#im sorry im sorry its too sweet and sticky

[otrtbs]

asked for an iced chai 2day (w espresso obviously) and this place just gave me chai flavored syrup,,,, im gonna blow everything up

[wonderlandwalker]

Two can play (but three's more fun) | Steve Harrington x reader x Eddie Munson

stranger things masterlist / inbox

summary: when Steve catches Eddie staring a little too long at his girlfriend, he doesn’t throw a punch—he extends an invitation. And as Eddie quickly learns, Steve doesn’t just share; he teaches, with slow, filthy demonstrations.

word count: 5.2k

tags / content warnings: smut, just pure filth really, posessive steve, desperate eddie, a lot of swearing, I couldn't help it, maybe some repetitive words but smut vocabulary just has it's limits

a/n: I got insanely stoned and wrote this so if it came out too horny i'm sorry, also im ovulating oops. I've prolly been very inconsistent with grammar tenses but I can't be bothered to check it. I usually correct my grammar after i've already posted so the masterlist link has significantly less errors than earlier versions

The living room was bathed in the flickering glow of the TV, some forgotten horror movie playing on low volume—The Thing, maybe, or was it Halloween?—its eerie soundtrack warping under the weight of the thick, sweet-smelling haze curling through the air. 

Eddie had outdone himself with this new strain, something sticky and potent that left his limbs heavy and his usual sharp edges dulled into something languid and warm, his thoughts perhaps a bit too syrupy.

“—I know I talk a big game, man, but fuck. I have no clue what I’m doing when it actually comes down to it.”

His voice was a low mumble, words slipping out like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. He tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers.

Steve blinks at him, slow and rhythmically, before snorting. “What, like… at all?”

“Yeah, man. Like—”  Eddie waves a hand vaguely, the silver of his rings glinting as he moves. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what sounds are real and which ones are fake? It’s fucking Russian roulette.”

The next reaction from Steve is immediate, no hesitation. Just a lazy, knowing smirk as he stretches his arms behind his head. “Huh. Well, once you know the difference, it becomes pretty obvious.” He pauses, just long enough to take a quick glance over Eddie’s face. “If you really need some pointers, I can ask my girlfriend if she wants to help you out.”

Eddie nearly comes crashing to the fucking floor.

Because fuck. He’s had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that he’s ever admitted it out loud — not when Steve Harrington has a reputation for rearranging the faces of guys who so much as look at you wrong. Eddie has seen it happen: some poor asshole at a party, fingers skimming your ass as you passed, and bam — Steve’s fist in his jaw before anyone could blink. There’s even a rumour some other idiot once stared just a little too long at the way your lips wrapped around the neck of your beer bottle and then slurred, “Wanna spin the bottle?” Word is, Steve dropped him in one hit. No warning. No theatrics. Just pure, primal instinct.

So yeah, Eddie’s kept his mouth shut.

But now? Now Steve is watching him with this lazy, half-lidded expression, like he hadn’t just detonated a goddamn bomb in Eddie’s head.

“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie pleads, his voice rough.

Steve just grins — slow, deliberate — his eyes dark with something Eddie can't name. “Nah, man. She’s actually really into that kinda stuff.” His voice drops, gravel scraping over each word, and Eddie’s stomach flips “And I’d do anything for her.”

The air feels thick as Eddie’s pulse roars in his ears, his throat suddenly bone-dry. Was this a test? A trap?  Christ.  Harrington was going to be the death of him, and worse—Eddie knew he’d fucking thank him for it.

His fingers twitch at his sides. “...Yeah?”

Steve’s smile only widens, but his eyes soften. “Yeah.”

When Eddie shows up at your place the next night, he’s strung tight enough to power Hawkins twice over, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours convincing himself he’d imagined the whole conversation, that there was no way Steve Harrington just offered— 

And then you open the door.

Dressed in nothing but one of Steve’s old band tees, the fabric riding high on your thighs, you greet him with a smile that damn near stops his heart. “Hey, Eddie.”

His mouth goes dry. And before he can choke out a response, Steve is behind you, hands sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. And then — Jesus Christ.

The kiss Steve gives you isn’t just heated — it’s filthy. All tongue and teeth, your fingers twisting in his hair as he backs you against the doorframe, his hands already under your shirt like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon.

Eddie’s knees nearly give out.

“Watch,” Steve murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks away, his gaze flicking to Eddie over your shoulder. His voice dark and commanding. “And pay attention.” 

Then, right there in the doorway, Steve pulls the shirt over your head — meticulously slow, like he wants Eddie to memorise every second. And, well — Eddie does.

He memorises the way your breath hitches when Steve’s fingers brush over your ribs, the way you arch into his touch, the soft, real sounds spilling from your lips as Steve’s mouth finds the top of your breasts— 

Eddie’s throat protests as he swallows, fingers twitching at his sides like he can’t decide whether to bolt or drop to his knees.

Steve notices —of course he does— and his lips curl into something dangerously close to a challenge. “You just going to stand there, Munson?” His hands slide down your hips, squeezing just hard enough to make you softly gasp. “Thought you wanted to learn.” Eddie manages to get control over his brain just long enough to answer “I— Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I do.”

Steve hums, pleased, and spins you around to face Eddie fully, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach. “Then get over here.”

It’s not a request.

Eddie moves like a man in a trance, close enough now to feel the heat of your skin, to catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume. His gaze darts between your face and Steve’s fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your collarbone.

“First lesson,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to nip at your earlobe.  “Don’t just touch. Listen.”  His free hand reaches out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and dragging it toward you. “Feel how she reacts.”

Eddie’s fingertips brush your waist—hesitant at first, then firmer when you shiver under his touch. His breath hitches as you lean into him, lashes fluttering when his thumb grazes the delicate curve of your ribs.

“Good.”  Steve’s voice is low, eyes locked on Eddie’s every twitch. “Now kiss her.”

Eddie’s head jerks up. “What?”

Steve’s grin is all teeth. “Unless you don’t—”

“No, I—fuck.” He surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours like a man starved. It’s messy and desperate, and he barely gets a taste before Steve yanks you back by the waist, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

“Jesus Christ. Not like that.”

Eddie stumbles after you as Steve kicks the door shut behind them. “It’s like you were raised by wolves.”

Eddie opens his mouth to protest—then snaps it shut. Because Steve’s right. He’s a wreck.

“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?”  Steve’s voice is rough with impatience. “Kiss her again.”

Eddie hesitates—just for a second—before lust wins the war. This time, when his lips find yours, it’s still hungry, but it’s also aware, his movements more controlled. For a heartbeat, he’s terrified Steve will deem him unworthy of you altogether and kick him back to the curb—until you moan into it, until your fists twist in his shirt and drag him closer.

Steve groans in approval against your shoulder. “That’s it,” he rasps, pressing you forward just enough that Eddie can feel your heartbeat against his chest. “Now slow down. Make her want it.”

Eddie whimpers, but obeys, pulling back just enough to tease your lower lip between his teeth before licking into your mouth like you’re water and he’s been dying of thirst.

The sound you make — the soft, wanting whine—it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Steve pulls you back again, but this time, there’s satisfaction in his grin. “See?”  His thumb swipes over your kiss-swollen lips, smug. “She likes it when you take your time.”

Steve doesn’t let go of you—not really. Even as he nudges you toward the couch, his palm stays glued to the small of your back, steering you like he owns every inch of space you move through. Eddie doesn’t need to be told to follow; his pulse hammers in his throat, fingers flexing like he’s already imagining the weight of you beneath them.

“Sit.” Steve’s order cracks through the air, and Eddie drops onto an armchair like his strings have been cut.

You don’t get the chance to join him. Steve catches your wrist, yanking you back against his chest instead. His mouth brushes your ear, voice a low, possessive hum: “Nah, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.” His fingers trail down your arm before guiding your hand to Eddie’s jaw. “Let him earn it.”

Eddie’s breath stutters. Christ. Up close, you’re devastating. The way your eyes shimmer with pure lust, the way your lips part—just slightly—when Steve’s fingers skim over the lace of your bra. The syrupy moan you let out when he pinches your nipple over it, just enough to make your back arch—

“See that?”  Steve’s voice is rough against your ear. “She gets loud when she’s turned on. You just have to know how to listen.” Eddie nods, swallowing hard. His hands hover over your hips like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve under his touch. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Munson. You’re not going to break her.” He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Feel how warm she is? How fucking desperate?”

Eddie’s fingers twitch. He can feel it—the rapid rise and fall of your breath, the way your skin burns under his touch.

“Now”, Steve murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder, “show me what you’ve learned.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.

This time, when he kisses you, it’s relaxed—calculated. He licks into your mouth like he’s savouring it, one hand sliding up your ribs while the other tangles in your hair. And when you moan, when your hips jerk forward like you just can’t help it, Eddie groans against your lips like he’s just discovered fucking religion.

Steve watches, eyes dark with approval. “Better,” he rasps. Then, with a smirk: “Now get on your knees.”

Eddie freezes, and Steve arches a brow,“got a problem?”

“No—fuck, no.”  Eddie’s already sliding to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a thud. His hands find your thighs, gripping just tight enough to feel the muscle tense under his fingers.

Steve’s smirk widens. “Good.”

The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp—and God, Eddie’s never been so hard in his life.

Steve’s voice is a murmur as he trails a path down your throat, bruises already blooming under his mouth. “Now, make her beg.”

Eddie’s breathing is ragged as he looks up at you—fuck, the way your pupils are blown wide, the way your chest rises with every shaky inhale. Steve’s fingers are still tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a tenderness that feels domestic. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before they flutter shut, and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth finds the inside of your knee first, lips dragging slow and hot up your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. Steve hums, tracing your ribs and sliding your bra strap down your shoulder. His palm cups your breast as it spills free, kneading with a lazy possessiveness that has your hips jerking forward — but Eddie holds you steady, determined. 

His tongue traces past the waistband of your panties like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you, and when his eyes flick up to Steve, all he finds is lust, raw and unfiltered. So Eddie hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls, dragging it down your legs as he kisses a trail after it, reverent even in his hunger. His fingers work you with surprising precision, his gaze desperate for approval — and when he curls them just right, you gasp, arching into his touch with a moan loud enough to make Steve’s smirk falter. He wasn’t expecting that.

The slip in Steve’s control sends a thrill through Eddie, and he murmurs against your thigh, voice rough: “You sound so fucking sweet — bet you taste even better.”  Steve’s grip tightens on your hip, hard enough to bruise, but you don’t seem to mind.

He’d meant to teach. Now, he’s learning.

And the way you’re unravelling under Eddie’s touch stirs something awake inside of him. Eddie’s got a musician’s dexterity, his fingers able to coax sinful melodies from you with every twist. When you whimper Eddie’s name, Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stop him. Just watches with a gaze darker than the midnight sky itself as Eddie’s breath ghosts over you, your thighs trembling. “Please—”

The word barely leaves your lips before Eddie adds another finger, crooking them until your thighs squeeze around his wrist. He groans against your skin, resting his forehead against your leg as the vibration tears another broken sound from your throat. He fucks you with his fingers — slow and deep, then fast and relentless, like he can’t decide whether to savour you or ruin you.

Eddie, drunk on your praise, dares to glance up at Steve with a smirk. Steve’s nostrils flare, but instead of shutting him down, he drags a thumb over your cheek and growls, “You gonna cum for him?” You can’t even answer. Your back arches, toes curling, and Eddie drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The moment you shatter, he loses it. He’s not sure what destroys him more — the way you choke out his name, begging him not to stop, or the filthy, approving rumble of Steve’s voice as he speaks, “Good girl.”

