subject: Request ...

Hello preciosa, Ive seen your works and I must say you are a sight for sore eyes...

I was wondering if you would love to work with me in one of my own?

Miguel O'Hara.

You squealed as your fingers starting typing faster than your brain could process, having to delete then reform your words as you typed back.

'Subject: yes please!

Ive seen your works as well! I'm quite a fan

... and i would love to work with you. We'll work things out with our managers yea?

Y/N.

You sounded almost too excited. Desperate even. But who wouldnt be? When a well known pornstar like Miguel who blessed with a body of a goddess? You thought you had been blessed by the gods, or cursed even. Since you couldn't sleep a wink after that email.

6:00 AM

Your alarm had went off on your phone. Grumbling and groggy from your restless sleep as you turned it off, wiping your eyes and the puddle of drool that had been growing from your slumber, as you checked your phone. Another email!

You tapped it as you read it over, your body feeling fully awake now at the message.

Subject: Plan

'Alo, carino you sound excited.. tomorrow at 2 pm at ******.'

Miguel O'Hara.

It was short. It spoke truth. it was TOMORROW?! You had thought that a meeting would take a few days even a week but it was happening tomorrow! You felt your cheeks flood with redness as your buried you face in your hands.

What was the theme going to be? Did you have to bring your own clothes of choice? Was the fact meeting him face to face might actually give you a heart attack? Would he even like how you look in person? Would it give him a heart attack?!

Gosh you decided to calm yourself down, seeing how overwhelmed you were getting over a email. You took a deep breath and started typing a reply back.

'Subject: Plan

Im a little excited.. more nervous tho. Ill be there tomorrow!'

Y/N.

You sighed as you hoped the day would go by slowly, letting the time for you to consume your inner thoughts and the need to be settled down. You got up and went on with your day. (with the thought of miguel lingering)

It was almost 10 as you settled in your comforters after a nice long shower, finishing and editing a draft of yourself up to your site as you yawned exhaustly, ready to knock out. The thought of meeting up with him roamed your mind, making you jitter with anticipation and anxiousness. You pushed those thoughts aside, ready to get back to them when you wake up.

You groaned. you couldn't even sleep at all. Only finally falling asleep around 4 in the morning, scrolling through pages and posts to help you fall asleep faster, to no surprise it brought you hell.

It was 10 AM, your meet up was in 4 hours, but you'd be heading there an hour early since the place was pretty far from where you lived.

You called your manager, making sure everything was still in order (it was) as you were up and getting ready. It was scary really, as you did your best to find what would be most appropriate to wear and what wouldn't be.

You decided for a skim black skirt, white sweater with a pink vest over it. Your hair blow, starting your makeup after showering and doing your daily skincare.

You had lipgloss and mascara, a little blush from here to there and that signature mole on your right cheek. You made sure you looked decent as you did last minute sprints of perfume before you trampled out your apartment.

Rushing down your apartment stairs, as you hopped into your Toyota that you had bought off an auction for half the price, starting it up as you finally hit the road, ready for the day to unravel.

You made it, but 30 minutes late. Blaming the traffic that went on your hour early drive over. Always traffic...

You had found yourself talking with your manager along the way, him scolding you back and forth about being late, as you just huffed but apologized. You were lead into a room with lights and cameras scattered around the room, an area in the middle where it must have been where you were going to perform the scene with Miguel. It was all mind blowing, even more when you laid your eyes on him.

He was way more attractive in person, his smile flooding the room. The way his shoulders flexed with every movement, the way he slicked his hair back to not let any piece fall on his forehead. He was a man who would be seen as a piece from a museum you thought to yourself.

You had caught yourself staring that sent you straight back to reality. He was looking straight back at you, with a smirk that was seen clear for days. It had your cheeks flushed and your manager still fussing on how you weren't paying attention to his lecture.

It didn't matter after you and miguel had walked up to eachother greeting eachother and eachothers managers. You smiled sheepishly as he smiled back as well.

"Alo preciosa.." He said, his voice sounded rough and smooth a hint of a grunt being heard.

"Hey.." you said your voice almost a squeak from how shy you were. You earned a chuckled from him as he took your hand in his as he gave it a firm squeeze, placing a kiss on the back of your palm.

"No need to be shy carino, since we're working with eachother today." He reassured, which made not only your heart flutter but your other heart beat with need. (oopsies)

You nodded as you chuckled to yourself, looking up into his coffee brown eyes, his fangs poking out as he smirked at you.

