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cloudybarnes · 1 year ago

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new beginnings

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: after theo very unexpectantly breaks up with you, you try your best to pick yourself back up and move on. theo, on the other hand, seems to be having a harder time of that.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Masterlist

part two :)

✰ ✰ ✰

“(Y/N), you’ve got to get out of bed at some point.” Hermione said. She was sitting on the side of your bed while you laid fully wrapped under the covers. Hermione gently tugged the blanket down from your chin, but you whined a little in protest.

“‘Mione, I seriously can’t do this yet.”

Theo, your boyfriend of over a year had broken up with you only a few short days ago. You’d been in bed ever since, heartbroken over what could have been.

“(Y/N), I know you’re upset, but you have to get up. I can’t let you live the rest of your life in bed! Don’t you know how badly your bum would hurt from laying all of your life?” Hermione joked.

A small smile grew on your lips. “Yeah, that would be pretty tragic. I have too nice of a butt to let that happen.”

Hermione laughed. “There she is! I’ve missed your little jokes. Ron and Harry have become quite boring without you around. I think they’re worried about you.”

You groaned. “Nooo. I hate when people worry about me. It’s just so awkward when I have to be like ‘I’m fine’, ‘no really, I’m fine’.”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, are you?”

You sighed, pulling the covers down from your chin. You looked up at her, a forlorn look on your face. “Definitely not, but I suppose you’re right. I don’t want to be stuck in here for the rest of my life. I just, I just don’t think I can handle seeing him right now.”

Hermione looked at you sadly. “I know. I hate seeing you so upset like this. God, what I would do to put a hex on that boy. He’s quite deserving of it, I would say. Maybe a rat’s tail, or a snake tongue.”

You giggled and sat up in bed. “Or how about we make him bald, or worse, blonde.”

Hermione laughed at that. “Oh, Godric, then we’d have another Draco running around. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Me either,” you laughed. Slowly, your smile dropped. “I just hate him. Well, no, I don’t hate him. And I hate that! I hate that even after breaking my heart I still love him and long for him.”

Hermione sighed, “I’m sorry, (Y/N/N), I wish I could say something or do something to make this better, I just really don’t know what.”

You shrugged, “yeah, it is what it is. It’s not your fault he’s an ass.”

She chuckled. “So, what do you say? You wanna try to get down to the great hall before dinner starts? I’m sure the guys would like to see you again.”

You thought it over for a minute. You really had missed your friends. Other than Hermione, you’d ostracized yourself from everyone just to avoid Theo.

But were you really ready to see him again? You didn’t think you would ever be ready to see him again.

“You know what,” you stated, “I am gonna go to dinner tonight. And I’m gonna ignore him and see my friends who I’ve missed and ignore the hell out of him because he’s an ass and why should I be the one who has to stay in bed all day?”

“Woohoo!” Hermione cheered. “You’re amazing, let’s get you showered and dressed. I hate to say it, but if you’re gonna get back into the world, you need to wash your hair.”

You chuckled as you picked up a piece of hair to inspect it. “Yeah, okay. Shower first, look really pretty, eat dinner, come back. Piece of cake.”

You pushed the covers off of you as Hermione stood from the bed.

She said, “I’m gonna grab your clothes, so just get in the shower. We shouldn’t be too late to dinner that way.”

You nodded and headed to the bathroom. You were gonna go in there, socialize with your friends, reassure them you were fine, and everything would go back to normal. You hoped.

✰ ✰ ✰

“(Y/N)!” Ginny shouted as you and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table. She stood up from her seat and pulled you right into a hug.

Releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding, you smiled and held her even tighter in the hug. Ginny was an amazing friend to you. She had tried her best to see you, but you didn’t let anyone in. Only Hermione since she shared the room with you.

Pulling away, Ginny dragged you to sit down next to her. Hermione followed suit and sat on the other side of you. “Oh, we’ve missed you so much, (Y/N/N). We’ve all been so worried about you, haven’t we?”

Harry and Ron sat across from you. They both nodded their heads, agreeing with Ginny.

“Yeah, what an ass,” Ron scoffed. “Honestly, someone needs to knock that bloke down from his high horse. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, (Y/N/N).”

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he pushed some mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Theodore is a walking red flag. I for one am not sorry for him. He lost a good girl and he’s gonna regret what he’s done.”

You smiled at them. “Yeah, I am pretty awesome. Thanks guys.”

They chuckled and continued eating. Merlin knows those two could eat an entire quidditch field full of food.

“Ahem,” a throat cleared from behind you.

Turning around, you saw Enzo standing there sheepishly.

“Uh,” he stuttered, “hey, (Y/N).”

“Oh,” you said. “Uh, hi Enzo. Do you need something?” You couldn’t hide the crack in your voice. Damn it.

Enzo was probably your favorite of Theo's friends. He was always the one you had most in common with, and therefore connected with pretty easily. You’d never hung out one on one, so you couldn’t really say he was your friend.

“I-no I don’t need something, per say. I just wanted to talk to you. Alone, if, uh, that’s alright.”

You looked back at your friends, unsure if you should talk with him or not. They all seemed to be the same amount of weary as you were, but you were intrigued.

“I don’t really want to talk to Theo, if that’s what this is.”

Enzo shook his head. “No! Ahem, no. I wanted to talk to you. To, uh, apologize kind of? I don’t know. It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me, this was silly, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine, Enzo,” you cut off his rambling. “I’ll speak with you.” You looked back at your friends as you stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

They nodded their heads as you let Enzo lead you away from the table and out the door.

Once you two stood out in the hallway, Enzo kind of just shuffled his feet around, almost as if he was shying away from talking to you.

“Am I supposed to say something first?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, sorry,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just feel a little awkward. I know what happened between you and Theo, but I guess I just hoped that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

Your eyes softened a little at his confession. Enzo’s cheeks blushed a little as you stared at him.

You sighed. You and Enzo really had been good friends, and you weren’t exactly keen on losing his friendship.

“I mean,” he continued, “you’re the only one who doesn’t make fun of my poetry, you’re the one I go to when I want to talk about books or get recommendations from, and I just would hate to lose our friendship just because I’m friends with Theo as well.”

Your heart melted. “Enzo, of course I still want to be friends with you. I will admit, I was a little nervous you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore after Theo broke up with me. I really enjoy being your friend.”

Enzo smiled in relief. “Oh good. I thought this would be more awkward and a little bit more sad than how it’s actually going.”

You giggled. “Thank god. I don’t know what I would have done if I just had a real breakup as well as a friendship breakup.”

Enzo smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, I am really sorry about that. I don’t know why he would ever break up with you in the first place. You’re so kind, and I thought you brought the best out in him.”

You forced an awkward smile. You really did not want to be talking about Theo right now, especially not about how you made him a better person.

Before you could reply, a voice yelled out from behind you.

“Oi!”

Turning around, you could see Theo storming up towards you and Enzo.

“What the fuck, mate?” Theo huffed as he got in between you and Enzo.

“Woah!” You shouted, backing up as Theo got up into Enzo’s face. “Theo, what are you doing?”

He ignored you and kept talking to Enzo. “Are you hitting on my girlfriend? Right after all the shit we just went through?”

“What?” Enzo squeaked. “I’m not hitting on her, I was just talking to her.”

You were pissed. Your fists balled up at your sides as you stomped up to Theo. You grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him away from Enzo. Theo didn’t see it coming, so he stumbled and fell back a couple of steps.

“Get the hell away from him,” you growled. “And what the fuck is wrong with you, Theodore?”

You got between Theo and Enzo, pushing your finger into your ex-boyfriend’s chest accusingly.

“First,” you said, “you break up with me, break my heart, and then you have the fucking nerve to come up here all righteous and accuse Enzo of whatever the fuck you said, all while calling me your girlfriend when you’re the asshole who broke up with me!”

You glared at Theo, watching as his anger turned soft. “I am not your girlfriend anymore, Theodore Nott. You’re the one who made that happen, so you have no fucking right to come up in my conversations acting like I owe you anything.”

“(Y/N),” he softly said. “I… I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have come out here all crazy. I just, I hate seeing you with anyone else, even if it’s one of my friends.”

He turned to talk to Enzo, “I’m sorry, mate. Will you give us a few minutes?”

Enzo nodded his head and gave you an awkward smile before heading back into the dining hall.

You huffed, settling down a little as you stared at Theo.

He looked tired. His eyes had circles underneath them, and his cheeks didn’t have their usual flush to them. He was as gorgeous as ever, but he looked drained.

“You don’t look so good,” you pointed out, trying to sound nonchalant.

Theo frowned and softly said, “neither do you.”

Your lips pulled tight in a frown. Theo didn’t need to know how much he had affected you with the breakup.

You sighed, “what are you doing, Theo?”

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I, uh, I’m not really sure. I just didn’t like seeing you with Enzo.”

“Why? You broke up with me.”

Theo huffed, “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you with anyone else. It still feels like I’m supposed to be there. Like I’m supposed to be the one with you. I miss you.”

You shook your head as hurt started to creep back into your heart. “Don’t say things like that to me, Theo. Not after what you did. I loved you, and you broke up with me out of nowhere for no good reason, either.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to reach for you, but you shrugged off his hand. “I don’t know why I did what I did. I just know that I regret it like crazy. I want to be with you, (Y/N). I’ve always wanted to be with you, I was stupid to let you go. Can you forgive me?”

Your lips pulled tight. “Theo, I can’t just get back with you like this.” You said. “I don’t trust you anymore. You broke my heart, and broke my trust. You gave me no reason for the breakup, so who’s to say it won’t happen right after we get back together?”

He shook his head. “Dolcezza, no. I won’t do that to you, not again. What can I do to prove this to you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t get back with you. Not like this, and not so soon. You really hurt me, Theo.”

“Well, what if we try being friends at least?” He suggested.

“You wanna be my friend?”

“No,” he said immediately. “But I’ll settle for being your friend for as long as it takes to win you back.”

Your heart warmed at what he had said. Maybe you could try being friends with him. He did really hurt you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him.

“Okay,” you decided, “I’ll give you a chance to be my friend. Don’t hurt me again, Theodore, or I’ll get Ginny on you.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get my baby back. I can promise you that.”

#AW SNAP #THERES ONE FROM THAT PROMPT LIST #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #ron weasly x reader #george weasley #fred weasly x reader #cedric diggory x reader

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hotwritergf · 8 months ago

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Boyfriend!Eddie finds your porn history. Eddie Munson x female reader. Smut. Blurb🍆

Word count- 1.2k

🍆 “Hey baby.. umm I don’t wanna embarrass you..”Eddie was sprawled across the couch, his limbs representing an octopus whilst his curls fell down the arm of the couch. You had let him borrow your laptop, Dustin had split soda over Eddie’s during their latest dnd campaign. He smiles as he notices your wall-paper is a picture of the pair of you, that trip to the forest was one of your favourites.

“Huh?” You spoke, confusion filling the air. You were easily embarrassed so just the thought of being embarrassed made your face flush. “It’s just, I lost my page I was working on so- so I went on the history page to find it again. But I didn’t just find my campaign document, I saw your umm history. Baby I, I don’t want you to be embarrassed I mean we all do it right?” Your face burns under his words, you know exactly what he’s stumbled across.

“Seriously doll, your choices here.. My innocent little girl, isn’t so innocent huh?”He smirks, eyes gazing over your flushed face. You feel stuck to the floor, like any moment now the ground is going to open up and swallow you whole. “Eddie-“ You finally manage to muster up the courage to speak, your words causing your stomach to churn in shyness. “It’s okay. It’s all okay princess. I’m impressed, I mean let’s see here. ‘Blonde babe worships her step-father’s sweaty balls’ Well that’s filthy isn’t it? ‘Anal training’ Oh? You want me to take that other little hole for a test drive? ‘Double penetration mmf threesome.’ Sweet girl I had no idea you could be so kinky! Look at this here. ‘Submissive girl has play time with Daddy.’ Is that me? I’m your daddy?” He teases, his smirk practically audible in his voice as he teases. Your embarrassed self can’t handle much more. He was never meant to see this, these searches they were just late night curiosity. Late night self pleasure when Eddie couldn’t be there with you.

You nod, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your hands need to be doing something as the anxiety reaches your throat. You swallow it down and gulp in nervousness as Eddie walks towards you. He takes his hand and caresses your face softly. His touch both exhilarating and comforting under the current circumstances. “You weren’t meant to see that.” You swallow the saliva collected in your mouth. “It’s just… porn. For when you’re not here and I- well you know the rest.” You speak so quietly that you could hear a pin drop in the room, the atmosphere was tense but he couldn’t seem more relaxed. Eddie’s smile beams, under the knowledge they were really your searches and you didn’t try and lie your way out of it.

“And are those the sorts of desires my princess has been having on those oh-so-lonely nights where she’s banished to stay in her castle?” He speaks in his dungeon master voice, running his index finger down your throat, smirking as he watches your throat gulp and the goosebumps appearing down your neck and arms. Your feet feel superglued to the floor, stuck in confrontation you can do nothing but stare at the carpet, looking your boyfriend in the eye seems alien in this moment.

“Yes. But don’t think you have to indulge me! If you’re not comfortable we never have to do any of that. I’ll never force you Eds.” You babble, worrying about every word in your speech sounding patronising or rude. You look up to him, doe-eyed with a hint of regret. He smiles, holding the back of your head softly. Cupping your chin with his finger he raises your head to meet him at eye level.

“Oh darling girl. How naive. I would move the heavens and earth for you. You’re asking me to fill both of your holes, let you call me daddy and worship my balls while they’re sweaty? It’s filthy. It’s a little taboo. Perverse maybe. Letting my girl worship me and being able to spoil both of her holes with pleasure? It’s a mere inconvenience, I mean you’re really gonna have to pay me back for this sweetheart you know.” Eddie jokes, speaking in his dungeon master voice again. Knowing that voice always flusters you, as if you needed to be any more flustered.

Staring at the floor, “So you’re okay with it?” You ask earnestly. “More than okay. In fact, come to think of it.. I haven’t showered yet today. Definitely haven’t shaved my balls in ummmm ever? How about you take that pretty face of yours down there and make your daddy feel good?” You needed no further encouragement, you’d already been hiding your arousal from the embarrassment of being found out about your kinks, humiliation being another one.

You unbuckled and shimmied off Eddie’s jeans, palming him through his boxers as he grunts your name and several curse words. He was hard as a rock already, and a small wet patch over his boxers where he’d begun to leak a bead of pre-cum. Instincts took after and you licked up the wet stripe of his underwear, vaguely tasting his salty fluid. With your face so close to his underwear clad genitals, you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent. The odour of sweat and pre-cum mixed together was your perfect aphrodisiac. Nestling your face into his hard on, you inhale all you can of him. Eddie slides off his boxers and takes his cock into his hand, jerking it slowly whilst looking down at you. You look up with ‘fuck me’ eyes and a cheeky smile, removing his hand from his length.

You lean upwards, placing your nose under his cock. His pubes tickle your nose as you lick circles over his fuzzy balls, swallowing the loose hairs that collect on your tongue. “Dirty fucking girl aren’t you? So gross.” Eddie mutters through his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. You smirk, all innocence leaving your body. You steady your hand on the tip of his cock as it begins to leak again, taking one of his balls into your mouth and suckling as if it was a pacifier. You speak as best as you can whilst sucking onto him. The noises you make aren’t translate-able, they’re more-so moans and groans. “Don’t speak with your mouthful angel.” Eddie coos, taking your hair into a ponytail and holding it behind your head. He forces his ball out of your mouth and guides your mouth onto his cock. “M’so close.” He grunts as he fucks your mouth, pulling you backwards and forwards onto his dick so far down your throat that you’re gagging. You slurp up the salvia that begins to dangle from his length. He comes undone in your mouth, emptying the fuzzing balls that were once in your mouth and you taste the liquid that you’ve had a hunger for. A rope of cum hangs from your lip and he wipes it up with his finger, before helping you swallow the last drop from sucking it up off of his finger.

“Thank you daddy.” You look up at Eddie with a shit-eating grin like butter wouldn’t melt. “My good little girl.” He responds, you mentally thank yourself for never clearing your search history. 🍆

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envy-of-the-apple · 4 months ago

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A Mutual Hatred

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

finally kicking out the fic that’s been a draft for three years:) ahaha...aha...ha if its obvious this was written for another character...no it wasn’t

(Warnings: implied non-con, implied drugging, college!AU, dark content)

Gojo Satoru did not like you.

He didn’t make it obvious. But, you could see the way he slowly inched away from you. And the fake fake smile he stretched on his lips anytime he was forced to talk to you.

It was a little offensive. You never obsessed about people liking you, but the fact that someone super popular would rather not exist when you were around...well, it stung.

It could’ve been worse. At least he didn’t openly admit his hatred of you. It was just the tiny, little things he did that made you know there were boundaries.

But you weren’t Gojo’s friend, you were Geto’s friend. Which meant, as much as you’d rather not to go the party celebrating their latest win, you were still dragged anyway.

A loud cheer erupted across from the room. Still nursing your drink, you gave Geto a look.

“The baseball team,” He sighed, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know they were gonna be here. I know they’re fucking crazy but they won’t bother you. I promise.”

You have to laugh at his genuinely apologetic look. You wave him away.

“It’s fine,” You say, “I don’t mind, Besides, they look....fun.”

Your words come a bit too late as you spot the team captain trying to do a handstand on top of an extremely fragile vase. That would end well.

“I’m glad they’re supportive of you, at the very least,”

Geto is sighing, ready to apologize again. He promised you this would be low-key, just the basketball team and a few mutual friends.

Now it’s just the basketball team, along with a hundred other people.

If anything you’re impressed at how quickly the numbers formed. The music was loud, booming, nearly blowing out your ears. People were dancing, at the very least, moving together in disjointed clumps because you are pretty sure alcohol doesn’t help you with dancing.

Voices tear you away from the scene, and your gaze settles on Geto’s volleyball squad. They eagerly start to wave him over. He shakes his head. You frown.

“Don’t babysit me,” You tell him, “Go. Have fun.”

He gives you a look. You roll your eyes.

“I promise I’ll be fine. The only reason I’m here is for the free beer.”

You’re planning on throwing your cup of cheap booze away the second you can, but you don’t want him to think he has to guard you for the night. That’s who Geto is, a self-proclaimed protector. You don’t even know him all that well but he’s still more than happy to forfeit hanging out with his friends to sit here with you. He’s a good person.

You still can’t understand why a guy like him would ever be friends with Gojo.

They had been childhood friends. Best friends. Stayed together until college. Maybe it was just proximity that kept them so close, because you couldn’t imagine it were their personalities.

Geto sighs, reluctantly slipping away.

“If you need anything, lemme know.” You nod, keeping your smile on as he gives you one last look before joining his friends.

Finally alone, you drop the cup in the trash as soon as you can.

At least, you thought you were alone.

“Too strong?”

You jump at his voice. Gojo tilts his head, gazing at you with pretty blue eyes. His glasses are off tonight.

“I-” you stumble, not really sure what to say. He was going out of his way to talk to you? “I was just-”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he laughs, light and airy and you’re starting to get why he has a fanclub, “Nazumaki has shitty tastes. Wanna try what I’m having?”

He hands you an opened can. Still a bit confused, you accept. It’s slightly better. With a fruity aftertaste. When you go to hand it back, he waves you off.

“Take it, I gotta’ drive home.” He reasons.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you accept. This was...weird. Really really weird. Gojo Satoru didn’t like you. Not even the slightest. Then, why was he being so...nice?