Eddie finds himself at an impasse, torn between begging for more and staying silent as the two of you decide his fate. His fingers twitch where they grip your thighs, his breath ragged, his entire body coiled tight with anticipation—and fear. Steve detaches himself from nipping at your collarbone when Eddie wavers, his movements faltering. A reprimand flashes in Steve’s darkened gaze, sharp enough to make Eddie shudder again. “Didn’t you hear her, Munson?”  Steve’s voice is a low, warning growl. “She told you not to stop.”

But Eddie freezes. The reality of where he is—what he’s doing—hits him like a freight train. He has no idea how to continue.

But Steve doesn’t tolerate hesitation. His hand fists in Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward with a rough, “Stop thinking.”

Eddie obeys like a man possessed, and the moment his tongue drags over you, his whole body jerks—holy shit. You taste even better than he could’ve dared to dream. Sweet, addictive, and the way you gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit?  He’s ruined. Forever.

Drunk on you—on the way your fingers tighten in his hair, the way you’re so wet it’s coating your thighs—he laps at you like his life depends on it. Steve watches with drowsy satisfaction, his palm sliding possessively up your stomach to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple just to hear you whimper for him again.

“Listen to how she sounds when you do it right,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with contentment. “Isn’t it the most beautiful sound in the world?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie to answer. Instead, he tilts your jaw toward him, locking you in a searing kiss. You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie continues, his tongue relentless, his own desperate noises vibrating against you. Steve chuckles darkly when Eddie whimpers, his cock straining against his jeans just from tasting you. He hasn’t even touched himself, but he’s so close he’s shaking.

“Are you going to come just from this, Munson?” Steve drags him off you by his hair, grinning at the dazed, wrecked look on Eddie’s face. “Fuck, look at him, darling. He’s a mess.” Eddie’s lips are slick, his chest heaving, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. Steve doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He pushes Eddie back into the armchair, his grip firm, dominant. Then he guides you onto the couch with a smirk.

“You did good,” he tells Eddie, voice dripping with condescension. “Now let me show you great.”

Steve doesn’t waste time. In one smooth motion, he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wide —putting you on display— before dragging you to the edge of the couch. His gaze locks onto Eddie’s, making sure he’s watching as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, a shudder running through you at the sensation. “See how she shivers?” Steve murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, laced with something Eddie can only describe as devotion. “It’s because she knows what’s coming—” Then he devours you. 

Unlike Eddie’s frantic, eager strokes, Steve’s tongue moves with precision — deliberate, decisive licks that have you arching off the couch within seconds. He teases you, circling your clit until you’re gasping, then he pulls back with a cruel smirk.

“Steve—” you whine, fingers scrambling at his hair. “Patience, sweetheart,” he muses — before sucking your clit between his lips, hard. Your cry echoes through the room, and Eddie’s hands clench into fists, his hips jerking helplessly as you overwhelm his senses without even touching him. Steve doesn’t let up; he works you with his mouth until your thighs tremble, until your moans grow longer and heavy, until you’re right there—, and he pulls away.

“No, no, baby, please—” you beg, but Steve just clicks his tongue, amused, sliding two fingers into you without warning. “Look at her, Munson,” he orders, curling his fingers just right, making you sob beneath him. “This is how you give her what she deserves.” His thrusts are ruthless, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. You’re a writhing, whimpering mess, your nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he fucks you on his fingers, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s the entire time.

“She’s close,” Steve taunts — he doesn’t even need to look at you to know, too busy watching the way Eddie’s jaw clenches.  “You want to see what happens when she comes on my hand?” Eddie can’t even speak. He just nods, frantic. Steve smiles wickedly and makes do with the response. “Then watch closely.”

He crooks his fingers again, pressing deeper, and you don’t just shatter — you explode. Your back bows like you’re possessed, broken screams tearing from your throat as you squirt, and Eddie swears he’s seeing stars. Your hand finds Steve’s bicep, clinging desperately, like you’re afraid he’ll stop. Eddie can’t look away; he doesn’t dare blink — if he misses a single second of this, he’ll never forgive himself.

Steve works you through it, drawing out every last spasm until tears streak your face, until you’re oversensitive, trying to squirm away. Only then does he finally relent, licking his fingers with a satisfied hum before brushing featherlight kisses up to your neck. The moment you feel his proximity, you meet him in a kiss — not heated like before, but purposeful, delicate, like Steve is guiding you back to reality with it. He doesn’t rush you; he just lets your fingers weave through his hair until your breathing steadies. Then, he speaks again. “That”, he says, “is how it’s done.” He meets Eddie’s stunned gaze. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about getting your dick wet until she’s clenching around nothing.”

Eddie’s so hard it hurts. His cock throbs against his jeans, neglected and aching, precum soaking the fabric. He’s never been this turned on in his life—and the worst part? Steve knows it. The bastard smirks, dragging a thumb over your lower lip. You suck it in eagerly, tongue swirling, before he pulls away and stands. It’s a fucking performance. Steve undoes his belt like he’s savouring the way Eddie’s eyes cling to his hands, the leather slipping free with a final, damning shush. You whimper, still boneless from your orgasm, but your eyes flutter open when Steve’s palm slides up your thigh, squeezing. “Please, Steve?” you breathe, and his grin turns feral. “Not yet, love.” He glances at Eddie, whose throat bobs under the weight of his stare. “Munson hasn’t earned it yet.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Fuck. He’s dripping in his pants, his hips twitching like a fucking teenager, and Steve’s going to make him wait?  But then— 

Steve grips Eddie’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “You want her?” he asks, voice rough. Eddie nods, greedy. “Then prove you can take care of her.” And just like that, Steve shoves him onto the couch with you. “Do it like I showed you.”

For a heartbeat, Eddie can only stare—at the way your breath hitches when he touches you, at the way your eyes lock on Steve, who’s sprawled in the armchair like it’s a fucking throne, lazily stroking his cock. Your lips part, and Eddie swears he sees your mouth water—fuck, it’s obscene. His hands tremble as he touches you—really touches you—this time. His mouth finds your thigh, kissing up the sensitive skin, trying to mimic the way Steve had worshipped you earlier. But when his tongue drags over you, your breath catches—wrong—and Steve’s low chuckle cuts through the room like a knife.

“Christ, Munson,” Steve sighs, his grip tightening around his cock. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Eddie grits his teeth. He is. He’s thinking about the way Steve had made you scream, the way your back arched off the couch like you were trying to fuse into him. He’s thinking about the fact that Steve’s watching, lazily stroking himself while Eddie fumbles like a virgin.

And the nail in the coffin? You’re watching Steve too. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes heavy with desire—but not for Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie rasps, pulling back. His voice is wrecked.“I can’t—I don’t—” Steve leans forward, fingertips ghosting over your throat as you keen toward him. “You can,” he growls. “Stop trying to perform. Just feel her.”

Eddie’s breath comes in sharp bursts. This time, when his mouth finds your cunt, he doesn’t think. He listens. To the way your breath catches when he licks a slow, experimental stripe. To the way your hips jerk when he sucks just there. And when your fingers fist in his hair—finally—it’s not to guide him, but to hold on.

“There,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with approval. “Now you’re getting it.” Eddie moans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat. Fuck. He’s dizzy with it—the taste of you, the sounds you’re making, the way Steve’s gaze burns into him like a brand.

But then Steve stands. Eddie barely has time to register the loss before Steve’s dragging him up by the collar, spinning him around to face you—really face you. Your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your thighs slick with Steve’s work.

"Look at her," Steve growls, his voice a dark scrape against Eddie’s ear. "Don’t just glance—really look."

And Eddie looks. He sees the damp flush between your breasts, the way your hips lift like you’re already chasing it, the way your pupils blow wide when Steve’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip. "She’s not yours," Steve breathes, dragging his teeth over Eddie’s earlobe. "But fuck, look how bad she wants you to try."

Eddie’s pulse races. Then Steve steps back, gesturing like a king permitting a subject to kneel. "Go on. Make her forget my fucking name."

So he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the noise in his head, to sync himself with the thrum of your heartbeat beneath him, to dissolve into every breath you take. He wants to belong here, in this moment, where Steve’s approval hangs heavy in the air and your pleasure is the only thing that matters — success. A satisfied hum from Steve when Eddie finally finds the right rhythm, a broken moan from your lips. But your eyes — your eyes stay locked on Steve, even as Eddie’s mouth works you over.  It’s still him you want. Hunger battles with pride in Eddie’s chest. He hates how badly he craves this—how much he needs Steve’s approval—but god, he longs to pull those sounds from you himself, to unravel you with nothing but his touch. And so he moves like a man possessed, single-minded in his mission to play you like an instrument, to pluck every string until you snap.

Your taste is intoxicating, something he’s already addicted to, something he’s not sure he can live without anymore. Your eyes scrunch shut as pleasure blooms, so lost in it that you don’t even notice Steve speeding up his strokes, his grip tight on his cock. Eddie gets close—so close he can practically taste your climax—but you linger on the edge, just out of reach. He’s aware he’s missing something, some final piece to send you over, but he can’t find it. Then your eyes flicker open again, searching for Steve’s gaze like it’s the only thing that can save you. And Eddie knows—he’s pushed his luck too far. Steve’s patience snaps—not with his pleasure, but with Eddie’s failure to give you yours. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged back, the warmth of you ripped away too soon. Steve looms over him, a predator in human skin, annoyance rolling off him in waves. “If you want to get a chance to fuck her,” Steve growls, voice dripping with challenge, “you’re going to have to do better than that.” 

Eddie’s brain becomes the mental equivalent of a dropped Wi-Fi signal—because did Steve just imply—?

Every touch, every taste Steve has allowed him, Eddie has devoured with insatiable hunger. But now it hits him—this is more than just a demonstration. Steve might actually let him fuck you. Or he would have. Now, Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever get the opportunity again. A sharp, breathy cry from you yanks him from his thoughts. Steve has already turned you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one foot perched on the armrest behind you like a damn king claiming his treasure. Eddie is so close to your face now, your slick still glistening on his chin as you blink up at him, dazed. Steve teases your entrance with his cock, just enough to have you pushing back, begging for it. And for one glorious, heart-stopping moment—you look at Eddie.

Not at back at Steve.

At him.

Your gaze is pure, primal desperation—like he’s the one you need. Steve drives into you in one brutal thrust, and your eyes screw shut in ecstasy. You sob Steve’s name, but your eyes flicker back open as you you look at him.

“Baby, please—” And it dawns on him—you are begging Steve, but not for Steve. No, you’re begging for permission, your gaze locked onto Eddie like he’s the only thing anchoring you to earth. He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, but Christ, he already knows he wants it just as much. 

Steve, of course, does understand. He drags his cock into you agonisingly slow, pressing tender kisses along your spine even as his voice comes out harsh. “You think he deserves it, honey?” You whine, desperate, but Steve doesn’t need more than that. He leans over you, his thrusts deliberate, sinful. “How could I ever say no to you?”

And fuck, Eddie gets it now—gets why Steve turns possessive, gets why you love it. He’s watching the two of you move like a single entity, Steve’s hips rolling into you with a precision that rewrites Eddie’s entire understanding of sex. And the real tragedy? He’s pretty sure you’re only getting started. Your fingers fist in Eddie’s collar, yanking him down hard. His breath stutters as your lips take him in, hot and needy, and he doesn’t think—just reacts, his hands tangling in your hair as Steve’s thrusts rock you forward, forcing Eddie deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations nearly undoing him right there, but then your hand tugs at his belt loop like it’s personally offended you, and Eddie’s thoughts fry into static. What do you want? He glances at Steve for answers, but the bastard just laughs, driving into you harder like he’s savouring Eddie’s confusion.