"Okay ill try... but don't be disappointed when I do." You said softly as your managers starting discussing on the scene and prepping the platforms, choice of clothing and need of materials.

It was all so new to you, to be working in an actual studio, and it was a big bump to your campaign seeing as you were only just a small creator. Although you knew this would be a huge raise for not only you, but your campaign as well.

When you were pulled to the dressing room you had seen scatters of different clothing presented before you, making you awe and oh at such selection.

Although it all seemed appropriate for the scene you had to display with Miguel. The scene of which 2 lovers coming out of an argument, which turned to hot angry sex.

Something new to you and a jump to what you expected. Thought of maybe slow sensational romance, him coming home as you both held onto one another but instead happened to be this..

After roaming through your selection of clothing, you decided to go for a simple 'at home' look. Silk shorts that clung onto your thighs nicely, and a matching silk tanktop (sleep wear). You finished by getting prepped and sprayed down after having your makeover, mascara and eye liner, lip gloss and instead of your signature mark they decided for you not to wear it.

You made your way out the changing room as your eyes caught onto the tall burly man who wore a black t-shirt that strained against his chest, making it hard for your gaze to be pulled away. He wore grey sweats, clinging onto his musclar thighs just right, showing the plump of his ass which had you blushing like a fool.

He saw you, maybe even you staring at him in such a way, as he made his way over.

"mi nína... estás preciosa..." (my girl...your beautiful...) He murmured, his gaze traveling down the outfit you wore just for the show, for him specifically. You smiled softly as you didn't understand his spanish, which made it awkward but fun.

"What are you saying?" You giggled, looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, the feeling of staring into his seemingly felt like you were being lured in.

"nothing to worry about." He smirked as he took your hand in his, his own making yours looked drawf compared to him. You felt jittery and vulnerable, letting him drag you along as you both got on set. You take a deep breath, feeling rather tense. Miguel seemed to noticed as his hand rubbed slow circles on the small of your back.

"shh..No te pongas nervioso, te tengo amor." (dont be nervous, i got you love.) He reassured looking down at you with comfort and ease in his eyes, your body seemed more at ease as you smiled up at him.

Although you didn't know what he was saying but you knew it probably meant something sweet.

"SCENE STARTS IN 3..." The manager yelled from the back, you being in the kitchen as he just got back home from the pub, really to you it seemed like a toxic plot, but with miguel he seemed so sweet and reassuring, that you didn't seem to care for the plot.

"2..1 ACTION!" Your manager yelled as cameras were turned on, lights making sure they luminated the right places, as miguel walked into the door of your home.

"Hola hermosa, ¿qué estás haciendo?" (hey beautiful, what are you doing?") He asked, his arms raveling around your waist, pulling you close as you nudged him aside.

Although you didn't know what he was saying, reading your scripts and having to scan it a million times put ideas in what it might be.

"Don't hey beautiful me." You mumbled, nudging him away as you avoided looking up at him. His eyes were analyzing your reaction and movements.

He scoffed as he shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to approach you once more.

"Hey.. whats the matter with you?" He said, his accent weighing heavy on his words. His eyes demanded to look at yours, as he grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

You furrowed your brows, huffing as you were forced to stare into such dangerous eyes, ones that made you dizzy and undone if stared into too long.

"Let go of me, you reek of alcohol." You said, slapping his hand away as you walked it off. But not without him swooping you against the wall, his gaze was sharp, a low growl heard from him.

"¿Con quién crees que estás hablando? You know better.." (who are you talking to like that?) He said in a firm tone, his face getting closer to yours, the feeling on his breath fanning against your lips.

Your lips quivered, his thumb brushing over them as his gaze dropped to your lips.

"cariño, dime, ¿por qué estás molesta?" (baby, tell me why your upset?) He sighed, letting his grip falter as he pulled you close, hands grazing down your body as he squeezed at the plump of your ass, making you squeak.

You'd almost forgotten that this was all for show, all for a video to publish, as you got lost in the thought of acting appropriately.

"Your always out, i..didn't have the best day today, thinking if I-"

"Took your anger out on me would help?" He finished your sentence, as you nodded sheepishly.

He chuckled as he pulled you closer, pinning you against the wall as he pressed a kiss on your temple, another to your cheek before whispering against your ear.