Or maybe you had it all wrong? You were overreacting?

“Congrats on winning your game.” You tell him, when the silence stretches on for far too long.

“Yeah,” he responds, “you went?”

You shake your hade.

“Too busy,” you responded sheepishly, “but I watched the highlights. You guys were awesome.”

“A huge improvement from fall semester.” he agrees. “Fuck, you should’ve seen us those first couple of weeks. Like a bunch of....coked up squirrels or something. Horrible passes, jumping all over the place, just-”

He’s cut off by your laugh. “I’m sorry...coked up squirrels?”

“You didn’t see our freshmen,” he argues, “It’s a great analogy.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You smile.

It’s definitely the alcohol. On his part too. But conversation flows like you are two old friends. It’s so easy to talk to him. Laugh with him. For a moment, you almost forgotten how much disdain Gojo Satoru used to show you.

Almost.

“You know....for a while, I thought you hated me.” You confessed, because you had to bring it up eventually. The suspense was killing you, eating you alive.

“What?”

“I mean.” The floor looks weird. You don’t like the carpet. “On campus, you were always so stand-offish. Like you were mad at me.”

He shoots you an amused look. “I didn’t hate you. I guess I was kinda’ just pissed.”

You scrunch your forehead, “Oh, you were? Why?”

“’Cuz you had a nice ass and I wasn’t allowed to touch it.”

You blink. And then the world tilts sideways.

What?

Hands grip your shoulders, holding you upright.

“Woah, baby. I think you had a bit too much. Let’s go lay down.” Gojo purrs into your ear, as he starts leading you away.

You weren’t drunk. You knew that. You barely had anything. You make a meager struggle against his unwavering body as your dazed mind starts to piece what’s happening.

You nearly stumble into another group of people. Gojo takes the reigns immediately, apologizing on behalf of his ‘drunk friend who doesn’t know limits’. It’s so deranged that at one point you’re convinced you’re having an out-of-body experience. That this isn’t real. A dream. A nightmare.

But this is real. He shows you the moment he shoves you into a closet, shutting the door behind him.

“Wh-what are you doing-” your pleas are interrupted by soft lips. You’ve never once thought about kissing Gojo but his lips are like pillows. It’s his strength that suffocates you. Biting and licking up your blood.

“Would’ve done this sooner, but your bodyguard would never leave you alone for long. The bastard. Keeping you all to himself.”

Bodyguard? He’s kissing you again, groping you through your clothes and you can’t stand to even think. Geto, it eventually clicks. His helpful protectiveness. You-you thought he was like that with everyone.

Something, a second wind maybe, kicks up at you. You struggle against his large hands. Gojo grunts, as though your desperation was a minor inconvenience for him.

“Stop it, fucking stop.” He hisses, pulling at your hair. You yelp. “Stop fighting this when we both know you-”

The door opens, swinging in blaring light and the sounds of the party with it. Satoru stills, blinking up at the newcomer. You look up too, heart crackling with relief.

Geto stands there, chest heaving, and it takes a minute for you to realize he must have ran here. You open your mouth, nothing but a warbled plea comes out.

You expect him to do something. To grab Gojo by the hair and pull. To save you.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there.

When you search his eyes. You don’t find anger. You just see hunger.

Gojo’s pretty laugh rings through the air. Undisturbed. Expectant.

“What took you so long?”

#dark content #dark #dark Gojo satoru #Dark Gojo Satoru x reader #yandere #yandere jjk #drugging #tw:drugging #yandere gojo satoru x reader #Yandere Gojo Satoru

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slater-baby · 6 months ago

Note

i keep thinking how funny it’d be to be working out or training with ghost and just staring at his chest (cause it’s right there) and being convinced that his chest is bigger than yours

I know you probably thought of this as a cute scenario but........this turned out super horny alkjdflkjaf I apologize profusely

Tags: Simon Riley x f!reader, ogling, suggestive comments (without explicit consent), elements of hypermasculinity, flirting, semi-public fingering, Simon and Reader are both perverts

*DESCRIPTION HEAVY*

Word count: 6k

Sweat trailed down your forehead, the small droplets falling from your nose with every thrust of the barbell. You grunt as you shove your hips up, feeling the strain up the back of your legs, and with a final, triumphant noise, you drop the weight back to the floor. With one shaking hand, you wipe your face from your forehead to your neck, grimacing when you see the darkened spots on your sports bra.

Fuck, you pant, lifting your arms, How was it even possible for an armpit to sweat this much?

Lazily, you roll your eyes, shimmying out from under the bar. You go through the motions, re-racking each plate while taking leisurely sips from your bottle. However, just when you begin wiping down your bench, a hand slaps you on the back nearly hard enough to send you face-planting into the leather.

“Soap—” you grunt, pawing at your back like an idiot when you turn to face the man, “What was that—”

“Nothin’, Lass,” he chuckles, sidestepping your attempted swat to reach for the dumbbells, “Just wanted to say that was some good shit there,” he points towards where you were sitting just minutes earlier, “New PR, was it?”

“Not really,” you pant, “But it’s better than last week.”

Before Soap can even answer, you spin dazedly in the mirror, groaning when you see the wet palm print he left against the back of your bra. In the reflection, you can see Johnny’s face contort into a snort when he sees it, too. You send him a deadpan look just for that.

Ugh, you shudder, grimacing at the feeling of Soap’s sweat against your back, Even if I sweat like a pig, at least I don’t sweat like these boys…

Just to make yourself feel better about your soaked bra and leggings, you spare a glance at Kyle and Johnny, both of whom are flexing in the mirror between camera flashes, veiny arms shaking with the strain it takes to get the perfect Instagram story. However, judging by the way they hunch over the phone like a pair of pouting little boys between each photo, it’s not going too well.

“God,” you say, loud enough for Soap to hear, “If you’re gonna sweat that much, can you at least contain it to your side of the gym? I’m just an innocent bystander…”

“Dinnae mean to catch you in the crossfire, lass,” Soap turns then, hands on his hips. His tank top—ripped from beneath his arms to his waistline—is plastered to his chest and practically see through. His mohawk is limp against his scalp, idly dripping sweat into his eyelashes. And even Kyle, who had the sense to take his shirt off before the temperature reached sweltering levels, was still flushing with heat from the doglegs around his neck to the old sneakers on his feet.

Compared to them, you look like you’d taken a short walk in the rain. The two of them might as well pass themselves off as wet dogs.

“Just tryna tell you m’proud of you,” he stares down at you from beneath a curtain of sweaty eyelashes, “What? That illegal or something?”

You scoff with a smirk, shoving him away before his muscular arms can envelop you in a sweat-slick hug.

“It is from you, MacTavish,” you giggle, swiping your water bottle off of the bench, “You just wanna cop a handful.”

“What?” Soap calls after you as you walk back towards the benches, “Just sayin’, Lassie…keep liftin’ like that ’n you’ll have the best arse on the squad…”

With every step you take, you swear that you can feel Soap’s eyes glued onto your swaying hips and ass, looking his eyeful and then some. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

Fuckin’ dog, you laugh in your head.

“Yeah, and you’d just love that, wouldn’t you, Soap?” You fire back.

“Whatever,” the scot yells back, shaking his head as he pulls a dumbbell off the rack, “You basterds just don’t appreciate my expertise…”

“Your expertise?” You laugh, turning on your heel just to send Johnny a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows.

“Careful, Lassie,” Soap quirks his head while he curls the dumbbells, winking at you in the reflection as another drop of sweat crests the edge of his hairline, “Or ye just might get what yer askin’ for.”

“Soap,” you fake a gag, “How many times do I have to say ‘I love you like a brother’ before you stop hitting on me?”

“Brother,” he grunts with another curl, “Or step-brother?”

At that, your jaw drops, and you don’t miss the way Kyle’s eyes go wide the next time he hits the flash. When he turns to Soap, he’s got a hand clapped over his mouth, stifling howling laughter. If you weren’t so shocked, you might have been laughing just as hard.

“Neither,” you grimace, shaking your head, “God, Soap…you’re disgusting.”

“Tell that to the girl I had last night,” he chuckles, laughter transforming into a low groan with another rep. Instantly, a small chorus of joking gags resounds around your small group, the loudest of all being Gaz, who ambles over to Soap with his hands on his hips.

“Trust me,” Kyle shakes his head, “I fuckin’ heard. Wouldn’t be surprised if the entire barracks could hear it last night,” he snags his shirt off of the bench, walking behind Soap to whip the fabric across his back like a horse crop. Soap shocks forward at the feeling of it, nearly dropping his weight in the process. While you hide your giggles behind your hand, Johnny only frowns into the streaky mirror.

“Wasn’t that loud…” he pouts. His voice is much lower than before.

“‘Wasn’t that loud?’” Gaz deadpans, “It was bouncin’ off the fucking walls, mate—and you were moanin’ louder than she was!!”

Instantly, laughter overcomes every gym goer within earshot, and instantly, Johnny has to drop his dumbbells just to process what Kyle had just said to him. You would have noticed the cold shadow enveloping you from behind if you weren’t so busy wheezing at the look on Johnny’s face.

“Ay—you lot quiet down,” Ghost barks from his position behind you, “Can barely hear my own fuckin’ thoughts.”

“Yeah,” Gaz smirks, “That’s about how loud it was last night.”

“Now yer just takin’ the piss, Gaz,” Soap gripes loudly.

“Soap,” Ghost barks, instantly shutting down the conversation, “Stop exposing your porn history in the gym. Swear to god,” he shakes his head, “Everything I fuckin’ know about you’s been against my will.”

“Hate me that much, sir?” Soap grunts.

“Depends,” Ghost cocks his head, steely eyes pointed resolutely at Soap, “How badly do you wanna get written up, sergeant?”

Idly, you purse your lips, watching the drama unfold with nothing more than a bat of your sweat-slick eyelashes. For a moment, the silence continues, a simmering tension filling the air between the two officers. Weirdly, you can’t help but think that it’s something of a bastardized stand-off—like two bulls locking horns in a stalemate. However, as much as you love Soap, you had to admit he was barking up the wrong tree. Beneath the towering lieutenant, Soap looked more like a fledgling puppy than the grisly wolf he hoped he was, and unfortunately for him, the Alpha male didn’t have a problem with biting though a few throats just to get a couple minutes of peace and quiet.

At the mental image, you snort.

Men, you muse, craning your neck to look at where Ghost stands behind you, Always manage to turn everything into a pissing contest.

“No, sir, LT,” Soap submits, voice lowering.

“Good,” Ghost sighs behind you, ambling back towards the machine he’d been working on, “Too hot for this shite anyway…”

With that, the four of you ease back into a comfortable silence, nothing more than the ambient music and the clacking of steel to fill the air. Soap continues with his set, Kyle fiddles with his earbuds, and Ghost hunkers back down on his bench. Your eyebrows raise when you hear how the leather squeaks under his weight.

God, you muse, inconspicuously watching him crack his neck, Just how big was that man?

You’d been in the 141 for a few years now, but even so, the initial officers’ meeting was anything but a forgotten memory. That day, you’d been sitting in the conference room waiting for your contract offer, sweating under the collar of your pressed uniform, leg bouncing so violently that you were sure your kneecap would be swollen by the end of it.

You’d been expecting some white-haired officer to meet you in the conference room. That, or some young secretary whose whole job was to send emails and peruse their Amazon shopping cart when they were on the clock. However, when two thirty-something, dressed down operators walked into the room—t-shirts clinging to their swollen biceps like they’d just walked off the cover of a magazine—it was safe to say you were entirely speechless.

You’d shaken their hands with clammy palms, practically trembling beneath their steely gazes and baritone voices. Price—whose mustache you were silently marveling at the entire meeting—eased your nerves without breaking a sweat. Naturally homely and charming, it wasn’t long before your jitters disappeared around him altogether.

However, the man at his side, darkened eyes hidden within the shadows of a skull mask, had had your nerves singing like a church choir for months on end.

For the first few days, you’d almost thought it was coincidence, the way he’d show up around every corner and turn, barricading your path with his barrel chest and veiny arms. The first time you’d ran into him in the hallway, you’d practically whimpered when you nearly ran into the broad expanse of his shoulders, barely able to muster a stuttered apology before you were running off, hiding behind your manila files just so you wouldn’t have to stare into those alarmingly pretty eyes any longer.

How was it fair, you’d lamented the first time you ran into him, That a guy who was as scary as that had eyes the color of a sparkling ocean?

It just didn’t make any sense. And for weeks, you’d walked the halls in constant fear of both his attention and his praise, shrinking into your uniform any time he so much as looked in your direction. Perhaps it was a fawn response (it had to be), but something inside of you heart yearned for his wordless stares and rejected them all the same, like a seed that your body just refused to take.

It was only after he’d cornered you one day that your ill-fated game of hide and seek had come screeching to a halt.

You’d been exiting the conference room, trying to hustle back to the barracks before Ghost could catch the timid expression on your face, only for the door to slam shut in front of you before you could even reach the handle. Ghost had stepped in front of you, cocking his head in a gesture that was so backbreaking you actually released a small squeak at the sight of him in front of you.

“Um—LT?” You’d asked him, voice barely audible.

“Are you scared of me?”

Dumbly, you’d blinked blankly, staring at his collarbones like the answer to all of your problems could be found therein (because you still couldn’t look him in the eye without feeling like your entire skeleton was shuddering in terror at the sensation). And as you stood there, biting your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, you’d only had the brain power to dazedly admit that he had beautiful collarbones.

They peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, the fabric wrinkled in the middle of the chest from the wrought plains of muscle across his torso. In the center, the hem of the collar dipped from the strain of his muscle mass on the shirt, and just underneath the glinting metal of his dog tags, you could see the defined lines of his collarbones—skin smooth and scarred, shining with a few droplets of dew.

Idly, you’d imagined that’s where he sprayed his cologne when he got ready in the morning, and yet, standing so close to him like this, the notes of his scent were delightfully complex. From the acrid, lingering traces of tobacco, to the clean smell of his shampoo, only the barest hint of fragrance remained, buried beneath the heady musk and sweat of a man on the job.

It was something icy, virile, and so, so dreadfully intoxicating.

Seconds had passed. He’d cleared his throat. But with your head spinning, lost in the daze of his misplaced male pride, there was only one thought that crossed your mind: He’s wearing Polo Black. Definitely.

Needless to say, when you’d finally managed to find your words, he had been woefully unimpressed.

“What…?” You’d mustered, unblinking.

“Are you scared of me or something? It seems like every time I need to talk to you you go scurrying off somewhere. So tell me, sergeant, you got a problem or something?” He’d pressed, unconsciously crossing his arms.

And after that, his words might as well have gone in one ear and straight out the other, because your attention was focused anywhere but on his moving mouth. No, your eyes were centered straight on where the edge of his wrist bones cut into the plush muscle of his pecs. The indents they made were looked soft to the touch, like a cushion just waiting to be squeezed. And while his voice slowly transformed into TV static inside of your mind, yet another unwitting thought went speeding through your brain.

I wouldn’t mind using him as a pillow, your mind croons, practically batting your lashes.

And eventually, when the pillowy surface of his chest had been adequately committed to your memory, your eyes had fallen to his arms.

God, his biceps.

You could have started purring just at the sight of them. Throughout your enlistment, you’d been surrounded by no shortage of well-built men. If anything, there was an overabundance of them. The boys practically grew on trees at this point, and once you’d grown out of basic, you’d quickly stopped fawning over veiny forearms and bulging muscles.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate, per se. On one hand, the majority of the men you worked with looked like they could pick up a car barehanded, and once everyone achieved that feat, it therefore ceased to be one altogether. And yet…there was something about how soft hard earned muscle became when it was bare and flushed, when it was sweaty and panting, whispering low words in your ears between each and every thrust.

Absently, you’d felt heat climb into your cheeks, heart beat racing.

Maybe it was the fact that you’d just taken this position—a position on a squad that had never had a female recruit until you came around—that you feel this way. Between the missions, the training, the briefs, paperwork and coffee runs, there wasn’t much to do aside from collapse into your bunk and wait for morning to come. The walls were thin and privacy was scarce. Hell, with the lack of estrogen on base, the female locker rooms and showers were decidedly cramped, and the only “personal time” you’d been able to snag had been in a bathroom stall with the gusset of your training suit pulled to the side.

Yeah.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that’s why you could practically imagine it, the slick swipe of his skin over yours, fingers tracing each and every vein of those mysterious tattoos, while he put those sweat-slick muscles to work in between your spread thighs.

His voice would be raspy and deep, low and barely noticeable. But maybe if you hooked your legs around his waist, maybe if you managed to look him in the eye for once, he’d all but crumble inside of your embrace. Warm skin, beating heart, darkened eyes—everything. As much as they terrified you, you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining them in a different light—a light in which they were wholly and utterly yours. That skin, bare and shining, from his thick neck to those criminally slim hips, moving against your own. That pulse racing against your chest, hitching with every move of his pelvis. And those eyes, locked onto your bouncing tits and burning flesh, lost in just as much of a trance as you found yourself in right now.

Does he drink protein powder?

You couldn’t help but wonder. After all, how did someone get that big unless they were packing on protein like it was going out of fashion? He must eat like a horse. A very big, very muscle-y, very well endowed—

“Sergeant? Are you listening?” His voice had shocked you out of your reverie, and your head had begun to spin when your feet finally hit the ground.

“Um—yes?” You’d asked him, inconspicuously shifting on your feet to ease the wet ache between your thighs.

“So what is it then?” He’d huffed, voice stiff—almost as if he were pouting, “Is there a problem or no?”

“There’s…” you take a deep breath, swallowing as you tried valiantly to stop your eyes from slipping back onto his covetable muscles, “There’s no—no problem.”

“So,” he’d shook his head, almost as if he was perplexed by your answer, “There’s no problem? None at all?”

He’d leaned down then, looking at you with all the blue eyes and wispy blonde lashed your midnight fantasies ever could have conjured. Truthfully, you can’t be blamed for the tiny squeak you’d released when it’d happened.

“Nope,” you’d answered dumbly, looking over his shoulder just so you wouldn’t stare down his shirt instead.

“Good,” he’d stepped back, pulling open the door, “Then I’ll see you for tea tomorrow morning?”

“Tea?” You’d blanked.

“Yeah…” he’d scrunched his brows so hard you could see it even beneath the mask, “It’s just…” he'd pursed his lips, and his pupils had dragged over you from head to toe, lingering just a little too long on where the buttons of your shirt stretch around your bra, “Figured you and I should get to know each other. One on one. Just to communicate effectively in the workplace, y'know?”

“Oh—” you’d faked understanding, nodding your head like it’d do something, “Oh, yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow morning then.”

“See ‘ya.”

And when the door had slowly closed behind him, you would be lying if your stare didn’t drop straight to his backside as he walked away. Deadpan, you’d leant up against the wall, rubbing your thighs together to gauge how wet your panties were.

Fuck.

Of course he had to have a nice ass, too.

And like that, you find yourself staring into space once more, unconsciously lifting your water bottle to your lips like you hadn’t drank the last few drops ten minutes ago. When a low noise emits to your left, however, you finally find the sense of mind to ground yourself, looking down at yourself in a daze.

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath, eyeing the glistening spots of sweat underneath your arms. Idly, you walk over towards the weight rack, snagging your towel off it to wipe over your face.

