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etfrin · 1 year ago

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⤷❝Jealous, jealous girl | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, toxic relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, fucked up thoughts, toxic! jealous! possessive reader, bondage (eyes and hands), dom sub undertones, face riding, cunnilingus, thigh riding, riding, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young! president Snow x fem! reader

⇢☾Summary: being jelly leads to sexy times!

⇢☾A/N: hope y'all enjoy this!

previous installments of AM au: the study, mine to love, the quiet gift

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

He didn't take account of your possessiveness when he decided to charm some of the elitists of the Capitol. It was his duty to keep them under his pocket whether it be with empty smiles or deadly threats. Though the latter might have been easier with how you were glaring at everyone who made a passing or suggestive comment towards Coriolanus.

Even with his arm around your waist, you pressed against him wasn't enough to satiate you. His presence wasn't enough to calm you down, not when you wanted to burn down everyone in the gala who looked at Snow with lustful eyes. He was taken. He was your husband. Yours.

Coryo didn't realize what was wrong, surely it was obvious that you were in a bad mood but that was no way to behave. He had to talk with his pet.

And he was planning on that when he entered the room, to see you on the phone, a call that you immediately cut and look at him with a smile that cut through his bones because he knew it was fake. It was a smile he had to wear a thousand times and now you were looking at him the same way.

“What was that call?” He asked roughly, his eyebrows furrowing, his fingers twitching, his mind already thinking of locking you up and wondering if you had found a lover. He- he-

“It was just-” You tilt your head, your mind already figuring out his thoughts, your first instinct was to lie. However, you knew better than that.

“I want to fuck someone over,” you said instead, blunt and straight to the point without any riddles so that your husband doesn't overthink it. He.. he felt himself calm down a bit. “Who?” He asked his mind at ease. Has someone hurt you? Insulted you? It was rare for you to take such actions, especially when Coriolanus made sure no one could mistreat you.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if you should lie. Snow hadn't seen your ugly side as much as you have seen him. But… perhaps it's about time he should and you were angry. At him and everyone who dared their lustful eyes and filthy hands on your man (You wanted to claw their eyes out, you wanted to cut their hand off for such a sin). Corio called you his dove, his pet, his property. But he seems to forget that he is also yours, your husband, your lover, your man. It was time to remind him of that.

You walked towards him until he backed up to the door, it was a position that you both knew except he was the one pinned for a change. “A bitch,” you ended up saying, your fingertips grazing his sharp jawline. His eyes widened, a familiar heaviness to his breathing and his pupils began to dilate. “Which bitch?” He said, turning his face away to focus and not kiss your pretty lips. “The one who couldn't take her hands off what's mine,” you whispered, your hands on his customized suit, pushing the fabric away from his shoulder and letting it fall. Then your fingers were busy twisting the buttons so you could see this man's golden skin, but the action was stopped when Corio softly asked, “Yours?”

Even if his tone was soft, you knew better than to believe it. Coriolanus Snow belonging to someone? He couldn't think of a worse joke, that just made you even more frustrated, so frustrated that you don't bother unbuttoning his buttons. You begin to rip them one by one. Coryo allows you to act in this manner, knowing that you need to deal with this in your own way.

“I am not yours,” he said, “I don't belong to you.” You wanted to slap the man. You never had a greater urge too before. You clenched your jaw, “You are.” Your hand goes to the pendant you always wore after your first anniversary. A necklace with his initials.

“It’s a two-way street, Coriolanus Snow. You're my husband, my man, and my lover. I am yours as much as you are mine,” your fingers grip the chain, “Or I can tear this from my neck and walk away.” Coryo was going to punish you for those words, there was no doubt about it. His eyes, those blue ocean eyes had anger in them now. How dare you threaten, Snow?

You waited for an answer, both of your chests heaving with passion waiting to explode. “Threaten to leave again, I'll break those legs of yours and chain you to the bed.” Your breath hitches from his words, the truth ringing in his voice. This insane man… you had no words to say so you didn't. You pressed him to the door, your lips clashing with his. For the first time, you didn't give in to the fight for dominance. Both of your teeth clashing, the tongues fighting in war and neither side winning but becoming a greater mess.

“You're a coward, Coryo,” you whispered as you were pushed back to the bed, neither of you giving up the fight to control the kiss. You refused to be underneath him for him tonight. Coriolanus Snow owned you and you wanted the taste of owning him. You manage to straddle him, saliva covering both of your chins from the messy kiss neither refusing to break.

“You- how dare you let her touch you like this,” you whispered, a hint of insecurity creeping into your sound. “They can look at you all they want, envy all they want but touch is reserved for me only. For me, Coryo. Next time it's brought to my attention that you let yourself be groped like that whether it be for your interests or Panem. Rest assured they won't be seeing the sun again and every inch of your skin that was touched…” You couldn't complete the threat, not when his eyes widened. Coriolanus felt like he was looking in a mirror.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, “There is a reason why we work out, sweetheart. It's not because of whatever formulas you have in your mind to control me, to have me. It's because I am just as insane as you, if not more but I have an infinite amount of control over myself.”

He was thinking, thinking of what you didn't know. You didn't want to know what epiphany had crushed the man from your honest words filled with ugly deep jealousy. You didn't want to let yourself wonder either if he would have preferred someone sane, someone less jealous and possessive. Someone opposite of him in every regard.

But Snow leans forward to kiss you. It's… delicate the kiss. A brush of his soft lips against yours, a grin blessing his face. “What?” You whispered, hesitantly. “You’re perfect,” he said, and those words did things to you, nearly enough to melt away your anger. Nearly.

“And your perfection is aggravating,” you said, with each word a kiss was pressed to his lips. “I love you,” you whispered, a wet kiss pressed to his jaw that went down the path of his neck to his pulse. Your hands shamelessly undress him. “But you truly vex me, Coryo.” you let out as you bite the spot of his pulse, sucking his life from his skin, formatting a bruise, marking him as yours.

“Calm down,” he grunts as he also undresses you, his touch on your heated skin damning you to hell. “I am here, pet.” Finally, both of you were unrestricted by clothes, lips clashing with each other as the hands roamed the body in a hurry. Neither of you was going to disappear, but the desperation as if one of you would slip away like sand clawed at both of your minds.

You didn't reply to his reassurance, you pushed him till his back was pinned on the mattress and he let you. For once you were in control and you had no idea what to do with it. You bite your lip, pondering what should be the next course. You wanted to ride him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to regret it. But most importantly you wanted him to realize he is addicted to you too, as you are with him.

So you pulled back, ignoring the flash of confusion on his face, and went to the closet to pick out two ties. One red, another black, both gifts from you. Coryo raised his eyebrows but indulged you without saying a word, knowing that he would get you back for it. You let him sit up, as you tied his hands together behind his back and then tied the blindfold around his eyes.

“Let me play with you today, Coryo,” you said, “It will be fun.” Coryo replied with a warning, “Do not cross the line.”

You were never an obedient pet. You placed your cunt on his thigh, your folds soaking with arousal, your walls needing his cock but you ignored the want as you began to grind yourself slowly against the tense muscles of his leg. “Coriolanus Snow, the perfect man, the perfect student, the perfect president. Tell me Coryo, would you consider yourself a perfect husband?” “Sweetheart,” he warns you, not ready to hear whatever criticism you want to spew. He could never be a perfect man, perfect in the sense of good and bad. He couldn't but that doesn't mean he has to face it.

“I think you are,” you whispered to his ear, causing him to relax visibly, it was rather pathetic how quickly your admission of yours made his cock fucking hard, harder than before. Your pussy continues to grind against his thigh, your hips rolling at a relaxed pace as you coat his skin in your juices. “You’re perfect in every sense of the word,” you praised him, your lips set on creating multiple shades of mark on his shoulder and collarbone.

He didn't need your words, he didn't know your praises yet a groan escaped his lips. His breath is heavier than before as your grinding gets faster. “Let me see you,” he whispered, and you wanted to deny him. You did but you knew he wanted to know if you were lying, manipulating him in any manner and you weren't cruel enough to play that game with him. You took off the blindfold from his eyes and the vulnerability that showed in his blue eyes made you so wet, your pussy clenching around nothing and he could feel the spasm on his thigh.

His eyes search yours for a hint of a lie, he doesn't find any. Both of your lips met for a kiss, knocking us breathless as you wrapped your arms around his neck and began to roll your hips faster on his thigh, getting close to a high. Meanwhile, his cock was leaking onto his abs, thick goops of pre-cum that you swipe on your fingertips and lick as you don't give any attention to his length. A sound you couldn't classify leaves Coriolanus's lips as he watches you taste himself.

It felt perfect, you teasing him like this. You are in control, despite Coriolanus' not-so-subtle attempts to get rid of the knot that tied his hands together. ‘I am in control, love,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue instead and sucked on the sweet spot of his jaw. “Wanna sit on your face,” you whispered to him.

“Fuck, fuck, dove” he cursed before he nods. You maneuver him into the position, your cunt mere inches from his greedy mouth that had already started teasing your folds with kitten licks that you mewling with need. “Coryo,” you whispered, pleading to be completely honest as you lowered yourself down onto his face. His tied arms above his head, your fingers laced with his (the safe word being three squeezes if you end up suffocating him). Your pussy finally reached its destination, finding his lips and his tongue. The slaughter of your sanity had begun.

He was so messy with this, it surprised your soul. His licks weren't long and calculated per usual but short, teasing like that had you bucking your hips onto his face. You try to be careful, you swear you do but all was lost in your hazy pleasure. You moan his name, again and again, and Coriolanus gets high off it. The power you hand him without realizing, the control you give him of your pleasure.

“Coryo!” you cry out, your movements getting fervent. You were close to snapping from riding his thigh, from the high and adrenaline of the situation. It wasn't hard to shatter, your cunt gushing out juices as your walls began to spasm. The orgasm turns your bones into jelly but you have work to do. You have shattered but you yet hadn't broken Snow.

Coryo hums against your folds, licking all the juices up, nipping and kissing your clit with such attention, it sends shivers down your spine. You pulled yourself off of his face, and your pussy begins to ache again because of how debauched he looks. His mouth gasping, his face shining with your arousal all over his chin, beads of your juices dripping down his skin. You closed your eyes, getting your senses back to you.

You let out a shaky breath yourself and you bring him back to a sitting position, one of your hands on his nape and another finding his cock. He lets out a groan of relief and pleasure as you squeeze his girth with your fist. You stroke his cock several times and coat his length with his pre-cum. “Gonna ride you, baby,” you whispered to him, your lips meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself.

You placed yourself on his lap, one of your hands going to his tied wrists, playing with the knots unaware that a lot of it has come loose. You don't even realize it as you were too busy sinking on his cock, your other hand in his hair, gripping the blonde curls rather roughly.

Coryo leans forward, pushing his face between your breasts, his tongue licking stripes of your salty skin and his teeth digging into the sides of your supple flesh making you let out a sharp moan. Your hold on his hair gets tighter, as you adjust to his twitching length inside of your sensitive walls. His lips catch the pendant, the only thing you are still wearing. You look down to watch him suck the ‘S’ in his mouth and you whimper from the sight, your pussy clenching around his cock.

By now your fiddling with his tied wrists had completely untied the knots, something you didn't realize as you became drunk on him. You place your head on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips. Snow lets you control the pace, not letting you know he is free of his bounds. He takes and takes whatever you give him even as his balls tighten with the urge to come. He bites his lower lip to stave off the urge. Second by second, minute by minute passes as your bodies get hotter and hotter, waiting to burn the brightest.

“Coryo,” you begin to whisper, “You're mine, right?” This time the insecurity in your voice was clear, something that would make you cringe later. This time Coriolanus takes control.

His hands find themselves kneading the flesh of your hips, stopping you from fucking yourself on his cock. You freeze in surprise, your eyes widening. “It’s our wedding ring I wear every day. If that doesn't hold any value to you. Don't you dare ask me that question again?”

“Now fucking cum on my cock, pet,” he said, his eyes turning into snake-like slits, “Don't think I'll forget of your behavior tonight, baby.” You swallow nervously, but Coryo says he is yours, not in those exact words but it was Coryo, he was never known for straight words anyway.

You begin to ride him again, picking up pace as you keep slamming down on his cock, his cockhead kissing your cervix from this position. Your hands go to his shoulder to use as leverage as you continue to fuck yourself on him. “My love,” you moan as you felt yourself getting close over the edge, from how his dick was throbbing inside your cunt, you could tell he was close too. He wedges a hand between the both of your connecting bodies and his fingers find your puffy oversensitive clit and he begins to play with the bud making you cry out.

“That's it, dove,” he whispered, smirking, “Cum on my cock, you're the only one in this entire universe with that privilege.” You whimper, feeling your pussy spasm on his cock repeatedly as all the tension leaves your body. He shallowly thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

You turn into jelly on his lap, your cunt twitching occasionally from oversensitivity. He turns you over so you are laid down on the bed, and he hooks up your legs on his shoulders.

He leans down, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips brush against yours and he says, “Time for your punishment, doll. You had your chance to indulge, my pet. It's my turn now.”

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived

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revehae · 3 months ago

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warnings: dubcon, stepcest

wc. 415

i dont like how this ends but im sleepy so this what we gon work with

haechan knew you didn’t really mean it when you begged him not to pry himself between your legs.

rather, you were ashamed of your desire, more so than you were subtle with it. he had seen the way your eyes sometimes flitted to the indentation in his pants for a few seconds too long, heard the barely suppressed noises coming from behind his door when you set your weight against it at night, listening to him get off.

haechan let you get away with everything, both the attention and the cries for help. if anything, you were the pervert. not him. but if it made you feel better, if it oddly made it easier for him to take what he wanted, haechan wouldn’t complain.

acting like you were being forced allowed you to save face in some sick, twisted way; you could feign total disinterest. you could pretend you didn’t want it and say that he had made you do it. that he had folded your knees against your chest and buried himself inside you, his moans louder than your weak whimpers.

just as he did now.

“fuck. fuck. fuck,” haechan chanted, rocking his hips into yours with no intention of being slow. “you’re always so tight for me. you always squeeze me like you want me.”

you shook your head, denying it. your eyes burned, but your thighs did too, being stretched into an uncomfortable position much too roughly. his nails dug burning lines into your hips the more you shuddered with life around him. but to haechan, the only thing that mattered was the burn of your vice-like cunt clinging onto him for dear life.

deep as ever, he pushed himself in and out and in again, making sure you could feel the thick, pretty head of his cock flush against your fluttering walls, heat spiking through you in a sweet throb.

“hyuck,” you called out, pushing against his chest as he hovered over you. “please, just stop!”

“you say that every time,” haechan groaned, but his annoyance was just as real as the effort you’d put into shoving him away. “and i always tell you the same thing. i can’t stop.”

your hands traveled up to his shoulders, watching his face tense with pleasure, and able to do nothing to keep your body from reacting. “hyuck…”

“i know. i know,” haechan stammered out, tipping his head back in a delicious little moan. “fuck. take it like you always do. make me happy.”

#tw: dubcon #tw: stepcest #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream hard hours

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joelslastofus · 10 months ago

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[SUMMARY: After roughly taking your virginity unknowingly, Joel does his best to make the second time around more comfortable for you.]