"Meaning it would help by getting me all riled up till we ended up hate fucking?.." He chuckled as he lowered his head, pressing kisses on your neck, making you moan out as you nodded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Words hermoso , use your words." He hushed against your neck, biting at the nape softly, leaving a mark as he licked it afterwards, soothing the sting.

"yes.. yes i did.. bu-"

"but what? wanted me to lose my patience with you? wanted me to fuck you mercilessly? till you cant breath, till you cant think straight?" he clicked his tongue again, making you gulp back the guilt.

"Qué desastre para mí, cariño, un pequeño desastre, a slutty whore for me yea?" (such a mess for me baby, a pretty little mess) He chuckled, making your face go red as he picked you up, pressing his lips against yours as you both savored each other. His hands holding you firmly against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist for support as you felt his bulge against your stomach.

You gulped at the size, it felt huge. Girthy even. He noticed by your face, whispering something against your ear, quiet enough for the cameras not to hear.

"Gonna ruin you sweetheart." He whispered. He pressed a kiss on your temple before wrapping his lips around yours, letting his tongue explore. His hands worked on your body, groping the flesh of your hips, traveling up to squeeze and tease at your breast, making your back want to arch off the cold walls.

His weight pinned against you, making no effort of escape possible as you moaned out his name, trying to hide your face into the nape of his neck before one of the managers yelled.

"DONT HIDE YOUR FACE." Your manager yelled leaving you pouting as you brought your face back up. Miguel's eyes gazing into yours as he smirked, before running his hands under your tanktop, flicking and pinching at your breast as you whined against him. The feeling of his hips trying to find relief only adding on to your pleasure.

He peppered you with kisses, biting and sucking marks all over your chest mumbling 'mine' and 'who do you belong to hermoso?' here to there, not that you noticed, already being lost in the feeling of him slow burning your need for him.

He stopped, making you whine as he smirked momentarily.

"Got to fuck you properly." He growled, as he brought you back into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom, as he threw you down onto the bed. Your body plopping into the soft mattress before his weight towered over you.

"shh.. quiet don't want to wake the neighors." He teased, before going back to kissing you until his lips left yours, as they traveled down your body, biting and sucking at at soft flesh. His hands soothed the sting that brought from the bites, the pain only making it better.

He finally slid down your shorts, revealing the heat growing between your legs as he groaned at the sight.

"joder..toda mojada y bonita para mi ... all for me." (fuck... all wet and pretty for me) he growled as he dove right into your wet heat, lapping at the nub of nerves making you quiver, your thighs tightening against his head. His large burly hands wrapping around your thighs, pulling them apart as he started fucking you with his tongue, making you moan like you haven't before.

"M-miguel plea-"

"Shut up.. you wanted me to fuck you right? Fuck you the way I wanted? Then let me do it properly you greedy slut." You whined. His words degrading you making you nod obediently. He then slowly teased the entrance of your cunt, before shoving them right in, curling them right right.

You gasped as he started thrusting them into you roughly, curling his fingers at that one spot that made you come undone. You felt like you saw stars with how far your eyes rolled back.

You panted heavily, you were close. The feeling of him sucking at your clit with his fingers stretching you out was all too much. He must have sensed it, pulling his fingers out your needy cunt, licking one long line against your puffy clit. He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your clit before sitting up.

"Taste so good precioso" He groaned before unbuckling his belt, your eyes wavering over as he patted the spot infront of him, making you get up, crawling over to him.

He pulled his cock out, groaning as he pumped it a few times before instructing you to open your mouth, his tip leaking with precum. He had to be atleast 8 or 9 inches, girth making it seem abnormal from how large it was.

The cameras came closer to the scene as they made sure to catch your face, not missing a single shot of it as he slapped his cock against your tongue, throwing his head back with ease. His hands bunching up your hair into his fist before pushing your head down, not letting you breathe from how far he pushed his cock into your throat. You gagged and drooled, his hips fucking his way into your throat as he cursed at how tight it was.

"Fuck.. baby relax your throat f'me.." He groaned. As you did your best, allowing him to use you as if you were some type of sexy toy, his sex toy. He rutted himself into your throat, loving the way tears trickled down your face, mascara running down your teary eyes as your flushed cheeks brought a primal part of him out.

He pulled out as you gasped for air, his hands manhandling you effortlessly, throwing you onto your stomach as he pushed your back down, your ass up on display for him as he slapped it, leaving a light sting and a imprint of his hand.