God, the boys might be going stir crazy without any recent assignments, but they were definitely right about one thing: it was dreadfully hot in here. The air conditioner on base always got a bit finicky around the summer months, but it’d never been this bad before. Maybe all those years of strain had finally taken their toll. You sigh as you rub the towel against your hands, lifting it to your face next to wash the sweat out of your eyelashes.

However, the second your vision is covered, another low noise bellows from the side.

“Fuck, it’s too goddamn hot in here.”

You drop the towel.

You nearly go blind with what you see next.

Ghost, chest rising and falling with every harsh pant he makes, pants dangerously low around his hips and shirt curled around two of his fingers, just barely exposing a pair of defined hipbones that disappear into the waistband of his joggers. Without even noticing, saliva begins to collect on your tongue, especially when you spot the blonde trail of hair that sinks into the hem of his trousers.

Fuck, you curse without thinking, eyes unwittingly drawn to the spectacle when he yanks his T-shirt over his head.

And within an instant, it’s revealed to you.

The promised land, you’re sure.

Because his chest is just as soft and plush as you thought it would be, all but dripping with sweat, and when a single droplet makes it down the valley of his pecs, leaving slick lines all the way down the velvety expanse of his abs, you would be lying if you said your mouth wasn’t going dry.

Without even blinking, you clumsily raise your water bottle to your lips, trying desperately to summon even a single ounce of liquid to cure the blazing heat that overcomes your body at the sight of him.

With another crack of his neck, Simon sits back down on the bench, leaning comfortably into the backrest. And when he sits down—a tiny grunt emitting from his covered mouth—any hope of hiding your shock is erased within a single second. Because, just like any other man, he spreads his legs around the leather, giving you an uninterrupted view of the heavy bulge between his thighs.

Unconsciously, you drop your bottle, unable to tear you eyes away—especially when he reaches for his waistband to readjust it.

His stomach flexes as he straightens up, the veins in his biceps and hands shifting as he carefully shuffles the band down a bit further around his hips, exposing the black, sweat-drenched boxer band beneath his pants. He sighs, and the fabric snaps back to his body. But when he reaches between his legs to pick up the first dumbbell, the side of his palm just barely brushes over the front of his pants.

You bite through the skin on your lips, crossing your arms to watch as he heaves two gigantic dumbbells into his arms. He lifts them like they’re nothing more than paperweights, something he could throw around without even breaking a sweat.

But that’s not the whole truth of it. It’s not. Because he is breaking a sweat. And, god, if he didn’t look good coated in a glistening layer of it, smelling like every bit of the hardworking man that he was.

Dazed, you lean to place your hand on the rack, having to steady yourself on your feet when you miss it on the first try. You watch as he shifts into an incline chest press.

With every push of the weight, the muscles of his chest jump and twitch, flexing with the practiced motion, like the rippling waves on an icy sea.

Up and down.

The dumbbells are so big they nearly overshadow the length of his forearms in their entirety. But, somehow, you find another way to get your fill.

His stomach.

His happy trail.

His hips, biceps, and pecs.

Fuck.

His chest is heaving with every thrust now, hips jumping against the seat—all too similar to how you imagine he looks when he’s laid up in the barracks, hand beneath his waistband, chasing a high that even the gym couldn’t gratify.

And, god, that opens a whole new can of worms, one that your mind doesn’t hesitate to run free with.

What did Ghost look like when he touched himself?

You bite your lip, vision blurring.

He’d look just like he does on the bench, the lines of his abs disappearing and reappearing with every gasping breath. Small groans—not unlike the raspy moans that escape his mouth on the next rep—muffled under his mask while he looked at what he was doing to himself, at how his body was reacting to his own stimuli.

And in your heart—in the very depths of your soul—you just know that it’s big. The bulge between his legs didn’t hide any secrets, and when his thighs jump at the strain, you swear you can see the way his flesh moves beneath the shoddy fabric.

For possibly the hundredth time in the past minute alone, your eyes drag down the blonde hair on his stomach. Down, down, down. All the way down to where it leads into his boxer band, just barely out of view.

It’s matted to his stomach with sweat, shiny and golden. And yet, your mind doesn’t fail to twist even that mundane detail into something else entirely.

What did it look like when he was stroking himself, body heaving with pent up energy and testosterone, precum leaking down onto his swollen balls, signaling his impending release?

What did it look like when he finally got there, abs clenched in an unforgiving knot when he finally spilled over his own two hands, the droplets sticking to his sweaty chest and thighs?

What did it look like flecked with his own semen, his gruff moans the crescendo of the scene?

God, you lament, feeling yourself begin to leak in your panties. You should look away. You should gather your things and head back into the locker room. You should go back to your room and dig that dildo out of your pack, if only so that you could stop yourself from having such indecent thoughts about a close friend—one who just so happened to be your CO, as well.

However, when Simon drops the weight with a heavy clunk, sitting up against the bench, any thought of looking away goes flying out your mind.

Because then, his sore chest is exposed to you in all of its glistening glory. The muscles are pumped and flush with heat, reddened against the pale set of his skin tone from the exertion. Sparse hair—so blonde you would have seen right through it—decorates his skin, thinning into a small trail that leads from his sternum all the way down to his pants.

But what steals the show is the way they flex when he sits up, the way they squish between his arms when he picks up his water bottle once more. Not for the first time, you find yourself wondering just how soft they really are. If you pressed your fingers into them, would there be indents left? Would his skin carry the memory of your touch for even a single fleeting second?

It’s a heady thought, one that’s only made worse when he begins to drink from the water bottle, a small cascade of water mixing with the sweat on his chest.

Fuck, you think, looking down at your breasts. You looked good in this bra—Soap definitely had no problem telling you that—and for all intents and purposes, you had no reason to be dissatisfied with your own chest before.

But looking at Ghost like that, body swollen from adrenaline and exhaustion, the jokes just make themselves.

Fuck, you laugh in your mind, He’d probably need a bigger bra than me.

Forget about asses, Ghost might have the best rack on the team.

Somehow, you hope he realizes that. Lost in the color of his skin and sweat, you forget yourself, oblivious to everything aside from the slick collecting in your panties and the delicious redness on his pale skin.

That is, until his voice calls out for you gently—almost as if he didn’t want the others to hear.

“You good, sergeant?” He asks softly, cocking his head, “Looked like something caught your eye there for a minute…”

Instantly, your stomach drops and you fumble with your water bottle. You look down at the floor, trying to ignore the way your cunt clenches in between your legs.

“No, it’s—it’s nothing, LT,” you reply, shaking your head, “Just…at the rate you’re going, you’ll have the biggest boobs on the team soon.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, but the smile he wears isn’t joking. No, it’s…insistent. Impatient. Teasing, “Worried I’ll take you out of first place?”

“Honestly?” This time, you purposefully look him over, heat rushing through your cheeks, “I think you’re running a close second. But don’t worry, LT,” you joke, smiling, “I’m not all that competitive. We can share the podium.”

“Hm,” he huffs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, “Bloody shame, that.”

At that, you furrow your brows, confused.

“Why?” You ask.

“Nothin’ just…” his eyes flick up to meet your own, so dangerously dark you could drown in their depths, “Thought you might wanna compare. Y’know, just to make sure we’re both telling the truth. I mean…”

His gaze drops to your chest then, biting his cheek when he sees how droplets of sweat collect in the valley between your breasts.

“I dunno what you look like beneath that bra, sweetheart,” he comments, “Ain’t it a little unfair? That you know what I look like without a shirt, but I’ve never seen you without one?”

At his words, your jaw drops. Once again, just like that day in the conference room all those years ago, you find yourself speechless, all but helpless to watch as he stands and comes closer. With every heavy step, the sheer mass of his muscles makes itself known. And when he stops just in front of you, the musk of his perspiration—a badge of his hard work in and of itself—envelops you like a fiery hug.

In a haze, you look up at him, feeling your core pulse when he pointedly dips his chin, looking down at the slopes of your breasts.

“Sure you wanna give up that easily?” He whispers, and his voice paints shivers up your spine. His head lolls the other direction, and at his side, he lifts one burly hand.

However, before he can touch you, your entire body is consumed with nerves. Without even thinking, you slap your hands down on his bare chest—a sound that (thankfully) Kyle and Johnny can’t hear over their own conversation—stopping him before the heat inside of your body can devour you once and for all.

“That’s—I’m really not that competitive. I mean, I—” your ramble breaks into a flustered giggle, and you step away from him awkwardly, “This bra—it’s…I’m pretty sweaty. It’s hot in here, isn’t it? God, the air conditioner must have broken or something.”

Your laughter is obnoxiously tense. So tense you swear you can see the confusion in his eyes.

“Just—I’m just gonna head to the locker room, and….change my clothes,” you huff, already walking away, “Uh—good job on your PR, LT. If you keep lifting like that—well…”

You snap you jaw shut before you can repeat Soap’s horrible line from earlier. At that, Simon’s hand drops lazily back to his side, head cocked—this time, in utter confusion.

“That wasn’t a PR,” he calls after you, but you’re already walking away, slamming the locker room door shut behind you before his horrible, stupid, delicious voice can follow you any longer.

For once, you thank the universe that there aren’t more women on base. Because the instant you burst through the doors, you have the locker room all to yourself. Panting, you collapse onto a bench, gripping the wooden seat like it might stop you from doing something you might regret.

Yet, your brain remains outside, back in the gym, with your bare hands against his naked chest, his body heat warming your palms like a hearth. And suddenly, it’s impossible to contain yourself any longer. Before you can stop yourself—before you can even think about what’s right and decent—you spread your legs on the bench, swiping a hand up against your clothed cunt.

And just like you suspected, your slick has already leaked through your panties and leggings, a barely noticeable dark spot over the front of your pants. Just at that singular touch, your body sings and your pussy aches for more. For something purposeful. For something harder. Thicker. Longer.

Your brain is overwhelmed with your own needs.

Water.

Touch.

Heat.

Love.

Him.

“God…” you curse, plunging your hands into your pants when it all becomes to much. Instantly upon spreading your folds, you find an unabashed swipe of slick. It paints over your knuckles from front to back, and your fingers barely have the grip to spread yourself long enough to circle your fingers around your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly, but in the stark silence, each and every breath sounds like a bomb dropping.

Blood rushes straight to your core, and just when you finally manage to get a good rhythm, something hollow and aching cries out within you—something baser, something that was so innate it was only a part of your biology, not your person.

And it cries out for something more. For something to fill you—for him to fill you—if only so that the horrible emptiness in your cunt would fade back into the recesses of your body.

And yet, it doesn’t. It nags on your mind. Tugs on your heart. It screams and begs until rubbing at your clit feels pointless—until you relent with a bitten mewl, shoving two fingers inside of your dripping hole before you can think better of it.

At the sudden intrusion—however small and unsatisfying it may be—your body calms just the slightest bit. It’s just enough for you to shakily rest your heels on the edge of the bench, chin dropping to look down at where you brazenly touch yourself in the middle of the locker room. Slowly, you push in and out of yourself, watching your hand move beneath the soaked black fabric.

Just a bit more, you tell yourself with every push, Just enough to tie me over until I get back to the room.

But the longer you watch, the longer you sit there and try to fulfill a fantasy that’s impossible for only a single person to realize, the more desperate you become. And before you know it, tears spring to your eyes, frustration welling up inside of you.

Your fingers aren’t gonna cut it.

Whimpering, you bite your lip. The toy you kept in your room might do it. It wouldn’t be the same. No, it couldn’t even compare to a living, breathing person, but it was the best you were going to get. Hurriedly, you tug your hands out of your pants, swiping your fingers over your leggings in a haphazard attempt at cleaning them. You grab your things, making a beeline for the door.

—only to slam straight into a firm chest the minute you step outside the locker room.

Once again, you’re enveloped in that scent.

Tobacco.

Body wash.

Sweat.

Musk.

Man.

And before you can think better of it, you shakily raise your eyes, unable to hide the way your body thrums with discomfort and need when he overshadows you like this. Again, you’re swallowed up in everything that he is. His proximity, attention, and intensity. And mercilessly, he comes closer, sweat drying against his skin.

The gym is empty and quiet now.

It’s just the two of you, and the silence could not weigh heavier.

With a single look, he knows.

He knows what you need.

In the back of his throat, he makes a deep noise, one that reverberates in the very chambers of your heart. Before you can even stop him, he reaches out and delicately takes your hand into his. Experimentally, he brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, looking down at them intently.

“Is this sweat?” He says lowly, “Or something else?”

Your heart rate spikes when you look down at where he holds you—at where the few remaining lines of your own slick stain his fingertips. Useless, you struggle for your words, but your jaw can only open and close stupidly, completely inarticulate.

Watching the pitiful sight, a smirk overcomes his lips.

He drops your hands.

He plants his palm against the flat of your chest, right above your hardened nipples.

And when he slowly backs you up into the locker room once again, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away—especially not when he hooks his finger under the hem of your bra, tugging it down over your cleavage. He licks his lips when he sees the obscene way that the fabric indents the fat of your tits.

“Just need to make sure,” he tells you.

Notes:

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months ago

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hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt stretches deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, testing the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

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021reid · 7 months ago

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Please ? | Spencer Reid

summary: reader wants spencer to take her virginity.

CW: inexperienced!reader , shy-ish reader , reader gets came on , 18+ (if i’m missing anything lmk)

word count: 860 words

you and spencer have been dating for 4 months now. the last four months have been filled with date nights every sunday (when he wasn’t away) and endless flirting and teasing no matter what was happening around you guys.

but you were craving more.

you and spencer have had heated makeouts and even a little dry humping every now and then but nothing ever came out of it.

so now here you were sitting on spencer’s bed with a nervous look on your face.

“spence..can we talk?” you start regretting your words when you see him sit up with a look of concern and fear on his face.

“did i do something wrong honey?” it’s almost as if you can hear the gears shifting in his mind and you quickly shake your head to make them shut up.

“no i just…why won’t you have sex with me?” you notice the deep breath he takes and relief in his eyes.

“are you ready for sex?” it was no secret to spencer that you were inexperienced and you probably would run away if he even tried to unbutton your pants.

“i think? i don’t know i’m just really horny and i can’t keep cumming from just your thighs.” a smile appears on his face and he grabs your waist sitting you on his lap and whispering in your ear.

“well how about we fix that then baby?” you hold back a whimper and pull him in for a kiss, slowly moving back and fourth on his lap.

“can i take these off?” he puts a finger on the waistband of your shorts and you nod your head. he unbuttons your pants and slides them off you with a little of your help.

he can’t tear his eyes away from your white lacy panties with small bows on the sides.

“you’re so beautiful baby” he rubs your cunt through your panties and you swear you could cum from just that alone.

“fuck..spence i need more.” you kiss him again this time tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. you move down to his pants and unbutton them, pausing when you feel his print.

spencer slides down his pants more and takes out his cock.

your jaw dropped.

he had to be atleast 8 and a half inches and you were even debating that.

“can that fit in me?” you say still shocked and stunned by his size.

“we can make it fit honey.” he tugs at your shirt and you shake your head. your not ready to be fully naked yet and he understands.

“lay down for me baby.” you move to the other side of his bed and rest your head on the nearest pillow. he kisses your thighs and makes his way up to your cunt, kissing all around it only making you grow wetter and wetter.

“please spence i can’t wait anymore.” he laughs at your eagerness and pulls down your panties. he stares at you in awe which makes you close your legs and push him slightly.

“stop staring at me like that..” he kisses your cheek and pulls your panties off.

“you’re so pretty sweetheart. every part of you.” he rubs your heat and you moan with every movement. he inserts his pointer finger and curls it which causes you to moan and arch your back.

“fuck..put another one in please.” he inserts his middle finger and waits for you to calm down before he starts moving them both at a slow pace. you’re a moaning mess and you’ve never wanted to come so bad.

“fuck if you keep doing that i’m gonna cum.” he laughs and takes out his fingers which causes you to pout.

“i don’t want you to come yet baby” he reaches over for a condom and puts it on.

“tell me if you wanna stop okay baby?” you nod and moan when you feel him rub his tip over your heat.

“fuck please just put it in.” he slowly inserts every inch into you moaning between each inch just from how warm your heat is. all that fills the room is your heavy breathing.

once he bottoms out he starts to move slowly. you moan with every thrust and your hands find their way to his long curly hair slightly tugging at it.

“go faster please, i can handle it.” his movements speed up and you can feel your orgasm approaching. the sounds of his quiet whimpers and your skin slapping against eachother becomes louder with every thrust.

“i’m so close y/n” his legs start to shake under you and his movements get faster causing you to let out a loud moan and your back to arch off the bed as your orgasm hits you.

not long after you feel spencer’s cock twitch inside you and his movements start to slow.

you both sit there for about 10 minutes trying to catch your breath.

“that was really good” you say, slurring your words. he smiles and pulls out of you slowly, handing you a bottle of water from the nightstand.

“i love you so much y/n.” he pampers your face in kisses and you both giggle until you both fall asleep, happy and inlove.

i’m not good at writing smut so tell me how it is 🌚 don’t forget to check out my masterlist !

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #dom spencer reid #sub reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds smut

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months ago

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A Father’s Love?

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You (9-10) are left alone with your dad, who currently is missing his soul, and it doesn’t go well

Update: part 2 is here

“Uncle De, please don’t go.” Your voice was low as you tried to keep your dad—who was in the bathroom—from hearing. “I-I don’t wanna be alone with him.”

Dean felt awful for leaving you like this, but he had no choice. You hadn’t been comfortable with Sam since the moment you’d found out he was back—the same time Dean did. You’d been living with Dean, Lisa, and Ben, and when Sam revealed that he’d been back all along, you instantly didn’t trust him. Dean had been angry, sure, but somehow he just hadn’t seen what you had—that your dad wasn’t really himself.

Of course, eventually the three of you—including Sam, who hadn’t been sure what was wrong with him—discovered the truth: he was soulless. As soon as Dean find out, he felt horrible for not understanding your hesitance before. Now that he knew, he tried to avoid leaving you alone with Sam whenever possible, especially since he didn’t really trust Sam without a soul.

But sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Kiddo, you know I don’t have a choice,” Dean said.

“I don’t like it here with him,” you insisted, refusing to let go of Dean’s sleeve. “He-he’s like daddy’s evil twin or something.”

Dean swallowed. “Sweetheart, he’s not evil, ok? He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Daddy’s weird,” you argued. “This guy is bad.”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Baby, please. You know I have to go. He’s gonna be good, I promise, and soon enough he’s gonna be back to regular-old dad, I swear.”

Dean left without another word, and the silence that hung in the motel room was deafening.

“Dean left?” Sam asked as he exited the bathroom. You ignored his question—he didn’t actually care, after all—and you went to sit on your bed. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you went. The motel stayed the worst kind of silence as you pretended to read while Sam just stared at you.

“What do you want?” You demanded finally, dropping the book. Your voice was nowhere near as firm as you wanted it to be.

“You hate me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You hated me first.” Unlike Sam, you couldn’t look at him while you accused him. Even without looking at the shell that used to be your dad, you could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you waited for him to speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffed. “I mean, I don’t particularly care about you, but I don’t hate you.”

Somehow, apathy was even worse.

“Just leave me alone,” you mumbled. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam shrugged and obeyed. You felt your eyes drifting to him as he pulled a beer from the fridge and took it to his bed. His eyes caught yours and he frowned.

“What? You said leave you alone.”

“Dad wouldn’t have listened,” you mumbled, but Sam heard you anyway.

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not Sam, not anymore.”

“Ok.” You turned to face away from him. “Now I mean it. Leave me be.”

But Sam was suddenly intrigued, and he ignored your request.