“I’ll make you feel it again and I promise it ain’t gonna hurt this time”

Part one

Smut

(There is a 50 limit on people who I can tag, I didn’t know so many would want to be tagged sorry I didn’t get everyone!)

It was early in the morning when you woke up to Ellie still asleep and Joel nowhere to be found. You figured he was out keeping himself busy close by, and so you decided to make something for everyone to eat using what you had. Your mind never stopped thinking about what you had just done the day before, you wondered how he was going to act with you in front of Ellie.

Cutting up some vegetables that you grew you heard the door open and knew it was him. Joel walked inside to find you by the kitchen area before looking up to his left and seeing Ellie was still asleep.

“Hi” you spoke softly as his eyes found you again. He gave you a nod as he walked towards you while you struggled to think of something else to say.

“So um, I’m making-“

“You still in pain?” He suddenly asked in a rough low voice. Of course you were, not even twenty four hours earlier Joel had just rammed himself in you not knowing you had never been touched. You shook your head before you could think of a word to say to his unexpected question.

“N-not really, maybe a little but I’m fine” you assured him as once again you began to think of how good it ended. It was worth it to be a little sore. Now if it was ever going to happen again, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t help but ask how else you could make yourself feel that wonderful high he made you feel.

“Joel um…can I ask you something?”

“Mhm” he stood across from you.

“Well…um, you know that feeling I told you I felt when you made me-“

“Mhm” he cut you off being careful Ellie wasn’t eavesdropping yet eager to hear your question.

“How can I feel that same feeling again…I mean…I know we probably won’t um do that again but I want to feel it…how can I in another way?” You question was hesitant, you almost felt stupid.

He took a deep breath trying to find a way to not react in that moment, an image of you laying in bed with your hand between your legs making yourself cum now in his head and you didn’t even do it purposely.

“Joel?” Your voice snapping him out of it making him look back at you.

“You’ve never-“

“No. I mean we had health class and people spoke but I never…” you tried to explain when Ellie’s voice caught you both off guard.

“Hey are you making those vegetable fritters again?” Ellie asked with excitement running up beside you as Joel silently walked out the back door.

“Uh, yes. Hey why don’t you finish cutting these for me so I can go collect the rest of the vegetables.” Ellie nodded and took over with the knife in her hand as you walked out.

Joel stood in the back staring off into the woods trying to control himself with the thoughts you just put into his head. He knew last night shouldn’t have happened, especially not the way it did but how the hell was he suppose to ignore this urge for you. His thoughts being interrupted by the sound of the door slamming shut as you walked out.

“Sorry, I just needed to get a few things” you uttered low as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“What the hell are you trynna to do to me?”

“What?” You asked confused as he turned looking behind you making sure Ellie wasn’t following you out. Quickly he stepped closer to you, with a very similar look he had the night before.

“I’m trying my best here to not-“ he cut himself off, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

“To not what?” You asked confused making him look back up, but he didn’t speak.

“Look Joel, if you don’t wanna tell me what I asked-“ he suddenly grabbed your face and kissed you making you stumble back against the wall. Still holding your face in his hands he pulled his lips away, his eyes darkened.

“No I don’t wanna tell you,”

“I wanna show you” his words sending a tingle to the pit of your stomach.

“You wanna feel what you felt last night, darlin’?” His eyebrows furrowed as his hands dropped to your waist holding you close.

“Y-yes”

“I’ll make you feel it again and I promise it ain’t gonna hurt this time”

“Joel…I…I don’t care if it hurts...I just want-“

“Hey, I’m done cutting the vegetables!” Ellie called out from inside making Joel quickly turn away from you thinking she came out. You took a deep breath grabbing the vegetables and walked back inside not saying another word.

That evening the three of you sat at the table together having dinner as you usually did. Ellie raised her brows looking back and fourth between you and Joel as you both didn’t lift your heads up from your plates.

“So uh, I was gonna ask if I can try fishing later?”

“By yourself?” Joel quickly looked up directly at her.

“Uh yeah, I mean its right there. We have most of the area closed off. Why not?”

“I don’t know, Ellie. I doubt you’d be able to catch more than I can anyway” he teased her making you look up.

“Nuh uh, wanna bet?”

Joel knew exactly what he was doing, Ellie out of the cabin leaving the place to just you and him…exactly what he had in mind.

“It’s on” Joel chuckled making you smile, it was rare to see Joel in a light hearted mood.

After dinner you watched as Ellie excitedly packed her stuff to fish with Joel making sure she had all she needed.

“You sure she’s gonna be safe there?” You asked making him look up at you.

“I wouldn’t let her go if I thought she wasn’t” he responded as you stood by the counter.

“Ok” you whispered as they finished up packing before Joel walked her to the lake leaving you alone in the cabin.

Being alone with Joel in doors bought an excitement to you that you never felt before. You knew what this meant with Ellie not there and had an idea. Looking at a tiny dirty mirror that was hung on the wall you began to undress yourself. It was strange, although this man had already taken your virginity, he still had yet to see your naked body.

With only a sweater on you watched out the window until you saw him finally approaching. Quickly throwing the sweater aside you positioned yourself by the counter that he would see the second he walked in. Your heart racing hearing the door knob turn until it finally opened, your naked body catching Joel completely off guard. Clenching his jaw he shut the door behind him as you stood awkwardly not sure what to do with your hands. Joel could tell you were nervous, your innocence arousing him a bit more. His eyes slowly finding the sight of your breasts, he began to make his way towards you without taking his eyes off them. Neither of you said a word but he could see you began to breathe heavier as your chest rose and fell in a fast pace. He stopped before you, slowly looking back up into your eyes.

“Now I’m trying my very best to not sit you up on that counter and take you just like I did last night but you’re making it too damn hard for me to not-”his eyes wandered to your naked body again.

“To not just do what I wanna do without thinking. But I promised you I wasn't gonna hurt you, and I keep my promises, darlin”. He looked back up at you.

“Joel-“ you whispered.

“Mm mm” he shook his head,

“I don’t wanna hear a word…not unless you’re cumming for me. I just want you to lay yourself on my bed” he proceeded to take off his jacket as you looked at where he slept. He watched as you nervously lay back on his pillow as he slowly lay beside you turned towards you. Silently his eyes drifted down to your body as you nervously took a deep breath. His large rough hand gently brushing over your hard nipples, he wondered if any other man had the pleasure in ever seeing them before let alone touching them. Slowly he moved down to your bare thigh as you looked up at him curiously.

“What are you gonna do?”

His eyes found yours as his fingers creeped to your inner thigh. He didn’t respond, gently pulling your thigh towards him, making your legs spread. He instantly felt you leg jerk back a bit, he knew you were nervous. You didn’t even realize you had done it.

“C’mere” he whispered pulling your leg completely against him before feeling his fingers trace your slit delicately.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re ready for me” his lips brushing against your ear sending goosebumps through your body just as you felt his finger on your very clit. Slowly he began to move his finger in a circular motion building up the pleasure little by little. Moaning softly he watched as your body began to squirm with excitement before sliding his finger down and feeling how wet you already were.

“Oh there it is” he whispered just as he slid his large finger in. You softly gasped as he leaned his lips against your face, you could feel his hard on against your thigh. Your fingers digging into the covers beneath you, just like that he was slowly finger fucking you…

So many thoughts running through your mind had all just melted away with what he was doing to you, you hadn’t even noticed just how focused he was on watching you as he continued until he spoke.

“That feel good,baby?” You looked up barely able to speak. The sound of your wet pussy speaking for itself, arousing him more.

“Joel..” you choked out jerking your hips upward, he knew what was about to happen.

“Joel…I think…I think it’s happening again” you rolled your eyes back as he moved his hand faster pressing his lips together. You grabbed onto his shirt, nails digging in, he watched as your back arched and lips opened but no sound came out before you cried out like I never before.

“Oh my god-“ you whimpered, your body still shaking against his as his hand slowly stopped. Your legs moving uncontrollably…you both locked eyes.

“Joel-“

“Shh, just feel it, baby” you panted looking up at him and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

Joel kissed you before suddenly whispering something you didn’t expect.

“Get on me, baby” he began to undress himself quickly before you could say a word. For some reason your heart sunk at the thought, you didn’t know how to ride a man much less a man of his size.

“Joel, I can’t-“ you whispered looking down at how hard he was.

“C’mere” he pulled your arms landing your hands on his bare shoulders.

“Joel wait, I don’t know how-“

“Look at me” he pulled your leg over him as you struggled to keep your balance holding onto him, you froze feeling his cock begin to enter you.

“Look at me, baby. You don’t have to do a damn thing” he held onto your hips as he slowly pushed upward while pulling you down on him. This angle only made him feel bigger, still sore from the day before the you winced making Joel instantly stop.

“You alright?”

“Yes” you whispered looking down at him. It seemed no matter how aroused you were, it was still bound to hurt, being sore also didn’t help.

“It’s ok just..just do it” he quickly shook his head at your suggestion.

“Don’t tell me that, I told you I wasn’t gonna hurt you” you felt his hands squeeze your hips, you knew he was doing his best to control his urge to thrust.

“Joel” you insisted with a look while leaning on his chest. Without saying a word, with full force he thrusted upward making you loudly gasp. The fullness you felt you were almost afraid to move, he remained still beneath you allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Dammit” he whispered breathlessly seeing the discomfort on your face. His hand gently brushing up your body, caressing your face. Slowly he pulled your body down completely against his, kissing you he attempted to distract you from the pain. You could feel his heart racing against your chest as you felt him very slowly pull out half way before sliding back in. You whimpered against his lips as he moved as gentle as he could. He continued this way until he felt your body relax, moving at a steady pace until you pushed yourself up and began to move on your own. He watched as you balanced yourself on him and began to ride him with ease.

“That’s it baby” His hands down on your thighs as he looked down and watched himself disappear in you. This position felt different but you liked it, he could feel how much you liked it. Closing your eyes you moaned throwing your head back when you felt his hands cup your breasts. He didn’t say much but he didn’t have to, the sound of his breathing and the way he touched you said enough. Moving in a faster pace he groaned appreciating the view of you on top, watching your hips grind sensually. His hands abruptly moved down your body as he unexpectedly took back control. You felt his legs lift up beneath you while holding you in place. His hands grabbing your ass he thrusted upward as fast as he could, watching your expressions change from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Joel-“

“Go ahead, cum for me” he demanded out of breath. Both of your bodies sweaty, your hands sliding up his chest but he held, the pressure you felt was much bigger than you had felt before.

“Oh my God-“ your nails digging into his chest, this time it felt much more intense, you didn’t think you could handle it.

“Joel, I can’t-“

“Yes you can” he panted. You squeezed your eyes shut, he felt you tighten up when ecstasy erupted throughout your body. Moaning almost in desperation, you held onto him barely able to keep yourself balanced. His mouth open watching your breasts bounce to his quick movements, he felt your cum drip down his balls. He watched you in awe, holding you steady on him as you felt complete loss of control.

“Oh yeah..” he whispered just as he felt himself about to explode. He quickly lifted you up and moaned in a way you had never heard before. Still on top of him, you leaned back, watching his hips jerk upward as his warm load spilled out of him.. Another harsh sound escaping his lips, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off his cock. His hand wrapped around it, finishing himself off, he looked down and noticed how you watched. He could barely speak taking a minute to catch his breath.

“You ok?” He whispered making you look up at him.

“Are you?”

Joel chuckled as sweat dripped down the side of his head and nodded.

The two of you were silent as you got dressed but you could feel Joel’s eyes on you. He knew there must’ve been alot running through your mind but he wasn’t a mind reader.

“You alright darlin’?”

“Can I ask you something?” You looked at him curiously.

“Of course”

“Does….does it feel the same way for you…the way it does for me….when you-“ Joel chuckled making you cross your arms.

“Why are you laughing, it’s an honest question”

Joel pulled your arms wrapping them around him, as he wrapped his around your waist.

“It can feel pretty intense…like just now” he responded calmly with a slight smirk.

“It almost made it hard for me to get you up on time” and you knew exactly what could happen if he didn’t. He pulled you in for a kiss as you were still lost in thought.

“You know-“ you gently pushed him back.

“It felt a lot…stronger today..while I was on top of you.”

“I take it you like riding me then, huh,” he whispered as he kissed the side of your face.

“I wanna try different things, Joel” your eyes rolled back feeling his scruff against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses.

“We will” you smiled when the random thought of how much of an ass he used to be with you came to mind.

“Hey….why’d you always give me a hard time at first” your question making him stop as he took a deep breath. He took a step back as he looked down thinking of how to respond.

“I was trying to avoid this”

“Having sex with me?” You almost laughed making him look up, the seriousness in his eyes made you quickly stop.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me and I just didn’t think it was a good thing for you” he rubbed his facial hair as you raised a brow.

“So what’s the difference between then and now?” Joel cleared his throat knowing a moment of weakness from him was what made the difference.

“Seeing you wearing my shirt that night” his words making you blush.

“Do you regret it?” You asked hesitantly.

“Of course not” he responded quicker than you expected.

“I only regret not knowing you were a virgin, for your sake.” You didn’t exactly know how to respond and so you looked down with slight embarrassment.

“Hey” he placed his hand on your waist pulling you in.

“I’m glad it was me” he whispered before kissing you gently and making his way to the door.

“We’ll be back in a few” he left you standing there silently, you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant although you promised yourself you wouldn’t think too much into it…

Tags

@rosaliedepp @orcasoul @pr1nc3ss-sc4r @untamedheart81 @seenoparty @mylovelycrazyworld @iamsherlocked-1998 @asteriajax @sweet-carolinevl @lulawantmula @gladys-lilith @tsunamistorm123 @stormseyer @yorksgirl @vxrona @crankyhoefromtheyear3000 @bboohoo @chloelmao67 @fmlihatelife @oohevoney @arainbowsiren @sullyrocky44

@thepunkfreak @sugarcoateddreamer @fangirlcenteral @trynasurvivelol @warm-tea-and-otp @lvl-2005 @cdtvdred @tragerlover @missy-laine-98 @iamevylly @sasakipsposts @damselindickstress @a-marvel-babe @annieisverybored @jo9272 @mandoloriancookie @leggtostandon @shovelsbbgirl @polishedtaylor @danichz @ghostwritesthings @milly-louise @jessbooksstuff @stickyfreakfriendlight @stclairesplace @milkypompon @bensonispunk @amandadesantasworld @rodriguez31

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fan fic

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bluessmutifyplaylist · 5 months ago

Note

Idk if requests are open feel free to ignore if they are closed….

But I need Idia x fem! reader (relationship establish if possible) were Idia is just dominant, like I need this man to handle me roughly after teasing him for so long!!! And maybe he also records this with her consent and they just go at it?!

Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader who uses she/her pronouns, Reader ≠ Yuu, Horny Dom! Idia, OOC, Rough sex, Oral (both receiving), praise/degradation kink at the same time, orgasm denial (on Reader’s part), hand around Reader’s neck (but doesn’t constrict air), unprotected sex, aftercare

Idia Shroud

He was getting tired of your antics.