And God help him, Eddie looks. It’s downright pornographic. Steve’s cock glistens as he pulls out, your body clinging to him like it never wants to let go, and every time he sinks back in, you clench, a broken noise tearing from your throat.

As Eddie freezes, you take matters into your own hands, undoing Eddie’s belt with ruthless efficiency. The zipper’s barely down before his jeans pool at his knees. He looks at Steve again—helpless—but Steve just shakes his head, smirking. “Jesus, Munson. Keep up.”

Your fingers brush the straining outline of his cock through his boxers, and his hips jerk. Your mouth finds the spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping, and—fuck—it nearly sends him over the edge right then. You’re not gentle. You know exactly what you want. In seconds, his dick is in your hand, your grip perfect, and the first stroke has him grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. He wants to keep his eyes open—to watch, to devour every detail of every second—but his body betrays him. A shudder wracks through him, his lashes fluttering helplessly before his head falls back, lost to the crushing wave of ecstasy."

“Fuck—!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the haze, dark with amusement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him how good you can be.” His hand tangles in your hair—not guiding, just holding—like he wants Eddie to see he’s the one in control. That every gasp you make, every shudder Eddie can’t suppress, is because Steve orchestrated it.

“Bet he’s never felt anything like you.” Eddie’s thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, too close, and Steve knows it—fuck, he’s enjoying it. “Look at him,” Steve murmurs, dragging his cock out of you just to slam back in, punching a moan from your lips.  “Already shaking for you.  Bet he wishes it was him inside instead.” His thumb swipes over your clit, and you whimper, your rhythm on Eddie faltering. “But he’s got to earn that, doesn’t he?”

Earn it? Eddie’s vision blurs at the edges. He’d shamelessly beg if it meant— Then your tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and he chokes, almost falling forward into you.

“Steady,” Steve warns, though his voice is anything but calm. “You cum before she does, and I’ll make you watch while I fuck her twice as hard.”

Eddie’s groan is nothing short of pure agony. Steve fucks you more slowly then—cruel, like he’s savouring Eddie’s torment—dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your eyes water. But your dedication doesn’t waver; if anything, it burns hotter. “Shit—”  Eddie’s hips jerk involuntarily, but you swallow him deeper, humming around the salt-bitter heat of him. His fingers scramble at the cushions, knuckles white. “Jesus, sweetheart, where the hell did you learn—?”

Steve’s laugh is a dark, knowing thing against your neck. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider as he presses inside, slow, letting you feel every fucking inch. “She’s full of surprises,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “But you’re not going to last long enough to find out, are you?”

Eddie’s groan disintegrates, the way you swirl your tongue around him, the slick pressure of your throat—it’s nothing like the groupies who’d thrown themselves at Corroded Coffin. This is ruination. This is worship. Your mouth works him with practiced greed, and Eddie’s vision blurs.

“Fuck, I’m not—I can’t—” 

“Yes. You can.” Steve’s voice doesn’t leave room for argument—this isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. His hand moves from your scalp to your nipple, pinching just shy of pain until you whine around Eddie’s cock. His other hand slips between your legs, circling your clit with filthy precision. “You going to come for us, sweetheart?” he rasps. You nod frantically, lips stretched lewdly around Eddie. “Good. Let him see.” You break with a cry, muffled around Eddie’s cock, and Steve growls as your body clenches around him. “That’s it,” he grits out, hips snapping harder, “that’s my girl—” Eddie’s spellbound.

 Steve fucks you through it, your tears smearing Eddie’s thighs. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, cock twitching against your tongue—

Steve loses control first. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

Eddie’s hips stutter when you whimper, oversensitive, as Steve grinds into you one last time—claiming you like he wants to brand the feeling into your skin. And then— “Fuck!”  Eddie’s back arches, his cock jerking as you pull off with a slick pop, begging Steve for mercy. He comes untouched, frustration and relief searing through him as he gasps your name like a prayer. Steve laughs, low and satisfied. Eddie’s too wrecked to care, chest heaving—until Steve’s next words send him tumbling straight back into want.

“Let me know if you’ve got any requests for the next lesson.”

[heartfullofleeches]

The Manager at Fast Food Reader's workplace accidently taking too many of their memories whilst keeping their favorite employee from losing their marbles - reverting FF from jaded, exhausted person they are now back to the sweet, clueless cashier they were when they first started working there. The angst would be so good....

-

The Janitor: Y/n?....

Fast Food Reader: [laughs] That's my name! Wonder where this badge came from - i already had it on when I came in.. Anyway, it's so nice to meet you!.... Why do you have a sticky note attached to your face?

[The Janitor runs off as Reader reaches to touch their face.]

-

The Bathroom Succubus: The joke's not funny anymore.... Seriously, dude- you're scaring me...

Fast Food Reader: I'm sorry... I really don't know you.

The Bathroom Succubus, sobbing: You didn't even call me an asshole... IT'S LIKE IM A STRANGER TO YOU!

-

Fast Food Reader: H-hey guys! I think there's something wrong with whoever's wearing the mascot suit.

[Lambchop clings onto FF'S legs - huffing and puffing as they attempt to nudge Reader's hands over their horns.]

-

Fast Food Reader: Hey, boss... The ice cream machine makes a weird sound when I use it.. When I pull the handle it almost sounds like... moaning?

-

Fast Food Reader: Whoa! We have a clown mascot too? That's sick! How do you get your arms to bend like that?

Twister, hugging Reader to its chest: This. This is mine now.

-

[FF Reader runs out of the play area, terrified]

Fast Food Reader: There's something in the ball pit! I think it.... tried to rub my shoulders?!!

The Bathroom Succubus, holding a plastic knife to the manager's throat: If you don't fix my partner in crime somebody's gonna start losing fingers.

[httpiastri]

take me back to monaco – pa17

the one where you celebrate your boyfriend taking the lead of the championship.

genre: smut

pairing: paul aron x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!!), oral (reader giving), all other typical smut stuff

author's note: a piece for all of us who wish we were still in monaco <33 so so delayed, im sorry, but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it too!! 💗 (and i knowww they dont have drivers rooms in f2 but... just let me have this okay...)

18+ content below, minors dni!

paul is practically glowing when he makes it down from the podium and into the hitech garage where you're standing. he gives ralf and karl another hug each, before his eyes land on you – and then, he's standing in front of you and pulling you into his embrace in no time.

he lifts you into the air and twirls you around, sweaty forehead pressed into the side of your neck, but you don't mind even the slightest. "championship leader, huh?" you ask when he sets you down on the ground, smiling into the kiss he presses to your lips.

"finally," he answers, cocky as ever, pulling you in for another hug.

his bottle of podium champagne is almost empty when he hands it to you and you can't help but laugh at the guilty smile forming on his lips. his eyes follow the way you lift the bottle to your mouth, adoring the grimace you pull at the bitter taste. he gladly takes the bottle from you when you offer it back, emptying its last contents in his own mouth before placing it on some counter next to you.

"come on," he says, hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you away with him as he starts moving through the garage. you don't even have time to ask what's going on – not that you want to, anyway. a championship leader should never be questioned.

the kisses he presses on your lips are hungry from the second he closes the door to his driver's room behind you. his hands waste no time finding your hips, pulling your crotch flush against his. you can't help but gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his hard-on poking into your thigh. "already?" you ask, eyebrows raised when you pull away from him.

he leans forward to seal your lips again, not wanting to be away from you for even a second. "been thinking about you all race," he lets out, trailing a series of hot, wet kisses down your throat. his teeth slightly graze your sensitive skin and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him better access.

"and yet, you did so well," you tell him around a hum. "how do you want to celebrate this?"

"i think you know." his voice sends vibrations along your skin. he pulls away, his darkened eyes staring down at you as he places a hand right under your jaw, thumb stroking up and down your throat. "get down on your knees for me, love."

he can tell from your kisses that you're just as needy as him; the way your lips part for his tongue instantly is a dead giveaway, along with the string of whines that slip into his mouth when his thumb presses down harder on your throat. your hands on his shoulders guide him to walk until his back meets a wall, forcing him up against it. without breaking the kiss, you hastily pull down the zipper of his suit, helping him pull his arms free before letting the suit hang by his shoulders.

as much as you love how good he looks in his white fireproof shirt, it covers way too much of his skin, so it needs to come off, too.

you need his help to pull it off his body, the sweaty and champagne-soaked material sticking to his skin like glue. it's a big hassle, but it's all worth it when you hear his sweet laughter as he, too, struggles with his stripping. once your eyes meet the sight of his muscular upper body, you can't hold back from leaning in to press your lips along it. the urgency of it all has his stomach twisting in anticipation, your touch leaving his head spinning.

his skin is sticky in the best kind of way, the sweat-salty and champagne-bitter taste filling your senses instantly. your fingers grasp at his sides as you move further down, your tongue swiping along the creases of his abs, but his hand reaches for your cheek just as you begin kneeling down. "hey, wait a second."

when you blink up at him, his expression is much softer than you'd expected; his gaze is full of adoration, warmth, love. "what's wrong?"

he pauses for a second before shaking his head. "nothing," he says. "i just... wanted to see your pretty face."

"you..." a tiny blush creeps onto your face, though you're sure you can blame it on the heat of the situation. "you're so silly..."

"silly, maybe. but i'm also the luckiest man in the world."

your heart swells in your chest at his words, the situation suddenly growing much more intimate than you'd expected. you and paul are no newbies to a quickie on a race weekend, but it usually never goes quite like this. these words of affection and these love-filled eye contacts are reserved for late-night lovemaking sessions in his apartment or back at the hotel.

not that you mind, of course.

"just... you looking up at me like this..." you try to turn your head away, cheeks heating up at his words, but paul's hand on your face tilts you back. "knowing that you're all mine..."

"all yours."

you seal your words with a few kisses along the hemline of his boxers, before tugging it down just a little bit. then, one of your hands reaches into them, pulling out his dick and letting it spring up against his stomach.

you take him in your hands, moving them up and down along him a few times, and paul groans immediately. when you shoot him a glance, he's thrown his head back, lips slightly parted, and the sight is almost too good to tear your gaze away from. you look down at the other pretty thing, leaning in to press two kisses along one side of his length, then two kisses to the other side, before sealing it with a peck to his tip.

five kisses for five podiums.

your thumb begins to rub circles around his tip, smearing out his precum as your mouth begins to work with little licks up the underside of him. as your lips wrap around him and you finally take him in, he lets out your name in the form of a sigh, his heart pounding hastily against his ribs. a hand slips into your hair, fingers getting lost in your locks and nails slightly grazing your scalp as you take as much of him as you can.

"god, you're..." he says, voice thick and rough as if it takes all his effort not to let the moan in his upper chest escape. "so good..."

when he hits the back of your throat, it takes a few moments for him to remember how to breathe, his head empty except for the thought of you. he looks down at you with a reverent, almost worshipping look in his eyes. he just can't stop staring, the sight of your red cheeks and your lips around his dick making him unable to stop his hips from bucking a little. you can tell he's holding back, trying not to give in and push into you, but he lets out a content sigh once you start moving.

his breaths grow quicker and needier when you pick up the pace, a shiver shooting down his spine as he feels your tongue swirling around him. his fingers tangle in your hair, grip harder and helping guide you ever so slightly, and you blink up at him almost instinctively.

you love seeing him like this; almost vulnerable, as he gives himself up to you completely, fully at your mercy. his adam's apple bobs before he lets out a deep, guttural moan. you hum at the sight, which causes him to let out a babbling mess of your name and a bunch of swearwords, the hand in your hair suddenly pulling you back.

a few strings of saliva connect you to his length when he holds you back, the confused look in your eyes, along with your parted lips, making his heart flutter. his hand moves from your scalp down to your cheek, urging you up to stand again. "i want to... come inside you..." he explains, still breathless. "is that okay?"