“You and Dean wanted me to stop pretending to be him. This is just me not pretending.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like you,” you said, your eyes downcast.

“Exactly, and I don’t like you either. I mean, you’re kind of a brat.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said, finally looking up.

“You beg Dean to keep you with him all the time like I’m gonna hurt you or something, it’s pathetic.” Sam seemed to be getting a real kick out of finally saying all that he’d been thinking over the past few weeks.

“I said leave me alone!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t listen.

“I mean, I remember caring about you when I was that other guy, I just…I just can’t remember why.”

“Go away! Leave me be!” You were on your feet now, shoving and pushing at Sam, but the giant man didn’t even flinch.

“I mean your just a little pest!”

“Stop it! Just go away!”

Crying, overwhelmed, and so unbelievably hurt, you started to slap at the guy who used to be your dad, smacking his neck, his face, whatever you could reach. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

“Hey!” Though your slaps had little effect on him, one harsh blow from Sam had you flat on your back, dazed and breathing hard. You could still feel the impact of his palm against your cheek, and you couldn’t scramble away from him fast enough.

“If you’re gonna give it out, you should be prepared to take it,” Sam muttered gruffly.

You were on your feet in an instant, and you were out the door before you’d even made the decision to leave.

“Hey!” You could hear your dad—no, not your dad—following after you, and you barely made it five steps out of the room before his arms were around you and dragging you back in.

“Stop it!” You were crying now, and you couldn’t remember when you’d started. “Let me go!”

“If I lose you, Dean’s never gonna help me,” Sam grunted, shoving you back into the room and closing the door behind him. “So how about we all just calm down here.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “You don’t hit me, I won’t hit you.”

That would’ve sounded reasonable enough, if not for one thing—your desperate smacks to his skin had done nothing to him, they hadn’t even hurt, but you could already feel the side of your face swelling where he’d hit you. But you didn’t argue with Sam. You didn’t even speak. You just sat on your bed and turned your back on him, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your knees so you could cry in peace.

Sam left you alone for several minutes, but his sudden hand on your shoulder had you flinching back violently and scrambling away from him.

“Would you calm down?” Sam huffed as he let go. He was holding out a frozen bag of peas. “Put this on it.”

You took it hesitantly and slowly pressed the cold bag to your face.

“Look…” Sam’s hand was back on your shoulder, only now his giant fingers were right at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and they were squeezing way too hard. “Dean would kill me if he figured out what happened, ok? And he certainly wouldn’t be helping me anymore. So maybe…maybe you just tell him you fell in the shower or something, ok?” He said it like a question, but the grip on your shoulder and the ice in his eyes told the truth; he expected you to lie to Uncle Dean, and you didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

“Ok,” you whispered, and his hand was gone in an instant.

“Ok,” he said firmly.

Then he turned his back on you and left you alone to cry.

…

The swelling was down by the time Dean returned, but you’d looked in the mirror long enough to see a black and purple bruise forming along almost one whole side of your face.

You resisted the urge to run to your uncle the moment he stepped in the door—if you acted scared, he would figure it out, and Sam would be mad. Instead, you stayed where you were with your head down, your hair covering most of the bruise.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “You guys ok?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said simply. You’d been hoping that he would lie for you, so you didn’t have to, but he seemed content to leave things quiet.

“You sure?” Dean was watching you now, noticing your uncharacteristic silence.

“I’m ok,” your voice was hoarse from crying, and Dean wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was in front of you in an instant, brushing your hair behind your ears. His hand recoiled when he saw the bruise. “What happened?”

“I—“ you looked up to face Dean, and your voice caught in your throat when you saw Sam staring daggers at you from behind your uncle’s shoulder. “I f-fell.”

“Fell?” Dean frowned.

You nodded. “In-in the shower.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Out. Now.”

“Me?” When had Sam become such a good actor? He looked as innocent as ever. “What did I do?”

Despite his acting, Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Get out! I need to talk to her alone.”

The moment Sam was out the door, Dean was tilting your chin up with a feather-light hand at your chin.

“He hit you, didn’t he.” Dean wasn’t asking.

“I fell,” you lied, the tears in your eyes giving you away.

“Don’t lie for him,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t kick him out,” you pleaded. “We-we have to help him get his soul back. This isn’t him, Uncle Dean.”

“I know it’s not,” Dean sighed. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe when my dad is back.”

…

“You stay away from her.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to speak when he let him back into the room.

“Fine.” Sam was done lying—it hadn’t done any good.

“And if you ever touch her again, you’re gone, understand?”

Sam didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t argue.

“I understand.”

…

You slept in Dean’s bed that night—you hadn’t shared a bed with your father since he came back soulless—and Sam went out to do whatever it was that he did while you guys slept. Apparently being soulless meant you didn’t sleep.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” you mumbled. “I just…I just miss him.”

Dens pulled you into his arms as you started to cry.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. We’re gonna get him back, ok? I promise.”

“Ok Uncle Dean.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

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countcvnt · 9 months ago

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Dwell On It

[Ghost x Fem!Reader x Soap]

Summary: Your roommate hits you with the worst sentence you've ever heard in your life, and you can't help but dwell on it. Warnings: MINORS DNI!! 18+ Oral (f! receiving), pet names (doll/love), praise, threesome, not beta'd Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Was gonna write this with like ghost not wearing his mask, but i was already halfway through so... Mask Stays On During Sex. (don't ask why i didn't just have him take it off, idk...)

“Fuck!” You get home and slam the door of your apartment.

You want to scream louder, but you don’t want anyone to complain. You kick your shoes off at the door, a little too violently, and your roommate walks out from his room.

“You good?” His voice is full of confusion, he looks tired.

“Sorry, Hunter,” You groan, “I didn’t know you were here…”

You sigh and walk towards your room. He rubs his eyes and watches you closely. He squints at you. “What happened?” You scrunch your nose up. “I don’ wanna talk about it.” You mumble, entering your room. “It’s just, I have to do everything! All the time! Dishes? Me. Trash? Me. Paperwork? Me!” You want to scream again.

“Oh, so you do wanna talk about it?” Hunter cocks a brow at you.

You refrain from swinging. “Hunter, I’m tired. Okay?” You walk towards your bathroom and Hunter trails behind you.

“You still going out tonight?” He asks, like he’s planning something. “WIth those, uh, big military men?” You nod. “Well, tell them something for me?” You nod again. “You need your pussy ate.”

Your mouth drops. Hunter leaves your room. His name can’t even form. You're stunned. Your roommate has successfully stunned you. You stand in your bathroom, for a moment and hear Hunter’s door click. You come to your senses and rush towards his bedroom. You jiggle the doorknob. Locked.

“I won’t be here tonight.”

You let out a frustrated scream into your hands and walk back into your room. You look at the alarm on your nightstand and see you have two hours before you have to be at the bar. You groan. Two hours to dwell on the words Hunter had just said to you.

You sit at the bar, face contorted with displeasure as you wait for Simon and Johnny. You sip your water and huff. Your feet kick off the barstool and you keep thinking about Hunter. You wish you would have throttled him.

“Hey bonnie! Oh- You look-”

“Happy to see us.” Simon lets out a low rumble, causing you to turn towards them.

You lighten up. Or try to. “Sorry, had a horrible day. Roommate decided to make it worse and go to his room with no remorse.”

Johnny cocks his head. “How’d he make it worse?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I came home stressed, and he said the most untrue statement I’ve ever heard!”

“Which was?” Simon asks.

You want to not tell them, but they’re curious. And you’re still butthurt about it. “That I ‘need my pussy ate’!” You exclaim. “Which,” You put a finger up, “is so far from the truth- Like? Why would he say that?”

“Did he offer to do it?” Johnny really asking the important questions is pissing you off.

“No!”

“Bad roommate etiquette.” Simon smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkling gives it away.

“Shut up.” You mumble and sip your water. Johnny laughs. His hand hits your back as he continues to laugh. “What?” You give him a blank stare.

“I think your roommate was onto something.” Johnny can’t stop laughing. You want to get up and leave. You look at Simon, who is also finding amusement in your situation. You want to die. You stand from your chair and roll your eyes at them. Johnny reaches for your arm but you don’t yank away. “Where ye goin’, bonnie, we just got here!”

You pout at him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Johnny gives you a concerned look. Hunter’s words run through your head, ‘so you do wanna talk about it?’ You do want to talk about it, but not right here. In front of everyone. “I don’t need that. Never have, never will.” You stand firm on your words. And let something slip that you normally only would if you’ve been drinking. “Not like it’s that great anyway.”

Simon and Johnny both stare at you. Johnny’s eyes widen. “You’ve never- Wait a minute.” Johnny collects his thoughts. “You’ve never had some good head?”

You want to hide. Run to the bathroom and escape through the window. As if either of them would let you do that… Knowing you have nowhere to run, you answer. “No. I guess not.”

“Y’know,” Johnny hops off his seat and locks eyes with you, moving closer. “I can’t speak for Ghost,” he motions towards his friend, “but I’m sure I could change that.”

Your stomach flips. The butterflies in your stomach are rapidly turning into bumblebees. Your eyes widen and you look at Simon. He moves himself from his stool and is looming over you. You look up at him.

“Our hotel isn’t far from here, doll.”

Your mouth is agape. “Oh.” You say, placing a hand on your chest, ready to clutch your non-existent pearls. Without thinking, you speak up. “My roommate’s out tonight. We can go to mine?”

“Too dangerous.” Simon shakes his head. Johnny nods. You put your hands up. “Anyway,” Simon continues, “don't need any noise complaints from your neighbors.”

“Oh?” Johnny smirks at him. “Think yer gonna have her screamin’ that loud?” Simon rolls his eyes. You're standing beside the bar, baffled. All you can do is blink up at them. “What’d’ya say?” Johnny questions you. “Wanna come back with us?”

“You'll never wanna leave.” Simon's voice is gruff, sure. He's so sure of himself.

“Y'know what,” you nod, “yes. I don't think I can pass this up…”

Johnny seems relieved. He begins to leave the bar, you trail behind him, and Simon walks out behind you. Johnny is quick to wave down a cab. The three of you pile in the back, and you are so very sure that they can hear your heart pounding against your ribcage. You think the taxi driver can by the way he looks back at you when Simon gives him the hotel name.

His eyes linger on yours, you give him a smile, really not wanting him to think poorly of your currently awkward situation. You're in the middle of Simon and Johnny. Johnny's hand grips your thigh, just where your short black dress ends. He's almost massaging in. Simon places hand on your other thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. You look up at Simon and see he's looking at the driver through the rear view mirror. His eyes cut down to you and you swallow hard.

The cab reaches the hotel and you bring out your purse. Johnny is quick to stop you from paying and Simon pulls out his wallet. Johnny exits and helps you out. “Thank you,” you look back at the taxi driver and wave at him.

As you three enter the hotel, Simon walks up beside you, his hand snaking around your waist. “Did you thank and wave at the cab driver?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Yer so sweet.” Johnny compliments you. His hand grabs hold of yours. “Can't believe ya've never had-”

“Sh,” you swat at him with your free hand, when someone walks past the three of you. Johnny smirks at your reaction. The three of you make it into the elevator and Johnny hits the floor they're on. You're standing in the elevator; Johnny, you, then Simon. Johnny is holding your hand and Simon is still latched onto you like a lifeline. You're watching the floor number go up when Johnny steps in front of you, his grip on your hand tightening. “What?” You whisper.

“Y'know, we've been on a couple dates-”

“Is that what those were?” You genuinely didn't have a clue.

Simon stifles a laugh when Johnny is taken aback. “Yeah!” He groans, “Not the point. We haven' kissed, bonnie.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’. “You can change that, you know.”

Without a word, Johnny leans in and kisses you. Your heart, which is still pounding, is now in your throat. Simon is watching the both of you. He shifts, situating himself, his eyes and arm never leave you. The elevator stops. Simon's grip on you tightens and Johnny pulls away. He moves back to the side of you and you're left standing there, eyes locked with the woman stepping on.

“Oh my,” the words leave her mouth seemingly without thinking.

You smile at her. Awkward but genuine. Simon directs your attention to him. Johnny is still holding your hand, he's watching you and Simon now. Simon leans down and moves his mask up slightly. “My turn, love.”

You eagerly push yourself up and into the kiss, forgetting a woman was in the corner of the elevator. Johnny's hand tenses around yours, his thumb rubbing the back of it while you kiss Simon. The elevator is abruptly stopped and the lady immediately exits. Simon pulls away and you're left staring up at him, like he’s hung the moon and stars.

“Guess she wanted to take the stairs. Can't imagine why…”

The elevator goes up a couple more floors and stops on Simon's and Johnny’s. Johnny leads you out of the elevator and Simon follows you, not letting you go. You follow Johnny down the hall and reach their room. You swallow hard, heart beating in your ears. He unlocks the door and swings it open, motioning for you to go in. Simon escorts you into the room and Johnny closes the door behind the three of you. It locks, the click echoes through the room.

“So… Men,” you look at the both of them, “what now?”

“I think it's sorta obvious,” Johnny smiles at you. “If at any time you are uncomfortable, let us know.”

You nod. “Of course. Um,” Your palms are sweaty against the outsides of your thighs now, “how do we start?” They both stare at you. “What?!” You whine, “I’ve only ever had one serious boyfriend and this was not his forte!”

Johnny and Simon both give you solemn looks. You want to hide again. You can't help but feel like you're being judged. You shift your weight and keep yourself planted, from running away.

“Simon,” Johnny looks at his friend, “wanna do the honors? Since you're so sure you can get her to scream?”

You want both of them. “We have the whole night.”

Johnny perks up. “You wanna stay the whole night?”

“I mean, I can-”

“You're so cute.” Simon remarks. “I'm sure we'll find something to occupy us all night.”

And so your long night begins.

“You can take that off…” You whisper to Simon, “I know your name, why can’t I know your face?”

“It’s better this way, love.” Simon pulls the bottom of his mask up, uncovering his mouth again.

The mysteriousness… The anonymity is hot… You will not deny it. But you want to see him. You want to gently touch his face and kiss him softly. By the look in his eyes, he wants to kiss you too, but maybe not as gently. You reach up and cup Simon’s face, bringing him towards you. Simon lets you. He lets you grab him and place a soft kiss against his lips.

You’re so soft and sweet. And he has every intent of making you his.

“If you two are gonna make out, can I-” Johnny motions towards you. Simon sighs, pulling away from you. “I wanna taste you, bonnie…” It is at that exact moment you realize just how convincing of a man Johnny is. You nod at him. Johnny moves behind you, causing you to cock your head. You look over your shoulder at him.

Simon seems to know what’s about to happen.

Johnny’s hands grab your waist and he kisses your neck before dropping to his knees. ‘Oh,’ You think as you look back at Simon, ‘he’s doing it right here.’ Johnny moves to a sitting position, pats your thigh for you to spread your legs slightly, and you do. He scoots himself between your legs and is now on the floor, between you and Simon.

Simon gives you a moment before kissing you again. He observes you. Johnny looks up at you as he grabs your thighs with a grip you have never felt before, and he hitches your dress up some.

“No panties, huh?” Johnny smirks at you, his fingers going straight for your entrance.

“No!” You jump at his warm hands, “Those were not an option with this dress.”

Simon and Johnny both nod. Simon begins to kiss you once more, as one of Johnny’s fingers push into you. You moan into Simon’s mouth and you grab his forearms, tightly. Johnny kisses your thigh and pushes another finger inside of you while Simon slips his tongue into your mouth. Simon’s hands hold you in place, they grip your hips. You are sure you are going to have marks in the morning.

Johnny is good with his fingers. Phenomenal even. The way you’re being kissed by Simon while Johnny nips and sucks on your thigh and fucks with his fingers is magical. You let out a high pitched whine and Simon pulls back.

“You feel alright?” He asks. You can only nod. You try to answer but only whimpers and moans are escaping you. “You’re doin’ great, doll.”

Your whole body is on fire. You can’t think straight and your stomach is in knots. Your eye clinch shut and finally words form, “I’m gonna-”

Johnny’s fingers pull out of you and you gasp. You look down at him in shock and confusion. He places his fingers in his mouth and sucks on them. Simon watches Johnny and then looks back at you. You pout. Hard. Words aren’t forming again and you are a mumbling mess.

“Use your words, love.” Simon smiles at you.

“Why’d you stop! Please continue.”

“Anything for you, my sweet girl.” Johnny looks up at you and you realize his pupils are dilated. His big blue eyes are dark with lust and hunger. He dives in. He is slowly lapping at your pussy and you’re tensing up again.

Simon steadies you and keeps you from falling forward. You are holding onto Simon like your life depends on it. Johnny’s tongue hits your clit and your body jolts, your back arching. Simon’s lips latch onto your neck and he begins to suck on the sensitive skin, he still keeps you steady. You are moaning out and crying for Johnny; for him to let you finish.

His name falls from your lips, “Johnny!” You whimper, legs clenching together. He is quick to hold your legs apart. Your orgasm hits hard and fast. You’re shaking above Johnny, holding onto Simon, who is still sucking at your neck.

Johnny pushes himself back between your legs and stands up behind you. “You’re so good,” Johnny turns you towards him and his mouth and chin is sticky from the slick of your pussy. “You’re bein’ so good for us.” He gives you a kiss and you’re still trying to collect yourself.

Simon pulls away and you stare at him. He’s looking at you, his eyes darker than Johnny’s. His smile has dropped. His face has dropped. He is watching you with a predatory gaze.

“Your turn,” Johnny smacks Simon on the shoulder.

“Take your dress and shoes off.” His voice… You immediately comply. “On the bed.” Once again, you do as he says. “Get behind her Johnny.”

Johnny seems thrilled. He must know what is about to happen. You are set at the end of the bed, and Johnny crawls behind you. He lets you lean back onto him, he lets you get comfortable. You watch as Simon stalks towards the bed, towards you. You are putty in his and Johnny’s hands. You are sure by the end of the night, you would do absolutely anything or them.

Simon drops to his knees in front of you and looks with the same hunger Johnny watched you with earlier. You, in your fucked out daze, could still pick out the difference in their stares. Johnny’s gaze was filled with a sweetness, one that gave you butterflies. Simon’s gaze is wild, full of fire, and has you gripping the sheets before he’s touching you.

Johnny’s hands are rubbing your biceps as he whispers praises in your ear. You’re too focused on Simon to really catch what Johnny is saying. Your heart is pounding again, and you want nothing more than to be touched. You need Simon to touch you.

“If this is too much-”

“Let us know.”

You are nodding, violently. “Please,” You beg, “please just touch me.” Simon’s smile returns, and it’s lethal. His hands grip your thighs and you flinch. You can already see marks from Johnny’s earlier grasp on you. Simon begins to bite and suck at your thighs, a lot harder than Johnny had. One his hands moves up your thigh and two fingers push into you. His movements are somewhat harsher than Johnny’s. He is no way harming you, but Johnny was so gentle. The difference is jarring, in a good way.

Simon’s mouth moves up your thigh and he easily finds your clitoris. He sucks at the bud as his fingers pick up the pace inside of you. You are crying out for him, begging him to go faster, harder.

“Sure ye can take it?”

“Yes, please-”

Simon doesn't argue. He gets a little more rough with you. His hands holding your hips down holds you tighter. Johnny’s mouth connects with your shoulder and he kisses you softly, still giving you praises. Your hips buck slightly, but Simon is holding them too tightly for you to go anywhere. You let out a cry of pleasure. One of Johnny’s hands is on your arm, rubbing circles into the skin, while the other goes towards your chest, settling at your breast. He begins to massage it, before pinching your nipple.