First, you show up to his room unannounced. Now, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You often did that, and you didn’t need to tell him when you were coming. You were his girlfriend for about a year at this point, and he was comfortable with your visits.

Second, you take off the hoodie he had let you borrow (we all know that it was now yours, but anyway…) and reveal a very small crop-top and some small shorts. From that alone, he was already pitching a tent. However, he managed to get himself under control as he finished up some of his reports for his research with the overblots.

It was only when you started arching your back on his bed when he finally had enough. You had been doing all of this for a while since you were horny and pent-up, and he was pent-up as well because he had been working for the entire week without stopping.

He nearly pounced on you, pressing his lips to yours as his hand went up to your neck, wrapping itself around your throat gently.

“Are you done being a brat, Y/N?” He asked teasingly.

When you shook your head, his smirk widened as he lowered himself on the bed. He was soon faced with your pelvis and what could hardly be considered shorts. He made quick work of them until he was looking at your panties.

“You’re soaking down here…”

All of a sudden, you feel his tongue up against the fabric that was serving as a divider between your pussy and your boyfriend, and his hands held your thighs apart so you couldn’t do anything.

“Y/N, I’m gonna record this… I want to be able to remind you of what happens when you continue acting like a brat.”

He pulled away and grabbed his phone, turning on the camera and switching it to video before propping it up on the shelf opposite his bed. Once he was satisfied with the angle, he looked over at you.

You looked absolutely radiant, and he couldn’t wait to see tears in your eyes. “Get up and kneel,” His words came out as a demand, and you were more than eager to listen. Right in front of him, you got on your knees, and he slid down his grey sweatpants and boxers, exposing his half-hard cock.

It was pale, matching his skin tone, with a light blue tip… and you felt your mouth water before taking it into your mouth. His smirk widened as one of his hands buried itself in your hair, before grabbing on tightly and forcing himself down your throat.

“You’re going to take my dick like the pretty slut you are…”

The sound of you choking made his dick throb in your mouth, making his sharp teeth show in his smirk as he fucked your windpipes. His cock was covered in your saliva, and right before he came, he pulled himself out of your throat and denied himself a release.

He helped you back up onto his bed, his head going back to your panties with a toothy grin before he hooked his fingers on them and pulled them off, tossing them somewhere in his room. Then he moves in, his tongue diving into your pussy with fervor.

Your moans were acting as fuel for him, and he once again held your thighs apart as he continued eating you out. His tongue flicked against your clit, making you writhe under his grip until you got right at the peak, only for him to pull away. “This is supposed to be a punishment, you brat,” He teased, pushing you further on the bed before climbing on top of you. His hand went around your neck, but he made sure that it was just to pin you down and that he wasn’t going to restrict your airflow.

He took his dick in his hand and rubbed the tip up and down your pussy, collecting your fluids before he entered inside you. “You’re such a fucking slut, Y/N… My pretty whore…” He whispered as he just focused on penetration. For a few seconds, he allowed you to adjust to his size, but when you whimpered, he started going at it. There was no break as he thrusted in, out… in, out… in quick succession. Your mind was practically melting away as his pace sped up even more. He was pulling all the way out before thrusting all the way back in, making sure you felt every inch of his cock. He eventually flipped you both over until you were on top of him, straddling him. He placed his hands on your hips and guided you up and down his member, your moans serving as his fuel.

“There we go, baby… Take that dick…”

You reached your peak once again, but this time, he let you cum all over him, smiling as he quickly pulled out before he sprayed all over your stomach. He set you to the side of him so you could rest and catch your breath.

“Next time you act like a brat, you won’t cum. Understand?”

A nod from you was all the confirmation he needed, and he got up and stopped recording before heading to the bathroom and returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. Gently washing off your stomach, he smiled as he saw the video uploaded onto his computer.

#divider by cafekitsune #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst smut #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia #twst idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #twst idia shroud x reader #twst idia x reader #twst idia shroud

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youryanderedaddy · 11 months ago

Text

Tw: female reader, nsfw, m!sub to m!dom, con to dub-con/non-con, slight degradation, hinted baby trapping My Ko - fi <3

When you and Gerald started hooking up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, it was fun to play around with your high - school enemy turned academic rival now that both of you were in the same old prestigious college. And you would be lying if you said that it didn't stroke your ego to have the man who used to underestimate you all your childhood pussy drunk and wrapped around your little finger. But nowadays he was just acting off - even for his nerdy oddball self.

Before he used to feel so nervous around you, cheeks growing hot at your light - hearted touch. Your rival used to let you lead - with your body, with your eyes keeping him down, groaning underneath you as you rode him to overstimulation. He always broke beautifully, crying out your name as your heat milked him dry over and over again. He was quite cute like that, moaning obscenely, happy to let you use him as a stress toy.

But slowly things started to change. As university work kept piling up and the once friendly environment turned hostile and competitive, your fuck buddy caved to the pressure. His clear green eyes muddied, turning gray - and his fist would wrap around your hair unprompted, pulling instead of caressing. His kisses got desperate, aggressive - he wasn't trying to please you, but devour you completely. Even his tongue, once so sweet and wanton, turned sharp and degrading.

"Like that, little slut?" Gerald would hiss in your ear while taking you from behind - only stopping to slap your ass when you didn't nod quickly enough. "Just like I thought." He would smirk, and it reminded you of that stupid self satisfied grin he used to do in the past when he managed to beat you at something. "I should have known you were only good for one thing." He'd keep going, egging himself on as he thrust into you roughly.

You, for one, didn't care. In a way you even liked the change in him - it was new and exciting to let him take control and ruin you for once. You just needed to take off some steam - you could play both the master and the slave, the dominant and the submissive; as long as he made you cum your brains out, you were content enough.

The thing was, this change was too sudden to be organic or born out of desire. The shift in his behavior had been too frantic, too emotional - and the trigger seemed to be you once again. You two had just started a new course together - perhaps the most important one in your career so far. You were tasked with a big project and you were making a lot of progress - so much so that your professor had tried to find you a start-up sponsor, something most students weren't granted unless they were close to graduating. Gerald didn't like that - although he didn't make it known at first.

The next time you met him, he insisted you go to his place. It was your first time stepping foot inside his den - which was, frankly, equally exciting and nerve - wrecking.

He greeted at you at the door - said his roommate won't be coming back today, so you have the whole flat to yourselves. Your rival had even cooked dinner for you along with your favourite dessert. The whole romantic atmosphere made you feel uncomfortable - you had never seen Gerald as anything more than some quick weekend fun, but your well mannered nature prevailed and you didn't say anything.

Eventually he got you laying on his small creeking bed, naked and tipsy off cheap wine. You were giggling when your lips met - his tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, although he didn't really smoke. There was something weird in the air tonight, but you were too drunk and horny to figure out what exactly.

Gerald started fucking into you with slow precision, making sure to hit your sweet spot - licking the tears off your cheeks as you cried out in pleasure.

"You feel like Heaven." He whispered, burying his head in your neck, his nose tickling your sensitive skin. "And you smell so good. So perfect for me." The man kept blabbering. His words began to sober you up - there were nothing like his initial boyish whimpers or the degrading praise he'd shower you in nowadays. This felt... genuine. Rehearsed. Somehow it made your skin crawl.

"You're too fucking pretty for your own good." He murmured to himself, bottoming out just to push himself all the way inside you - making you whine pathetically. You couldn't even think properly when he was making you feel so much. "Is that how you got that sponsorship, baby?" The man cooed at you, cupping your cheek - voice dropping dangerously. "Did you spread your legs for Mr. Smith like a nasty little whore? Hm? Is your dignity so cheap you're willing to do anything to climb the ladder now?"

He was rubbing his tip along your slit, teasing you in just the right way - but even the electric joints of pleasure weren't enough to numb the pain his words had caused you.

"What do you mean? I've never done anything like that!" You stated defensively, pushing at his chest - but he didn't bulge. "We've known each other since forever. You should know better to than to throw such baseless accusation. I'm capable - I'd never sink so low t–

He didn't wait for you to finish, driving into you with mad ferocity, eyes almost black now.

"I know. I know!" Your rival screamed as if possessed by a madman - then gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you to your core. "But I don't need you to be capable. I don't need you to be smart or strong or ambitious." His nails were digging into your flesh, but you didn't dare complain. "I just need you to be mine."

You opened your mouth, ready to confront him - to ask him what the fuck was going on, whether this was even real, or just a cruel joke on his part. But you couldn't because in the next moment you felt his warm seed filling you up so deep it dripped down your thighs. You closed your eyes, terrified. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be coming inside you when he knew fully well that you weren't on the pill. Fuck.

"All mine."

#yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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delulu-is-the-solulu-843 · 7 months ago

Text

Attitude fixer

Ellie Williams x fem reader x Abby Anderson

Summary: you have quite the attitude and your girlfriends decide to fix your attitude for you.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut. Strap on, strap on referred to as cock, cunnilingus, fingering, mean dom Ellie, soft dom Abby, cursing.

You’ve had an attitude all day; you snipped at both Abby and Ellie, talked back, and was just an all around brat. Abby and Ellie decided that wasn’t going to fly, they were going to wipe that sour look off of your face.

That’s how you ended up where you are right now, Ellie fucking your throat with her strap and abby eating you out like a starving woman. You were already one orgasm in, cumming embarrassingly quickly when Abby sucked on your clit as Ellie twisted and pinched your nipples. You writhed as Abby’s tongue wreaking havoc on your sensitive clit. You couldn’t help the way your legs instinctively closed around Abby’s head. Her callused hands push your legs open

“Keep those fucking legs open.” Ellie demanded

Abby kept one hand on your knee and the other ran up your thigh until she had one finger in your tight hole. You moan around Ellie’s cock, and she groans at the sound.

Ellie fisted your hair tighter as she watched the way her cock made your throat bulge she reached down and touched the heated skin of your throat.

“Look at you taking my fucking cock so well” she praises as she moves her hand from your throat to your tits as she pinches and twists your already sore and sensitive nipples.

You whimper around the cock in your mouth which turns into a desperate moan when you feel Abby’s chuckle vibrate around your clit.

“What ever you’re doing she fucking loves it, made her clench around my fingers.” Abby tells Ellie before she goes back to flicking her tongue against your clit. Ellie pinches your nipple the exact same time Abby sucks on your clit. Your back arches and your hips jolt causing your legs to close.

Smack

You feel the sting against your cheek as ellie smacks your face

“What did I fucking tell you?” She growls out

“Keep those goddamn legs open or we’ll stop right now.” Ellie threatens

You try to apologize around her cock but all that comes out is a gag as her cock hits the back of your throat.

Abby looks up at Ellie and nods, Ellie pulls her cock out your mouth and Abby stands up. You whine and almost cry at the lost of contact. You’re about to start apologizing for not listening when

“On your knees. Now.” Abby commands and you’re quick to follow. You move so your knees and forearms are the only thing keeping you up.

You hear the draw and a lid snapping open tomorrow. You hear a squelch and you recognize the sound of a strap being coated in lube. You hear movement behind you and a hand rests on your back before it roughly pushes you against the bed so your upper body is flush against the sheets. A hand comes down hard on your ass surely leaving a red hand print, you yelp at the contact, you’re anticipating the next incoming spank but nothing happens. instead you feel a tongue lick from your cunt to your clit. Ellie spits on your cunt and rubs the mixture on slick and saliva up and down your slit. Your teeth sink into your bottom as moans threaten to spill out. You feel the bed dip next to you and you feel a hand grab your hair and pull it to make your gaze meet hers. You meet Abby’s darkened eyes.

“None of that pretty girl, we wanna hear those pretty little noises you make.” She tells you her voice dangerously soft.

“Wanna hear how good this cock feels” you hear Ellie rasp out from behind you

She rubs her cock heard trough your slit, rubbing it against your clit. She slowly pushes the tip in before pulling out, and teasing your dripping hole with the tip.

“I don’t know, maybe you don’t even deserve this.” She contemplates

“You were such a fucking bitch earlier” she growls out

“I’m sure she’s sorry, right pretty girl?” Abby questions as her thumb gently rubs your cheek, the same one Ellie slapped.

“Are you sorry?” Ellie asks

You nod

Smack

Her hand comes down hard on your ass giving you a matching hand print on each cheek.

“Can’t fucking hear you!” She barks out

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to be such a bitch” you cry out

“There you go that wasn’t so hard now was it Ellie asks gently rubbing your ass with both hands

“Hears the deal, you don’t get to cum until the both of cum in that pretty little cunt. You cum before we tell you can there will be punishments.” Ellie instructs

“Got it?” She asks you

“Yes”

“Good girl.”

Ellie gives you no warning as she thrusts her cock into you. Your yelp turns into a gasping moan as she instantly hits your sweet spot.

Abby kneeled on the bed by your head and watched as Ellie fucked you relentlessly, they both know she wasn’t going to last long. Her clit was already sensitive from the base of her strap on rubbing against it when she was fucking your throat.

Ellie gripped your hips, the only sound in the room was the squelch of your soaked cunt and her hips hitting your ass every time she thrusted.

You were in heaven and hell at the same time, because fuck it felt so good but you couldn’t give into that pleasure if you didn’t want to get punished.

“Oh fuck…” Ellie groans out

She watches the way your greedy cunt sucks her cock in, she can see your slick coating the strap a white ring starting to form at the the base. Ellie grips your hips harder as she fucks into you deeper. The tip of her cock kissing your cervix.

Her breathing got heavier as she felt the knot in the pit of her stomach tighten.

“Fucking take it, fucking take it…” Ellie trailed off as her body stiffened she moans as she cums.

Your muscles tense as you fend off your incoming orgasm, you hold your breath as you concentrate on not cumming.

You feel Ellie’s warm sweaty skin against your back as she caught her breath.

“Good fucking girl.” She rasps as she kisses your shoulder.

You slowly open your clenched eyes and Ellie pushes herself off of you and your cock slowly pulls out of you the silicone dragging against your inner walls make you shiver.

You only just now realize that Abby is no longer where she was kneeling next to you.

“You ruined her good els.” You hear Abby say from behind you

“Look at the way her cunt is weeping.” Abby rasps and you can feel her eyes on you.

You feel the way your slick drips out of you, coating your thighs. You feel one of them blow cold air on your overheated pussy and you whimper and try to close your legs.

“Nuhuh none of that princess.” Abby prevents your legs from closing

“Wanna see that pretty little pussy.” Abby tells you as she runs her fingers through your slit gathering your slick.

“You made quite the mess sweetheart.” Abby chastises as you mewl at the feeling of her fingers where you needed her most.

You feel the bed dip next to you

“Prop yourself up” Ellie tells you and you prop yourself on your forearms.

She situates herself in front of you. She’s still wearing the strap, the strap covered in your arousal.

“Why don’t you start cleaning up your mess.” Ellie says as she brings her strap to your lips.

You open your mouth for her

“Stick your tongue out.”

You do as you’re told and she slaps her strap against your tongue and you can’t help the moan that sneaks it’s way out at the taste of yourself on her strap.