"Qué hermosa... eres jodidamente hermosa." (your beauitful, fucking beauitful) He awed at how his hands left beauitful marks on your flesh, before soothing it over with his hand, before placing his hands on your hips, as he alligned himself.

"W-wait miguel let me-"

Before you could even speak he already slammed his hips against yours, shoving all 9 inches of himself into your tight wrath as he let out a breathless curse. Your eyes rolling so far back into your head you couldn't even remember if cameras were still filming or not. Nonetheless if you were even on stage or at home experiencing this.

"What were you saying? Can't hear with you

cryinf and moaning bonito.. All pretty and displayed for my cock." He grinned as he started thrusting into you, slamming into you faster but with long rough deep strokes that hit against your cervix, making you go numb.

Cameras came close, ones filming the way he was fucking you recklessly while other on your fucked out expression. Your makeup all ruined, tears prickling down your eyes at how overwhelmingly good you felt. You moaned like a bitch in heat, the way he groped at your breast, pinching the sore parts of them making you whine and cry out in pleasure as he fucked you mad.

His low grunts and groan, the breathless curses he let out as he slapped your ass, making it all red and achey before you finally felt your climax building, throwing yourself back against him as he growled at the feeling, slapping your ass roughly, pulling mewls and gasps out of you.

"Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock baby?" He cooed, slapping your ass over and over till it was a deep shade of red. His groans growing more desperate as his hips slammed into you sloppily, showing how close he was.

"Cum with me.. cum with me mi precioso" he panted, leaning down to press soft kisses along your spine, as he slammed into you once more, shooting his ropes of cum inside you, fucking it back into you to keep you nice and full. You rode your high, his hips grinding into you slowly helping you out tremendously. As you fell against the bed limp, exhausted and fucked out as he chuckled, pulling out slowly as his cum drooled out your hole, the camera making sure to catch the sight.

He leaned over, pressing kisses on your temple, over your cheeks, and the nape of your neck all the way down your back.

"You alright mi amor?" He asked softly, his voice the sound of gravel and softness as all you did was nod numbly, trying to present a smile.

The scene was done and you both got cleaned up, refreshed and back into your normal clothes. You whined at how sore your cunt felt, maybe he did go a little too rough, not that you cared atleast. You had marks littered all over you, from bitemarks, to hickeys, scattered everywhere making you huff at the sight.

You finally met with eachothers managers, both seeing eachother once more before he brought his hand to hold yours, pressing a kiss to the back on your hand.

"Pleasure working with you hermoso..." He grinned, standing back up at his full height.

"Pleasures all mine, I hope the video came out as you liked." You smiled up at him, the feeling of pride filling your senses.

"Might be my favorite tape..." He chuckled, seeing the way it made you all flustered.

"Here.. before we part ways." He pulled out a piece of paper, placing it in your vest pocket as he gave you a playful wink before waving goodbye, which made you confused, excited, and sad.

As he left you pulled the note out of your vest, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins as you read.

'mi amor ... here is my number .

(***) *** ****, for when you want to talk or work once more. don't be shy to call mi amor.'

Miguel .

Your heart felt as if it pounced out your chest, the feeling of getting his number was all you needed to be able to expect further things in the future. But for what you knew, you were definitely going to leave a little message in his inbox.

* End *

---

(This is my first publish of thought! Sorry if theres any miss spells or grammer issues-- scanned through it so many times and still struggling.

Hope you enjoy!)

#!pornstarmiguelohara #smallcampaignreader #lustful duties #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderverse smut

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tillthelandslide · 1 year ago

Text

Same For You: (4) No Need to Explain

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

A/n: okay.... Here's part 4, honestly I am so so excited for you guys to see what it's in store for this series, every chapter I am more and more proud of and I am really enjoying working on this, it's actually making me so happy and I love this series (never thought I'd say that about my own work) I know it's a bit slow to get going but please bare with me.... It will be worth it truth me! Love you lots - Lou 🫶🏼

IM SORRY I JUST COULDN'T WAIT TO POST IT...

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername (if you want to be added please just drop me a message 🫶🏼)

Series Masterlist

(3) The Deal

Matty's house was very... Plain? She was unsure whether that was the appropriate word to describe it, she liked it, it felt arty and edgy, but she preferred a space that felt like home. Of course there were things scattered around his house that screamed "Matty". Things that added a special touch to his space, but she felt a little lonely looking around the hallway, following the man into his kitchen.