Your back is arching again. Your hips are chasing after Simon’s fingers. Your body is hot again, your stomach is knotting up. Your toes curl and you let out a loud whine.

“Simon!” You’re gripping the sheets. “Please- So close-” You moan.

“So good,” Johnny reassures you, “Bein’ such a good girl for us.”

It sends you over the edge. Your body is shaking. You’re seeing stars and don’t want either of them to stop touching you. Simon pulls away from you as you’re coming down. He looks up at you, and your eyes are on Johnny. You’re breathing heavily. You look down at Simon through half lidded eyes and he stands up. He is so fucking big.

“I’m glad-” You start, “I’m glad my roommate was an asshole.”

“I’m glad he didn’ offer to do that for you.” Johnny presses his forehead to your shoulder.

You let out a soft laugh. “He definitely would not have done that…” You begin to sit up. Johnny and Simon are quick to stop you.

“Where are ye goin’?”

“I, uh, was gonna-”

“You’re not leavin’ now, are ya, doll?” Simon asks. He seems genuinely curious. He doesn’t want you to go. Not yet.

“I don’t have to. The night is still young…” Johnny hugs your waist tightly as you say that. “And I’d love to repay the both of you…”

It was definitely going to be a long, eventful night.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #call of duty smut #cod fanfic #x reader

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fadedin2u · 11 months ago

Text

big flirt!

MDNI 18+

summary: your friends force you to go out to a gay bar with them, and ellie buys you a drink.

content/tw: alcohol mention, subtop!ellie, slightly dom/switch!reader, reader and ellie are both drunk, face sitting(r!receiving), tribbing, strap-on(r!recieving), reader is called “girl” once or twice, afab!reader, reader is neither masc nor fem, college!ellie and reader, astrophysics major!ellie

notes: i left the ending written in away that i might add another part to this fic! lmk if u want that lol

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

“hey, 6 o’clock, there’s a certified hottie staring at you-“ one of your well-meaning friends tells you, motioning (not very) discreetly behind you.

you turn around and your jaw nearly drops. the girl staring at you is stunning, with her dark auburn hair and flannel worn over a wife-beater, sitting at the bar and sipping her drink. you make eye contact with her momentarily, and turn back to your friend, mary, with wide eyes.

mary laughs, “are you gonna go for it?”

your friends had forced you to go out to this gay bar with the intention of meeting new people after a break up that left you a complete wreck. it’d been about 3 months since your ex broke the news that they weren’t in love with you anymore, and it made any kind of romantic prospects leave a bitter taste in your mouth till this day. not to mention, you’re wayyy too drunk at this point to be on your A-game with flirting. you make a face and mary groans.

“come on, dude! she’s gorgeous, clearly interested, what else could you ask for?”

you make another face, “just because she’s staring doesn’t mean that she’s necessarily interested-“

“how about if she’s walking over to you right now? does that make her interested?”

you hear someone clear their throat behind you, and you give mary a murderous look before turning to the stranger with a smile.

she gives you a slightly awkward smile in return, “hey. i, um, i’m sorry if this is forward, but could i buy you a drink?”

your stomach is absolutely in knots, but you nod. “yeah, i’d love that.”

the stranger gives you a relieved smile in return, extending her hand to you, “i’m ellie. what’s your drink?”

you give her your name, “-and just a rum and coke, thank you so much.”

ellie’s clearly pretty drunk as well, which makes you feel a little better. she leads you back over to the spot at the bar she was sitting at, giving you her hand to help as you hop onto the excessively tall bar seats. she gives the bar tender your drink order and orders another whiskey on the rocks for herself.

“so, do you come to this bar a lot?” you ask, and inwardly cringe at yourself. ‘i basically just asked “so, you come here often?” great.’

ellie makes a so-so motion with her hand, “sometimes, not very often though. i study astrophysics so i don’t usually have the free time to deal with a hangover.”

your eyebrows raise and your drunk brain speaks before you think, “wow, smart girl.”

ellie’s cheeks flush a little, and she looks down, “i don’t know about that, but i’m really passionate about it, which is more than half the battle, i think.”

you scoff, “please, you’re literally studying rocket science. you can’t convince me that you’re not smart now.”

ellie laughs a little, “okay, then i’ll just shut up and take the compliment. thank you.”

the bar tender gives you two your drinks and ellie takes a sip of her own, “so, what do you do?”

you take a sip of your own drink, “i’m a student right now too, i’m actually studying-“

suddenly, you hear a familiar beat in the background, and you stop talking, a (likely goofy) smile growing on your face, “oh my god, i fucking love this song. nicki minaj literally cannot miss.”

ellie laughs brightly at that, raising an eyebrow, “i absolutely fucking agree. do you wanna dance?”

“really?”

ellie nods, taking a large gulp of her whiskey, “for sure. i couldn’t live with myself knowing i cheated a pretty girl like you out of a dance break.”

you giggle and nod, chugging the rest of your drink faster than you probably should. ellie takes your hand and leads you out the the dance floor where there’s a large crowd of people dancing together. you pull ellie against you, your actions emboldened by the alcohol in your system. ellie immediately goes to hold on your hips, your bodies moving against each other.

you don’t really think to much about how you’re dancing, just letting your body move how it wants to. before you even realize what you’re doing, you’ve turned around in ellie’s hold, grinding your ass back against her hips. when you realize what’s happening, you nearly stop, but when you feel the tight grip of ellie’s hands on your hips and the way she’s grinding back into you, you relax. you stand back up straight, and wrap your arm up and behind you, holding onto the back of ellie’s head, which is now tucked against your neck. when you feel her lips against your jugular, you inhale sharply, pressing more into her.

you feel her kisses trail down to your shoulder, and you thank your good luck for deciding to wear a tank top. you feel her pelvis digging into your ass, and you can’t be sure because the music is so loud, but you swear you hear her moan.

you turn back around in her arms, and before either of you realize what’s happening, you’re locked into a heated kiss. your arms wrap around her neck, and one of her hands sneaks down from your hips to squeeze your ass. you moan into her mouth, and she takes the opportunity for her tongue to explore your mouth. when you separate, you’re both panting.

“wanna get an uber back to mine?” she asks loudly over the blasting music, and you nod right away.

——

the uber driver for the ride back will likely leave ellie with a low rating, thanks to the two of you not being able to detach your mouths from each other for longer than 5 seconds, but you two eventually make it back to ellie’s apartment.

once you’re in her bathroom, you push her back onto her bed between kisses and straddle her. she kisses your neck and chest, pushing your tank top up. you take it off for her and you’re left in your bra. ellie grins and starts kissing the exposed parts of your breasts.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty-“ ellie says as she takes off your bra, immediately latching onto one of your nipples. you moan softly and hold onto her head, your fingers threading through her hair.

you feel her warm tongue smooth over the hardened bud before switching to the other to give it the same attention. as she does, her hands come up to squeeze your tits. she’s still sucking and nipping gently as she looks up at you, her doe eyes stirring the heat in your belly. when she unlatches; her lips are a little swollen and wet with saliva.

“what am i allowed to do? what do you need?” ellie asks, smoothing her hands down your waist and hips.

you shiver slightly, “anything.”

ellie starts kissing your neck again, sucking a hickey into the crook of your neck, “you’re gonna need to be more detailed then that, doll.”

you bite your lip, your tipsy brain racing, “i need you to fuck me.”

ellie pulls back, a wide grin growing on her face, and she kisses your collarbone. “jesus christ, i’d fucking love too… can you sit on my face first?”

your exhale sharply and nod. ellie lies back on the bed and you slide off ellie, kicking off your jeans, leaving your underwear on, before crawling back up ellie’s body.

ellie grips your thighs as you position yourself over her face. “fuck, you smell good… you this wet for me, babe?”

you nod again, your cheeks hot.

her smile is a little cocky as she looks up at your face, and licks over the wet fabric of your underwear. your legs jolt a little and you let out a shaky breath.

ellie shoves her face further between your legs, and you swear you hear her whimper. she pulls your underwear to the side, and licks a broad stripe up your cunt.

you moan, your eyes falling shut as you hold onto her headboard.

she pulls back, “i said sit on my face, babe, not hover-“

ellie’s hands pull on your thighs so you rest your weight on her face fully. ellie becomes borderline ravenous, her tongue lapping at your pussy, slurping you up as her fingers dig into the fat of your ass and thighs.

you bite on your fist to muffle your loud moans, but ellie will have none of that, her arm reaching up to pull yours away from your face.

after a moment, ellie sticks her tongue fully out, letting you rub your clit against it as you please. your breaths become more and more unsteady.

ellie’s hands on your ass help guide your hips, and when she moves to suck on your clit, the suction makes your orgasm hit you like a freight train, bucking your hips against ellie’s face.

when you’ve come down, ellie helps you off of your face, and rummages through her drawer to grab her strap.

you stop her, your hand against her chest, “i wanna feel you against me first.”

ellie doesn’t need to hear anymore, and quickly starts taking off her clothes as you take off your underwear. she moves so she’s on top of you, hiking one of your legs over her shoulder. the moment her wet cunt grinds into yours, you both moan, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“you feel so fucking perfect, so fuckin good for me-“ she rambles

ellie starts thrusting her hips against yours, and you watch her small, perky tits bounce with each movement. your hand trails up to squeeze one of them and she whimpers softly. when you pinch her nipple between your fingers, she moans gutturally and moves against you faster. you’re not at all in control of how loud you’re moaning at this point.

“look at you, sweet girl, so fucking gorgeous-“

it isn’t long before your oversensitive clit is being brought closer to another orgasm. you make obscene noises as you cum again, ellie’s eyes trained on your face the whole time.

“there you go- let me cum all over that pretty- ah, fucking- mmmh, pussy-“ ellie grunts before cumming a few moments after you.

you both take about 5 seconds to recover before she’s scrambling to grab the strap. once ellie has it on, you lick your lips, staring at it.

“can i ride it?”

ellie’s eyes go big, and she basically throws herself onto the bed, lying back and patting her thigh.

you giggle and climb on top of her, kissing her lips again. she kisses you back eagerly, grabbing your hips and thrusting her hips up, but you pull back.

“nope. hands off and stay still.” you order, and her already very dilated eyes look like pools of black at this point. she nods, biting her lip.

you take the strap and run the tip of it through your folds. ellie whines as she watches this, her hips bucking a little with her fists clenching the sheets below her.

“hey, what did i just say?” you ask, a mischievous smile on your face.

she takes a shaky breath, “sorry.”

you laugh a little, “so needy, ellie.”

you make eye contact with her as your hand travels down your own body, taking the time to squeeze and play with your own breasts. meanwhile, ellie looks like she’s practically salivating.

your hand travels down your stomach to your cunt, rubbing your own clit for a second as ellie watches, her mouth agape.

your fingers spread your folds and dip inside you for a moment, curling up and making you moan.

ellie is desperate at this point, “please, jesus fucking christ, i need you so bad, you don’t under-“

you withdraw your fingers, giving ellie a look. “hmmm… sounds like you need something to keep that mouth of yours busy, huh?”

you bring your slick-covered fingers up to her mouth. “open.”

ellie immediately opens her mouth and starts sucking off your fingers, whimpers muffled.

you giggle, “awww, you’re too fucking cute… now keep sucking on those, yeah?”

without warning, you sink down onto ellie’s strap and start bouncing. ellie whines, her eyes fixated on your tits as they bounce with you, still eagerly sucking on your fingers. ellie’s eyes fall shut for a moment as the base of the harness gives her clit the friction she’s craving.

you keep bouncing on her strap, watching the fucked out glaze in ellie’s eyes, half-lidded and fully dilated.

“awww… you just needed to get fucked, that’s all… look how pretty you are…” you tease and ellie starts whimpering like she’s gonna come from your words alone.

after a few minutes, you start to tire and you take out the fingers in her mouth, slowing down, “now, fuck me like you mean it, ellie.”

those words are all the permission ellie need before flipping you over and drilling her hips into yours.

“-pussy’s so fuckin- fuck, so fuckin’ tight for me, babe-“ ellie whimpers, tucking her face into your neck.

you would find it more amusing that ellie is acting like this strap is physically attached to her if she wasn’t making you feel so fucking good. you cling onto her as she fucks you, slamming into you just right, over and over.

“i need to cum, please let me cum- i can’t fucking-“ ellie rambles, and you cut her off

“i’m close too, baby, it’s okay-“ you pant, your eyes clenching shut as she fucks you into your third orgasm.

ellie’s hips bottom out and she grinds herself deep into you as she cums against the base of the harness, her moans needy and breathy.

when you both start coming down, she pulls out and tosses the strap away wordlessly, going back to cuddle against you.

you’re completely exhausted (and both of you still slightly drunk) as you let her spoon you, barely saying anything before slipping into a deep sleep.

———

“so you just… left? without even saying goodbye?” mary asks over the phone as you walk into the music building on your college campus, lugging your beat up guitar with you.

“what was i supposed to do? make her breakfast and thank her for the 3 orgasms?” you ask, holding the door open for a girl running in behind you.

the girl gives you a look and your face gets hot, realizing she overheard what you said.

“i mean… maybe? she was super hot,” mary responds, slightly agitated

you groan, “yeah, she was hot, but i barely learned anything about her and we were both drunk. not necessarily promising grounds for a budding relationship.”

you walk up the steps to the room you’re headed to, checking your phone again for the right room number.

“yeah, but still. she seemed like she would be cool,” mary justifies and you sigh.

“well, if i ever see her again while we’re not drunk and horny, maybe i’ll ask her out. but right now, that’s really not a priority.” you say, finding the right practice room.

mary starts to talk again but you interrupt her, “i’m sorry, mary, but i have to go.”

“wait, why? i know you don’t have class right now.”

“i’m taking those private guitar lessons to satisfy that extracurricular credit, remember? it’s my first lesson, so i really don’t wanna be late,“ you say, and mary sighs.

“okay, whatever. have fun, and i’ll talk to you after?”

you agree and end the phone call, looking to check the room number again before you walk in.

your forced, ‘make a good impression’ smile is immediately wiped off your face when you see the familiar auburnette playing the guitar in front of you.

she looks up at you and her cheeks go red almost instantaneously.

you say, “sorry, i must be in the wrong room- i have a lesson-“

ellie’s eyebrows raise and she lets out a slow sigh, “you, uh, you have a lesson?”

you nod, gripping your guitar case.

ellie laughs a little, like this is some sort of prank that was pulled on her:

“then you’re in the right room, because i’m pretty sure i’m supposed to teach you guitar this semester.”

you sharply exhale the breath you were holding in as the realization of what’s going on sets in, “but… you’re an astrophysics major?”

ellie chuckles again, “and a music minor, babe.”

you restrain the groan that you desperately want to make, your stomach sinking.

ellie pats the empty seat next to her, “well… let’s get started then. you know any bar chords yet?”

#rose writes #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x masc reader

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

Text

“You know, you’d probably be more comfortable in bed.”

Steve groans. Quietly.

“I’m gonna take that noise to mean, ‘Yes, Eddie, you’re so right, I should take my sick ass to bed!’, to which I am going to say, ‘Thank you, Steve for acknowledging how right I am.’”

If Eddie’s plan is to irritate Steve until he manages to get up off the couch and shamble himself to their bedroom, he’s on the right track.

But the thing is, Eddie is right (unfortunately) – Steve knows he’d be more comfortable in bed. The couch is too short and the cushions are too worn and the seats are just a little too narrow for him to really relax. But at the same time, the flu is trying to murder him, and he’s got a fever, and everything aches, and he doesn’t want to move.

Rather than explaining any of this to Eddie through his sore throat, Steve instead grumbles, “Your impression of me sucks.”

“Well, I’ll work on that while you’re resting,” Eddie drawls.

Steve manages a faintly agreeable-sounding noise and then pulls a throw pillow over his face.

“Steve,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t move.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again.

Steve is still not compelled to move.

“Steeeve. Come on.” Eddie reaches out to poke Steve in the side, who belatedly raises a hand to swat him away.

“Don’t wanna move,” Steve mumbles.

“You’re never allowed to call me dramatic again,” Eddie says.

“Mph,” Steve replies.

He hates being sick – really sick, the kind that his body just won’t tolerate pushing through. If he can’t pretend to be well, he feels he has no other recourse but to be dramatic.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Eddie offers. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Eddie declares, and Steve has just enough time to pull the pillow off his face and look up before Eddie is scooping him up off the couch.

“What the fuck!” Steve shouts, arms locking almost instinctively around Eddie’s neck as Eddie gets one arm settled beneath the crook of his knees and the other around his back.

“Relax, we’ll have you in bed in no time,” Eddie says, swinging around to face the living room door with a grunt and trundling forward.

“You’re gonna drop me,” Steve says, winding his arms more tightly around Eddie’s neck; he’s pretty sure no one has picked him up or carried him anywhere since he was maybe eight years old.

“Ye of little faith,” Eddie replies, only slightly strained.

“Me of exactly the right amount of faith, which isn’t a whole damn lot, no,” Steve insists, ducking forward when Eddie lists a little too close to one of the hallway walls.

“You’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

They reach the bedroom door and, as he’d promised, Eddie doesn’t drop Steve.

He does, however, whack Steve’s head on the doorjamb.

And then he drops Steve.

It doesn’t end up being much of a fall; Eddie only loses his hold on Steve’s legs, and with Steve’s death grip around Eddie’s neck, he mostly just lands awkwardly on his feet before tumbling down onto his ass with a thud and a quiet, “Ow.”

Eddie is on his knees beside him in an instant. “Holy shit, I hit your head.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. My head was the one part of me that didn’t hurt,” Steve grumbles, rubbing behind his ear, where his skull had connected with the doorframe.

“Oh my god, I hit your head,” Eddie says again.

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, we established that. Did you hit your head, too, or–”

“Shit, shit, are you dizzy? Is your vision blurry? Wait, fuck, you’re not wearing your contacts – are things blurrier than normal?” Eddie places his hands on either side of Steve’s face and stares into his eyes, as if he’ll be able to tell that way if Steve’s brain has finally been knocked loose. “Do you feel anything, like, swelling? Bleeding? Leaking?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t feel that sort of thing happening,” Steve says, and Eddie’s face crumples.

“Shit, you’re right, I should take you to the doctor,” Eddie declares, moving to stand up.

Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down. “Eddie, I’m fine.”

“No, your brain could be leaking or some shit, and you’re gonna have, like, an aneurism, and you’re gonna die, and it’s going to be all my fault because I hit your head and I killed you,” Eddie rambles, shaking his own head.

Steve isn’t sure if any of that is even correct, but he’s willing to bet Robin has been sharing her worries about Steve’s head trauma with Eddie. “That’s not–”

“Your head is the one part of you we really can’t afford to hit!”

“As opposed to the rest of me?” Steve asks, one eyebrow raised.

“If it comes down to it, yeah!” Eddie bursts out. “Do you even know how many times you’ve hit your head?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you’re afraid I don’t remember?” Steve asks drily. “Because you weren’t even there for most of those times, man.”

“It’s not funny,” Eddie says, and he’s definitely trying to sound stern, but he’s verging a little bit on whiny; he seems like he’s starting to calm down, since Steve has so far failed to collapse and die.

“Okay, then, seriously, Eddie – I’m fine,” Steve promises. “You didn’t even hit me that hard, it barely hurts.”