You feel the tip of Abby’s cock slowly spread you open. She might be the more gentler of the two but she always chooses the toys that stretch you the most. Her strap is considerably girthier than Ellie’s but a little shorter. Either way both of their cocks made you see stars. Abby slowly slid in deeper and deeper a

Until she was flush against you. Your cunt stretched around her cock and you welcome the pleasurable sting that it brings. She slowly pulled out halfway before she slowly thrusted in. Her and Ellie worked in tandem, when Abby pulled out of your pussy, Ellie thrusted her cock into your mouth, and vice versa. They both worked at an agonizingly slow pace. Abby’s hand rubbed over your ass and lower back while Ellie had a fist in your hair, not pulling but just holding it.

They both slowly started to pick up the pace. You were ping ponged between them, both your cunt and mouth deliciously filled. You moaned around Ellie’s cock. You could barely make a coherent thought, you were cock drunk but who could blame you it just felt so fucking good. Grasped your hips as she picked up the pace, her cock hitting your sweet spot. Your body was on fire it so good you just wanted to cum, you could feel the knot tightening. You tried to hold it to prevent your incoming orgasm.

“Fuck she’s close fucking gripping my cock.” Abby grunts out

She pistons in and out of your poor battered pussy, fuck it was starting to get sensitive. You could feel tears stinging your eyes. You needed to cum so bad.

You looks up at Ellie silently begging.

She looks at Abby who nods at her.

“You can cum when we get to one” she tells you

“10” Abby started the count down with a grunt and a especially deep thrust

You cry out around Ellie’s cock

“9” Ellie continues as she grips your hair tightly as she thrusts her cock down your throat making you gag around it.

“8” Abby fucks your cunt quickly, the friction making your eyes roll back

“7” Ellie’s hand wraps around your throat not applying pressure simply just resting there feeling the way her cock makes your throat bulge. You shiver at the feeling of her deft fingers around your throat.

“6” Abby’s hand reaches around and pressed on your lower abdomen feeling the way her cock bulges your tummy. The addd pressure makes your body tense as you try to make it to one, you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“5” Abby’s hand moves down to your clit and gently rubs it with her middle and ring finger.

“4” she adds more pressure to your clit

Your moans are getting louder and louder, Ellie’s cock muffling most of the noise.

“3” Abby’s fingers circle your clit quicker and her can barely thrust in and out of your pussy with how tight it’s clenched around her cock.

The pressure builds and builds

“2” Ellie’s and tightens around your throat

“1.” Abby vigorously rubs your clit and you’re flung over the bridge. Your ears ring and your vision goes white as the dam breaks. You cum with a scream squirting all over Abby’s cock. Your body burns with white hot pleasure and You can vaguely hear Abby and Ellie moaning through the ringing in your ears.

You feel them slowly pull out of you. Abbys cock covered in cum while Ellie’s is covered in spit. You feel strong arms pick your sensitive body up and you whimper.

“Shh it’s ok baby I’m just moving you.” Abby tells you gently before you placed on the bed again this time laying on your back with you head on your pillow. Your body is exhausted you’re exhausted, you jump and whine when you feel a warm towel against your cunt and thighs

“ ‘s alright pretty girl just cleaning you up.” Ellie says as she wipes away the cum and slick from your thighs.

You hear them moving around the room, you don’t have the energy to even open your eyes. You feel the bed dip on both sides of you, Abby’s behind you and Ellie in front of you. Ellie pulls you to her so your head in laying on her chest and Abby is flush against your back her arm around your waist.

“You doing okay?” Abby asks with a kiss to your shoulder

“Hmmm ‘m doing great” you slur out ready to succumb to exhaustion

“Do you feel better?” Ellie asks with a kiss to your head

“Yeah I do, thank you.” You tell them both kissing Ellie’s collar bone and giving Abby’s arm a squeeze.

You quickly fall asleep in a much better mood sandwiched between your two favorite people in the world.

#ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #Abby Anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #Ellabs #ellabs x reader

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iloveboysinred · 4 months ago

Text

cw; p in v sex, missionary, backshots, cursing, minimal editing (yall know the drill), office sex, rough sex MDNI

Masterlist

Nanami was a pristine man.

He made sure to keep up with his bi-weekly barber’s appointments, and he always made sure his suit was steam cleaned and pressed to perfection.

He very much embodied the concept of professionalism, making sure to be respectful of both the environment and the workspace. He also encouraged you to do the same.

But professionalism was the last thing on you and Nanami’s mind right now.

“Ah! o-oh my god-ken!-“ you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders, the desk creaking under you from the brutal push and pull of his thrusts. His face was buried in your neck, panting and groaning praise in your ear like an animal.

“Shh honey. Let’s try to keep it- fuck! d-down, hmm?” He licked a stripe up the side of your neck, nipping the skin while his hand came down to fondle your breasts, his large palm warm and heavy over your chest. Your blouse might as well have been on the floor. The garment was unbuttoned and hanging off your bicep, swinging back and forth with the movements of your bodies. “Kento i-i can’t- fuck! Its too good!”You shifted down the desk to take in more of him, your pussy stretching around the girth of his dick as you greedily sucked him in, coating his entire length in a mix of your fluids.

He pulled away from your neck, panting hard as he rolled his hips into you over and over, not giving you a second to breathe. His pelvis smacked against the flesh of your ass, the erotic sounds of skin slapping and your hushed moans filling the office space. You tried to be quiet. You really did— but you showed up to work at just the right time, wearing just the right outfit to make a pent up Kento Nanami throw all reason to the wind and fuck you right in his office to the point where the paperwork once on the desk— now under you, was damp and sticky from your fluids and sweat, sticking to the underside of your body as he took you right then and there, over and over and over again.

There was just something so primal about the way he all but slammed you down on the desk, yanking your blouse open to mouth at and suck on your breasts, not even bothering to take your bra off. His hair, usually styled to perfection had been tousled, a few strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. He had taken off his blazer, his blue undershirt unbuttoned at the top and his yellow tie hanging loosely on his neck. He pinned you with a stern gaze, slipping the short pencil skirt off of you with ease, throwing it behind him without a care in the world.

Nanami looked absolutely wild and you were loving every second of it.

It did you no favors though, because he was giving it to you so good, so deep that you had to grit your teeth to be quiet, to not be caught.

You let out a choked wail when he flipped you and fucked into your pussy from behind, stealing the breath from your lungs as he pushed the entirety of his length into you. Quickly you covered your mouth with wide eyes when you realized how loud you had been. Nanami stilled inside of you, roughly grabbing your chin so you could face him. “I thought i told you-“ he started, but there was a few knocks on the door, a quiet “Nanami, are you quite alright? I heard a ruckus.” sounding from outside. You held your breath as you waited for him to respond, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Another sound out of you and we’re done here, sweetheart.” He hushed into your ear, his tone of voice leaving you no will to object.

Another knock. Nanami hastily grabbed his tie from around his neck, shoving the cloth in your mouth.

“Nanami? Should i come in?” The doorknob rattled once, twice. “Nanami?”

He slowly started to thrust into you again, the sound of your sopping wet pussy filling the room. You closed your eyes tight, biting down hard on the cloth to stifle whatever sounds may come out. Nanami ghosted his lips over your ear, grunting when you tightened around him like a vice, his hips stuttering at the sudden increased sensation.

“Everything’s fine. Please do not continue to disturb me.” His voice was steady, firm despite the tightening in his balls as he neared his release. Despite how heavenly you felt around his dick, sucking him into your warm, plush walls. Essentially milking him for everything he had as he kept his pace, grinding his pelvis against your ass with every thrust inside of you. His tip reached so deep, you were starting to think you were feeling him in your stomach.

When the only thing you could hear was the retreating footsteps of whoever was knocking on the door, You breathed a shaky sigh of relief. which was very short lived because soon you were sitting on Nanami’s lap on his office chair, the tie still snug inside your mouth.

“Now” he sighed leaning back into the chair, looking up at you with gleaming eyes. No hint of good-intent behind them. “Show me you can be a good little wife and keep quiet, hmm?”

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troublesomesnitch · 6 months ago

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The Devil You Know

Aemond x Septa!Reader - Pt. 2

Little follow-up to this, but hopefully works OK on its own! There might be a third and final part also.

Contents: Book!Aemond, filth and depravity. Coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, medieval fuckboy Aemond. Just the tip...

Words: 3200

Full disclosure - possibly a bit unpolished because I wanted to get it done before S2.

You left the grand sept just days after your investiture.

At noon on the first day of the new month, a royal courier came to fetch you, loading your meagre belongings onto a cart to bring both that and yourself to the castle. To your new home and abode: a chamber with one bed, one table and one little chair, one sconce and one seven-pointed star on the wall. Naturally in the servant’s quarters, but on the highest floor, along with the ladies’ maids, far away from the damp cellars and busy kitchens.

The queen’s household is large, and you are somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy; expected to follow orders, but able to give them, too. You are a septa now, a woman grown, and for the first time in all of your life you have no Mother Superior to answer to, no Septon Alester, and no other girls sharing your bedchamber - which is both a blessing and a curse. It is nice and quiet to be by yourself, free of prying eyes and Sister Sybella’s snoring. But no one pays notice when you slip out at night, and if you run into a maid or steward, they naturally assume that you are headed towards Her Grace or Princess Helaena’s chambers.

Luckily, Prince Aemond’s rooms are in roughly the same direction.

When others are near, he is perfectly honourable. Really, his performance is quite impressive. Not too eager, not too distant, perfectly measured when he greets you in the halls, or sits with his mother in her solar. But at night, at night he is different. When the hour grows late and the royal family say their goodnights, he will find a chance to strike, to brush past you and squeeze your wrist, or run his fingers over the small of your back to let you know that he wishes to see you. That he wants you to come to him tonight.

To his chamber, to his bed, to his arms.

It is a humiliating plight, and you climb the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast with all the enthusiasm of a convict walking to the scaffold. Weighed down by the guilt of your actions, terrified that someone should know. And resentful, of the prince for making you dishonour your vows, and of the gods for cursing you with beauty - had they made you ugly, Prince Aemond would never have spared you a glance, and you would not be in this predicament. You would not be forced to indulge his lusts and endure the liberties he takes with your body.

But most of all, worst of all, you feel ashamed. Of all the things you do together, and of the fact that you cannot deny it does sometimes bring you pleasure, too.

You have permitted him to kiss your mouth, your throat, your chest. Wrapped your hands around his member and stroked it while he fondled your breasts. Let him lie on top of you and rut against you, still fully clothed, pressing hard between your legs until both of you were sweaty and panting. And once, only once, you let him slip his hand up under your skirts and touch you there, and it felt more wonderful than anything else you have ever experienced. So wonderful that you have not allowed him to do it again, for fear that it should corrupt your soul and spirit. That you will always crave it, the warm press of his fingers, and the way your body suddenly shook and tightened with a pleasure so exquisite you could not help but cry out in ecstasy.

But he has never had you. Never put any part of himself inside you, never even seen your naked body. It is the strangest thing - there are surely many ladies who would give themselves to him, wholly and fully, yet for some reason, he wants only you.

And he does not waste time with any sort of pleasantries. The joys of night are short, and he can only keep you for so long - you must be back in time to rest, and at the very least before the scullions and kitchen maids rise. You have hardly latched the door before he wraps you in his longing arms, laying you on his bed and parting your legs. The sheets are soft against your back, and his leathers are smooth and cool, and you do not protest when he lays on top of you. You have grown used to the feel of his chest against yours, the heaviness of him, and the hard and lean lines of his body, so different from your own. You have grown used to his kisses too. You like it when he pecks gently at your lips, and when he slides his tongue into your mouth and curls it around your own. When he strokes your body in all sorts of ways, to see what darling little noises he can coax from you this time.

“Have you ever been touched like this before?” he breathes - a silly question, since he knows the answer well enough already.

“No,” you whisper. “Never.”

“Say it again,” he commands, closing his eye and breathing in deeply, pressing his nose to your sweet-smelling hair.

“No other man has ever touched me - only you.”

It arouses him very much, hearing those words, and he groans softly when he takes your hand and guides it down between your bodies. Knowing what he wants you to do, you hike your skirts up, just enough to run your own fingers along the folds of your womanhood and hold them up for him to taste. Which he does with the most fervent passion, sighing as he licks them clean of any trace of you. He has asked many times to be allowed to taste your sweetness from its source, but you have staunchly refused, appalled at the mere suggestion. He should not press his mouth to such a dirty place. He should not lick something that serves only the body’s most revolting and shameful functions.

Usually, once he has kissed you like this for a while, and pressed and rubbed against you, he will either reach his end from that alone, or he will make you pleasure him with your hands. But not tonight.

“Let me feel you,” he pants. “Just this once let me put it inside - ”

“It is a sin,” you gasp, mortified, but nonetheless shivering when he pulls at your sleeve, exposing your shoulder to cover it with kisses.

“As is this,” he whispers. “And this, and this - ”

His mouth is lovely and warm on your skin, and his teeth are gentle when they scrape along your throat, nibbling softly above your neckline, and biting down hard below it. Making your breathing uneven as you struggle to string your words together.

“But it is different - you know that it is, please don’t make me do it…”

The prince lifts his head to look at you, propped up on his elbow.

“It is the movements that are the most sinful part of the act - is it not?” he says, cupping your face and stroking your cheek in the tenderest of ways. When you nod, he adds, “and if I were to not perform them, would that not be a lesser sin?”

His tone is innocent enough, but you know that wicked look in his eyes, the self-assured draw of his mouth. He knows that he is right - it is the movements, not the insertion itself that makes the act of coupling so sinful. And if he showed restraint and did not move in any such manner, then you suppose it would be a lesser sin. Although they did not mention such possible circumventions in your training, naturally. And there are other issues, still.

“But my maidenhead…” you mutter, looking bashfully to the side when the prince touches his nose to yours.

“I will be gentle,” he breathes. “I will be so very gentle - my angel, my love - let me at least have you this way… ”

It never really is your choice to make. To be alone with the prince is to balance on a precarious ledge - you can deny him some things, but only so long as you can offer something else that might appease him. And though he never makes overt threats, you are painfully aware that displeasing him could have dire consequences. That he could hurt you in a multitude of ways if he so wished.

You squirm under his gaze, riddled with so many conflicting emotions; fearful of his intentions, yet blushing at the terms of endearment. Who would not want to hear such lovely words from a prince?

“Just this once,” he whispers, his voice soft and amorous. Just this once…

All you give him is the faintest nod, a slight incline of your head, and his hands are already pushing at your skirts, bunching them up over your parted knees. His breath hitches at the sight of your womanhood, your most intimate parts that you have never bared to him before; wet and inviting, framed by soft curls. Lovelier than he had ever even imagined, that rosy colour of your innermost lips, that little pearl you will not let him touch. And most of all your maidenhead, the delicate tissue that partially covers your entrance, and that he will earnestly try not to damage beyond what is necessary.

For reasons he could not say, you have quite enchanted him. So much so that he has lavished more patience and tenderness on you than ever before on a woman, and that despite seeing so little return on the investment. For weeks he has contented himself with just your hand and your reluctant kisses, the mere feel of your body beneath him. Many times, he could have taken you by force, and many times he wanted to, yet somehow he could not bring himself to do it, could not bear the thought that you should hate him for it. That your delicate limbs should be hurt in trying to fight him off.