"Nice place" she comments, not entirely telling the truth. His eyes find her face and he scans it, noting the way she smiled but how it didn't quite reach her eyes, a tell tale sign of her lying.

"Really? Doesn't really seem liked your kind of thing" he asks and she pulls a funny face at him, not able to lie. He only chuckles at her as he clicks the kettle on.

"Bit too neat for my liking..." She says and he laughs again. His house was visually pleasing, she'd be silly to deny that, but it didn't feel lived in. She likes the feeling she got when she went back to her mother's house, the warm feeling in her stomach, her heart feeling like it was back home again. She didn't get that from Matty's place and looking around the room, she didn't see how he could feel that way either.

"You can call me boring love, it's fine....I won't take offense" she shakes her head, and again he's laughing. She gets that feeling in her stomach again, it dips and then soars and she thought it was only one reserved for Ross, but now, sitting across from Matty, she's learning that maybe that wasn't the case.

"No... No not boring, just wasn't what I expected is all. I like it, it's very aesthetic. Just not as homey as I personally like..." She pauses as she looks around the room, even his kitchen was clean cut and raw, there weren't many decorations and if she didn't know him she'd think he'd just moved in.

"Does it not get lonely? I can imagine it would" she says and if she was asked, she'd blame it on the alcohol she'd consumed. She takes in the furrow of Mattys eyebrows and the way he runs a hand along his chin as he looks at her. Matty quite liked the way she was unwaveringly honest with him, she didn't hold herself back despite people typically doing so when they hadn't known each other all that long. Matty was like that too... Another similarity that drew them together.

"Sorry....I'm intruding" she says just as the kettle clicks, Matty turns away from her, attending to the tea.

"How'd you take it love?" He asks, ignoring the desire to take the piss out of his own words, make an innuendo just to ease some of the tension. But he then thinks it's better to just welcome it, for it was with her, if it was her asking questions that made him slightly uncomfortable, he knew he wouldn't mind all that much.

"Milky please... Two sugars" she says and he makes it how she likes, turning back to her and placing the tea in front of her.

"We can sit in my living room if you'd like? Slightly more 'homey" then the rest of the house" he jests and she raises a hand over her heart, feigning hurt.

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?" She says and she begins following him to the other room.

"I mean, I invited you into my home and so far all you've done is take the piss" he jokes, he sits down, quite close to her considering the sofa was large enough for three. He sees her shiver and he sighs.

"hold this a second" he asks, despite the fact he has a coffee table. She does as he says and their fingers graze before he disappears, running upstairs. Whilst he's gone she takes in the two mugs she's holding and the sight brings a genuine smile to her lips.

His is a white mug with red writing that reads "world's best dad", whilst he's given her another white mug that reads "some people just need a high five" in big letters with smaller letters underneath that read "in the face with a chair" she chuckles out loud and she can hear Matty hum from upstairs.

She then hears him run back down the stairs, before he's standing before her again, a large hoodie resting in his arms.

"Here" he says, handing it to her.

"thanks" she says, handing him both cups as she tugs the jumper over her head. It seems like cigarettes and him and the edges are frayed but the fabric underneath is soft and feels warm against her skin. The fabric was creased, it had been worn recently, he had worn it and again that warm fuzzy feeling appears in her stomach. She tries to push it away as she peers across at him, taking in the small smile that rests against his mouth, she watches his eyes rake down her form and her mouth goes dry. She shouldn't be feeling like this, it was wrong.

"cute' he comments as he gives her the mug back, she simply smiles at him. He holds his cup in one hand, resting his arm around the back of the sofa, hand resting next to her head as they look at each other.

"Nice mugs" she laughs again and his eyes flick between the mugs, bringing the hand that's next to her up to his face when he realises what he's done.

"I'm so sorry" there's no real reason to apologise so she brings her hand to his and takes it away from her face and squeezes it, shaking her head at him.

"It's fine... I like them - very you" he raises his eyebrows at that and she laughs again, he laughs alone with her after a beat. Eventually when their laughter dies down, his eyes flick to her their intertwined hand and he feels himself blush. His mind flicks to Ross, and he immediately pulls his hand away (although gently as to not offend her) and he places it back next to her head.

"To answer your question earlier... Yes, it gets lonely" he says and she smiles sadly at him.