"anything for you," you assure him, eyes softening as they see the gentle smile on his lips.

paul's hands find your hips and spin you both around, your breath hitching when he pushes you up against the wall. his lips are back on your neck in just a second, his hands trailing down your body and reaching under your skirt. one hand settles on the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking up and down the skin, as the other pulls your panties to the side to allow him to run a finger along your folds. "so wet already?" he asks, faux innocence in his voice. "just from sucking me off?"

your hands land on his shoulders for stability when his fingers fill you up, eyes fluttering closed as he spreads and curls them. it doesn't take long for him to deem you stretched out enough, pulling out and wiping your wetness all over his cock. you drape your arms around his neck, leaning your forehead on his shoulder once he rubs his tip against your core, before slowly slipping into you.

a curse falls from your lips, a painful yet perfect stretch spreading through you. "feels like... your ego isn't the only thing that grew from that podium..." you gasp, feeling him push in a little deeper.

paul lets out a wholehearted chuckle, letting one of his hands reach up to bring your face off his skin and press a quick kiss to your forehead as you adjust to him. "taking that as a compliment," he mumbles, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face with a tender caress. he keeps still for a few moments to let you adjust, before starting his gentle thrusts.

one of his hands holds you up against the wall by your waist beneath your dress, while the other one has a firm grip on your ass. you use your last bits of energy to jump up just a little, hanging both of your legs around his hips. not long later, he picks up the pace, way too needy to go slow right now.

"you feel-" he starts, moving his hand from your waist to where your body meets his, fingers finding your clit with ease. "so- so good..." he alternates circles with little flicks of your bud, and you can't help the sting of whines that fall from your lips. "god, you have to stay quiet, unless... you want my entire team to hear..."

just the thought of any hitech staff – or, much worse, ralf or karl – hearing you makes something boil in the pit of your stomach, your insides involuntarily clenching around paul. you hide your face in his bare chest, letting out a few muffled sounds when he buries himself deeper and deeper into you. it's all getting too much, his pinches and vibrations against your clit in combination with him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump threatening to push you over the cliff at any second. "fuck- i'm going to-"

he feels your breasts press into his chest as you arch your back into him, your walls tightening around him when your orgasm washes over you. you throw your head back against the wall as you try to catch your breath, your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. the feeling of your pulsating insides is just way too good, and the moan he lets out when he climaxes is way too loud – but he really doesn't care right now.

he spills his load into you, his hold on your underside trembling when he feels you contract around him one last time. he feels the mixture of his cum and yours dripping out from between you, and he knows already that the cleanup is going to be a mess – but that's just another thing he simply couldn't give a fuck about.

when he finally recovers the energy to open his eyes and look at you, his heart clenches at the sight of your messy hair and dazy expression. "what a day, huh?" he asks with a chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "monaco is amazing."

a dismissive sound vibrates from the back of your throat. "it's not monaco. it's all you, baby."

[livelaughlovesubs]

NINININININIIIII!!!!! I am begging you to make a fic abt bunny dazai + w a breeding kink!! There is so little fic abt bunzai Im so sad… ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

- 🎀

BUNZAI HELPPPP sounds cute though hehe (also sorry for being late)

Dom!reader x sub!dazai

Warning: bunny hybrid, pegging (I use dick), breeding kink, dirty talk, teasing, dacryphilia, feminisation, kinda perverted

A pair of fluffy ears with a soft tail to match, all in a sweet chocolate brown colour. Not only did it feel smooth to the touch, it was also very lively, twitching and moving around whenever you’d touch it. He especially liked it if you would rub the base, the area where it’s connected to his body. A few light strokes were all it took to make him shiver underneath you, arms hugging the plushies tightly as his eyes rolled back.

“Nghhhh… you are suuuch a tease!” Dazai shuddered, wagging his little fluff ball that was raised high in the air. Then he also shook his ass around, as if he was mimicking his own tail. “Stop getting distracted and f- hnngh, fuck me properly.” The male demanded, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder. His dark brown eyes were watery, the skin below tainted crimson. But he was smiling, a dumb grin as strings of saliva stuck from the plushies to his lips. That wasn’t the only sticky thing, his bangs were like glued to his forehead, all from him sweating so much. There was no helping it, his heart is beating so fast and the blood rush was too exiting.

“Hah” You scoffed, “getting bold, aren’t you? Why don’t you focus on pleasing me first?” Afterwards you replied calmly, signalising you were used to his cheeky behaviour. Instead of letting go of his fluffy features, you tugged on his ears a little. “Mhm~! S-stop that..!” He said even though he didn’t seem like he wanted you to stop, nevertheless you still let go. “Are they really that sensitive?” A sigh slipped from your lips while your hand found its way back to his waist, fingers sinking into his soft flesh, causing some red marks to be left behind. “That tickles, are you that obsessed with my body?” Dazai mocked, holding your gaze with his usual playful attitude. “Aren’t you too impatient, bunny? Where is the fun in that.” You responded with another question, leaning down with your upper body so that you could nibble at the tip of his ears.

His body jerked very suddenly, you noticed because his tail twitched the moment your lips touched his fur. “How cute my bunny is, why don’t we play a little longer?” You suggested, hands slowly moving upwards to try and grope his chest. “Mhnn, hmm.. no, I can’t take it anymore. You are already i-inside me, so why can’t you just move?” Oh dear, the rabbit boy almost sounds angry now. He bawled his fists, his rim clenching around you and loosening up in desperation. You couldn’t help but laugh at such a pathetic display, asking innocently, “And why do you want me to fuck you so badly, little bun’?” Now he was glaring at you. How could you make him say something so embarrassing, he was definitely going to get back at you.

“Maybe because I wanna be breed?” Dazai mumbled into the toys beneath him, acting all sad as a part of his plan. He knew you liked it whenever he’d say something dirty, he knew what words gets you riled up. “Oh? You want what?” And you took the bait, as expected, no one can withstand his charm once he tries. Once again the boy met your eyes, staring right into yours as he whispered teasingly, “I want you to fill my womb with babies♡”

Hah! The audacity! To think he’d be this shameless, to voice out such perverted words! A shiver ran down your spine, you felt your stomach tingle in excitement. He knew you too good, way too good. “Can’t I bear your children, y/n? I’d take care of those small bun’s.” This man in front of you, with his ass up and face down, he didn’t know when to stop, did he? Pushing your buttons like this, egging you on. If you left him like this he’d only spout more nonsense. Though maybe he forgot, two can play this game.

“Aha, that’s what you want? For me to impregnate you?” You repeated his words, growing them into his ear in a low voice, “want me to make you a mama?” His eyes shone and tail wagged around, he could feel electricity being send to his dick, causing some precum to leak from the tip. “Nghh.. shit, do it.” He said, it was almost like an order. Maybe his impatience rubbed off on you, because you were itching to take him. Your fingertips were on his hips again, gripping down harshly as you moved your hips back. As if the previous provocations weren’t enough, you said, “If that’s the case, I can’t wait to see you full and round with my children. I’m sure the bunnies would be adorable.”

So many sensations were coursing through him, they all felt so good he swore his brain was going to melt. Oh you, only you would entertain his filthy fantasies like this. If only he could truly get pregnant by you, he would have baby trapped you ages ago. Though this was fine as well, just the role play and imagination was enough for him. And apparently also enough for you, since you were snapping your hips against his bottom so roughly you might as well have been fucking babies right into his stomach.

It felt so good. The way your cock rubbed against his insides and walls, it got him drooling and crying in pleasure. “Ahh, so mHhHmm, good..!” At this point, he was so joyful and ecstatic he could barely keep fiction and reality apart. His knuckles turned white from clenching his fists so hard, tears rolling down his blushing cheeks and wetting his lashes. He whimpered when you brushed over his prostate, as if he just got taken to heaven. Not to mention how his pre was dirtying the sheets, creating a pool below him. He was so caught up with the pleasure he receives by you stretching him out he forgot about anything else.

Your little bunny sobbed in bliss and whined in a high-pitched voice, “m’wanna be gu-gahhHmm!! impregnated by you- e-everyday..♡♥︎”

Seems like he got too sentimental about the little play. How adorable your pet rabbit was.

[whore4abby]

CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE ABBY GIVING YOU BIRTHDAY SEX (it’s my birthday LMFAO) and her just being sweet and gentle but also giving it to you goooddddd

birthday girl; abby anderson

warnings; smut - cunnilingus (r), strap-on usage (r), mdni

wc; 0.7k

an; also im sorry this is like a month late (happy belated birthday!!!! <3) but i finally got around to writing it and i decided to be a slut and post it on my own birthday hehe🤭

you’re laid on your back against the plush clean sheets of your bed after such an eventful day of abby taking you out shopping - with her credit card of course. which was followed by her taking you out to dinner at a super fancy restaurant, the two of you sitting together in a private booth over-looking the city.

abby is above you, kissing up and down your neck pulling away occasionally to whisper sweet nothings to you softly. and eventually with practiced ease, she kneels down between your spread legs. she positions her mouth directly over your waiting pussy and sucks greedily at your clit, following up with a firm wet swipe of her tongue. the tip of her tongue slipping inside of you, circling around lazily before she begins to press her face further into you, lapping up all your slick.

her calloused hands reach underneath you, cupping your ass cheeks as she laps at you sloppily, your slick splattering across your inner thighs. “fuck, abs~” you whine out and your hand makes its way to the back of her head, thighs involuntarily clamping around her head, a mocking laugh leaving her throat as she pushes your knees apart, gazing down to see how wet you are.

“shit, baby. never get tired of this fuckin cunt.” her pupils are blown wide as she catches sight of your sticky folds, slick practically oozing out of your tight hole. a low whine falling from your lips as she pulls away, “why’d you stop!? please”

abby ignores your pleas but finally drops her head back down to continue her onslaught now with a sense of urgency as she can tell you're getting close. she attaches her lips to your swollen clit, wholly sucking it into her warm mouth, “m’gonna cum~” you moan and writhe around beneath her as your release spills out onto her tongue.

she kisses at your inner thighs before pulling back, wiping away your cum from her chin haphazardly before standing up at the side of the bed and pulling you towards her by your hips, you ass resting on the edge of the bed.

she nudges the tip of her against your slit a couple times to wetten it before she sinks inside. your eyes flutter closed as she completely fills you up, stretching you out around the purple silicone, “bet this is the only thing you wanted, huh? to be filled up by me, huh birthday girl?” the sound of her low voice causing your eyes to open and you nod, struggling to form words as you're still so fucked out from the last orgasm she gave you mere seconds ago, “m-mhm.”

that all too familiar cocky look spreads across her face and she retracts her hips before pushing back into you again, mushroomed tip kissing against your cervix as she gets into a steady rhythm, “look at you swallowing me up. sucha good girl~” she leans forward and connects your mouths together to give you open-mouthed kisses, her tongue slipping into your mouth and letting you taste the remnants of your release.

abby pulls away and briefly cradles your face in her hands, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” she whispers, planting her hands on your hips to pull you into her each stroke. your inner walls clench around her cock, and you’re grasping at the back of her neck trying to keep her close as she buries herself to the hilt inside you, her own wetness seeping through the thin cotton and mixing together with yours, leaving the crotch of her boxers utterly soaked.