He has waited long for this, and he does not want to give you time to change your mind, so he only quickly shrugs off his doublet and unbuttons his breeches to free his manhood. Which is painfully hard and in dire need of relief.

It still looks so strange to you, that unholy appendage, with its swollen shaft and its fat, fleshy head. Like the poisonous mushrooms that grow in the Kingswood, though you always keep that thought to yourself - you doubt the prince would appreciate such a childish comparison. He strokes it slowly while his other hand disappears between your legs, brushing over your womanhood and spreading your folds to reveal your little opening. Untried, uncharted by anything or anyone.

You grit your teeth when the tips of his fingers are replaced by - something else.

Slowly, steadily, he begins to ease himself inside of you, and you feel your muscles instantly and unwittingly tensing up, startled at the sensation. At the pressure, and at the sound the prince makes when the tip of his member is enveloped by your body, the tight rim of your entrance squeezing its sensitive head. The rest of him will not fit, but he spits into his palm and strokes it along his shaft, and that makes things glide a little better, as do your slow, deliberate breaths.

It hurts, it really does, only not in the way you expected. You do not so much feel like anything is being torn or ripped - rather, you feel stretched, forcibly split apart and opened far beyond what should be possible. Your insides burn from it, and you wince with pain when he adjusts his position, spreading your thighs wider and driving his hips forward. Pressing in until he is fully seated.

And he moans from how perfect you feel around him. So soft, so tight. His seeing eye closes and his breathing is hoarse, strained from how badly he needs to move, needs to thrust; his arms trembling by the sides of your head as he struggles to hold himself still. It is a bizarre thing to do, you think, just laying together like this, one on top of the other, completely motionless. Your legs raised over his hips, his chin resting against your forehead. His manhood swelling within you, throbbing with need. You can only hope it means that he will finish quickly and release you from this chore, from the searing pain that scorches your core, and the feeling of being so trapped, so tethered. Much like one of the many-legged creatures on Princess Helaena’s wall; splayed out and nailed down, held in place by a foreign object piercing your body.

But the prince likes it. You have never heard such heavy sighs from him as just now, never seen such utter bliss on his face. His forehead is damp with sweat, his brows drawn together, his upper lip subtly twitching. One of his hands trails up the back of your naked thigh, lifting your leg to curl it around his back, and he moans from that too, as the slight shift gives him a brief feeling of movement. It is not at all comfortable for you, but you are distracted when he seeks your lips, claiming your mouth with slow, deep kisses. His tongue rolls over yours, pulling back to lick along your lip before plunging into your mouth again, over and over, in a strangely repetitive way. A rhythmic way. As if he is making love to your mouth, since he cannot make love to your body.

It feels lovely, so lovely that it makes your insides twitch. Which in turn makes the prince curse, and a violent shudder run through his body.

“Do it again,” he moans, and like always you do your best to please him. Clenching your muscles, squeezing tight around him, then releasing again. Very slowly, and each time feeling his breathy gasp against your face, and the thrum of a heartbeat inside of you - whether his or yours, you cannot say. It is painful with your already sore muscles, and it must be a poor excuse for what it is supposed to mimic, but it is still better than nothing, judging by how the prince moans. How he bites his lip and furrows his brow as your insides twitch and contract, so tight and slick and warm.

How strange to think that now you have become one. Now you are as close as two people can ever be. Closer still when the prince slithers his arm underneath your body, pressing you hard against him and cradling your head. Your fingers are clenched in the damp material of his shirt, and he unfurls them gently to wrap your arms around his neck, around his shoulders; wanting you to hold him, to embrace him as a woman should her lover.

It makes your discomfort somewhat more bearable, having something to cling and anchor yourself to. The closeness, and the intimacy of it, how his face is right above yours, your noses touching and breaths mingling. He drags his mouth against your own, from side to side, his lips brushing over yours, then over the rest of your face; your chin, your cheekbones, your temples. So, so gently, and like often before, you are stunned that he can be both so cruel and so tender with you. So selfish, and so soft.

He has had countless chances to force himself on you, yet he never did. Even now he is keeping his promise, holding back, fighting hard to not succumb to that most powerful and natural instinct of a man, this urge to thrust, to copulate. You can feel that he is shivering with the force of his need, gritting his teeth, unable to keep completely still - there is a gentle, almost imperceptible swaying of his body that he cannot help, an impossibly slow rocking with each of his ragged breaths.

He really is beautiful, you think, with his striking eyes and thick, silvery hair; pink lips parted in a breathy sigh. You could not say what possessed you to be so bold, but you find yourself reaching up to place a wet, lingering kiss underneath his jaw, right on top of the constellation of freckles that adorns his neck, swiping your tongue across it and tasting the sweat of his skin. To an almost immediate effect - at the feeling of your timid caresses, the prince curses loudly, clenching his fingers in the sheets, arching his back -

“No!” you exclaim, “not inside me, not inside - ”

But it is too late; he has already shuddered once, and his manhood is already pulsing and spurting when he manages to withdraw from you. So stiff that it flops up against his stomach, a grotesque thing to look upon, the way it just hangs there, squirting out semen as he groans and gasps. At the very end of his rapture he grasps it with one hand, stroking it hard all the way from the base to the tip, as though wanting to squeeze out every last bit of fluid. And once he is spent, he rolls off of you and onto his back, completely unceremoniously. Leaving you raw and hurting inside, and with the sticky feeling of his semen trickling out between your thighs.

“If it catches,” you whisper, afraid to even speak the words. “If I should be with child…”

The prince runs a hand over his face, panting and still too lightheaded to be thinking clearly, because he stupidly tells you that needn’t worry, he will have a tea brought to you -

“No! please no,” you shriek, panicked. “They would know I broke my vows - ”

“Then I will bring it myself,” he snaps, but rather than reassure you, his harsh tone only makes you tear up.

At the sigh of your quivering mouth, his face softens, and he reaches out to pull you into his arms, hold you against his chest, stroke your hair and rock you gently. Say forgive me, forgive me, I quite forgot myself, you mustn’t cry, my love -

“Why must you torment me,” you sob. “Sooner or later someone will know, they will shame me and ruin me - “

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. “I would not let them - I will cut off any hand that hurts you - “

You press your ear to his chest to drown out the sound of his voice, for he has said these same words many times before, and with the same fervour and poignancy. He adores you, he reveres you, he will cut off any hand that hurts you, any eye that ogles you, any tongue that slanders your name.

You haven’t the courage to tell him - the only hand that hurts you is his own.

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @ladythornofrivia, @blackswxnn, @hightpwer, @toodlesxcuddles, @arcielee

@targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost

And thank you @aemondsbabygirl for being a great one-woman focus group!

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hi bae, just wondering if you could write something like roommate!marauders and reader with anxiety where everytime one of them goes out she gets really worried that’s somethings gonna happen to them and waits up for them and just feels like a burden when she calls to make sure they’re alright and just general anxiety things and them being so sweet about it

love u

love u too♡

cw death related anxiety

“Hey, Remus?” you ask tentatively.

Your housemate lays across the sofa with his dinner half eaten on the coffee table and a book tented on his chest. He's ignoring both in favour of the television, a rerun of Family Fortunes turning the sofa cushions and his pale skin a light blue.

He drags his blue-tinged gaze from the subtitles to your frowning. “What's wrong?” he asks. You're surprised he heard you over the sound of Sirius’ stereo echoing down the stairs.

“Where did James say he was going?”

“I think he said he'd be at the gym for an hour now he's not in work. Want me to call him?”

“Why would you call him?” you ask, instead of saying yes, please, like you want to.

“You're worrying again.”

They know how you are. It doesn't mean they have to understand —it isn't logical to think James is hurt because he hasn't been home today yet, and none of them are required to humour you in your worry, but they always do.

You feel sick as he takes his phone from his pocket. You've convinced yourself that James is dead, that his car curled around a bend too quickly on the drive in the rain, or that something happened at the gym, or that he never made it there at all, had a fit in the car park outside of work. Even as you think it, you know it's implausible, unlikely, just a repetitive negative anxiety worming its way into your head, but you can't make it stop.

James doesn't answer the first time, which doesn't help, and then when he does answer the second time you're waiting for bad news. Remus smiles as he talks. “Hello? Jamie?”

James doesn't need speak phone to be heard. “Remus! I'm at the gym, what's happening?”

Remus wrinkles his nose. “What's happening? Since when do you say that?”

“What's up?” James corrects. “I'm on my way out of the gym, can you talk? You can keep me company while I drive.”

Remus holds out the phone to you.

“Remus?” James asks into the room. You take the phone before he can hang up, and decide to be honest, but the words get stuck like toffee between your teeth. “Hello?”

“Hey,” you say, sending Remus a grateful look. He moves over to make room on settee for you, and his arm wraps familiarly around your shoulders as you settle in. He turns his attention back to his show.

“Oh my god hey, angel. Remus okay?”

“I was making him ring you, sorry. I thought… you know what I'm like. It's getting late and you aren't home, and I know I don't have the right to pester you about where you are.”

“Yeah you do,” James says, his voice louder, like his mouth is very close to the microphone. “Course you do. I'd worry too if you weren't home yet.”

“I do this all the time, though.”

Just last week he and Sirius were out late and you'd panicked that they'd both been hurt. You stayed up until almost one in the morning waiting for them to get home from a music shop in the city, each minute after eleven like a shot of ice water in your veins. Sirius jumped when he saw you waiting in the living room, but then he'd given you a hug and rubbed at your shoulders roughly. You didn't wait up for us, did you?

“It's worse lately, yeah?” James asks. You hum non-committal, and Remus gives you a squeeze in typical Remus fashion. You hadn't even realised he was listening, but his support makes this easier. “You're worrying about us more.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don't know why. And it sucks because I know it's making me a lot to deal with.”

“I would one thousand percent prefer it if you rang me then sat there worrying. That would make me feel better. And Remus and Sirius feel the same way, okay? We could all stand to ring each other a bit more anyways.”

You rub your nose into your hand. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“There's no need to be. I love you, ‘n I just want you to be happy. If a phone call can make that happen then why shouldn't you do it? And it's not like they're a big imposition, I like talking to you. We all do.”

James is home from the gym what could only be ten minutes later, and he leans over the back of the settee to kiss your forehead chasely. “Here we are, all safe and well.”

“You haven't seen Sirius yet,” Remus points out.

“I can bloody well hear him. What is he listening to? Is that U2?” James shakes his head in disgust. “I can see why you were so worried I wasn't coming home. Let me go put a stop to that immediately.”

#the marauders #marauders #poly marauders #poly!marauders #poly marauders x reader #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fic #james potter fic #the marauders x reader #the marauders x fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #sirius black x reader implied is

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bloatedandalone04 · 5 months ago

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Like My Boyfriend

➪the one where you and jj sneak away from your friends during a party.

Warnings: porn with very little plot, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, dirty talk, breeding kink, strength kink, praise kink, probably too much swearing

Word Count: 1.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Where the hell did Y/n go?” Is a question you knew Kie was probably asking right about now as JJ fucked you up against the bathroom wall in her house.

John B was most likely asking the same question, but directing his to JJ.

Really, they should know by now that you and JJ cannot be trusted to not jump each other’s bones every second you get ever since you got the acceptance letter to Harvard. You would be moving within the next few months after graduation, and JJ would be staying here while he figured out what exactly he wanted to do for his own future.

That didn’t mean you would break up when you moved away, you were definitely doing long distance, but that just meant JJ would be deprived of your sweet, soft body until he was able to go visit.

So, he was getting all the time in now that he can while he still had you with him physically.

The subtle bang of your body against the wall was more than likely not heard by your friends, but even if it was, there was no stopping the two of you, and your friends usually let you get away with this kinda thing. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he muttered, his fingers definitely leaving bruises from how tightly he was gripping your thighs. “Gonna miss this sweet pussy so much.”

You moan loudly, willing dipping your head back when his hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, pulling on it until your neck is fully exposed to him. JJ has a filthy fucking mouth, and his words never failed to rile you up to no end. It was why you often found yourself in situations like this, with your friends usually close by. “Gonna miss…miss you, too,” you barely managed to say as you clung onto his shoulders.

JJ smirked, hiking you higher against the wall, your strapless top inching further and further down your chest. His strength made you feel a bit light headed, and if you weren’t already off the ground, you were sure you would’ve fallen to it by now. “Yeah? Gonna miss how good I make you feel?”

“Yes,” you gasp, pulling at his blond hair as his lips attach to your neck. “Oh, fuck…fuck.”

He grunted against your neck, sucking and pulling at your soft skin with his teeth. “There you go, baby,” he groaned, looking down at where you and he connected. Each thrust of his hips got you wetter and wetter, your slick covering him and producing a sound that is usually only heard in pornos. But, then again, it was impossible to not instantly become soaked whenever JJ got you in the mood. “Taking me so well.”

You moan at his praise, the light thud of your body hitting the wall only making you feel hotter. “You feel so good,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as you leaned your head back against the wall.

“So do you, baby,” he muttered, pressing his hips closer to yours so he could reach even deeper inside you. “So fucking tight, my God.”

You blush, your entire body on fire as your legs start to shake. They would probably be numb soon, but you didn’t care. JJ was making you feel so good, you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about the fact that it was entirely possible your friends could hear you over the loud music that played through the speaker on the porch.

The amount of times you and your boyfriend had snuck away from your friends to fuck was countless, so you were sure they were used to it at this point. And honestly, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else than with him because the summer comes around quickly, and soon enough you would be leaving.

You have to make it count, right?

JJ’s finger dug deeper into your skin as he sped up his pace, fucking you roughly against the wall of Kie’s bathroom. It was dirty, the sounds you both were emitting, and it was exhilarating. You definitely had a thing for fucking in somewhat public places, and JJ was more than happy to feed into it.

His lip latches onto your jaw, and he presses open mouthed kisses to your skin as he gives deep, sharp and rough thrusts of his hips. “My pretty fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, sucking a mark onto the skin below your ears. It was the spot that drove you insane, and JJ knew this. You trembled in his arms, holding onto his hair with a death grip as he continued to work you to the edge with both his body and words, “My smart, sexy girl. I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.”

You whimper, your brows furrowing as you dipped your head back. JJ was definitely your number one supporter, even ahead of your parents. They supported you, yes, but they were annoyed that you would be leaving for college instead of staying in the area. JJ was fucking estatic when you told him, and he threw you over his shoulder and carried you to your bedroom, where he loved on you for the rest of the night.

In other words, he was pretty much perfect. “JJ,” you whined, gripping the sides of his face and tilting his face upwards so you could look him in the eyes. “I love you…love you so much.”

He grinned up at you, pressing a deep, messy kiss to your lips as he reached down to rub uneven circles on your clit. You were now only being supported by one of his hands, and he didn’t even seem fazed, and that once again had you feeling dizzy. “I love you, baby,” he said back, pressing hard against your bundle of nerves. “More than anything.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt your high approaching. “JJ…oh, God, baby,” you moaned, kissing him again and forcing your tongue past his lips. Your muffled moans were barely heard over the sounds of his hips meeting yours and your arousal covering his abs, and the whole thing was nearly too hot to handle.