"Bet you're hardly here though right? Always on the road?" She asks and he nods.

"Yeah... Don't spend that much time here... Sometimes makes it worse to be honest" he says and she frowns at him.

"How so?"

"When we're on tour, I got my boys y'know. The truth is, they're home to me... So when I'm here and they're not... It's just lonely" he says and she nods, understanding. She leans her head against his hand, and he smiles at her as she does. Her cheek is warm against the skin there and he feels electricity spark against his hand.

He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and grasp her face in his hold, never letting her go... But he couldn't... Not when it was clear Ross was also interested. He debates whether to bring up the bassist and despite knowing he shouldn't, he can't help it.

"Looked awfully cosy with Ross tonight... Wearing his jacket and everything" Matty comments. She knew something was up earlier, and she feels conflicted that he seems to be bothered by it. She felt more than confused about her feelings, it was obvious she cared for Matty too much already, he made her smile and laugh, and she had that warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach when she spoke to him.

But Ross excited her, she wanted to know everything there was to know about him, she also felt at home with the man. He could smile and her heart would soar and her hairs would stand on end. She was fucked.

"You don't like that" she says, it wasn't a question, it was a statement and Matty doesn't know how to respond.

"I wouldn't say that no... I dunno y/n. I feel sort of protective over you. Not that Ross would do anything bad. Quite the opposite. I dunno. It's complicated"

Complicated didn't even begin to describe it. She had never felt this way before, she couldn't pinpoint what she felt for the both of them, but she also felt horrible because the truth was she hardly knew either of them yet, not truly, not for long enough.

"Nothing will happen if you don't want it to" she says and she doesn't really know why she does, it just slips out. She didn't know how to feel and clearly her brain wasn't functioning properly. She knew ideally she shouldn't be thinking about either of them this way, she was working with them now. It was unprofessional.

"Do you want something to happen?" He asks and he watches as she removes her face from against his hand, taking a sip of her tea as she shrugs.

"I hardly know either of you Matty... And I'm about to be working with you both. So it's not a good idea" she says and he nods slowly, eyes wandering over her facial features, fingertips plucking his lips, rolling the bottom one between his thumb and finger. As he looks at her in can't help but find a flaw in her words, they did know each other, maybe they hadn't known each other for very long but he already knew things about her that made him care for her deeply, that made him yearn for her.

"Okay... But ignore that for a second. What do you feel?" He asks and she just laughs, because she couldn't give him an answer. She didn't know. Or she was in denial.

"I don't know" she says honestly. The only way she could describe it, was that she felt a pull towards the both of them, she was unsure what that meant, or whether that meant she liked one or the other, but she knew when she was with Matty, she didn't feel so alone, he was with someone who was similar to her, who understood the dark parts of her soul.

But when she was with Ross, she felt like she was the person she wanted to be, someone desired, someone wanted. Ross represented a different part of herself, someone free, someone happy, someone who finally felt at home and she liked who she was and how she felt when she was around him.

"Hmm" he doesn't press any further and instead they both finish their tea and she explains that she should head home soon. She retrieves her phone from Matty's coat pocket, the both of them standing at his door as they wait for the Uber to arrive. She peers at the time, 1:02 it reads and she frowns slightly, seeing a text from Ross. She's still wearing his hoodie and she doesn't plan on taking it off and he smiles at that.

"Thank you for the tea" she says and somehow his hand weaves its way into hers, most of it is hidden under the fabric but his hand slips beneath it, grasping the warm but small hand in his.

"You're welcome" he says, pulling her towards him to hug her tightly. His arms wrap around her waist, and he pulls her up slightly, forcing her on her tip toes. Her arms weave their way across his shoulders, tucking her head to the side against his chest as his tuck into her neck.

She feels his breath caressing her skin and feels the symphony of his heart, drumming against her ear. It was intimate, it was nice. He sighs deeply and she feels his lips contort into a smile against her neck, they weren't pressed against the skin but they grazed it. Goosebumps. She had goosebumps.

"Let me know when you're home okay?" She nods into his embrace "and maybe... If you figure out how you're feeling... Give me a text" he says and his words surprise her, she doesn't know what they mean, or what he wants. She pulls away from the man, looking up into his eyes and nodding. Their hands don't let go of each other until their fingertips are unable to touch anymore and finally they drop.

She then slips into the Uber and feels even more confused then she initially did, especially when she sees two more texts from Ross.