“Steve, I love you, but you have a severely skewed sense of pain and should not be trusted to rate it on your own,” Eddie says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Here,” he grabs one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it around to where his head had hit the jamb, “feel. Are there any bumps? Cuts? Anything seem out of place?”

With a frown of deep concentration, Eddie runs his fingers gently from the top of Steve’s skull to the base, occasionally pressing a little harder, but never hard enough to hurt.

“Good?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s had a minute to feel for himself.

Eddie’s shoulders slump. “I guess.”

“Ah, don’t be disappointed. Maybe it’ll be a concussion next time,” Steve offers.

Eddie shoots him a wildly unimpressed glare. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve decides, but he takes Eddie’s hand from his head and brings it around to press a kiss to the back of it.

There’s definitely a smile ticking at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t point it out.

“Do you want some ice, or something?” Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

“What I want is to walk over to the bed and lie down, and I want you to come with me,” Steve says. “And in an hour, I want you to bring me more Tylenol and some of that really good tea that Joyce sent over. Deal?”

This time, Eddie does smile. “I think I can handle that.”

Steve smiles back. “Good.”

They get themselves situated, Eddie at Steve’s back with an arm slung over him, a single blanket pulled up to their waists (“Pretty sure you still have a fever, sweetheart,” Eddie had insisted. “You’re gonna cook yourself to death if you cover up.”), and in the dim, sleepy light filtering through their curtains, Steve presses back further into Eddie’s chest.

“I like that you care so much,” he says quietly, and Eddie squeezes him a little more tightly.

He shifts enough that he can press his lips to the spot where Steve had bumped his head. “Always will,” he murmurs, and hell if Steve doesn’t believe him.

[Prompt: Bridal carries]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #pretty sure steve's method is not medically approved for testing for head trauma but he's fine #solar wrote

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seungfl0wer · 4 months ago

Text

*Jeongin Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Jeongin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: I honestly don’t think any?

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

You had come to the practice room to suppose your boyfriend. His birthday was close so you got him a little something knowing he’d be away for his actual day. You had went to knock at the door before you could hear him talking to one of the other members. “Yeah i don’t know man y/n is just so.. clingy at times?” He said trying to find his words. “Sometimes I just feel suffocated by them.” He let out a sigh running his hands through his hair.

“But y/n just loves you Innie and they don’t get to see you as often as most couples would.” The members voice soft. “Yeah I know it’s not like I don’t love them, it’s just when I do have alone time it feels like I have to spend it with them or I feel bad cause of that same fact.” He groaned out “I don’t know I just need space sometimes to relax to clear my head and it’s hard to do that sometimes with them around. I feel like I just gotta keep happy so the days we do have together aren’t waisted on my emotions.”

Your heart thudded his words making you dizzy ‘he feels suffocated by me? Am I really that clingy?’ You said to yourself taking a deep breath in. You turned on your heels about to walk back to your car before you were met by Chan. “Oh hey y/n! Coming to see Innie” he smiled at you. “Uhm yeah..” your voice cracking a bit “just wanted to drop something off to him.” You said Turing back around Chan opening the door following behind you. Jeongin quickly met your gaze he looked almost defeated seeing you.

“Hey babe” he said softly walking towards you “hey I just wanted to drop this off for you since I won’t see you on your birthday.” You said handing him the bag. He smiled softly opening the bag “wow babe you didn’t have to- I can’t believe you remembered I wanted this.” His face lighting up at the jacket he’s had his eye on for months. You took a note on it when he showed you knowing his birthday was coming up. You smiled at him seeing the other members seeing it was Felix.

“Hey y/n we were gonna go get dinner wanna come with?” He said with a smile. You shook your head no “I’m not feeling the best actually, I was just here to drop the gift off.” You gave him a fake smile “thank you though maybe next time.” You kissed jeongins cheeks “I’ll see you later” you said turning on your heals to walk out the door.

He sent you a text as you got into your car “let me know if you need anything babe” you shook your head feeling like you were about to cry. You headed home and the next few days you were almost silent only talking to him if he had messaged you first. The boy wasn’t the brightest at picking up on cues so he didn’t realizing you were distancing yourself.

About a week later he had just gotten back from Japan texting you about him landing.

You didn’t lie you were in bed and you ended up falling asleep. Jeongin was in a panic his heart racing, it felt like it was breaking like all the pieces were scattering trying to find you. He rushed to grab a cab, the ride there he was just a mess. His mind raced thinking of what could have happened then realizing how distant you had been lately.

‘They’re gonna dump me’ he thought making tears prick at the corners of his eyes. ‘No no no no’ he said shaking his head. He got to your place racing for your spare key. He bolted into your house only to see you lying in bed asleep. He softly touched your arms trying to wake you up. Your eyes fluttered open a bit annoyed to be woken up. “Jeongin why are you here?” You said voice scratchy from just waking up.

“I’m here because I’m concerned that.. that you’re gonna break up with me.. that I did something wrong and I..” his voice stuttered as he started to cry. “Talk to me.. please what did I do let me.. I.. let me fix it” he sobbed out. Your heart felt heavy seeing the man crying “Jeongin..” you said reaching out for him. He collapsed into your arms crying harder into your chest.

“Listen.. I heard what you said to Felix.. about feeling suffocated by me.. I’m sorry I just wanted to give you space didn’t wanna be clingy anymore..” you said feeling like you’d start bawling any minute as well. His head shot up “y/n! I- why didn’t you say anything?? That’s been how long? You’ve been carrying that hurt for that long.. I made you hurt for that long?” He sniffled wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry I’m so- fucking sorry babe.. please I-“ he sobbed harder into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way in the first place jeongin” you said rubbing his head. “Y/n listen our relationship is complicated things are different than normal relationship. So sometimes I need alone time. But” he said clearing his throat wiping his face. “But I love having you around it makes my heart melt just seeing you and you make me feel comfortable” he said looking up at you placing a kiss to your trembling lips. “I wish I had come to you about this I just was afraid of hurting you.” He said softly “but I guess either way I did”

He took your hand “please say something?” He said eyes pleading “your words have been circling in my mind jeongin.. I feel like.. like I need to change myself so I-“ you rambled but he cut you off “no! Do not change yourself. Never change yourself no matter what people say. No matter what I say dumbly. You’re amazing you’re the perfect person never change yourself please babe.” His words spewed out as you felt tears run down your face.

It was your turn to burry your face into his chest to cry “i love you jeongin i just wanna make you happy.” You said through sobs. He rubbed your back pulling you down into the bed wrapping his arms around you tightly humming into your ear to calm you down “I love you (full name) with all my heart you make me the happiest man alive and id never change a single thing about you.” He said pulling your face up to look at him kissing your lips softly.

You both laid there Jeongin started to sing softly as he rubbed your back. “Let’s sleep my love we can talk more in the morning if you want, I’ll even make breakfast.” He said kissing your head. You nodded no through puffy sleepy eyes “ok but how about we go get breakfast, I’d like my place not to burn down.” You both laughed a bit before you fell asleep to jeongins singing.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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tastesousweet · 4 months ago

Text

⭒ blurb : podcasting

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary: based on this ask!!! little blurb of the times you pop up on the ooc podcast

mickey speaks: this was so funny to write!!! also i need to be hamzah's gf yesterday bitch

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

hamzah having you in an episode with mandy and martin

“oh wow this couch gets kinda tight when four people are squeezed on here” hamzah says while adjusting a few pillows

“yeah,” martin starts before addressing the audience, “and, well, you’re probably wondering ‘who the heck is that?!’” he gestures his hand over to you, beside hamzah with your legs folded and knees lying against his thigh

you can’t help but smile as hamzah introduces you, “and, yeah, believe it or not i have a girlfriend.”

“i’m right next to you so i’d hope they believe it” give a soft giggle

“only hamzah would announce he has a girlfriend with ‘believe it or not’” mandy adds and hamzah throws a hand up in the air in defeat

★

martin: “i can’t help but think this feels like in middle school when people were just group dating all the time”

hamzah: “was group dating that common? i don’t remember that”

you: “i remember certain friend groups at my school doing that but i definitely wasn't participating”

mandy: “this isn’t really a group though martin, more like a double date? there’s four of us”

martin: "it's not all about numbers mandy sometimes there's just a vibe"

★

martin: “but you two have been dropping hints about dating for a while now”

you: “yeah, we’ve been doing a little soft launching here and there”

martin: “i like that term a lot actually”

mandy: “i think it’s cute, but i've seen a lot of people online that don't use it properly”

you: "i agreeeee, like you didn't soft launch by posting the back of his head if we already saw the front of it a week ago- we know who he is!!! there is no mystery"

martin: "oh so the appeal is the mystery... almost like scooby doo?"

hamzah, nodding his head: "mhm... exactly"

you: "it's always two dumb bitches telling each other-"

you and hamzah together: "exactlyyyyy"

martin looks over to mandy as the two of you laugh: "oh come on this is their first episode together and look at them mandy! we have to be cuter, come on. lock in."

hamzah: "hey no need to be jealous, my friend."

hamzah pats martins thigh

mandy: "so what was that right there?"

hamzah: "you wouldn't understand..."

martin: "no but seriously mandy you never soft launched me- only hard"

mandy: "there was no need to??? next time i'll do it i guess"

you, laughing: "next time???"

hamzah is sat in thought for an extra second before he replies to martin, making them both laugh

hamzah: “okay martin you said like that term so much? boy, now imma soft launch these nuts in your mouth”

you: "and i know you were thinking on that joke for a minute"

martin, through laughs: “okay, okay, enough”

hamzah, wiping his eyes: “well, now the jig is up. you know it's all aired out and public”

martin: “yeah... a hard launch on the podcast, that’s crazy bro”

you and mandy, mocking: “that’s craaazzyy brooo”

★

hamzah answering your call during a podcast

martin: “hamzah whenever you buy clothes from the store or get it shipped in the mail always wash your clothes!”

hamzah: “i do wash my clothes but if it’s new that doesn’t make any sense”

martin: “so you’re just gonna open it up and put it on?”

hamzah: “yes!”

hamzah’s phone starts ringing

martin: “and wow. now look who’s breaking the phone rule!”

hamzah: “stop shhh. it’s y/n”

he answers, hamzah: “hey what’s up?”

you see the mic in his hand and widen your eyes, you: “oh shit, i’m sorry to interrupt”

hamzah: “it’s okay i have something to ask you now anyway.”

you: "okayy.. do you wanna go first or me?"

hamzah: "you go ahead"

you: "okay quick- is this business casual enough for an event tonight?"

hamzah: "nobody is doing business lookin' that hot, you can't be serious"

you: "kay thanks"

hamzah, jokes: "you are not anyone's office siren, girl"

you: "i'm gonna hang up"

hamzah: "no!!! i need to ask if you wash your clothes after you buy them."

you: "if they smell like stale water and factory chemicals, yes"

hamzah: "martin is educating me on the importance of this unimportant thing right now."

you: "and you should listen to him, stinky"

martin: "thank you!"

hamzah: "oh nahhh, now i'm gonna hang up"

you: "mkayy bye, sorry for interrupting! bye martin!!!"

martin: "byee"

★

you drop something off at the warehouse studio while they’re filming

hamzah: "what was that noise?"

martin: "i don't know..."

hamzah: "it sounds like someone's actually trying to break in, what?"

martin: "were you expecting company?"

hamzah: "no, were you?"

martin: "no...i mean let's ask the audience"

martin turns to the camera, concerned

hamzah: "okay i'm actually about to go check. this is weird."

it cuts to a clip of hamzah sat again and you peeking your head in the frame to wave

hamzah: "nevermind. it was just my sweet girlfriend bringing us lunch, sorry if that scared you guys."

martin: "should we make like a super artifical thumbnail for clickbait? somethin' like; 'someone tried to kidnap us in our studio!'

hamzah: "no"

★

they have a trolling episode where you and mandy both sub in and act as martin and hamzah for an entire episode

mandy: "you know i find it crazy how we manage to talk about nothing for an entire hour"

you: "this is the talent people expect from us bro! and if we ever get too boring we can always discuss the state of sabrina and barry's relationship."

mandy: "true. and don't make fun of me but everytime man-crush monday comes around i'm always picking barry..."

you: "well if i can't make fun of you then i'll just stay quiet for your sake."

taglist -★ (some of u didn't ask to be tagged but have frequently liked my hamzah content lol, just lmk if you'd prefer not to be tagged!!!)

@sirenedeslily @333michelle @thatmartinkitten @@maybankfr @imsosillygoofylol @certainfestivalnerdshepherd

#slushynoobz #slushy noobz #slushy noobz virus #slushy virus #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah #thatmartinkid #martin and hamzah

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moonalumi · 9 months ago

Text

arguing with ellie n it goes too far

idk if this has been done but um be ready y’all i’m bouta cry

warnings- guys this is kinda sad um, angst, arguing, crying ig, ellie being easily agitated n mean, mentions of death, reader comfort el at the end guys trust!!

“el what’s wrong?” you ask as sweetly as you can. worried about how your girlfriend has been ignoring you and other people all week. she’s just been in her own little world writing and drawing the days away. every now and then you heard little sniffles coming from her direction but choose to ignore it; thinking she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk but it’s only been getting worse day by day.

she ignored your question again. flinching at your touch and cursing herself in her head for that.

“ellie please talk to me, i made you some food” you comfort once again, reaching out to brush out some tangles in her hair with your fingers.

“i don’t want it.” ellie mumbles out coldy. not even taking her attention away from her drawing.

“okay well i’ll leave it here in case you change your mind okay?” you kiss ellie’s head and unintentionally glance at her sketchbook. somehow she notices and slams it shut. pushing you away from her as well.

“cant you just leave me alone for two seconds?” ellie snaps. her tone of voice taking you by surprise.

“el— i’m sorry i didn’t look—“ you fumble your words. not knowing whether to look at the closed sketchbook or your angry girlfriend.

“i don’t care stop hovering over me constantly, i’m fine stop worrying.” ellie stands up to walk past you but not before you stop her.

“how am i supposed to know you’re fine? you certainly don’t seem fine when you haven’t even had a conversation with me in days!” ellie turns to look at you and you swear her eye contact with you could kill, you forget how mean she can look without trying to.

“drop it i don’t wanna argue with you” she trys walking away again but you grab her wrist.

“please talk to me, what’s wrong??” you beg, and lift your hand to push strands of her hair away from her face.

although ellie pushes your hand away, not roughly though, her touch is still soft unlike her words, “don’t fucking touch me just leave me alone i don’t want to be anywhere around you, just go.”

it hasn’t been the first time ellie had snapped at you like this and said awful things she didn’t mean. for some reason it’s in her nature to just lock away her feelings and attack anyone who tries to push their way in. unfortunately today you seem to be her victim. and after a year of being in love with her, you know her very well by now.

“you really want me to go ellie? cause i’ll go but who’s gonna be taking care of you like i am right now?” you raise your voice at her while picking up things of yours from around her room.

ellie just watches as you pick up your items. sitting there with a lil pout on her lips not saying a word as you stuff more stuff in a bag. but before you can even touch the doorknob to leave she stands up, “wait..” she whispers, if you listened carefully enough you would’ve heard her voice cracking.

“what is it?” you ask rather harshly. opening the door and stepping outside.

ellie panics, her eyes widening and her legs unintentionally making their way towards you in a rush, “wait don’t go” she whimpers.

only then do you turn to see ellie’s eyes filled with tears and her panicked expression. her tough angry demeanor changing in a matter of seconds. n that pout on her lips turned into quivering lips.

your own eyes soften at the sight. you can’t help but feel the pain and guilt for making her cry but you knew she needed a wake up call. you needed to let her know you won’t stand there and just take her hits.

“oh el i’m so sorry” you bring her in for a hug. letting her burry her face in your neck and squeeze you into her hold.

“n-no i’m so sorry i—shouldn’t have been so mean to you. don’t leave me” ellie hiccups and sniffles between her crys. getting your neck all wet with her tears and snot but you don’t mind.

“i’m not leaving you baby i just needed to teach you a little lesson i’m so sorry” you leave kisses all over her hair and scratch her back as she calms herself down.

lifting her head up, you kiss her cheek that’s all flushed and puffy n lead her back to bed. cuddling her and forcing her be little spoon.

a comfortable silence over takes you too as you just lay together, “you wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” you whisper breaking the silence.

you feel ellie take a deep breath and intertwine your hands together, “it’s— around the time of joel’s death date, i think that’s why i’m being like this.”

“i’m so sorry ellie” you try and comfort but you know there’s not much you can say or do to make her feel better about it other than being here with her like this.

“can you scratch my back? it felt good earlier,” ellie smiles at you as she asks the question.

“of course, c’mere” you sit up and let ellie lay onto of you as you lift her shirt up to scratch her back until she falls asleep <33

free palestine !!

#ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #the last of us #ellie angst #ellie fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie x masc reader #ellie fanfic

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sunarc · 5 months ago

Note

Sorry if it's basic but I would absolutely love breeding please🙇🙇

A/N: Listen i’m a slut for breeding!! I will literally never miss an opportunity to write about it 😭😭

If he could he’d spend the rest of his life buried between your legs sinking his cock into you. Is that too much to ask? Having you cry out his name while he fucks you full of his cum. He can't imagine anything more perfect than you with a round belly carrying his children.

“Do you want me to fuck a baby into you?” his lustful tone has you clenching around him. “Is that why you're holding me so tight begging me to keep going?”

His lips were pressed against your ear whispering the filthy words to you as his cock slammed into you at a relentless pace.

“Please, I want it so bad. I wanna feel your cum inside of me” you whimpered.

Your words had him feeling feral. All he could think about was watching his cum drip from your perfect hole. He wouldn't waste a single drop of it. He needed to watch you shaking with pleasure while he stuffed you full. You’d be such a pretty mommy. You’d look so perfect waddling around with his children.

“Im gonna fuck my cum inside, make you all mine” his words were dragging as he spoke.

He was losing his mind gripping onto you tightly dragging his cock in and out of your abused hole.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled growing more and more feral just to see you falling apart taking all of his cum

“You want me breed you full right”

Your only reply was a rushed nod of your head while you moaned sloppy pleads begging him to give you what you so desperately desired.

“Want me to fuck you so deep my cum goes straight to your womb?”

His questions left you feeling dizzy. You needed him so bad, every last drop that he could possibly give. His heart was hammering in his chest watching your eyes roll back while you begged for his cum. Did you really need him this much? He felt an explosion of joy bubble in him. His hands pinned your legs to your chest giving him full access to your slick core. The sloppy sounds of his cock filling you up was like fuel for him to fuck you harder.

“This pussy was made just for me, sucking me in so deep” he groaned

This was the perfect position to fuck you. All you could do was lay there and take everything he had to give you. You wouldn’t even need to beg for his cum, in this position he’d give it to you no matter what.

His thrust grew sloppier as he continued fucking you, slowly reaching his release.

“I’m so close baby, don’t worry you’ll be a mommy soon enough”

He sat up still pumping you full and watched as his cocked glided in and out of you with ease.

“Look at that, you can’t even help yourself, milking me dry without even trying” his voice was trembling. You could tell he was on edge. You needed him just as bad.

“Cum in me please, fill me up and make me a mommy” you begged.

His wide eyes looked at you with such love and devotion.

“Anything for you baby”

His orgasm seemed to take full control of his body. He couldn’t stop himself from fucking you at a pace so rough and fast you could barely speak.