How you ever landed yourself such a hot and perfect boyfriend, you’d never know. “Yeah, you close, baby?” He teased, knowing your body and signs better than you did. “You wanna come for me?”

You nod desperately, looking at him with hooded eyes. “Please,” you repeated the word pathetically, struggling to keep your gaze on his as you felt your walls clamp tightly around him. It allowed you to feel every inch, every vein and ridge of him, and it only pushed you closer and closer. “Oh, fuck.”

JJ grunted, poking his tongue out and running it along the edge of your jaw. “Come for me, baby,” he lightly demanded, moving his fingers faster against your clit, nearly matching it in time with his thrusts. “Come all over my cock.”

His words, the filthy things they were, went right through you, and seconds later you were coming hard around him, just like he asked of you. You squeeze your eyes shut and part your lips as you moan freely, his deep grunts as he reaches his own edge prolonging your high. “Fuck,” you gasped, holding onto him with everything you had left in you as he slowed down to a stop, keeping himself buried deep in your painted walls as he kissed all along your nearly exposed chest.

You run your fingers through his hair, trying to make it as neat as you could with your shaky hands. He hummed, leaning up to press a firm kiss to your lips, “Gotta keep you full so you know who you belong to up there in the Ivy League,” he commented, pressing his forehead against yours as he tried to control his breathing.

“As if it wasn’t obvious enough,” you teased, biting your lip when he slowly pulled out of you. He pushed your panties back so it covered you up again, and then he kept a firm grip on your hips as he lowered your feet to the floor. You blush deeply as you hold onto his shoulders, the aftermath of being held in his arms for so long taking over your body.

You could barely stand up, your legs shaking beyond your control, and when you looked up, you weren’t at all surprised to see the smirk on JJ’s face. “You’re not wrong there,” he muttered, helping you slide your shorts back up before straightening himself out. “Ready to go back out there and act like we didn’t just ditch them to do this?”

Laughing, you take his hand and move to lean most of your weight onto him since you couldn’t walk straight at the moment. “Yeah…I love you,”

JJ’s smirk turned into a soft grin as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you, too,” then he was leading you out of the bathroom with his arm around your waist and a content expression on his face.

612 notes · View notes

pinkrelish · 2 years ago

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

ex-con!linecook!eddie x fem!reader

✶Steve messed up. He assured you over and over again that you could have the spare bedroom in his apartment, but while you took your time mulling over his offer, someone else moved in: his down-and-out best friend who needed a place to stay. When you show up at Steve's door with little warning due to your job relocating you, he suggests you and Eddie share the bedroom. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Besides the fact Eddie hated you, and in turn, you hated Eddie.✶

NSFW — smut, masturbation, eddie watches porn, dry humping, cumming in pants, reader flashes her bra & wears a pencil skirt, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, there was only one bed(room)

↳ teaser oneshot | [wc: 9.3k] | series tba!

⋅line cook hc from @bewilderedbunny⋅

Steve was a nice guy. Really.

He was your pen pal since meeting at summer camp when you were both eight-years-old. He was sweet, and wrote you back within a week, without fail. He was your first kiss one sweltering afternoon on the dock over the lake; a quick peck when the counselors weren’t looking. He was one of your first contacts in your flip phone, and his picture occupied the first circle when you got a smartphone, after pestering him to meet up with you in Indianapolis, snapping the pic at a crosswalk; a day where your conversations spanned nothing and everything. What was there to talk about when you talked via pencil, pen, markers, emojis, and photos for years, and suddenly forgot the past decade when you encircled your arms around each other?

He was a nice guy throughout all of college. He’d text you during class. You’d text him from states away, falling asleep at your dormroom desk. He worked at his father’s business. You started as an unpaid intern collecting coffee orders, and pulling all-nighters doing spreadsheet grunt work your superiors didn’t deem worthy of their time.

Stevie 🌞: just quit your job and live with me!

Stevie 🌞: I still have that spare bedroom

Stevie 🌞: rent free

Year after year, you always declined. Climbing the ranks at your job was important to you; and one day it paid off. They were relocating you to the Chicago, and if you didn’t take their pitiful relocation package, you’d get a decent advance on your next paycheck (which was dire considering your salary was roughly the same, despite the ever increasing cost of living); and knowing Steve always had that spare furnished bedroom, and most of your belongings could fit into your car (as long as you didn’t need to see out the rear window), it seemed like a done deal.

Until you surprised him.

You: hey! can i move in w you? my jobs relocating me to chicago and i might already be two hours out. sorry i didn’t text sooner. i had to leave my apartment asap. fuck paying for the damage cindy’s doberman did to that place 😬

Stevie 🌞: Lets talk when you get here

Stevie 🌞: I’ll meet you for coffee

Let’s talk? Never a good sign, even when he was smiling at you from over his latte.

————

“My friend needed the spare room, but he’s a good guy, I swear,” he told you.

“He’s just a little rough around the edges,” he told you.

“He’s understanding; I’m sure you two will get along,” he told you.

“He can make space in the closet for your stuff, and one of you can sleep on the couch,” he told you. “Maybe you can alternate! Bed, couch. It's not like I’m charging him rent, so he should be cool with you living with us until you can afford to move out, or whatever. No big deal. I don’t really care when, you know that. No rush.”

Right. Just share the room.

You weren’t present for the conversation; Steve and Eddie were in the bedroom while you stood awkwardly in the living room, but the result of the exchange made quite the first impression.

“I dunno,” Steve’s voice carried, “maybe you could work something out like you get the room Monday through Wednesday, and she gets it Thursday through Saturday. Sunday’s up in the air?”

“Oh, just share the room like I used to, huh?” Eddie asked, alluding to the life he lived several months ago. “Finally got some privacy to breathe around here, and now you’ve invited some chick to live with us without telling me? Actually–no–you invited her to live here. In my room. No heads up.”

Steve’s wince was audible in his heavy sigh. “You work weird hours, you probably won’t even have to interact with her. C’mon, man. She’s been my friend since we were kids, and it’s just until she finds her own place. She’s cool. She’ll sleep on the couch, or whatever if it really bothers you; just like, let her keep her clothes and shit in here, and let her use the computer for work.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Eddie, wait!”

Thunderous footsteps and a seething, “Fuck this,” followed the heightened emotions, and before you could straighten your spine, you were introduced to your new roommate.

His pace faltered, not expecting you to be standing there. The fine wrinkles in the outer corner of his eyes pinched tighter, and his long hair flowed around a faded black snake tattoo on his throat, stretching across the strained tendons it was inked over, reaching the twitching muscle in his jaw from his clenched teeth. It took him a narrow-eyed glance to sum you and your pink luggage up, and place you firmly in the ‘I don’t like you’ category in his mind, and he continued his march.

“Hi! I’m–”

Your outstretched hand went ignored as he passed you.

He shoved on his boots, and slammed the front door behind him, rattling every piece of metal in the apartment. You stared at where he was just standing, vision marked with a black silhouette of the good guy you’d be sharing intimate space with for the next.. however long, and still with your hand out, you swiveled to Steve. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

————

Eddie Munson glared at your very existence. He wore a permanent crease between his brows when you were in his vicinity. Apprehension tensed his muscles when your soft gaze slid from Steve, to him. There was distaste in his frown. He rolled his eyes when you laughed too loud at the TV. His voice was vitriol, words clipped when he had to speak to you. His shoulders hiked to his ears when you entered the kitchen for a glass of water and caught him mid-chew on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich after he got home from work. When it was your turn to sleep in the bed, he made it a point to come home as loud as possible–yanking open the drawers on the dresser, waking the computer to blazing home screen, and leaving the light on when he went to shower across the hallway, pretending he didn’t hear you grumble at him to turn it off.

You wore a sleep mask to bed after that.

And when you slept on the couch, it was the only time he cooked for himself. Scraping pans across the burners, clinking silverware, gathering his hair off his neck and twisting it between his laced fingers, creating a cradle for him to drop his head back and sigh at the ceiling, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep.

You wore earplugs to bed after that.

Eddie Munson made it known you were not welcomed in his territory, and saw your accidental warm smile thrown vaguely in his direction as a threat to his well being.

But as much as he ensured misery every second you had the fortune of spending in his presence, you weren’t so innocent of terrorizing his every waking moment either..

Soon, Monday through Wednesday, and Thursday through Saturday, and a chance at a lazy Sunday were not enough.

————

When Steve was home, he acted as the mediator when it came to you two being at each other’s throats after another vicious stare-off. Currently, Eddie was standing with his arms crossed, leaned against the counter with his cheeks darkened to a fleshy red, and you were pacing the kitchen, wrapped in a bath towel, stating your case to Steve. You argued since most of the hair clogging the drain belonged to Eddie, he should be the one to clean it. And Steve, not knowing how to interpret Eddie’s steely focus on the fridge as if you didn’t exist, nor the fact a woman was dripping wet and yelling at him, he put his hands up in defense.

He edged away from your ire until he was at the cabinet housing a toothpick dispenser, and depressed the mechanism for one to roll out. He snapped it, put his hands behind his back, and shuffled the two ends into his palm, and had you choose one. Eddie kept his gaze averted, but grasped the other.

You held the long end of the toothpick above your head with a smile to rival the kitchen’s daylight bulbs searing into your retinas. You were the winner, and Eddie was the loser who had to clean the bathroom.

This worked swell when Steve was around to mitigate the tension. But when he was on a business trip, or out on a date, the Bed Schedule was a formality at best, and largely ignored at worst.

Meaning, the bets, deals, and favors began.

They started small: Rock, paper, scissors; winner gets dibs on those just-washed sheets. Flip a coin and see who has to rough it in the living room for the next two nights. Draw the shorter toothpick and try not to stab it in Eddie’s eye when he smirked.

But those were childish games. It was the deals and favors that proved more interesting.

“Can you help me punch holes in these?” you asked, voice high and urgent as you rushed to grab your color coded pie charts from the printer and clip them into a presentation binder.

He scoffed from the bedroom doorway, smelling of fryer oil and bacon grease. “What makes you think I want to help you after cooking for assholes all night?”

“Because you’re nice, and you love me.”

“I despise you,” he corrected, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while you organized the pages, resisting the bait to give him what he wants, but you knew in your heart it was the only way to not be late for work this morning.

“Fine. You can have the bed tonight.”

He stayed put. “Nope. You know I’m working the overnight shift until Thursday.” That way, he slept while you were at work, and you slept while he was at work.

You glanced at the blue dawn creeping in from the window, then red the time on your watch. “Okay, fine, whatever! Have it all next week. I don’t give a fuck, just help me!”

Reveling in his victory, his plush lips stretched into a wide grin, showing too much teeth. He sauntered at his leisure, closing his eyes half-way, and gazing at you down the long slope of his nose. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he mocked.

You wanted to strangle him.

–And another time–

“Shut the fuck up for an entire day, and you can have to whole fucking closet,” Eddie snapped after your fifth instance of complaining about your professional office clothes not having available hangers due to him taking them for his old, ratty band tees.

Centering yourself, you brushed the dust off your favorite pants after finding them wadded up on the floor, and whispered, “I hope a rogue knife finds its way into your thumb again tomorrow.”

You swore you saw his hand flex out the corner of your eye, reacting to your curse.

–And the week after that–

You: come help me bring up these groceries

You: elevators broken

You: we can race up the stairs

You: loser washes dishes and takes out the trash

😒dumb: as long as the loser doesn’t cry about it when she sleeps on the couch

You: whatever

😒dumb: i’ll even give you a head start to make it fair

Struck with being that person grinning down at your phone in the stuffy underground parking garage, you gilded your thumbs over the keyboard in a fluttery tease.

You: you just want an excuse to stare at my ass

It took Eddie longer to reply, fumbling with his phone to find the emoji keyboard, only to send–

😒dumb: 🙄

–And the week after that–

“Get a life, you fucking loser,” you yelled from within the metal cylinder of the dryer, bent over on your hands and knees to wrestle your silk blouse free from where it was tangled in a rope of bedsheets, after you told him–explicitly–to never wash it because he’d do it wrong.

He merely watched you struggle from the sidelines, informing you, “You’re the one who asked me to do laundry. Don’t toss your precious, delicate shirts on the bathroom floor if you don’t want them thrown in with everything else. And by the way, I did my part of the deal, so the room is still mine tonight.” As a bonus, he added as he walked away, “Suck my dick, sweetheart.”

Your gums ached from how hard you clenched your teeth. You didn’t leave your blouse on the floor. He did, when he went hunting for his wallet he left in his jeans, and dumped all the clothes out of both baskets, mixing your work clothes with his.

That night, you locked him out of the bedroom. Fuck him.

————

After tireless days of the same back and forth, the juvenile deals and favors were losing their significance. Someone needed to up the ante. And a certain line you two skirted taunted you both, but remained uncrossed until..

————

The hallway leading to your apartment was stale with inactivity. Most people had been home for hours, or were back from bars and crashed on the couch, drooling on their girlfriend’s favorite decorative pillow–the kind with the pom poms. You thought of them with envy. Snoring, dreaming of some blissful shit like sheep hopping a pasture fence. But not you. Your 9 to 5 extended far past those numbers on the clock. It skipped right over them, just like you were skipped over in meetings, being told the extra burden you were taking on was good for the company, and the programs you were learning would be paid in experience. Bullshit. You were tired, and the last thing you needed was some long haired man stubbing his toe on the coffee table to wake you up–morning or night.

But perhaps you were blessed.

You opened the door to near-darkness. Not a lamp, or TV on inside to show someone was home. Not a groan, sigh, or blast of music funneling from a set of oversized headphones. Not a creak of movement from the hallway, or bathroom; surrendering your heartbeat as the loudest feedback.

It appeared you were alone. What a wonderful thing.

The muffled thud of the low pile rug under your heels gave way to silky sweeps of plush carpet welcoming your aching pantyhose-covered feet. Moving further into the apartment, you knew the shapes to avoid in the dim light coming from above the stove, casting the coffee table and scattered stools at the breakfast bar in shadow.

Groggy from exhaustion, you blinked at the spice cabinet door Eddie left open before leaving for his shift. During a conversation with Steve, you let it slip that people who leave the cabinet doors open annoy you, so of course he began leaving one open as a greeting when you came home.

You closed it with your right hand, swinging your laptop bag wildly, and before you could react, the strap caught the top of the glass sugar jar and knocked it over in a wincing crash. Luckily, after peeping one eye open, you assessed nothing broke, but now there was a streak of glittery white dust on the countertop you definitely weren’t going to clean up.

Maybe you could strike a deal with Eddie to wipe it up for you. It was–in a way–his fault, since he left the cabinet door open. If you didn’t need to close it, none of this would’ve happened..

You made a gagging sound.

Since when did your immediate thought process swing to him, and how do you get it to stop? It was bad enough you peeked around the corner into the hallway, praying, praying, praying the bedroom light was off, and feeling your body slump with utter relief when it was. Being on the same planet as him was hell, you didn’t need your private thoughts to linger on him, too.