“you gonna cum?” she whispers against your lips, speeding up her thrusts and hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke. you nod dumbly, looking up into her eyes as choked out words leaving you wet lips, “uh huh.”

“cum for me, baby~” she pants out between rough, breathless gasps as she speeds her thrusts up slightly, you whimper at the sensation, arching your back and gripping at her hair to keep her as close as humanly possible. she shudders and grunts as she watches you cum. she moans loudly and bucks her hips, thrusting roughly into you as she reaches her own climax.

“goddamn, babe.” she purrs with a playful smirk, kissing you deeply. she slowly pulls out of your body with a wet pop, her cock slipping out before she rolls onto her back, pulling you along so you’re laying half on top of her.

[miifu666]

I remember you made that yandere post on wukong and I love reading it !! I was wondering do you have any thoughts on the destiny one or macaque if their were yanderes ? 👀 if not no worries ^^

Merry Christmas ‼️ time to show off Destined one, who i believe is scarier than the other two, like they say. The quiet one is the scariest. Also, a lot of you asked for DO soo sorry for the long wait 😭

⋆˙⟡ —CW: dub-con, Somnophilia, exhibition kink, Scent kink, Yandere, non-con, NSFT, Yuanfen name idea is from @mehiwilldoitlater , he's kind of disgusting here uhhh, Non-con touching

Yandere! Destined one

Unlike the other two, he's more of a monkey than them. The things he feels are 10x more worse, justified by his actions that he so called "courting you properly" even if its mostly just him stalking you throughout the day and after that, slowly building your own paranoia to work with him. Yuan fen would stay silent, even as you come at him with rapid eve movements around the room and heaving breaths. He's smart enough to hide how he's the source of all your troubles, your every rant about this so called paranoia thats been bugging you, the feeling of being watched and some objects going missing will help him to improve more on his skill.

"I-ive been feeling paranoid around here... please tell me im not crazy, Yuan Fen.."

Yuan fen is a silent person. His actions speaks more in volume. That doesn't mean he's not using it to his advantage, he's like a monster who's been under your nose all this time. The creature who hides under your bed, like literally. Or sleep beside you, depending on how both you travel. Haven't you felt how tiring your body is despite getting a full 8 hours of sleep? Also, why does your underwear get sticky? Are you that exhausted for your intimate areas to be so.. sore? You don't even wake up when Yuan Fen drapes his arms over you, snuggling closer to your nape until the sun shows itself. Uncovering the dirty deeds he did during his time with the moon and on top of you.

His hands are sticky as he continues to spread his musky scent into your chest, making your sleepy self associate his smell with pleasure. Trailing down his fingers down your hips, spreading your legs and pumping your hole with his long and kneady fingers. He's just making you feel comfortable, dont worry too much. On days where he knows you're lethargic, he'll make sure the sheets beneath you to be dry as he goes on his endeavors. Drinking and lapping up every single drop of your sweet honeyed love nectar, the more activities you do in the day, the more sweet you are in the night.

He'll make sure to be silent, aside from his slurping and gulping the nice opening you let him eat on. Eating you out is like his own way of charging his battery, his own personal ambrosia.

"Dont look at me like that! My hips and back are hurting okay! I thought i already put enough leaves on my side of the bed... ugh"

Yuan fen is a sweet mate, a good friend. He'll make sure to to spoil you rotten with fresh fruits he picked, he thinks about you 24/7, makes sure you feel loved with his oh so sweet gesture of being a gentleman, never letting you touch any doorknob or step on any puddles, Yuan fen who wants your approval despite the dominating attitude he gives soff. Yuan fen who notices you melt every time you hear his voice, each new words he said is purposely deeper than the last. Just to make sure he has you crooning over him while he worships you, an object of his desire with a favouritism of his voice? Oh he'll have fun with it.

Yuan fen who would speak to you more once he's face to face with your trembling thighs, making sure to growl the nastiest and filthiest things the moment his hands and throbbing member came in contact with your puffy hole. You'd be taken aback at how he says such vulgar sentence with a straight face, his eyes held the mad obsession he keeps inside.

"Its okay if you can't talk! Your actions are more than enough"

Yan! Yuan fen is an obsessive and possessive monkey who would do anything to mark you. Conscious or not, he'll make you his. He's smart enough to be the mind relic and quiet enough to do unsuspecting acts without gathering attention. He doesn't care if he's being clingy in front of Unclee Bajie, the celestials or even Erlang. Whoever has the guts to try and woo you, is going to enjoy the last 7 seconds of their life.

Is his hands being around your waist not a good enough sign? Is his smell covering every bits and crevices of yours not enough?? Does he need to spread you open in front of them to show who you belong to? He'll do so if it means they'll understand how unworthy you are to them, but not to him. Oh, never him. You're a perfect being, only fit to be his, only created for him. You're his one and only.

"My. Mate"

[minorlyatfault]

vi / cherry lady sent a message: i think we could do it if we tried, if only to say ❝ you're mine. ❞

ᰔ pairing . . . s. reid !

ᰔ with . . . a female!reader !

ᰔ category . . . fluff , blurb !

ᰔ in which . . . spencer makes you a homemade gift, & you spend a quiet evening together, with chess & cinnamon rolls ♡︎

ᰔ tags . . . cinnamon rolls. homemade gifts. vi being specific with reader's clothing( she apologizes in advance. ). kisses on cheeks ♡︎. playful chess war(/j). gentle affection.quiet understanding. affectionate teasing. sweet domesticity. heartfelt gestures. reid in love♡︎. emotionally driven moments. romantic intimacy. love that heals. ooc(?). grammatical errors. 2.3 seconds because vi is silly. probably wrong w the chess game. glasses!spencer.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list && criminal minds m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. got the idea from,,,,,,, this tag game by @cowboylikemily <33 ty for tagging me btw ☹️☹️💘💘

002. i ws vv specific w the outfit,,, im sososossorry💔💔 i was going for a,, relaxing,, old library vibe or js spencer reid ish

003. & also because the outfit in the tag game was a girl wearing a leather jacket.. & it's an indoor date so,,,,

004. idk if this will be the official format for my blurbs

005. also,, i do nawt know how to play chess so if it's wrong,, IM SORRY😭 i js researched it

006. this was one week ago actually. i had to study chess for ONE week. because im a slow learner who doesn't wanna learn at awll. & TBIS IS JS 400+ WORDS💔 sighs im still clearing my drafts

“hi,” he says, a little nervous, like you still knock the wind out of him after all this time.

you smile & step aside to let him in, the hem of your plaid skirt brushing against your knees. you’re wearing that cream cardigan he always says makes you look like you belong in a 19th-century library, & you sort of like that. like you’re a mystery he still hasn’t solved. & he doesn't want to.

“what’s behind your back?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he hesitates for exactly 2.3 seconds, then brings it forward▰a small, unevenly wrapped package with a pink sticky note that says “i love you” in handwriting so neat it looks printed.

“i made you something,” he says, cheeks flushed like a boy in a high school hallway, not an fbi agent who’s seen too much.

you place it gently on the table, but didn't open it yet. not yet. because the chessboard is already set up on the coffee table, & the cinnamon rolls are warm, icing melting into golden spirals. & tonight is about slow things. soft things. you & spencer.

“you’re white,” you say, taking your seat on the rug. he cleared his throat & moved his pawn to e4 almost instantly.

“e5,” you reply, mirroring him.

“knight to f3.”

he pushes his glasses up, analyzing the board like it’s a crime scene, but there’s something tender in it▰like he’s not trying to win, just trying to understand the way your brain works.

you play quietly for a while. bishop c4. knight c6. castles. biting the urge to smile widely. light touches. your legs brush under the table & neither of you move away.

“check,” he says softly, rook sliding to d1.

you narrow your eyes, grin. “not for long.”

bishop to e3. pawn to h6. queen to d2.

then, of course,

“mate in three,” he murmurs, voice almost apologetic.

you laugh & drop your head into his shoulder, the game forgotten. “i baked you cinnamon rolls & this is how you repay me?”

“i wasn’t trying to win,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “i just like watching the way you think.”

you finally open the gift & inside is a tiny handmade book. stitched together with thread & tons of quotes, scribbled facts, little notes like your brain is its favorite place to be. it smells like old libraries & him.

you kiss his cheek & pull him toward the couch, a plate of cinnamon rolls in your hands.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

[freakspectors]

EDGAR ALLAN POE SMUT HCS.

E. A. Poe | BSD x Gender-Neutral Reader Smut Headcanons .

warnings ; smut, my pussy wrote this and its 3 am prepare for errors, body worship, cunnilingus, blowjob, face sitting, breeding mention, praise kink, cowgirl position, etc.

authors note ; hi guys .. im a bsd fan .. a big one ... and i fucking love poe so much im obsessed with him . this entire thing is self indulgent i swear to you (which is why female anatomy is mentioned more in this . sorry guys TvT) . sighs deeply .... anyways go read ttyl ! ^_^

�� Poe's a Sub. 100%. But occasionally, he's not -- and on those occasions he's a Service Dom.

✦ He acts high and mighty, yet nearly crumbles from the slightest bit of teasing from you. He stammers and whines so pathetically from just a simple touch. If you leave Poe alone after that, later you'll feel him wrap his hands around your waist and meekly grind against you to show how hard he is for you.

✦ Poe loves when you gently place kisses on his body, especially his neck. He's the most sensitive there. Bite him there and you'll receive the most pitiful whimpers you ever heard. His tip gets all sticky from just that alone .. please stroke him off , he deserves it :((

✦ Speaking of Poe's dick, it's HUGE. It's a little girthy and very long. He simply has big dick energy I don't know what to tell you. He cums so much, too. Hot, sticky, salty ropes always gush out load by load, emptying himself out. He has so much more, though .. <3

✦ A pillow prince when he's subbing. He's an absolute mess when you suck his dick, his whimpers and babbles filling the room while you bob your head and swirl your tongue around him. He begs to cum, even if you never asked him to.

✦ Service Dom Poe isn't entirely different.. But you can easily tell them apart.

✦ Poe always does body worship. He'll kiss you all the way down your body like you do for him, mumbling praise as his lips touch your warm skin.

✦ His favorite part of you to kiss is your thighs. If you're plus sized or have larger thighs you're putting him in pure bliss, I'm telling you. Poe would bury himself in them if he could.

✦ On that note, Poe is into face sitting. Heavily. He likes it when you close your thighs around his head when you cum, along with you grind on his tongue and make a mess on his face.

✦ He himself isn't exactly a messy eater, though. Poe's slow and calculated, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue exactly the way you like it. He doesn't mind if you squirm either; it lets him know how well he's doing. The same applies if you have a dick - he sucks at a reasonable pace, and doesn't mind if you start to facefuck him.

✦ Poe's so focused on pleasing you he denies his own needs. He'd deny his own orgasm just to feel you cum around his cock a little more .. He just wants to make you feel good :((

✦ Please praise him. Doesn't matter if Poe's subbing or dominating; just do it. It's his favorite thing ever. He loves to give and receive it.

✦ Poe likes to make you read his novels when he's giving you head or fucking you. The way you stammer and sputter always makes him smile.

✦ Poe writes out the fantasies he has of you nearly all the time. They range from you topping him, fucking him until he can't cum anymore to Poe breeding you, his thick cum pouring out of your stuffed hole. He never lets anyone read them - not even you.

✦ His favorite position is Cowgirl. It works for when he's a sub and a dom -- you can take control, riding him while he grips the sheets desperately, or he can hold you by your hips to help you bounce on him; yanking out your fourth orgasm for the night. Poe loves the duality of it.