"Love? Xx" One reads.

"I'm hoping you've just fallen asleep... Won't take offense this time 😋xx" the next reads.

"I'm so so sorry! I wasn't ignoring you I swear.. Matty left his keys in his coat and I dropped them off. On my way home now though. I promise I'm safe xx" she replies back, seeing three dots appear before they disappear again.

She frowns at that, did she upset him?

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀ •°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀

She meets with the band the next day, explaining the plans in further detail to them. They all (apart from Jay) seem to be okay with the idea, excited to be working the band.

"Alright Jay stop being a dick, you could've easily come to the meeting with y/n and had your say but you didn't... So now majority rules and you're going to have to deal with it" Abbie argues, standing up for her friend which ultimately y/n is thankful for.

Jay sighs and pouts whilst the rest ask some more questions, all of which she answers happily.

"So Matty is really keen to have all of us in the studio together, give us a chance to get to know everyone... We can sit down and show them what we've got if we want... Or start from scratch" y/n explains, they all nod, smiling widely.

"I'm so fucking hyped man" Clara says making everyone laugh "this is going to be epic" she says and y/n cant help but smile widely as she speaks.

Eventually everyone has to leave for their day jobs, but y/n says at the coffee shop, receiving a text from Ross.

"Want to grab that coffee we spoke about? Xx" she's thankful that he's not annoyed or upset enough to completely ignore her.

"Absolutely! I'm actually at a place now, was just catching up with the band but they've gone to work" she says, texting him the address after. He arrives maybe 10 minutes later and she can't help but smile widely when he walks through the door. He wears a black hoodie that is big but not so big it drowns him, she can still make out his good figure, and the way his chest still sits flush against the fabric. A pair of old blue jeans rest against his legs and her eyes can't help but find his thighs, despite her brain telling her not to.

He walks over to the counter, quickly ordering himself a drink before he makes his way over to her. Placing his drink down so he could properly say hello.

She stands up to greet him, the pair meeting in a tight hug. She hears him sigh against her and she swear she can sense how wide he's smiling. And he's there again, invading her senses, completly taking them over, commanding them.

"Hi" he says as they pull away from each other.

"hi" she smiles as she sits down, leaning on the palm of her hand as she looks across at him. He begs himself to get a grip, heart increasing tenfold as he looks at her, she looked so adorable sitting there like that, the jumper she's wearing, hooked up over her hands to keep her warm.

"So... You said the others went to work? What are you still doing here then?" He asks and she smiles.

"Well... Lucky for me music is my day job" she says and he raises his eyebrows up at her.

"Yeah I write songs for other artists, I've got a small studio in the garage of our house" she says, referring to the band who all live together. "I make stuff for other people as and when the offers there"

"Wow, that's cool... Show me what you're working on at the moment?" He asks and she slides the open note book towards him, their fingertips graze as she hands it to him and they hold eye contact for far too long before his eyes slowly wander down to the paper, reading the words on the page.

"This one is actually for us... Maybe" she says, referencing the band again. She forces the words out despite the way her breath is failing her. Did he feel it too? The way it felt like electricity buzzed between them when they made contact? The way it felt like time slowed as they looked into each other's eyes? The way it felt so god damn difficult to break the eye contact that just felt right?

Her handwriting is small, neat and delicate and he smiles as he reads over the words. His mind flicks to the idea of seeing her write his name, a random thought, a slightly obscure desire but one the man suddenly feels himself in dire need of.

"Not my best work..." She says and he flicks his eyes to meet hers, shaking his head.

"What?" She asks, leaning back against her chair, arms crossed. She looks so cute like that, he thinks, all stubborn and pouty, almost mad that he wasn't just saying what he was thinking. Instead he was shaking his head, sending unclear and blurry messages her way. She wants nothing more than to crawl inside his mind and be able to see every thought, touch every desire and set alight all his doubts.

He feels himself wanting to lean forward, to do something to stop that look, to make her smile at him, for him. A boop of her nose that would make it crinkle in a way that would somehow make her look even cuter. Maybe he could graze his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss, feeling the way her breath hit his lips, hearing the way she'd giggle that giggle that he was already obsessed with. Maybe he could lean forward until his lips were nearly touching hers and just maybe when the tension became too much she'd give in, drop that look from her face and just have to kiss him, because she wouldn't be able to handle the distance apart anymore.