Mentally dismissing Eddie Munson from your brainspace, you invited yourself into the bedroom. You sought the cushy mattress to cradle your weary body after a long day, and the nest of cozy fleece blankets to swaddle you as you drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, the idiot’s pillow smelled far too much like him; cigarettes and cheap vanilla cologne combined with his hair products, burning your nose like toasted sugar. Despicable. Just the worst. You should exchange it with your own pillow, but you forgot it on the couch, and the couch was so very, very far away..

~~~

Eddie sat crouched in the alleyway outside of Benny’s Diner with a stubby cigarette balanced between his lips, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale like a roll of fog on a misty morning. Cold emanated from the bricks pricking the expanse of his shoulders, and the night air chilled his damp shirt to his sticky skin, erupting goosebumps along his forearms. Standing around him were the other cooks on break. He didn’t share a common language with them outside of gestures, curse words, and kitchen lingo, but they gathered in a semi-circle as if to include him.

His shift was over. He’d technically clocked out, but he loitered until their vices were stomped under their shoes, and he snuffed his glowing ash on the wall behind him, and followed them inside.

Washing his hands first, he dried them on the towel tucked under the string of his apron tied around his waist, and set up a space on the flat top for him to occupy since the dinner rush had long since died, and the only patrons on the floor were drunks wandering in for greasy hashbrowns. He grabbed the four quart Cambro from the fridge beneath the prep area, and ladled enough batter for two large pancakes. Borrowing a station, he sliced up a ripe banana from the walk-in, and dropped it into a hot pan with a bit of butter, caramelizing them on the range while he waited for the pancakes to be flipped.

The guys behind him read off the few tickets, and carried their conversation from earlier. Eddie caught some of it, learning a few words here or there, but regardless of the language barrier, he knew they were talking about him. They were snickering with their heads together, pointing at the pancakes he was making despite being clocked out.

Eddie spoke with a sneaky grin, “If I make them for her, she’ll leave me the fuck alone on my day off.”

The guys may not have understood entirely what he meant, but his sunny disposition juxtaposed by his wry gaze communicated a universal plight: girls.

One of their hands landed hard between Eddie’s shoulder blades when they doubled over in a belly laugh, and the other one made whip-cracking sounds, calling him the same slang word he called the married cooks. It wasn’t worth it to attempt to correct them that these pancakes were not for his girl, but for his future migraine, so he hummed along with them, and flipped the pancakes with his right hand while tossing the bananas with a swift jerk of his left.

After their gossip, they went back to work, and Eddie grabbed a to-go container, loading it with the two pancakes and sliding the caramelized bananas on top. He brought it to the prep area to drizzle with chocolate sauce, and finished it off with heart-shaped strawberries, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a sprig of mint. He didn’t cut the strawberries that way with ulterior motives, it was just something he did when he had spare time in the morning. Cutting a wedge out of the stemmed top, and slicing them vertical. The customers liked it. It was cute, supposedly. There were no hidden intentions to him taking his time to place them just so around the box; it was merely him taking pride in how he plated his dish.

Clamping the container shut, he untied his apron, changed his shoes, and left out the back entrance, kicking pebbles under the crescent moon, and walking through the front door of the next building over. Gray concrete, a faulty elevator, ugly rugs to feign elegance, and high rise as far as ‘high rise when you live next a bunch of squatty buildings’ went. It was home, and it was blissfully dark inside.

Eddie worked his feet out of his tied-once-and-never-untied street shoes, and dropped his non-slip clogs next to them in a loud clatter.

He breathed. Inhaled deep. Sighed through his nose.

Quiet. Peaceful respite behind his eyelids.

The adrenaline ebbed. The hours of shouting and being shouted at, metal on metal clangs, timer beeps, and mechanical whirr of a ticket being printed out would never cease haunting his mind, but he should stop flinching from the imaginary sounds after a few hours. The pain stretching the length of his back should ease under a hot shower. The throbbing ache in his knees should lessen once he sleeps. The fatigue, like needles driven into his bones, should heal so he could be on his feet for thirteen more hours tomorrow.

Warmth worked its way beyond the calluses creating a barrier in his palm supporting the styrofoam container. Syrupy sweet hot sugar invaded his nostrils from the pancake bribe, battling the stench of his dried sweat and body odor baked into his t-shirt. The tiled entryway beneath his feet woke him out of his daze, and he slid his heavy-lidded gaze to the vacant couch; the comforter was folded, and the pillow was propped up, unslept on.

Briefly he wondered if you went out with your friends after work. But as he approached the kitchen, his dreams were crushed by a single closed cabinet door.

You were home.

You were home, and you weren’t on the couch, nor in the shower.

Eddie allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he hung his head back. In that position, he rolled the disappointment out of his shoulders, and braced them with something new.

Irritation.

Tamping the frustration in the pit of his stomach from bubbling up, he exhaled another calming breath, and opened the fridge, placing the pancakes exactly front and center amongst the fresh produce he was sometimes excited to create with, and sometimes slammed to the bottom of the trash when he was too exhausted and uninspired to do anything with their rotten corpses.

He prepared his expression into one of unbudging indifference. Flat, and unwilling to back down.

And yet, his nose scrunched when he pushed open the bedroom door, and there you were, as predicted, lounging amongst your hideous blankets spilling out from under you as if you were an opulent pearl nestled within an oyster shell.

The resentment built as he assessed your form delicately painted in a red glow from the ugly neon sign in the shape of a lipstick kiss tacked alongside his favorite band posters. He’d only lived with Steve long enough to feel comfortable decorating the blank walls, and you ruined the Rob Halford flow three days into your invasion. Your face was highlighted by the dim blue light of your laptop resting on your stomach, rising and falling with each gentle breath, and you were haloed by the Himalayan salt lamp crowding the nightstand. It’s trendy, you explained.

With vehemence, he flickered the light switch.

You cringed from the bright assault, and clacked your fingers on the keyboard, pretending you weren’t dozing off a second ago. “Can you go away?”

“What’re you doing in here?”

Unimpressed by his tone, you glazed your response in insolence. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m minding my own business.” At that, your attitude was solidified, along with how this interaction would go.

Eddie stared at you for a long minute. Not once did you acknowledge him. He watched your eyes dart across the screen, probably watching one of those Youtube videos where girls walked around exciting cities with a camera way too close to their face, and he dragged his gaze downwards, noticing you were still in your work clothes; though, your blouse and skirt were disheveled, and your pantyhose were discarded on the floor, still holding the vague shape of your legs, resembling a flattened rotisserie chicken.

He focused on your eyes again. Bloodshot, rimmed in red with a suggestion of water clinging to the outer corners where your eyelashes met, and sporting a hefty burden of bags beneath them.

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminded you, voice heavy in his chest, but sounding scratchy, and hollow. His throat was shot.

“Mm,” you hummed and glanced at the clock in the corner of your screen, “it’s Thursday, actually.”

White hot anger boiled in his veins, striking his skin like a leather lash. It simmered, popped, sizzled, boiled over. The yelling, the timers, the cacophonous clanging. The ticket machine, the keyboard, the stinging cut on his thumb. Smug fucking brat laying in his bed on his night to have it. It was sudden, it was stark, and it was hatred.

“Make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“A fucking deal,” he repeated. “You know, like we’ve been making?” He stopped himself short of calling you a dirty name, but you must’ve gathered it from his tongue’s hesitation, because you turned your head a few degrees to challenge his temper.

“Oh, lucky for you, there was a two-for-one deal at the store.”

You waved two middle fingers at him, showing a bit of teeth with your crooked grin.

The hatred festered, but not as vicious. The anger was there–oh, the anger was there–but the energy to keep this going hit its peak, and fizzled. There was no sense in reasoning with you. The pancakes in the fridge were for a different occasion, he couldn’t waste them on this, and he was too tired to come up with his own bet, deal, or favor. “Just think of something so we can get this over with,” he nearly begged.

After some consideration, you held your fist out for rock, paper, scissors.

“Where’s the option for a gun in my mouth?”

“Harsh,” you pouted. Instead, you pointed at the 20 sided die on the desk. He inclined his head, shaking it with a slow sort of intention, eyes wide to express his warning to knock it off, and give him a true answer, something to make this worthwhile.

Finding the whole ordeal dull, you returned your attention to your laptop, pressing the white earbud into your ear before unpausing the video.

It took seconds off his life, but you finally spoke again.

“How long were you in prison? Six years? Bet it’s been a while since you’ve seen one of these in the flesh.” Due to your satin cream blouse being unbuttoned at the neck, you dipped your thumb under the collar, and traced the vibrant temptation of your red bra strap in a long, deliberate stroke. You hooked the soft pad of your thumb under the luxury, and brought it out for his viewing pleasure. A moment later, you snapped it to your skin, and went back to typing, not once breaking concentration with your video.

Eddie’s fascination, however, was trained on the dainty crimson gift slipping under the shimmery cream, sliding against the soft slope of your shoulder.

Heat thrummed in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, sloshing his blood like viscous tidal waves, muting the clacky sound of your keyboard. Anger mixed with something more, something worse. It warmed his cheeks, and reignited the cold sweat prickling his back. It honed his curiosity, sinking every detail of the second tortoiseshell button on your blouse into his mind. Memorizing how the fabric around it went taut, and glinted honey at the height of your breath. Noticing how the bottom of your shirt was wrinkled and pulled slack, but still tucked into your pencil skirt. Remembering how the tight material hugged your thighs when you traipsed around the apartment. Although, the navy blue number was less defined now, fitting looser around your hips.

He didn’t know how long he was fixated by your clothing, until you sighed.

“Not enough for you?”

You asked it with forced casualness, he could tell. Your voice was too even, tone too polite, eyebrows too raised in mock indifference. You were introducing a line that had yet to be crossed. A door which, when opened, would give access to more possibilities than the usual bets, deals, and favors. An enticing offer, and he didn’t deny the nervous flutter of intrigue arousing his blood elsewhere.

But past the line was dangerous territory. Right? That’s where things got muddied, and feelings got involved.

Or maybe not. Because, above all else, he hated you, and you hated him.

This was a deal like any other.

“Maybe this’ll help,” you said, never breaking eyesight from the screen, its colors reflecting in your pupils.

You were the epitome of cool pinching the blouse between your fingers and slotting the buttons through the holes one after the other. Down, down, down to your navel, tugging either side of the shirt open, letting the elegant cream frame the aggressive scarlet.

Eddie was taken off guard.

The bra was more akin to lingerie than he expected. Its cups contained you like a poorly kept secret. Curves of red peonies covered your nipples–hard bud pressing against the center of the flower from the thrill of exploring a new end to your daily arguments. Your areolas peeked from between the petals, where the intricate lacework went see through, granting him a preview to the smooth flesh beneath.

Click clack, click clack, space bar, space bar, space bar, he swore you pressed your arms together to make your breasts rounder. Actually, he didn’t need to second guess. He saw the cusp of cleavage squish before his very eyes.

“Satisfied?” you inquired.

No, he ached.

The voice in his head was so automatic, so sure, he didn’t question it, either.

When he refused to verbalize the things which made him nauseous, his opulent pearl rolled onto her shoulder and lifted the laptop the pillow, turning over onto her stomach to engage with it solely, circling a manicured fingernail over the trackpad, and clicking.

To his surprise, the video on screen wasn’t of the vapid people you watched, but of a troubleshooting guide to the program your company was having you learn in order to teach it to the higher ups next week. (Or so he heard when you told Steve yesterday.) You tabbed out of the video, fixed a property in a column, checked the statistic it was evaluating, and added in an aesthetically pleasing green color before tabbing back.

He couldn’t parse how he felt about you having to do more thankless tasks off the clock, especially when you were clearly tired, but something else stole the last of his fiery anger, and doused his willpower to resist a glance.

Your habit of unzipping your skirt as soon as you walked into the apartment proved evident when you rolled over. The silky polyester lining slipped against your skin, shifting the long zipper from your hip to your backside. The halves parted, showing the end of the cream blouse, and a peek of skin. You adjusted how you laid, rocking your hips back and forth until you sank into the plush blankets, and propped your chin in your palm when you weren’t typing. Small movements working the skirt higher, and higher, bunching the fabric around the fat of your ass. Squirming, and stretching, tugging on your blouse, pulling, pulling, blouse, skirt, blouse, skirt, and then he saw it..

Red.

Delicate, feminine.

Tucked, hidden from anyone’s view but his, were the matching red panties to your bra. Trapped in a valley between thighs and ass, and stretching over the swell of your heat, embellishing the mouth watering desire in opaque lace strained firm against the outline of his treasure.

Eddie swallowed.

“Why’re you still in here?” you asked with a bite of annoyance. “You got to see a girl’s bra for the first time ever, probably. You should be celebrating, throwing yourself a party. In the living room. On the couch.”

The anger had returned like a slap of reality across his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the back of your head, remembering why he loathed you with every fiber of his being. “I’ve seen a bra before.”

“Pictures don’t count.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Your body jolted with a snort, and he flung open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the door stop. He heard your infuriating inhale, and slapped the lightswitch off, shutting the door behind him with excessive force before you could ask more demands of him. Gladly, he closed himself out of his own bedroom. The physical barrier under his trembling fist had never felt better, still gripping the knob as if he’d go back in there.

He wouldn’t.

He let go of the chilled metal and stalked down the hall, curbing himself from stomping out his frustration, only to throw himself onto the couch. Stomach burning with hunger, hatred. Chest heaving with rage. Pulse rising in his throat, beating against the ball chain necklace he wore. Breathing so hard, sounding as if he’d ran laps before collapsing onto his bed for the night, crossing his arms to squeeze his biceps, massaging his fingers down the muscle. Occupying himself. Distracting himself.

It wasn’t working.

He was mad.

Furious.

Draping his hand over his eyes, he gave himself a moment to make a decision, and pushed his bangs off his forehead. They stayed in their gravity defying position due to the oil. He needed to shower. He needed to clean himself of this day, and go to sleep. But he couldn’t.

The fever in his veins was too distracting. He needed to take care of it. Get rid of it.

Sitting up, he unfolded the comforter from the end of the couch, and propped the pillow against the armrest to angle his head slightly up, where he could see the hallway.

From his front pocket, he collected his phone and laid it on his stomach while he unbuttoned his pants, pinching the waistband together and pulling the zipper down, sighing through his nose at the relief of the lines he was crossing.

He grasped his phone and brought it close to his face. Cupped in one palm, and using the other hand to tap it twice. A streak of perspiration was left on the screen where he swiped in his passcode, using his index finger to open a private browser and type in a porn site. Any porn site. Whichever variation of the word porn + noun he thought of first. It didn’t matter much to him; that’s not where his preferences lie.

office worker

co-worker

secretary

office worker tight skirt

office worker pov skirt grinding

His brain went stupid for synonyms trying to narrow down his search. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew the ultra HD, professionally lit, fakey acting wasn’t it. He scrolled, and scrolled. Narrowed his search again. Ticked off boxes on the side. Tried broader genres. Went back to the results he was on, and traveled down the rabbit hole a few more pages until, at last, he found what suited him.

The thumbnail appeared promising. Dimly lit, sorta bad quality, and clearly shot at home with a woman whose body type wasn’t far off from what he was hoping for. He even appreciated the visual similarities in the amateur actress’ navy blue skirt, and off-white blouse. As long as he scrolled down a tad to crop out her face, it was perfect. Plus, it was easier to insert himself into the scene that way.