“Take it baby, take my cum” He was completely gone, a mad man determined to stuff you full

“Don’t waste a drop, take what’s yours baby, take every ounce of me”

Kita, Bokuto, Ushijima, Sakusa, Toji, Nanami, Gojo, Sabo, Sanj, Erwin, Eren, Reiner

#kita smut #bokuto smut #ushijima smut #sakusa smut #toji smut #nanami smut #gojo smut #sabo smut #sanji smut #erwin smut #eren smut #reiner smut

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freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Text

Love Me*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Teach Me*

You and your best friend Harry have a few things to figure out.

So, why not figure them out while you're riding his face?

Word Count: 8.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!*

“Watermelon.”

Instantly, you go deathly still, muscles straining as the word echoes around the walls of your mind. Repeating itself over, and over, and over.

You attempt to sit up, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps his arms around you like a vice, caging you against his chest as his heart races beneath your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, a certain ringing in your ears that won’t quiet. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Somehow, his touch constricts even tighter, snaking around your ribcage as if to suffice as his reply.

“Harry?” you ask a bit louder, and you feel him stiffen at the sudden volume. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

He’s quiet. Far too quiet as his chin meets the crown of your head.

“Harry,” you stress for a third time. “What happened? What is it? If you’re gonna use your safe word, you have to tell me—”

“Nothing,” he breathes, fingers digging into the skin on your side. Bracing himself from the truth. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Never mind?” you nearly gasp as he finally lets go, allowing you to scramble upright. “Harry…you can’t say that and then never mind—”

“I didn’t mean to say it,” he mumbles, meeting your eye for only a moment before his lashes flutter and he looks off into the bedroom. “I just…I forgot. It’s nothing. Everything’s fine, okay? Just forget it.”

He pushes himself up as you climb off the bed, but your attention never leaves him. Studying his expression closely to find the real answer.

“Harry…” you venture cautiously, and again, you catch the way he hesitates. “If I did something—”

“No.” His answer is instantaneous, head shaking once before he looks up. “No. I told you, it’s fine. Really—”

“It can’t be fine if you said it—”

“Well, I didn’t mean to—”

“How can you not have meant to? What were you trying to say? Nothing else really sounds like watermelon—”

“Just…forget it, okay?” he sighs as he stands up and reaches for his boxers. “What’s the opposite of watermelon? I’ll say that.”

“Harry,” you huff for the hundredth time. “You…look, if there’s something we need to talk about—”

“There’s not.” The conviction in his voice is final as he proceeds to slip his shirt back on.

You’re slow to do the same, shimmying back into your clothes while also trying to maintain his focus. “We agreed that this only worked if we talked to each other. If we trusted each other—”

“This has nothing to do with trust, Bee,” he insists as he glances over at you. “I told you, it’s fine—”

“It’s not fine.” You nearly want to whine at his stubbornness. You’ve known him long enough to understand his little tricks. His tells. The way he avoids confrontation.

The way he avoids how he really feels.

“It is,” he says again, now brushing past you toward the door. “Okay? So…please. Just forget it.”

“I can’t forget it,” you argue as you follow him to the kitchen. “It’s a safe word for a reason. It means that you can say it and feel safe. That you can tell me what’s wrong, and what you’re thinking—”

“I don’t—” he begins before his eyes squeeze together and his jaw clamps shut. “I’m thinking I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Okay? I just…I wanna drop it. So let’s drop it.”

You watch as he braces himself against the kitchen sink, hands gripping onto the tub as he leans back and aims his glare at the floor.

And it hurts. It hurts to go from happily content in his arms to anxiously dejected a few feet away.

It hurts to know that there’s clearly something wrong that he refuses to share. Hurts to know you can’t help. Even after everything.

You taught him how to touch you.

But not how to talk to you.

You straighten up. “Fine,” you agree. “Fine, we’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

The small space falls quiet as you do your best to ignore the ever-present ringing in your ears.

Dropping it doesn’t fix it.

But you don’t know what else to do.

“I think…I think I’m gonna go,” you whisper, already taking a step back.

His head lifts, lips parting as he watches you move away from him. “Oh…okay.”

Despite it all, you wish he’d ask you to stay.

After retrieving your things from his room, you head for the door to his apartment, your heart dragging behind you on the floor.

He doesn’t move from his spot. He doesn’t chase after you or try to explain. He watches you walk away from him as if he always expected you to.

You pause to glance over your shoulder and find him. To offer him one last chance. “Harry?”

“…yeah?”

You take a deep breath. “Do you regret it now?”

You half expected his answer to come as quickly as the others.

But this one doesn’t.

This one seems to catch in his throat as his expression falls. “…I don’t know.”

And that tells you everything.

You don’t hear from Harry for three days.

He doesn’t text you. You don’t text him.

He doesn’t call you. You don’t call him.

You’re not trying to be petty. You’re not even trying to punish him, you’re just…

Confused.

You and Harry don’t fight. Not once in the fifteen years that you’ve known each other.

Sometimes you’ll get into spats. Or heated arguments. But you don’t ice each other out. You don’t resort to games and the silent treatment.

If that’s even what this is.

You knew opening this door in your friendship would make it impossible to close.

And now, it’s letting in a draft.

And after everything you felt with him, after everything you realized…

Having him so far away, so distant…makes you feel empty.

Incomplete.

As if there’s a missing piece to your puzzle.

You allow yourself to wonder if he’s simply learned all that he’s needed to learn from you. If he’s ready to be a good partner for Tina, and ready to resume just a platonic, non-sexual friendship with you.

Which you’d be more than okay with.

Really.

You would.

You’d have to be.

Because you don’t want to know what happens…if you wouldn’t.

So, you shove all thoughts of Harry and his lessons away. You reject each memory of his hands, and his lips, and his body, and his cock.

And you continue on with your life. You revert back to the way it was before, when it was just you and your vibrator.

But nothing is ever that simple, and you should have anticipated that even before there was a frantic knock on your door.

Confused, you toss your throw blanket aside and stand from the couch.

And when you swing the door open, you find Harry. Standing in your hallway. Slightly out of breath and wearing a curious expression on his face.

Kind of like the day he asked to eat you out.

The rush of deja vu almost overwhelms you as you blink at him. “…uh, hi?”

“Hi.” His greeting is as rushed as his gasp for air, as if he ran all the way up the five flights of stairs.

“What…are you doing here?” you ask hesitantly, letting your eyes trail down his body, cautiously looking for an explanation.

There’s a pause as he seems to study you back before he straightens up and takes a step forward.

“I’m finishing the list,” he exhales before seizing your face between his hands and kissing you.

You don’t have time to grasp onto the concept of his lips as he walks you backward toward the wall, kicking the door shut on his way in.

And he takes. Exactly the way he had before. He takes and he savors, and he owns. He says everything with this one kiss. Everything you know he can never say aloud.

Everything.

You don’t fight him on it. You probably should. Should probably stop him and ask him what he’s doing. Ask him what happened, what changed.

But maybe you don’t wanna know what’s changed. Maybe you’re just grateful it did.

So, you kiss him back. You kiss him, and you whisper his name, and you let your hands scratch down the back of his neck.

And you revel in the way he groans. In the way he drags his teeth down your throat to freshen up the already fading marks from the time before.

Then, his fingers trail down your arm to latch onto your wrist. And he tugs. Tugs you away from the wall he had pressed against so he can drag you toward your room.

“What are you doing?” you murmur as you scramble after him, an excited shiver traveling down your spine.

“You’re gonna sit on my face,” he declares, practically slinging you toward the bed. “Gonna sit on my fucking face and let me taste you.”

Your ass meets the mattress as he towers above. And despite how enthralled the idea has you…you pause. “Harry…I don’t know if that’s—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he interrupts, leaning down to press his palms to the bed, caging you between his arms. “I don’t wanna talk, I don’t want to overthink…I just want you to sit on my face.”

Your lashes flutter. “Harry—”

“No,” he repeats. He offers a single shake of his head. “No. You said this is about trust, right?”

“Right, but—”

“So trust me,” he whispers, dipping closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Trust me when I say it’s fine. Trust me…when I say the only thing I want…is to have you ride my tongue.”

And right now as you stare at him, and feel him, and inhale him…you have no other choice but to trust him, too.

“Okay,” you breath, already desperate to have him touch you. Hold you. Remind you why it felt so right in the first place.

“Okay?” he checks, the corner of his mouth curling up in a pleased smile.

You nod. “Okay. I trust you.”

And he’s overcome with exhilaration as he grabs onto the back of your neck to bring your mouth to his.

It’s only been two minutes—tops. But you’d missed his kisses. Missed having his lips on yours. Missed the way he completely owned you.

Missed the way he made you his.

He guides you onto your back, laying you against the mattress comfortably while allowing him the room to crawl on top of you.

And his frantic touches follow you all the way down, his nimble fingers dancing up your shirt until they can find your bare chest.

You gasp into his bottom lip as he takes you into his palm, effortlessly and expertly caressing you until you’re arching into his touch.

He groans when he feels you. Takes pleasure in having you. Getting to hold you the way he is now. Explore you.

His knee makes a home against your cunt, pressing into you subtly, as if to jumpstart the process. And you squirm against it, lungs aching for air as you tangle your hands in his curls.

And for a moment, you both simply enjoy. Enjoy this rather innocent connection. This innocent sensation of your bodies finding a rhythm together. This harmonious link between your body and his.

Then, he scoops his arm beneath your hips and rolls you both over.

Your knees meet the bed, one on each side of his waist as you brace yourself against his chest.

He grins lazily but he’s far too focused on the task at hand. So, he curls his fingers around your sleep shorts and begins to pull them down.

There’s a bit of awkward shifting and rearranging that follows as you help him toss them aside.

But once they’re off, his palms wrap around the backs of your thighs, and he brings you closer.

You’ve ridden a face before. Have quite enjoyed it, in fact.

But Harry…Harry isn’t just someone. Harry is…Harry.

And riding Harry’s face is a lot different than riding his thigh.

But he doesn’t give you a moment to think about that. And you’re almost positive he knows you are.

Because he shoots you this look of warning before tugging you closer to him, forcing your knees to scuffle a bit closer until you’re exactly where he wants you.

You take hold of the headboard to brace yourself, already tingling from where his fingertips are pressing into your skin.

And you can feel him breathing against you. Soft, chaste kisses being trailed along your inner thigh as he travels his way up.

He might be new at this, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. At least when it comes to you, and you could almost smile at his attention to detail.

“Relax for me, Bee,” he instructs, nose bumping your clit as your breath hitches. “Come on, it’s all right. Just relax and let me taste you.”

You try to do as instructed, allowing yourself to sink down a bit closer.

But the moment he drags his tongue through your arousal, you suck in a sharp breath and straighten up.

“Bee,” he growls, hands already pulling you back down. A bit harder than he had before.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, lids growing heavy as the lust-induced haze begins to wash over you. “M’sorry, just don’t…don’t wanna hurt you—”

“And what did I fucking say about that?” he nearly snaps. “Hurt me. Fucking suffocate me, if you have to. Sit on my goddamn face until I can’t breathe.”

“Harry,” you whisper, eyes screwing shut as he repeats his previous action. “I don’t…I can’t—”

The sharp smack to your ass makes your head drop back. It’s loud, and it’s firm, and it stings more than his previous spanking.

But it’s fucking amazing.

“I’m not gonna tell you again,” he warns. “You’re gonna ride my fucking tongue until I’ve had enough. Is that understood?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing from the dominant tone of voice. Nails already scratching down the wood of your headboard as you try to find the strength to speak.

There’s another zealous slap to your skin, his palm painting your body red with salacious intentions. “Answer me, baby girl.”

“Yes,” you whine. “Yes, I understand.”

“That’s my girl,” he hums, lips ghosting your cunt as he speaks. “You do what I say. Go where I tell you to go. Let me put you exactly where I fucking want you.”

And to prove this point, he tugs on your hips until your pussy meets his mouth.

And suddenly everything makes sense.

It’s fucking magic the way he treats you. The way he tastes you. The way he covers his tongue in your need for him.

He sucks and he swallows, and he pulls you so far down onto him that you’re surprised you don’t disappear into him.

But it’s…

Everything.

The only concept you truly understand in this moment. Him and his mouth and this endless desire to take. To have.

And you let him. Let him have you. Let him roll you over his tongue as he laps at you like he’s an animal.

“Harry,” you breathe for a second time, legs shaking from beside his head. “Fuck…please—”

Another spank lands firmly against your outer thigh. You can’t tell if this is to please you or to punish you, but either way…you enjoy it.

You swallow another curse as you surrender to his instructions, allowing yourself to be guided even further down.

“That’s it,” he says before nipping at your clit with his teeth. “Knew you liked it. Knew you needed me to take care of you, didn’t you?”

Your whimper comes from deep in the back of your throat as you let one hand travel down to his hair.

And when you scratch at his scalp with bliss, he smiles.

“Oh, you did,” he answers for you. “Needed someone to make it better. Needed someone to do it right.”

And those stories you used to tell him about Eric come rushing back as you’re reminded of all the ways he’d never been able to get you off.

And the way Harry has done nothing but get you off since the moment you started.

“Don’t you?” he pushes, clearly wanting to hear your confirmation, and you’re not surprised he has a praise kink. “Fucking needed me—”

“Yes,” you tell him. “Yes, always needed you—”

Another slap. “That’s right. Know you do. Know you need someone to make you feel so fucking good. Make you come the way you deserve. Make you see fucking stars—”

You cry out something resembling his name as his fingers begin to scrape down your legs. Forcing you impossibly closer. Forcing you to give him everything.

And he’s relentless. You truly cannot fathom anything besides the feel of his lips on your pussy or the way he holds you over his face or even the way he speaks to you. The low vibrations dancing right up the back of your spine.

Your mind is blank. Filled with nothing but images and feelings and ideas. Of the pleasure barreling toward you at an alarming rate. At the way he’s been working on you for only a few minutes but already you’re at the mercy of his objective.

“Please, please, please.” The word drips from your mouth like falling rain. Over, and over, and over. You can’t do anything else but beg. Beg him to keep going, beg him to go harder, beg him to never stop.

“So fucking good,” he murmurs, tongue driving inside before curling. Beckoning your release closer. “Aren’t you, baby girl? So fucking good for me—”

You nod, lip between your teeth as you chew.

“Make me so happy,” he says, nails clawing at the base of your spine. “Don’t you? Make Daddy so proud—”

“Shit—” Your forehead finds the headboard as you tug on his curls. It’s almost too much. Yet somehow not enough. “Harry—”

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, guiding you up as your chest just about caves in. “No. Try again.”

“Har—”

“Try again.”

Your eyes roll, half from the pleasure but mostly from the pain of his annoyance before you oblige. “Daddy…please.”

He doesn’t answer with words, instead forcing you back down to continue his ministrations.

He knows you’re close. You know he knows. And his desire to get you there is power in itself.

Because even after everything, even after fighting, even after years of friendship and dad jokes…he wants to take care of you.

Wants to give you exactly what you deserve.

So…he does.

The sound of his name on your tongue is dissolute and depraved. Needy and pathetic and filled with the kind of yearning you yourself don’t even understand.

But you welcome the relief with open arms. Welcome the way he holds onto you as he swallows the rush that follows.

And he fucking groans. In a similarly desperate way that nearly doubles the length of your orgasm.

He’s never sounded so content. So satisfied and pleased. And you do feel good. Feel so good to have made him so proud. To have been the reason for this eager agreeance.

But then…he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop, even after you’ve attempted to squirm up and away from his continued attempts. Even after you’ve whined, “Harry,” and scratched a little harder on his scalp.

He keeps going.

“Har,” you sigh, already too sensitive to form a cohesive thought. “Har…s’okay…I came—”

“I know,” he says simply, palms pressing into your side to keep you exactly where you are. “And you’re gonna come again.”

“Harry,” you gasp, almost as if shocked by the very idea. “Har, I…s’too—”

“What?” His tongue flattens against your cunt before dragging up toward your clit. “Overstimulation was on your list, right?”

Your lashes flutter rapidly as you rest one hand back on the headboard. “I’m…yes…yeah—"

“Then you’re gonna come for me again,” he informs you. “And again. And again, until I’ve decided you’re done.”

And you want to argue. Wanted to tell him that you’re exhausted but you can already feel the next one on its way.

Because he’s speaking to you in that familiarly aggressive way that makes your heart pound. That makes your skin erupt into goosebumps and your brain turn to mush.

God, his voice. His voice alone could do damage. Could tip you over the edge a hundred times. He could be whispering the fucking alphabet and you’d be putty in his hands.

And maybe it shouldn’t be so easy to turn you so submissive, but you’ll happily do as he asks as long as he keeps asking you in that voice.

As long as he keeps telling you that your pleasure is his. That you…are his.

Nobody else exists outside of this room. Not Eric. Not Tina. Not any future lovers or partners.

Not even any consequences.

Right now, in this room…it’s just you.

The second one doesn’t hit as hard as the first, but it still knocks you off-kilter, forcing you to shake within his hold.

But he keeps you steady. In more ways than one. He makes sure you don’t have the room or space to crawl off him, or even think about takingyour pussy away from his greedy search.

“Harry,” you mewl, pulling so hard on his curls that it has to hurt. “Please…please—”

You aren’t sure if you’re asking him to stop or let you come again, but either way, he pursues the third one.

And this time…he adds his hand.

After repositioning you just so, he easily slips two fingers inside, meeting your g-spot almost instantly.

You nearly go blind from how good it feels, how hard it hits you. From how happy you are to find relief in his arms.

The third is kinder to you. Shorter but much more intense. Like a burst of pure adrenaline and euphoria.

It almost hurts when you finally begin to unwind, and his movements start to slow. He must be able to tell you don’t have too much left to offer and you appreciate the way he eases out of you with great care.

He helps shuffle you back until you can collapse onto the bed beside him. But he doesn’t let you go too far, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to help cement you into his side.

Your leg tangles between the two of his while your face buries into his neck. You’re spent. Physically and emotionally. But he allows you a moment to rest, fingers stroking your skin gently to help bring you back to him.

“You okay?” he murmurs, turning his head so his lips can meet your forehead. “S’it too much?”

“No,” you breathe, eyes falling closed as you inhale the comforting scent of his cologne. “No, it was good. A little confusing…but good.”

And you know he knows what you mean.

But still, he chooses not to respond. Chooses not to offer any sort of insight into what happened that day in his room.

Instead, his arm pulls you closer. “Well…did we cover everything? Is there anything left to check off?”

Your head rolls back so you can see him, the idea already taking root in your mind. “I can think of one more thing…if you’re up for it.”

His eyebrow raises.

You smile. “Pegging.”

He leans back, eyes growing wide. “Really?”

“Yeah. But…only if you were actually serious about that,” you correct as you begin to sit up. “Most guys are a little hesitant about it, and I guess I get why. So…if you don’t think that’s something you’d really be—”

“I’d be honored if you’d fuck me.”

You blink. “Really?”

“Really.” His hand comes up to brush a fallen hair behind your ear, touch lingering on your cheek as he studies you. “I know you’d do it right.”

You grin. “I’m flattered you have so much confidence in me.”

“I do,” he agrees softly, thumb sweeping across your jaw. “Of course I do. You should know that.”

But you don’t know that. Not after what he said last time.

And the reminder of your previous argument makes you hesitate. “You need to really think about what you’re agreeing to, Har. Because if you don’t like it, and you want to stop…I need to know that you’ll tell me. I need to know that you trust me enough to tell me what you need.”

His brows pull together, lips quickly falling into a frown as his hand drops to his chest. “You know I trust you—”

“Do I?”