✦ Aftercare with Poe is very sweet! When he subs he's tired as fuck, so he ushers you to join him for bed and whispers about how much he loves you as you both doze off. When he doms, he's not as tired, but he's all over you making sure you're okay and if you need anything. He's infatuated with you, his various love poems for you has proof of that.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[sweeterthanficstion]

— coast2coast (pt. two) || l.s.k

pairing: life guard!leon kennedy x surfer!fem!reader

tags: surfing au! set in malibu, 1998, i wrote this with re2 leon in mind but re4 leon works too, UNEDITED! fluff, fluff, fluff

summary: Summer is a fickle thing, sticky-sweet and fleeting, gone before you're ready. You've learnt to love it while it lasts. For you, every summer has been the same—surf, sand, salt-water tides and the hot Malibu breeze. But this summer brings a new sort of challenge, a spotlight your not so sure you're ready for, as well as a boy with golden hair, eyes as blue as the waves, and a way of making your heart rattle between your ribs like it’s desperate to break free.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: ngl yall this actually sucked the life out of me, i'm high on like 3 choccy milks and delirious and tired i have work tmrw i wanna sleep.... anyway thank u cressie for providing me with million ideas this ones to u cheers *raises choccy milk to u* --- also sorry i literally hate writing dialogue but this ended up being more dialogue than anything im so sorry in advance if anything sounds WEIRD </3

playlist⭑series masterlist⭑AO3 || part 1⭑part 2⭑part 3 (coming soon)

You have this recurring dream that feels like a distant memory. Washed in milky sunlight, somewhere in Santa Monica, you lost yourself to hot summer days and salt-water tides, sticky fruit juice running down your arms, and the sting of a sunburn peeling across your shoulders.

The year was 1986, August was young and so were you. You’d learn this year just how quickly it’d slip through your fingers.

Barefoot and sun-dazed, you’d escape to the beach each evening. There, you met a boy by the waves. Older, taller, with sun-bleached hair and sun-kissed cheeks. 

You remember a sunset that bled out over the water that evening, long and golden. His laugh echoed yours, and you smiled when he did. He must’ve been summer personified, you’d concluded. With his hair like sunshine and eyes like the ocean…

You never did learn his name.

You startle awake to the sound of your alarm clock blaring angrily atop your bedside table. Groaning, you slam a groggy hand down on it, killing the noise, and drag yourself out of bed in twenty minutes flat, your surfboard tucked under your arm.

You track the familiar path behind your old oceanfront home, the sandy trail winding its way down the bluff like a lazy ribbon, overgrown with beach grass and wildflowers that nod in the soft morning breeze. Thick sycamore trees stretch their sprawling branches overhead, casting the path in dappled shadows, leaving behind little islands of light that shimmer over the fine sand. It smells like salt and earth, and the faintest hint of blooming jasmine from somewhere you’ve never quite been able to pinpoint.

Ahead of you, at the base of the trail, your view opens up to the rocky cove that cradles your little slice of the coast. Tucked away from prying eyes, smooth stone outcrops rise like bones from the earth, their surfaces slick with sea spray. Between them, shallow rock pools glimmer in the early morning light, and if you look close enough, you’re sure you’ll find tiny crabs skittering to hide under the lichen-covered stone.

You leap from stone to stone, board tucked under your arm all the while. Your bare feet always know exactly where to land without slipping. 

The sandy shore calls to you in the familiar language of gulls overhead and the steady rush and retreat of waves against the rocks. That’s where Claire will be, you know—her board already waxed and her camera slung over her shoulder.

Claire’s love for the ocean has always been as steadfast as yours, but is her own secret language all the same. Where you see the waves as an escape to get lost in, she sees them as her muse. 

By the time she was twelve, her parents had bought her a little film camera, and she’d started seeing the world in snapshots and light leaks.  

Hopping down from the rock, with your board under one arm and your sandals dangling from your fingers, you make your way to the sand. 

You spot Claire easily, a blur of sun-kissed skin and red hair, crouched by the shoreline with her camera in hand.

She must hear you coming, or maybe it’s years of friendship that stirs the feeling in her chest and urges her to look up.

“Morning, sunshine,” she calls, grin as wide as the ocean behind her.

“Morning,” you echo, dropping your board on to the sand before you follow suit, knees bumping hers as you settle beside her. She hands you her wax wordlessly without a second thought, a quiet, easy rhythm of familiarity you’ve both fallen into over the years.

You think that’s why you love her, love this. Corral Beach is stagnant, always will be. Even the tides seem to move in a familiar pattern around here. After years of following your parents around the globe, constantly chasing something new, you think this is what you need.

“You’re slow today,” Claire hums after a while, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Something on your mind?”

You shrug your shoulders instead, unsure of how to put into words the strangeness in your chest after a lingering dream that feels more like deja vu. “Just savouring it. The water’s not going anywhere.”

“Good thing,” she quips, before leaning back on her hands. Her gaze fixes on the horizon for a moment, but Claire’s never been one for small talk, it’s not long before her eyes dart back to you. “So…”

Here it comes.

“Have you thought about that surf comp yet?” She asks, tilting her head at you in the way she does when she’s trying to be casual but failing miserably.

You groan in dramatics, dragging out the sound as your head falls back. “Claire.”

“What?” She feigns innocence. “It’s not like I’m saying you have to sign up right this second.”

“Not happening,” you sing-song, getting to your feet and taking your board with you. 

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be like that,” she rolls her eyes, watching you make your way towards the water.

“Can’t hear you!” you shout dramatically, cupping your hand around your ear is if the waves are just too loud. 

She raises an eyebrow, her grin sharpening into something knowing. “Oh, you heard me.”

“Nope, not a word!” you call back with a shrug, and before she can press further, you break into a sprint, your feet kicking up sprays of sand as you rush toward the shoreline.

You can hear Claire laughing as you wade into the cool surf, the water rushing up eagerly to greet you. She doesn’t follow with her longboard in tow, and when you look over your shoulder, the rising sun warming your back, you see her still at the shore, camera held at the ready as she flashes you a thumbs up instead.

The ocean seems to move in whispers beneath you, gentle ripples that build into the promise of a wave. You see it first—a set forming, steady and clean, beckoning you like a siren's call you can’t deny. You paddle out towards it, letting the swell lift you effortlessly. The ocean is alive beneath you, humming its own rhythm, and you move with it. 

The wave stretches on, long and peeling, giving you time to cut back and forth across its glassy face. You dip low, almost touching the water with your hand, then push into a sharp turn, feeling the spray kiss your legs. 

As the wave softens, you coast to a gentle stop, stepping off your board into the shallow surf. The sand squishes under your toes, and it’s only then you see Claire waving her camera in triumph. 

“That’s the one!” She grins, as you wade back towards her, the waves still lapping at your ankles as if begging you to come back. 

Claire meets you halfway, tilting the camera to show you the screen: It’s the perfect shot of you mid-turn, your board slicing through the wave, sunshine filtering through and catching the spray just right, refracting in tiny rainbows like a million scattered diamonds. You have to admit, you do look killer. 

“Are you gonna upload that one?” you ask, brushing wet hair from your face. 

Claire looks at you like it’s a silly question. “Are you kidding? Look at this, it’s perfect. Surfline is gonna eat this up—and if they don’t, they’re insane.”

Her passion radiates off her in waves like the tide does. Claire’s been at this for months now, chasing every opportunity she can find to get her photos not just noticed, but seen. You’ve just about lost count of how many times she’s sent in shots to Surfline.

“Now c’mon,��� she continues, “show me what else you’ve got.”

And you do. Over and over, the waves pulling you in, the ocean pulling you home. By the time the sun rises higher in the sky, Claire’s memory card is nearly full, and you’re sure you’ll be late to your shift at Bunny’s if you let yourself fall into the ocean’s allure for any longer. The cove has started to fill with other locals, the place a well kept secret between surfers wanting a quiet retreat.

Claire waits as you shake the last of the saltwater from your hair—or, well, try to—perched atop the sun-bleached remains of an old tree topped sideways. Her legs swing lazily, her tote bag by her feet.

Something must catch her eye, because suddenly she’s letting out a gasp.

“Holy shit.”

Her voice is nearly reverent. You pause, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see him. 

And yeah, Holy shit.

It’s then you see him again, and it feels like magic watching him cut through the wave he’s catching with the ease of someone who does really know what they’re doing.

Blue-eyed blondie from yesterday is out in the surf, carving through the water like he’s part of it, like he’s spent his whole life learning how to move with it instead of against it. He’s all ease, all instinct, cutting clean lines into the wave before it folds beneath him.

It’s hypnotic. Magic, almost.

“He’s good,” Claire murmurs.

“Yeah,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He is good. Too good for someone who claimed to be just okay.

And then, as if he sensing your gaze, he falters.

A hair-width miscalculation, a break in his rhythm, something or other. Then he’s toppling off his board and crashing into the whitewater with all the grace of a bird missing a branch.

There’s but a breath of silence before Claire cackles. “Poor guy.”

You bite down a smile, shaking your head.

“Do you know him?” Claire asks, jogging to catch up as you start walking back toward the trail, her longboard dragging behind her in the sand. “I’ve never seen him around, I wonder how he knows about the cove.”

“No,” you say too quickly before realising how it sounds, “yes? Sort of.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, as if catching onto something unspoken, and you wish all at once for the ground to swallow you up. “That’s not an answer.”

“I met him at the beach yesterday, he saved my board.”

“Oh,” she says, her tone lifting like something just clicked into place. Then, after a pause: “So…”

“So what?” You glance at her, sounding a little exasperated.

“So… what’s the deal? Did you talk to him? Does he live around here?”

You groan. “Claire, it’s nothing. I don’t know.”

“Mm-hmm,” Her grin spreads wider, brighter, knowing. “You’re antsy.”

“No I’m not!” you say firmly, picking up your pace like it’ll somehow leave this conversation behind.

“Sure,” she hums. “Whatever you say.”

The next time you see him is during the afternoon rush at Bunny’s. 

The late-afternoon heat hangs over Corral Beach, and the diner feels like it’s baking under the weight of too many bodies pressed into too small a space. The air conditioner rattles helplessly above the front counter, but it does little to cut through the syrupy warmth.

You’ve been working at Bunny’s long enough to know the rhythm of summer shifts like the back of your hand, the sound of the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, Claire humming along to the shitty little radio perched atop the front desk.

You’ve got a tray of iced teas balanced on one hand, weaving around chairs, tables, and sketchup sticky toddlers, when the bell over the door jingles.

“Welcome to Bunny’s!” Claire chirps from the register, her voice bright and automatic. 

And you don’t look up at first, mind too occupied on your tasks, but then—

“Uh, hi. I—oh, no, you first. Wait— oh, okay.”

That voice. It lilts over the chatter, low and sweet like something you’ve heard all your life.

You turn instinctively, and there he is—standing awkwardly in the entryway, looking like he’s just wandered off a postcard. Blondie, with his damp hair curling at the ends, a stripe of sand on his forearm, like he didn’t quite get it all off. He’s holding the door open for an older couple, sweet boyish grin across his face as they thank him.

He’s swapped out the lifeguard uniform for a thin cotton shirt, and a puka shell necklace.

You blink, fingers tightening around the tray. You wonder by what twist of fate you’ve managed to run into him again.

“Hey, table four’s waiting on their drinks,” Claire calls, snapping you out of it.

“Right, yeah.” 

You drop your gaze, forcing yourself to focus as you slip between tables, pretending the sight of him doesn’t tie your stomach into some ridiculous knot.