He clicked it, and– ”Jesus Christ,” he turned down the volume as quickly as he could, accidentally pressing down the two buttons on the side that took a screenshot and saved it to his gallery.

The video started a little further into the act than he anticipated.

Such a fucking idiot, Eddie, Jesus Christ. Sitting in thick silence, he waited to see if you’d heard, and once his face calmed of the embarrassed flush stinging his cheeks, he moved on.

Eddie worked his right hand under the comforter, but heeded his boxers as a layer of separation. At the first contact with the parts of him he denied aching for the bane of his existence, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Gently, he raked his fingernails down the base of his shaft, and over his balls. He cupped them. Felt their heft. Cradled them and dragged them softly upwards, letting them fall and stretch before repeating the motion, enjoying the tickly sensation of being the first thing he touched. His most sensitive, most susceptible part of himself. Meanly ignoring the other part of him twitching, throbbing, begging to be catered to.

He kept some fraction of his brain alert to the hallway, senses sharpened by the spike of adrenaline, listening out for any sound of you exiting the room. But most of him was focused on hitting the play button, sticking to his decision that he couldn’t wait to do this in the shower. He needed it now.

It started with the woman already in motion. Shot from the guy’s point of view laying on the bed, his obvious hardon pressing through his slacks into her pussy grinding down on him. Her skirt lifted with each motion, showing her black underwear. Not that he was complaining they weren’t red, but he didn’t concentrate on them.

He switched from playing with his balls to gripping his cock. Finally. It buzzed with the rush of pleasure, harder than it had ever been, even in his youth. His fingers hardly met through his boxers, but he encircled them the best he could, and started with fast, desperate, stunted strokes, getting himself to where the guy in the video was in a matter of pent-up seconds, clenching his ass to buck his hips up. Heart pounding. Inhales shaky from the speed at which he took care of his problem, exhales interrupted by muted huffs.

Maybe he should be embarrassed, but it didn’t take him long to feel that encouragement to keep going, keep going, keep going. Where each frantic pump along his length was better than the last. Where each accidental graze of his fingers over the lipped edge of his tip sprinted towards his bliss.

In the video, the woman dipped a finger between her lips and moved her panties aside.

There was a low hum in the back of his throat, engrossed by the wet warmth opposed to his dry fist.

Metal knob turning–door creaking–carpet groaning, step, step, step–

It was a fucking miracle he managed to close out of the window in his panic. His thumb missed it the first two times as fear coated him in a cold sweat, and the phone fell out of his palm, smacking him in the chin as you rounded the corner.

You didn’t spare him the time of day as you walked into the kitchen and got a glass from the cabinet. Didn’t bother looking at him as you stood at the fridge with your hip cocked out, holding the cup under the outer dispenser and depressing the button for ice.

The fridge made a mechanical whirr, and filled your glass. Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk, the ice cubes tinked into the cup for the longest seconds of his life. His hand was frozen mid-tug on his dick, and you were wearing an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else. Truly, it hardly covered your ass. It clung to your hips, brushed the height of your thighs, and suddenly, he was checking how obvious the bulk of the comforter was over his lap, and if it creased when he moved his hand upwards.

Nothing. Not a fold out of place. He could keep it up. Stroke, by stroke, brushing his fingers over the head only, testing his limits to keep discreet while you switched to the other spout on the fridge for water.

Even when you turned to him, he massaged himself over his boxers, soaking the sticky slick beads of precum into the fabric.

“What?”

Your tone didn’t deter him from tracing the underside of his swollen head, caressing the glans with the same sort of sentiment he experienced in the homemade porn between a real couple–all gentle and nice.

He mustered enough brain cells to respond, “What? I’m already sleeping on the couch. Can’t you leave me alone for one night? Or are you that desperate for attention?”

None the wiser, you took a sip from your glass, and folded your other arm across your stomach, making it obvious from the natural sway that you weren’t wearing a bra. Probably weren’t wearing panties either..

Swallowing the ice cold water with a satisfied ‘ah’, you went on your merry way. “Just came to gawk at the bridge troll, is all. Night night!” Your annoying farewell was followed by the creak of the door, and the faint click of it closing.

What a fucking irritating person.

The anger bristled again. Definitely anger. It was there, lurking, when he rubbed at the sore spot on his chin and picked up his phone, unlocking it to stare at the homescreen.

There was no patience within him to find the video. Besides, the sanitized professional thumbnails on the homepage were enough to have him dropping his phone to the cushion crevices beside him, surrendering himself to his imagination. Nothing lived up to the scenarios in his head, anyway.

Before getting ahead of himself, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic waistband, and gripped himself wholly. There was no sense in denying what he wanted: the raw desire of his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, not caring about creating a mess. It could be cleaned up later. He needed this. Now.

He immersed himself in the fantasy.

The visuals took place minutes ago, if he hadn’t backed down. It was based on you refusing to give him the bed, and instead of walking away from your bratty attitude, he lifted his chin, and broadened his chest with a confidence he didn’t possess. Fantasy Eddie had the courage to kneel on the mattress like he belonged there. Your body would dip, rock towards his imposing knees straddling either side of your calves, and in his strongest dreams, he acted out what should’ve happened.

If he had his way, he would begin with your hips. A single strong palm on the curve would have you hiking them up to greet him, and he was a gentleman. As soon as you presented him with the opportunity, he was scrambling to spread your legs so he could dip between them, eager to please. He wanted to know the sensation of coarse red lace scratching across his tongue; it would be a novelty only he would know. His hands would be on your upper thighs, bringing you closer, closer, to where his mouth awaited you. Persuading your face to the sheets. Putting a wicked arch in your back, granting him permission.

He’d angle his mouth to your clothed clit and collect spit to his bottom lip, parting, and lapping his tongue over the pretty thing, suckling it through the fabric. His nose would be to your cunt, inhaling the musky pheromones. Didn’t matter how long you’d been at work, proving yourself to people who would never appreciate you like he did. He cherished every bit of you so much. The heady scent intoxicated him like a drug, the dimples when he smashed the fat of your ass around his face, your silly whine when he pressed kisses up your pretty pussy. The anger was gone. Like that, he adored you. After all, you craved him. And it’d been a long time since he was wanted. It felt nice to not be rejected.

Eddie, Fantasy You gasped when the wet sound of him sucking your clit through your panties grew in fervor. He was drunk on you. Trying hard. Giving more. Licking at the dark patch he created. God, he loved it. He loved the evidence. He could suckle, moan, flatten his tongue like torture and just breathe on you until he fell asleep, waking up to nudge his teeth over the sensitive areas you presented to him. Spending hours getting you to your peak, over and over.

But in reality, he was approaching his end rather quickly.

My turn, sweetheart, he regretfully informed you.

Getting to his knees, he positioned himself behind you. His cock slotted so nicely against you; red lace meeting unzipped gray uniform pants, and he wasted no time stoking the flames from where he left off.

He clapped your cheeks around the hard outline of his cock. His black boxers stretched to their limits to contain him. There was a dark patch at the tip peeking out between your ass, growing with each slow, assertive grind he committed to, fucking himself into the curve of your cunt with ragged breaths. Losing himself. Mouth agape, and eyebrows pinched as his needy head was swallowed when he rocked his hips back, and reappeared with a rough thrust.

Again, it didn’t take long until he needed a break to make himself last longer.

He draped his weight over you as he slid his rough, calloused palms up the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps along the sensitive flesh on his way to your sorry excuse for skirt. He bunched the pitiful thing to your waist, and reached for the hem of your shirt.

You hummed in approval, pressing against his lap.

It was hard to balance, but you supported him as he yanked your blouse up–sucking in a sharp breath when you moaned, and rutted yourself on his length–and he brushed his fingers along your soft skin in search for the bra clasp, and when he found it, he pulled the band tight. The latch gave. He caught sudden heft in his palm, cupping you and the bra together, massaging lightly until your nipple slotted between the base of two of his fingers, and he applied the gentlest pressure.

Oh fuck, you whined so nicely for him.

They’re extra sensitive after being caged all day, you explained.

Yeah? Does it feel good?

You nodded, cheek smashed against the wrinkled sheets.

He pinched harder.

Saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, spilling in a sticky string as you dragged your head in another nod, heavy-lidded eyes just visible through your lashes, open mouth panting for him.

True satisfaction spread like weightlessness from the pit of anger in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to be making you feel good, not the person ruining the one place he found peace after six years of paranoia, but here he was, wishing the taste of your pussy lasted longer in his mouth. Here he was, anchoring his forearm alongside yours, gripping the same sheet you gripped while he beared his weight down on you, and pressed kisses to your clothed shoulders.

His other hand was trapped between you and the bed, but each pulse around your nipple was another long stroke on his cock.

The scene had been set. The build up and story line were crafted. Now, he could play.

He worked kisses under your collar, tasting the sheen of sweat at your hairline, leaving trails of spit to cool as he lolled his head on top of yours, resting his forehead amongst your hair, and he put his lips to the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Do you think you can treat me that way, and get away with it? Fantasy Him asked. Think you can boss me around whenever you want? He punctuated his question with a hard, unexpected thrust, earning a gasp from your pretty mouth.

Turn over. He didn’t command it verbally, but when he took away his hand to smack the side of your ass, and sat back, you were aware of his unstated switch in position.

You laid on your back, legs spread for him. Skirt bunched around your hips, blouse fallen open, except for the one button remaining. He grasped his cock, and stroked himself through his boxers for you. His brows were drawn together in a gentle question, gaze locked onto yours. This was supposed to be about him, but he still asked, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

The source of his anger, his rage, his frustration–all the blame, burdens, and negativity he attributed to a single woman–opened her arms to him, and nodded.

He passed over your pussy to praise kisses to your stomach. Deft fingers working to undo the last button on your blouse, and explore upwards. Wet smacks of his sloppy gifts arched your back the higher he traveled, molding his large hands to your body. Brushing his rough fingers to the junction of your inner thigh and hip, and spreading you open so your pussy swallowed the fabric, wedging the red lace tight to your clit for later. Up, up, his kisses covered you, until he nosed at the underwire of your bra, and lifted it out of the way.

Fuck, Eddie.

You pushed his hair out of his face. The shorter curls fell from the low bun at his nape, and you tucked them behind his ear so you could watch his tongue lap and swirl at your nipple. Your fluttery moans were heaven, as were your tits being shoved in his mouth. You squirmed for him, clamored for him. You wanted him, needed him. Did you care that his hair was greasy? Did you care that dried salt crystals from sweat scratched your fingers when you cradled his jaw? Did you care about his smell from thirteen hours of being in a hot kitchen when you cupped him under the armpits, encouraging him with a buck of your hips to get back to business?

He supposed not, since it was his fantasy.

But just like reality, you were trying to boss him around.

Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?

You could hardly meet his gaze, eyes so heavy with lust you couldn’t keep them open long enough to beg.

He aligned himself, nudging the tip of his cock to your clit, and he savored the experience of watching the bliss wash over you. It took him a beat to realize, but he moaned in response to your moan. Watching you react from where he picked up his head from your chest, memorizing the fake vision of your face losing the usual harsh distaste for him. Your lips were better this way–lush, and making an effort to sound out his name as he drew his hips back–not sneering because you had the displeasure of asking him a question.

Still, he drove forward with haste. Cotton on lace. Layers of separation. Anything else was too intimate for how he wanted to fuck you, rough and fast, caring only about himself and not about your poor neglected clit, swollen and pleading for his soft tongue, only to get rough, unmeasured thrusts. Messy, and unintentional, and denying. Until you made them work for you.

You used the meat of his shoulders as leverage. Digging your fingers in, holding tight as you rocked with him and raised your legs, wrapping them around his ass. The squeeze of your thighs, and pressure built from your locked ankles tipped you into a better position, and now, his entire length was flush to your clit, not simply passing over the top of it.

All of him was touching you, touching you, touching you. Trapping his cock between your stomachs, damp with reignited sweat. Back to rutting against one another at a desperate pace, chasing the tension, the high. The snap of his hips. Your stuttered groans for more. The anger, the hatred. Festering under the surface, bubbling in your insolence. Present in his teeth grazing your throat, nipping at the pulse, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting.

You’re gonna make me cum. Even Fantasy You said it in a lower register, reaching where the molten resentment laid dormant.

He found the same gravelly animosity and warned you, “I’m too close, I’m too close.”

You cradled him tighter, burying your heads in each other’s embrace. Muscles quivering from effort, burning with each grind, tensing under curious hands finding new places to cling to, curves to admire. Until they stayed put.

Nails bit flesh. Strong fingers dug painfully at bone. Mouths fell open. Eyes closed. Writhing flesh on fabric, and flesh, you trembled under him.

I’m–mm, Eddie–I’m cumming–

His thrusts faltered, jerking into short bursts, and his gracious moans went high and tight in his throat, spilling out as he panted, “You make me feel so good, baby. Fucked you so good. I can’t–I’m cumming–fuck–”

Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–

–”Fuck,” he babbled aloud.

The climax took him to the dark apartment. The overwhelming shadows of sleeping in the lonely living room on the flat couch under an extra blanket not yet broken of its factory starch, scratchy on the skin. His muscles were still tensed into him curling in on himself, lifting his aching neck and shoulders off the pillow for a few more pumps of his hand sliding over his slick shaft, spreading the warmth oozing towards his hip, no doubt tangling the curly thatch of hair above the base. In lip-biting silence, he stroked himself, not daring to breathe after he knew he said something out loud from his imagination. He listened. Eyes straining to see the hallway.

His bangs stuck to the heavy sweat on his forehead.

His entire body was heated beyond belief.

Anticipation sat heavy on his tongue.

But as he came down from his peak, nothing happened. He stayed lonely. His heartbeat pounded against the guitar pick sticking to his chest, and that was it. Now his head was cleared of distractions, and he could sleep. The fantasy was a fantasy, and in this reality, he wouldn’t do this again. It was too weird to muddy the multitude of negative feelings he had for you with.. whatever this was.

A release, that’s what this was.

Kicking the blanket off, he swung his legs to the side to sit up, socked feet softened by the plush carpet. He pressed his palm over the sticky substance dripping downward, and soaked it up to the best of his ability. And as his cum hit the fresh air, and his inhale was cut short as he smelled his shirt, he thought about the shower he needed. And he thought about the dark patch on his boxers. And he thought about his clothes in the dresser in the bedroom.

Looking down, he inspected his gray pants, and groaned.

They were ruined.

So, so ruined and obvious as to what he was doing.

There was no way he could go into there and grab new clothes for a shower. The thought of facing you after this, and you seeing him in this pathetic state–and God, if you knew it was because of you, and because he couldn’t control himself–he’d rather die than admit you did this to him.

Fuck.

Couldn’t even go to his own room for some fucking clothes so he could shower after working all day.

Yeah, that confirmed it. He fucking hated you.

Hated you even more when he thought about you sleeping on his mattress, wrapped snug in his bedsheets wearing only a t-shirt with nothing else to cover you, and his dick twitched again for that red lace he knew was discarded in the laundry basket.

“Fuck my life.”

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