His tongue comes out to run over his bottom lip. “I promise. I trust you. I want to do this. I want to try it. With you.”

“Har—”

“If I don’t like it, I’ll say something. I promise,” he continues. “But I won’t know if I like it or not until I try. And you should always try everything at least once, right?”

You huff. “Yeah, but—”

“Come on…don’t you wanna fuck me?” he teases, gingerly nudging you with his elbow. “I’ll be such a good boy, I swear.”

And you groan at the playful way he speaks, already feeling much better about the proposition. “God. See? This is why I think you’re annoying.”

“You love me,” he declares as you stand from the bed.

And for some reason, your stomach tightens. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You gonna sit there all day or are you gonna strip?”

Instantly, he perks up, watching you closely as you rummage through your nightstand. “What, I have to take my clothes off by myself? You’re not gonna help me?”

“Nope.” You glance over and nod your chin at him. “Go on. Be a good boy.”

This time, he rolls his eyes as he laughs and begins to undo his pants.

As he begins to undress, you begin to gather what you’ll need. You locate the bottle of lube and the dildo, heart in your throat as you allow yourself to imagine what’s about to happen.

You don’t know if he’ll truly like it or not. You want him to. Want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. As much pleasure as he deserves.

But…guys are weird about this. And this kind of intimacy goes far behind missionary.

You know what you’re doing. This isn’t your first time exploring the pleasures of a strap-on with a guy. You know you’ll be able to take care of him for as long as he lets you.

You just…don’t want it to change anything else. You don’t want him to retreat into himself the way he did last time.

You don’t want to lose him.

You can’t.

Once you’re ready, you return to the bed just as he’s peeling his shirt off his chest and tossing it toward the floor.

And you let yourself admire him. Let yourself drink in each tattoo, each scar, each dip of his muscles.

He is beautiful.

You notice the way he smiles at your admiration before looking down at the items in your lap. “Where, uh…where do you want me?”

You glance over the mattress. “Hands and knees should be good. Just…anywhere you feel comfortable.”

He nods once, swallowing thickly as he steps forward and begins to crawl back onto the bed.

The room is eerily quiet as you both move into position. You hadn’t expected things to feel so…heavy. But you suppose they are. Suppose neither one of you anticipated your adventure leading you here.

But…you don’t exactly mind.

He stills when he’s gotten into position, head dropping as he stares at your duvet and waits for your next instruction.

You clear your throat and reach out to smooth your palm down his spine. He jolts when he feels you but relaxes quickly, exhaling an anxious sigh.

“You okay?” you call softly, continuing the gentle caress to loosen him up.

He nods again. “Yeah. Promise. Just…nervous? I guess?”

“I know,” you whisper, settling onto your knees as you dip down to press a kiss to his bare hip. “You still trust me?”

And you can feel the way his entire body goes rigid from your mouth on his skin, his chin meeting his chest. “Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Fucking promise, Bee. Just…”

“Just what?” Your fingers dance toward his ass, ghosting over the curve as you move your kisses toward the middle. “Tell me.”

You’re happy to put him under the same duress he put you earlier, and the way his fists curl around the blanket beneath him makes you smile.

“Bee,” he attempts to warn, but you aren’t having it.

You simply trail your lips down the back of his thigh, and hum, “Come on, Daddy…wanna take care of you. But I can’t until you tell me what you want.”

You can see just how badly he wants to comply, his cock swollen and red. You know that’s mostly thanks to him eating you out and you feel your cheeks warm at the knowledge that it did that to him.

That you did that to him.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” you coo, reaching around to slide your palm down the tip as he hisses and lurches forward. “Poor Daddy…bet it’d feel so good to come, wouldn’t it?”

“Bee…please,” he respires. “Please, just…god, please touch me. M’gonna lose my fucking mind.”

You smile again as you straighten back up and reach for the lube. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

Your head shakes. “Mhm. Okay…I’m gonna start with a finger. But I need you to really be—”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you repeat, equally as soft before you squeeze the liquid into your hand. “Take a deep breath for me.”

He does, the muscles in his arms tensing as the tip of the bottle meets his ass. And when he feels the gel begin to drip down, he reels.

“That’s just the lube, Har,” you tell him, biting back a laugh.

“I know, but it’s cold,” he grumbles as you finish and toss the item aside.

You give him another moment to unwind before you bring your pointer finger closer…and gingerly slide inside.

You’re more than careful, listening closely for his reaction. It sounds like…relief, but you can’t be sure.

“Har?” you call again, other hand smoothing along his hip to give it a squeeze.

“M’fine,” he mumbles, once again fisting your duvet. “Promise. Go.”

“Are you—”

“Go,” he stresses before sucking in a quiet breath. “Please, baby. Go. Keep going.”

So, you do. You ease in a bit further until you’re about halfway in, pausing to let him adjust.

He seems to be doing pretty well, despite the way his stomach quivers and his cock twitches.

And after pumping him once or twice with great care, you push in to the knuckle.

He likes this, a particular groan emitting from his throat as he subtly shifts back into your hand. “Shit, Bee.”

“How’s it feel?”

He takes a moment to think. To find the right words. “Good. Full…I guess.”

“Yeah, and that’s only my finger.”

You hear him make a noise that resembles a laugh before he groans again. “God…please don’t stop. Please…I promise, I’m fine. I just…I…”

“Need more, don’t you?” you answer for him, working the lube in and out as he nods quickly.

“Yes. Yes…more.”

And who are you to say no?

You pump him a few more times before bringing a second finger into play. Again, you go slow. Making sure to gauge each sound and movement he makes so as to not hurt him. Or catch him off guard.

But he’s growing desperate. Mindlessly following your thrusts as he grows accustomed to the feeling. As he becomes familiar with the pleasure it brings him.

His jaw drops, hand coming up to his cock to stroke it lazily, needing some sort of friction.

But you reach around and slap it away, tsking as you warn, “Not yet. Not until I’m ready—”

“Bee,” he whines, and the desperate waver in his voice almost guts you.

“Shh. Just one more minute, okay?”

“Please…"

“I know. M’almost ready. Promise.”

He does his best to comply, nodding weakly as he lets his hand drop back down to the bed.

And you feel bad for him, you do. But seeing him so unhinged just about ruins you, and you can feel the way your cunt aches. The way it practically yearns for him, dripping all down your thighs as you continue to work your fingers into him.

And once you’re sure he’s ready…you reach for the dildo.

You’re more than generous with the lube, making sure to keep the experience pleasurable and easy.

And the dildo itself isn’t all that intimidating. Not nearly as big as he is. Average, at best. Perfect for a beginner.

The lack of stimulation makes him restless, and your heart clenches for him as you secure the strap-on around your hips and finally bring the tip back to his glistening hole.

The faint brush of it makes him whimper, and the sound of this confident man coming undone by your hand is what changes everything.

Everything.

It’s music. A goddamn symphony, and you chase the sound by slowly easing the dildo in.

An easy enough task, exactly like you’d hoped.

But he loses it.

The moan is deep and vulgar, echoing off the walls of your bedroom as you squeeze your legs together and press your fingers further into his hip.

“Good,” you hum, dipping down to kiss the base of his spine. “So good, Har. Promise. You okay?”

“Fucking shit,” is his reply. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You smile. “Give me your hand.”

He sluggishly reaches back for you, fingers intertwining with yours when you find him. And it makes your stomach flip but it’s not what you had in mind.

You bring your hands over to his cock, guiding him along the swollen shaft as he instantly ruts into your palm.

“Bee,” he gasps, squeezing both your knuckles and his tip. “Please—”

“I know,” you say again, continuing to work the dildo into him. Slowly at first before you find a steadier rhythm. “I know, doing so good—”

“Shit—”

“That’s it. Just like that. Like when I play with you, don’t you?”

He nods as you both begin to pump him, now matching the pace you've set with your thrusts and the dildo. "Yes...yes. Please don't stop—"

"Won't. Promise," you whisper, kissing down his hip.

His squirming increases, the one arm holding him up now shaking as he does his best to remain upright.

But it feels too good. You can see the pleasure written all over the side of his face, and it does fucking wonders for you.

You've never felt more proud to be responsible for his pleasure. To be responsible for making him fall apart the way he is. For showing him exactly what he deserves.

And he takes it. Takes it so fucking well, clutching onto you as you continue to work him closer.

And he feels so good. So good in your hand. So heavy, and needy, and ready for the release you've promised him.

You want to give him that release more than anything. Want to show him how good it can be. Want to show him the fucking stars.

He yells when he finds it. Your name and about a string of curses, all falling from his tongue one after the other.

He covers your hand, and your bed, and his stomach. And when he collapses, he takes you with him, pulling you down until your chest meets his back.

You imagine this can't be all that comfortable for him, especially with the dildo now halfway out, but he doesn't complain.

He continues to hold onto your wrist as he works to catch his breath.

And you don't fight it.

A minute or two passes before you gently ease the object out, unclip it from your body, and toss it aside.

He hisses at the loss of contact before settling once more, fingers still cemented to your hand.

You know you’ll need to clean up, but he doesn’t seem to have any future plans to do so.

It makes you smile, your cheek pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. His skin hot and slightly sweaty.

For some reason…it feels good.

“Bee?” he calls quietly, as if not to disrupt the tender moment.

You hum.

“Thank you.”

You let your eyes flutter shut. “Hey, what are friends for?”

A beat.

He tenses. “Yeah…”

Then, the silence returns.

But this time, it’s different.

This time…it’s heavy.

And when he lets go of your hand, you realize it’s not just in your head.

Things happen quickly. You barely get the chance to roll off of him before he’s sitting up and climbing off the bed. You don’t even have time to ask what changed as he begins reaching for his clothes to re-dress, your heart instantly dropping to your stomach.

“Har…?” you stammer as you awkwardly reach for your underwear. And this rush of deja vu is much more unpleasant than the last. “What…what’s—”

“I gotta go,” he mumbles under his breath, his back to you as he slips his hoodie on. “I forgot. I’ve got…something I’ve gotta do.”

“Oh…” Your chest deflates as you watch him step into his shoes. “What…um, what do you have to do?”

Once he straightens back up, he stills, and you wish you could see his face. “S’not important.”

With that, he heads for your living room, leaving you behind.

And you watch him go, a dumb founded look on your face as he makes his way for the front door.

A hundred and one things instantly run through your mind, from explanations to unpleasant realizations.

But the moment you watch him disappear into the hallway without so much as a glance back, you realize none of it fucking matters.

Just him.

You chase after him, scrambling toward the lobby in hot pursuit as he pushes through the double doors and disappears into the parking lot.

And you’re right behind, slipping out as well as he strides away from you, when you’re suddenly forced to a screeching halt the moment you’re met with a downpour of rain.

The sky is dark, the only smattering of light coming from the few street lamps placed along the sidewalk.

You hadn’t realized it was so late, or so rainy, but you don’t let it stop you.

Instead, you plant your feet onto the steps of the building, and shout, “Watermelon!”

It echoes across the parking lot until you see him freeze, his drenched back still to you.

Then…he turns.

Only about halfway, the hood on his head allowing just enough light to catch the side of his face.

But it’s enough.

“Watermelon,” you repeat as you take a step closer, water trickling down your hair, your body, your clothes. But you don’t care. “I call watermelon.”

He frowns. “The hell are you doing? Go back inside—”

“No.” Your teeth grit, fingers squeezing into fists by your side as a rumble of thunder rolls across the sky. “No. I want you to talk to me.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he tosses a glare your way. “I told you, I don’t wanna talk—”

“Tough shit.” You take another step. “’Cause I do. And you owe me that.”

The frown deepens. “Bee…don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” Another step. “After everything we’ve been through…you really think you can’t talk to me? You really think I’m not trustworthy enough to hear what’s going on?”

He scoffs and glances away. “God, you never fucking listen. I told you, it’s not—”

“No, you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me anything,” you remind him, volume raising ever-so-slightly as you continue closer. “Something is wrong, Harry. I know you. And I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me—”

“I don’t want you to fix it,” he seethes. “I want you to drop it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t do that. We work it out.”

“We can’t work this out.”

You hesitate as the first clue slips free. “So there is something to work out?”

He sighs, eyes falling shut. “Bee…please go back inside—”

“No.” Yet another step. “No. What is it? What happened? What did I do—”

“Nothing,” he nearly growls, whirling around to face you as if to really nail in his point. “I fucking told you. Nothing—”

“Then what?”

“Bee—”

“What? Is this about Tina—"

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Seriously, did she say something—"

“Bee—”

“Is she mad about this—”

“Can you just—”

“What? Do you feel guilty—”

“No, I just—”

“If you wanted to stop, all you had to do was say something—”

“I didn’t—that’s not—”

“Then what, Har? What happened? Why won’t you fucking—”

“I can’t do this.”

You stop.

He stops.

But nothing else stops. Not the rain. Not the lightning. Not the thunder. Not the racing in your chest as your heart beats against your ribcage like a goddamn drum.

I can’t do this.

You don’t think you heard him right. “…what?”

He scrapes his teeth together. “I can’t…I don’t wanna be friends with you. I don’t wanna be just friends with you, I don’t…fuck.”

He looks down at the wet cement as your lashes flutter and you work overtime to figure out what he’s saying.

“I—for fuck’s sake,” he hisses, almost more to himself before his eyes snap back to yours. “Look, I know that all of this was just…you helping me out. Okay? I know that. I know it meant nothing.”

A crack of lightning strikes the sky and somehow, it’s still not as intimidating as what he’s about to stay.

“But then…it did mean something,” he continues, a bit softer. “It meant everything.”

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what he wants you to say.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he grumbles, frowning once more. “I know, okay? I know. And that’s not…we agreed that it would just be…this. Just this. Nothing else. ’Cause we don’t do anything else. We don’t do…whatever, okay? I know.”

He looks back out into the dark city, leaving you to stare blankly at the side of his face.

“But it’s you,” he says, hands nestling further into the hoodie. “It’s you, and it’s always been you. Fucking always, Bee. Ever since we were kids. And I didn’t…I didn’t know why. Didn’t even know what it was, but it’s never felt like this with anyone else. Only you.”

Only you.

“And I don’t wanna…fuck, I don’t wanna lose you,” he just about sighs. “I can’t fucking lose you, Bee. But it just…I don’t think I can do this and not fall in love with you.”

You suck in sharp breath, and he looks back.

“Because I will,” he whispers, despite the rain. But you hear it, clear as day. “I will fall in love with you, and I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t have me.”

He stops now. Allowing the words to sink in. Allowing the truth to make a home in your mind.

And you work to understand. Work to find a response…but the only thing you manage is:

“What about Tina?”

After all, this started with her. It’s only fair that she play her part now.

His expression twists. You don’t know which way. “I like Tina. She’s nice. And she’d probably be really good for me.”

A pause.

“But she’s not you,” he finishes, and for some reason…you’re filled with relief. “It doesn’t feel like this with her. I don’t think it ever will.”

“You don’t mean that,” you blurt out, head shaking quickly. “No, it was just the sex. It’s throwing you off, it...it screws everything up and makes people think they feel one way…when they don’t.”

“Bee…” he begins, almost as if tired, but you barrel on.

“No, you said it yourself. Remember? Endorphins and shit?” You brush some wet hair from your face. “You just…it’s not me. It’s just the sex.”

“No.” He sounds so sure. So confident in his decision. “No, it’s not. It’s you. Always you, Bee—”

“Har—”

“You don’t have to like it. But that’s how it is—”

“Harry…you just…you don’t—”

“But I do.”

“Harry.” You want to stomp your foot. “You can’t…you don’t mean it. You’re confused.”

His eyes soften. “I’m not. I mean…I am, but not about why. Not about this—not about you.”

A pause settles between you as more thunder echoes across the dark sky.

And you look at him. Really look at him. Look for the truth, or the deception, or for anything that will help you make sense of all this.

“You said watermelon,” you remind him, blinking the droplets of rain from your eyes. “Why did you say watermelon?”

Another sigh as he glances back down at his sneakers. “’Cause…I knew. I knew I was starting to…need you. More than I should. And it fucking…it fucking scared me. It scared me how fucking…real it felt.”

Truthfully, you’re a little surprised that the man who has never once before admitted defeat would now confess his fear to you.

But it makes your head spin.

“And I just…it was a lot,” he continues. “Seeing you. Seeing what I’d done. I mean…the marks. On your neck. I did that. I’ve never done that to someone before. But then I did. And I liked it. I liked getting to be that way with you, and it fucking terrified me. Because what if I hurt you? Actually hurt you somewhere down the line? I’d never fucking forgive myself.”

Your lips press into a quivering line. “…why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter,” he huffs, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters because you don’t feel that way, and we’re finished with the list anyhow.”

You instantly follow after him, bridging the gap he made. “Don’t. It always matters with us, Har. Always. I mean…do you really think I haven’t wondered the same thing? Do you think it’s been fucking easy to do this with you and then just go back to watching Schitt’s Creek? It’s killed me. Fucking ruined me from the inside out to watch you walk away from me.”

His teeth grit once again, as if steeling himself from the truth.

“You mean everything to me, you goddamn twat,” you just about shout. “Sex or no sex, it doesn’t change that. I agreed to do this with you because I knew it was us. I knew we would be okay. Because we had to be okay. I can’t lose you either, Har. So stop trying to make me—”

“Then, what do you want me to do, huh?” he bellows. “Just wait around for you to believe me?”

“I…I do believe you, I just…I—”

“You just don’t feel the same way—”

“No, I didn’t say that—”

“Then what—”

“I…I—”

“What? I have to tell you, but you don’t have to tell me—”

“That’s not…that’s—”

“What do you want, Bee? What do you want me to do, what do you expect me to—”

“I love you.”

He stops.

Suddenly, and all at once, his eyes going wide.

But you don’t stop. “I love you,” you repeat loudly. “And I’m fucking terrified, too. Because I don’t want it to be just about sex. I don’t want it to be just the endorphins and shit. I want it to be real. I want us to be real.”

The silence seems to span an eternity as the rain continues to beat down around you.

Then…he surges forward.

He grabs hold of your wet cheeks with his drenched hands and yanks you closer.

And he kisses you.

He kisses you until you’re more him than you. He kisses you until you no longer have the strength to stand or the power to fight him.

He kisses you until it makes sense.

After a moment, he pauses to allow you a minute to breathe. But he doesn’t go very far. He presses his forehead to yours and he keeps you.

And it’s fucking…everything.

“What if we’re not?” he whispers. “What if we’re not real? What if we aren’t…us?”

You shake your head. "We'll always be us."

He exhales a gentle laugh before brushing his thumbs across your skin. "What if it changes everything?"

You wish you could assure him that it won't. Or even that it will, but in the best way.

But you can’t.

So, instead, you squeeze your fingers around his wrists and smile.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Thank you so much to everyone for reading, following along, and offering me so much support on this series 😭 I will never be able to thank you enough for all the kind comments and wonderful feedback, but please know I appreciate you all endlessly 🥹💞💞💞💞

Also, I suppose I did kind of lie. This will probably be the last part of the “main” series but I’ve actually got a few more ideas for extra blurbs and parts about other kinks and situations they might get into. So, if you’d like to follow along, I would be so honored to have you back!

And if you’d rather leave their story here, that is absolutely okay, too! Thank you so much for being here!

Now…I’m gonna go cry HAHAHA ♥️

Next Part:

~ Find Me* (A Teach Me Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags: (I have no idea if you all wanted to be tagged in each additional part, and if not, please let me know and I am so sorry for dragging you here! And if you did...then welcome back!!)

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