It’s not even like he’ll recognise me, you tell yourself as you weave between tables, dropping drinks off at one and sliding a basket of fries onto another. But when you glance back towards the door, you catch him talking to Claire at the register, and your pulse trips over itself.

You head back toward the counter, heart sinking with every step, trying to avoid his gaze, save yourself from any possible embarrassment, say you trip over your own feet or say something utterly stupid.

But Blondie’s perceptive, apparently, just as he’s about to turn away, he does a double take, like he wasn’t expecting you to be here, like maybe he’s not even sure it’s really you. His brows pinch slightly, lips parting as he huffs an amused breath.

“Guess Malibu’s smaller than I thought,” his voice is smooth where you feel jittery all over.

Claire’s brows shoot up, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“Oh, so you two know each other?” 

He glances at you again, that stupid smile on his lips. “Yeah.”

“No,” you blurt at the same time, you turn to fiddle with the drinks machine to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Well not really,” you mumble.

Leon’s mouth quirks into the faintest of smiles, like you’ve confirmed some suspicion of his. “That clears things up.”

“I don’t know you,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, though it doesn’t sound nearly as dismissive as you’d hoped. It’s true in half, you don’t know him. Don’t even know his name yet. But why then does it feel like you’ve inexplicably known him forever?

“You could,” he offers, voice light, but his expression betrays him—like his own boldness catches him off guard. 

You bite back a smile. “Don’t push it.”

“You’re holding up the line,” Claire chimes in, all too entertained by whatever this is.

There is no line, unless you count the kids loitering by the counter, trying to nonchalantly steal more straws to build their makeshift tower.

Blondie raises his hands as if in surrender, “alright, well what do you suggest?” And he’s looking at you when he asks. 

God, damn him and those eyes. He has a way of making you feel like the center of the world. You clear your throat, slipping back into safe, scripted territory. “We have the best shrimp tacos on this stretch of the PCH,” you say, repeating the slogan on the chalkboard outside with practiced ease.

His smile softens, like maybe he finds your delivery a little more amusing than convincing. “Sure. Shrimp tacos it is.”

Claire rings him up, and he reaches into the pocket of his board shorts, presumably for his wallet, but before he turns away, he hesitates briefly. “Actually— I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”

You quirk a brow. “Uhuh?”

“Was wondering if you could, y’know… show me a few moves.”

You blink. “Moves?”

“Surfing,” he clarifies. 

“You don’t need my help, you’re already great.” You chuckle softly, not exactly sure what to do to hide the heat creeping up your neck now.

His mouth twitches, as if fighting another one of his stupid smirks. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh… uh,” You rub the back of your neck, suddenly regretting your words. “This morning. At the cove.”

His lips part slightly before he lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Malibu can’t be this small.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Anyway, yes or no?”

You narrow your eyes a little, “What’s in it for me?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “You owe me one don’t you, for your board? Unless you’re scared of a little challenge.”

You scoff at that. “Oh, watch it, Blondie.”

The grin lingers, easy and teasing. “It’s Leon,” and something about his voice softens. “You can call me Leon. And you?”

You don’t answer right away, caught up in the way his name rings around your head, the way it suits him somehow—like salt air and early mornings and something easy.

His lips press together, “Alright then,” he murmurs, pushing back from the counter, his eyes still on you. “Keep your secrets, sunshine.”

You roll your eyes but don’t fight the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

His order is up in five, and when you slide the basket of tacos across the counter, there’s a napkin tucked underneath—your name scrawled across it in quick, slightly smudged ink, punctuated with a little smiley face.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[bettysupremacy]

HI oh my goodness i just flashed through ur entire page (its LOVELY writing) and i desperately need more!! I noticed the lack of Remus request so here i am B)

OKAY could I request plot for before remus and the reader are together? Like how they came to be ^^ mm maybe like "coincidentally" him running into her at her favorite bookstore or coffee shop (ITS CLICHE IM SORRY BUT I LOVE THESE LOCATIONS) until he finally asks her on a date !! (and maybe his friends spying on him just becuase hehe)

thank uu

HELLO I appreciate the support and there definitely is a lack of Remus. It’s cliche BUT CUTE! thank you for the request babe!!

“But I can’t just.. talk to her.”

“Why not?” James deflates. “Girls love that!”

They sit at a tiny table, in a tiny bookshop, in an even tinier cafe built in. The air crackles with cedar wood and vanilla, swirling around his hazy mind. It’s cozy and intimate but he has no place to put his legs, he sits awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously. It accidentally hits the table. Sirius flinches from his mug.

“I’ll scare her.”

“Well then,” Sirius stirs his coffee. “don’t be weird.”

They came to study- or rather Remus came to study and his shadows came along. It’d been fine at first, computer out, a quiet Sirius. But Sirius has never had the patience to play quiet for long, especially when James is near.

“Maybe I’ll just leave it..” Remus murmurs.

Two voices shout at him. “No!”

Remus flinches mouthing sorry to the people around him. Sorry students he’d burdened with his rowdy friends. Hands to a sticky table, he pushes up. “M’Kay, I’m going.”

His feet feel heavy. He wants to do this, he wants your number, but god he doesn’t want to do this. Rejection is enough, but rejection in front of his two best friends? Looking back at his table, James encourages him. Two thumbs up and a hopeful face.

“Oh, shit!”

He’s crashed into you.

“Oh,” you startle, stumbling.

James and Sirius sink into their seats behind you. “Wow.”

Remus stabilizes you. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off.

“No seriously, shit, I’m sorry.”

You laugh, high and sweet. “I’m fine. At least there wasn’t coffee.”

“Has that happened?”

“Yes,” you breathe a laugh, dusting off your pants nervously. “before an interview.”

“That’s awful.” He’s genuine.

“It was kinda,” you ease. “they weren’t nearly as nice or attractive as you.”

He swallows. He thinks your pretty, very pretty. His eyes catch on your lips, your eyelashes. That’s a weird thing to notice, right? Eyelashes? He’s usually smoother than this, he wishes he was smoother than this. He’s embarrassed.

You flatten over his doubts like you can read his mind. “I’m clumsy, we can say this was my fault.”

“Noble.”

You shrug. “It’s not far from the truth.”

“Not very chivalrous of me.” He laughs a little.

“It’s okay,” you’re comforting, he likes that. “Did you need something over here?”

He scratches his neck, speaking before he can himself.

“Do you wanna,” he doesn’t know what to say. He started the sentence and backed out too late, but you stand there with patient eyes. He swallows a whine. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, yanno?”

You laugh unabashed. “It’s okay.”

“Falling on you like a building threw me off, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s start over?” You ask. “What’s your name?”

“Remus.” He sounds a little more confident. “I was over there,” he points to James and Sirius who wave. “and I thought you were pretty, would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

You hold back a laugh at the formality of it all. “Yes, do you have a cell?”

“Yes.” He breathes, pulling out his small phone decidedly. He doesn’t rarely use it, ‘cept for plans. Skipping past texts from James, Sirius, Lily.. etc, he opens the little contacts icon. He doesn’t ignore them purposely, he just prefers to call.

“Here,” you smile, taking the phone from him gently. “this is where you can reach me if you want to buy me another cookie.”

He looks down, he hadn’t noticed the fallen treat.

“Don’t” you start firmly with an easy smile. “say sorry.”

He laughs, holding back another sorry. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” you reach down to point at the pen in his pocket. “Can I see that?”

He nods, pulling out the pen for you. It’d been abandoned at the same time he’d realized studying was no hope. His fingers brush against yours as he gives it to you, but you don’t let his hand far. Gently grabbing it, you look up at his confused eyebrows for a confirmation. A gentle can I?

“Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “go ahead.”

You take the pen to his skin and work the ballpoint over the rough surface. The ink bleeds into him as you write the address. You notice his scars, jagged deep tissue, and ignore them. His ears heat up. “Really good drinks here,” you explain “and next to a bakery.”

A laugh stumbles out of his lips before he can stop it and you look up to grin. “Noted.”

Letting his hand go, you watch him bring the scribble up to his eyes to read it. It’s messy but he thinks that has something to do with his scars rather than you.

“Time?” Remus asks, and you grab his hand again, writing a messy 8PM under your other ink marks. “I’ll uh see you there.”

“Perfect.”

He turns to walk, almost immediately turning back and grabbing your arm quickly. “Wait, what’s your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Remus.”

“I know.” You laugh.

He knows you’re not laughing at him, but he cringes anyway as he walks back, heavy with embarrassment, triumphant with the thrill of a date. the boys pat his back when he sits down.

“Poor thing.” Sirius consoles.

James scoffs. “He got the date!”

“But still,” Sirius sulks. “that was embarrassing.”

Remus glares. “Thanks.”

“Well go on,” James starts. “show us the writing.”

Remus sticks out his hand for the boys to see. They hum mildly, looking at him with approval. “Nice bar.” Sirius nods.

“Next to a bakery.” James affirms.

“I, uh,” Remus scratches the back of his neck. “made her drop her cookie.”

“You dickhead.” Sirius laughs.

“I didn’t mean to!”

He slumps in his chair as James hits Sirius. They argue, petulantly and boyish, and Remus looks away. You stand at the register buying a book he doesn’t remember you holding when he’d knocked into you. Smiling at the cashier you grab your change and the bag of goods you bought. He feels weird watching. This has got to be weird, right? But as you walk out, you glance to him, lifting your hand up to your ear during the doorbell chime.

Call me.

[jadeoru]

SMUDGED LIPSTICK!

O2: chivalry -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: decode - paramore 🎶

Sakusa watched her perform on that stage, surrounded by lighting that hit her in an almost angelic way; illuminating her features. She danced around like she's lived in the spotlight her whole life. And he knows she didn’t. He recognised her upon the first glance. One brief look, and he knew exactly who she was. It would take a million lifetimes before he could forget her face. He tried to deny it at first, but its impossible. Standing on that stage, singing her heart out to a punk rock melody, was the girl he used to call his best friend. The girl he ruined everything with.

He hadn’t even noticed his jaw clenching until his teeth began to hurt. His head was spinning; overwhelmed with emotions that he couldn’t even name. Relief? Sadness? Regret? Grief? Honestly, his mind was a disgusting mixture of all of the above. If he'd known that she would be here, that he’d see her again for the first time in almost 4 years, a part of him would’ve wanted to stay at home and to never leave again. But, strangely, the other part of him would’ve left at the mere mention of her name alone. It's pathetic, he thinks. He constantly prayed for moments like these, where he’d see her again: A second chance to make everything better again. Now that he has it, he doesn’t know how to process it.

It’s all so unsightly. So messy. Everything is sticky: the floors, the tables, even his hair is clinging to his forehead with sweat. It’s evident that no one in the crowd has seen a shower in their lives; he can practically see the clouds of b.o that float around him. It’s everything he hates in one place; his head hurts and a part of him wants to go home, a part of him isn’t ready to see her again. But his feet are taking him forwards, his feet are forcing him through the crowd to get as close as possible. Closer to her.

Sakusa selfishly hopes that somewhere out there, there's a universe where he didn't say those words to her; a universe where he didnt ruin everything. a universe where they were still best friends. And if that exists,

maybe there's a universe where they could’ve been more than that.

His thoughts were rudely cut short when the music stopped. Then, among the drunken banter and the crowd chattering amongst themselves, he heard her voice.