But he couldn't do that, he couldn't do any of it.

"Can't believe you can't see how amazing you are" he says, beginning to read part of what she had written out loud. She tries not to cringe at him speaking her own words.

"You can feel it in your soul Close your eyes and lose control Set it free and let it go Now I'm gonna let you know You'll never stop these changing roads This is the way our story goes"

"That's amazing love" he says and she blushes deeply.

"It's okay... You should really hear the demo to get the full experience" she says and he smiles.

"Tell me about it" he says, leaning forward, clinging on to her every word. She goes on to explain how she did an arrangement of strings and different sounding guitars, the song building up as you listen, and Ross can't get enough, asking question after question, just wanting a peek into her brain.

"Wow... Sounds impressive" he says.

"Thanks" she tilts her head down slightly to shield her face from him, which was tinted red at the cheeks. Her hair falls in front of her face and this time he can't resist leaning forward and hooking it behind her ear.

"You look very pretty today" he comments making her blush even more.

"Thanks..." She seems shy now and Ross finds himself liking the change in her behaviour, proud that he drew that from her. Her phone buzzes on the table and his eyes flick down to it at the same time hers do, reading "Bestie", Ross's eyebrows furrow at it, wondering again if his speculations were right.

"Sorry... It's just Matty" she says, placing her phone back down without replying. Ross doesn't know how to feel about the fact he was named that in her phone, or how to feel that he was texting her. But he quite likes how she doesn't reply, giving him her attention. He remembers her text last night and feels guilty he invited it. But the truth is he didn't know how to reply without making it obvious he was jealous.

"Just recommended me a song to listen to" she explains. Ross can't explain how the fact she was open with him, the fact that she told him exactly what the text was about, instead of leaving him guessing... He couldn't explain why he felt happy, but he did. His mind still flicks back to last night though.

"So... You went to his last night?" He asks, taking a sip from his coffee cup, attempting not to sound jealous or bitter.

"Yeah... The idiot left his keys in the coat. I just had a cup of tea and then went home" that piece of information appeases Ross and he pushes the unwanted and perhaps unneeded jealousy aside.

"He does make a mean brew" his tone has changed now and y/n sighs, feeling a pressure removed from her shoulders. Ross smiles at her and she smiles back.

"You know nothing's happening with Matty right?" She doesn't quite know why she asks it. But she felt like she had to, it was obvious something was happening between her and the bassist (whether it should be or not) and she didn't want him thinking something that wasn't true.

"oh" he says simply, he was then the one that was blushing, embarrassed that it was that obvious he had a problem with it.

"It's hard to explain but... Matty and I are really similar... I see myself in him a lot. And I guess that just draws us together a little bit y'know?" She asks and he nods.

"You don't have to explain yourself y/n, it's fine" but he smiles and secretly likes that she explains, that she tells him the truth. It saves him stressing about what was going on with her and Matty (although he still does, or perhaps just a little less than he usually would). And he supposes it makes her intentions a little clearer, less foggy.

"I know... But I want to" she says and he smiles wider now, reaching for her hand, deciding to cast any apprehension aside and just do what he wanted, which right now, was holding her hand.

The pair begin to talk about everything, finally getting to know each other the way they wanted. And again she feels like she's known him for years. She's surprised to find out how funny he was and how forward he could be, how flirty he was when he wanted. She wasn't surprised to find out that he was kind, unbelievably so and maybe too much for his own good, it was obvious how deeply he cared for others.

She found herself wanting, no, needing, to spend more time with him and the idea that they'd be working with each other made her feel undeniably happy.

When they eventually have to go their separate ways, the hug lasts a little bit too long to be considered friendly, and the way his hands drop to hold hers, not letting them go until someone has to literally squeeze past the pair, has her heart beating fast (which only returns to normal when she's far far away from him).

Ross made the blood in her veins redundant, it wasn't carrying oxygen to her body to keep it alive for the oxygen she needed to breathe was replaced by him when they were together. It wasn't air that she needed to survive, it was him. Ross caused her heart to play it's own symphony, one in which was vibrant and beautiful and made her question how she lived without him up until now.

She was well and truly obsessed, she didn't know whether this was right or wrong, whether she was delusional or of sound mind, whether this was good or bad. But one thing was for certain, whatever this was, there was no stopping it now, no matter how hard she tried to. Although neither of them knew that yet...

(5) Changing Roads

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