“Thank you so much to everyone who showed up tonight! We hope you enjoyed the show because we certainly fucking did. You guys were without a doubt one of the best crowds we’ve ever had!” She spoke earnestly, yet exhaustedly, but overall she sounded just so happy to be up there. He admired that; how humble she was. Her voice was sweet like honey, just like it was the last time he heard it. Despite the shouting, the shakiness of her words as she struggled to hold her tears back, her voice was always so sweet to him. As he cleared his head from the memories of her, she left too. The band had finished their performance, and most of them had exited the stage. Except for their lanky drummer, and their bassist, who were helping the staff carry their equipment. As he searched the area for any trace of her, he finally noticed the obnoxious buzzing of his phone. Shit.

extra!

sorry this ones kinda short :-[

im gonna try have the next part posted within the next few hours to make up for it !

okay fact time

sakusa never opens up to his friends

he just doesnt want to like he genuinely doesnt bother cuz he knows they wont help him

they give terrible advice

nishinoya accidentally launched his guitar pick halfway through the set so he had to play the rest of the song with his fingers strumming

which fucking HURT

non au related but fun fact!! antigun was the name of the band im in before we changed it!!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @anianurst @sleepy-writer84 @itsdragonius @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @arachnoia @sugarrhiccupp

dm me, reply to this, or send me an ask to be added to the taglist ^__^

[crimsonbubble]

I need angry sex stuff with soap, i need him so bad its not even funny anymore😩😩😩😩😩😩

I think in this scenario (depending on WHAT made him angry) he might leave some bruises but after he was done and the anger wore off he would be all clingy

from 🤬🤬😡😡😡😡 to😘😘😇😇😇😍

Ur doing gods work, love Ur writing 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽😘🫶🏽😘

(English isnt my first language sorry lol)

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, breeding kink, overstimulation, manhandling, creampies *not proofread, just pure horny

[SALIVATING RN SJSKSNSJ] IM GETTING BACK INTO THINGS I PROMISE 🥹🥹🤞🤞

MINORS DNI!!

trying to talk to him after a not-to-good briefing and immediately being greeted with dark eyes and a clenched jaw.

he's trying to be gentle, he is. but he's so furious that the blunt edge of his nails is digging into the skin of your hips. his pace is beyond brutal, a sweet lick of pain meddling with the pleasure.

his rough hands are grabbing and fondling any inch of skin he can touch and taste. he's pushing and pulling you into positions that have him hitting deep within your walls.

it's such a mess, a hot and sticky mess that only grows with each heavy taunt of his hips. the pleasure is overwhelming but the sting of your nails across his biceps and back feels too good to stop now.

besides, you're letting out the most dick throbbing moans, it's making it hard for poor johnny boy to focus. as the pricking tingle of oversensitivity starts to set in, he finally slows down.

his thrusts are shallow as he rides out his final orgasm. you're sensitive and sore beyond belief. your hips and thighs bruised with nail indents and your hole wet and sticky.

as his high wears off, he can't help but flop on top of you. eventually rolling over to lay beside you. has to throw himself off the bed so he can get both of you cleaned up and ready for a good ass sleep.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hii honey!! hope it’s as good as we talked about. you’re very welcome, glad you liked it!! I love dad tan sm it’s actually concerning. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

sorry had to repost it, when I uploaded it, it completely disappeared from my dash??? @j23r23

NEW ADDITION.

dad tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 431

Expanding on family is something both you and Tangerine always knew you wanted. And now, sitting in your hospital bed with a newborn, you knew you had got your wish.

"Mum, mummy," Mandy calls, running into your hospital room, Uncle Lemon tailing close behind. "Where is she?" she excitedly asks, jumping onto the bed beside you. "Can I see her?" 

"Yeah, in a minute, poppet. Daddy's changing her," you reply, stroking over her face. "I missed you," you kiss her forehead, turning to look at Lemon standing beside you.

"So proud of you," he says, leaning over to kiss your cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," you smile. "Thank you for looking after her."

“It's really no… problem,” he goes quiet, watching his brother and new baby niece enter the room. "Oh my god, she's tiny," he whispers, looking between you and Tan, his eyes widening - his expression full of admiration.

"She is," Tangerine whispers in response, too afraid of scaring her. "She's beautiful."

He walks closer, joining the rest of his family around you on the bed. He takes a seat at the edge, sitting beside your knees and his daughter - his new baby one cradled in his arms. 

"Can I see her?" Mandy asks, perching higher to get a better look. 

Tangerine nods, tilting the newborn slightly. "Yeah, but no touching just yet. You probably have sticky hands," he scolds lovingly, playfully narrowing his eyes. "Bet you've had lots of sweets with Lem, hm?"

"Do you want to hold her?" you ask, looking at Lemon, watching the trance-like focus he has on your new baby. 

He looks between you and Tan for confirmation, the pair of you nodding with a soft smile. Tangerine stands and extends his arms towards his brother, placing his new niece in his loving hold.

"Oh my god," he whispers, his voice almost fragile. "She's beautiful."

Tangerine pats his twin's back before moving to stand by your side, his hand reaching for yours.

"What's her name?" he finally asks, his gaze concentrated on the little girl.

You and Tan turn to look at each other, your eyes knowing as you silently agree on the name you've spoken about.

"We named her after her uncle," you say softly, grip tightening in your lover's hand. "Mel... just like Lem," you smile, watching his eyes almost swell. 

"No," he shakes his head, tone like that of disbelief. "No, you didn't."

Tangerine nods, his features tight like he's trying to pull himself together. 

Lemon looks down at her, his bottom lip wobbling. "Welcome to the family, little Mel." 

IVE LOOKED THROUGH SO MANY IMAGES ON PINTEREST OF DADS WITH BABIES TO FIND THE PERFECT IMAGE (had no luck) AND IM NOT OKAY. ITS DONE SOMETHING TO ME

[meowpupp]

Omg i had read the numbing cream price fic with puppy reader awhile ago and i had the thought of maybe puppy reader being scared to fuck price after cause she thinks he will make her numb again (im not sure if that makes sense) you dont have to do this its just a little thought i had cause im a slut for angst with smut at the end

tw:// none? price is being a tease. hickies, hybrid smut, fem reader

it's always after the more intense punishments that price feels bad. you're just so sweet and soft, he can't help it. but something about your big teary eyes as you whimper and whine around his cock twists his morals. gummy walls clenching his thick shaft tight as you cry, reduced to tears as you take it. 

but its only a couple days after that it hits price. he was a little too mean. you've been skittish, squirming away from his touch, brushing him off. its only once he has you under him, pretty body naked and exposed for him, that he realises. you're nervous, worried his punishment may be the new norm. 

instead, price hums, listening to every wobbly word. after you're done, he sighs, squeezing you gently. "Im sorry sweetheart, i was a little too mean, wasn't i?" his hand snakes down, teasing the waistband of your panties. "bet i left your poor little cunt all needy hm?"

his beard scratches your neck as he kisses your jaw. he pulls away, a hand cupping your cheek, the other next to your head to support himself. his voice is a low purr, thick with lust and greed. "what's wrong pup?" his hand trails, curling around the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, "words, now."

and on command, you spill. words nervous and small as you tell him how you don't want to be numb again. how your ache to feel his thick, veiny cock stretching you out. you miss the sting from when he first fills you, the fullness you feel as he rutts into you. it takes everything in him not to fuck you then and there, fill your poor neglected cunt with more cock than it can handle. but he doesn't.

his fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing your mons. His eyes meet yours, intense, stormy blue staring into you, "want me to kiss it better?" he almost laughs at the loud, needy wine you let out, how your thighs tense as you soak your panties. your body squirms under his, hips bucking and back arching. you crave him. his thick, rough fingers. his masculine, musky scent. his deep growly voice. everything is so him, so engulfing, and he knows you need it.

price continues to tease, leaving a line of hot, sloppy kisses down your sternum, then your tummy. he takes his time, exploring every dip and curve. your body is like an art piece, something he wants to admire. price stains your skin with lovebites and hickies, marking the soft flesh as his. He leaves no inch untouched, ensuring that you feel the sharp nip of his teeth and scratch from his beard all over. 

his fingers continue to tease. his left traces your slit, fingers only dipping in deep enough to make them slick and sticky. the other pins your hips to the bed, making sure you can't escape his slow torture. he grins and laughs against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. He can feel the dull throb of your needy cunt, how you're only getting wetter, whiner. 

"where do you need me, sweet girl?" he kisses your sternum, right between your soft tits "here?" his head tilts, waiting a moment, feigning innocence as you squirm and whine, "what about here, hm? deep in your pretty tummy? rearranging your guts?" his eyes are sharp as they watch you, burning the image of you so desperate into his mind. 

he chuckles, the sound vibrating against the sensitive skin of your pelvis. price lowers his head, taking his time. his beard scratches the inside of your thighs, breath ghosting your clothed cunt. he takes a moment to admire you. flushed and needy, legs spread for him, hands scratching at his hair as you try to pull him closer. if he could, he'd keep you like this forever. desperate for his cock, for relief from the fire in he started in your gut. 

He finally relents, kissing your clothed clit "or maybe here, hm? tell me puppy, words."

taglist; @titaniasfairy (anyone else just send an ask to my inbox or comment n I'll add you)

[dancingdonatello]

HI ITS 🦆 ANON THE ONE WHO MADE AN AO3 CUZ OF YOU! AND YES I DID MEAN REQS I JUST CANT TYPE FOR SHIT 💀

I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD DO LIKE VILLIAN!TURTLES HEADCANONS?

LIKE DONNIE AND MIKEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN RAISED BY DRAXUM, AND DRAXUM NUTURED DONNIES LOVE FOR SCIENCE OR SMTH AND MIKEY MYSTIC POWERS WERE TRAINED BY DRAXUM TOO

AND MAYBE LEO WAS RAISED BY BIG MAMA

IDK ABOUT RAPH BUT YEAH!

BASICALLY THEY'RE RAISED TO HATE HUMANS, BUT THEN AFTER MEETING/ENCOUNTERING Y/N THEIR PERSPECTVIE CHANGES (ATLEAST ON THE READER)

MAYBE LIKE WRITE ABOUT THEIR VEIW ON THE READER, AND MAYBE THEY INVITE THE READER OVER TO THEIR HOME, OR MAYBE EVEN TELLING THEIR VILLAIN PAERNTS THEY LIKE A HUMAN, OR ALL 3!!!-

IM SORRY I JUST GET SO HYPED SEEING YOUR WORK AND I HAVENT REQUESTED ANYTHING IN A WHILE AND I JUST SAW ONE OF YOUR POSTS AND STIMMING AND KICKING MY FEET AND OVERALL JUST AKSJDHKJFHFKJH

ANYWAY THX FOR TAKING TIME TO READ THIS AND TYPE IT IF YOU DO! FEEL FREE TO PUT THIS ON PAUSE OR JUST DELETE IT

MAKE SURE TO DRINKS LOTS OF WATER, AND EAT! AND CHECK WHAT TIME IT IS, DONT WANNA FUCK UP UR SLEEP SCHEDULE ANYMORE THAN IT IS LMAO!!!

AND STRETCH YOUR WRISTS BESTIE

🦆 anon @duckanon

<3 <3 luv u duck anon.

villain rise turtles x reader

You have something that Raph needs. He’s been tracking you for months and he knows that you have a piece of the armor he needs for the resurrection of the Shredder.

And he’s never been one for plans, so…

He breaks in through your window.

You scream and then he screams and you’re holding on with an impressive grip on the armor piece and….

And you’re…. you’re so… cute. He suddenly lets go of the glove and you go flying back, knocking your head against the wall. He lets out an eep and rushes over, cradling your head.

You look pretty freaked out at his change of heart and he doesn’t blame you.

How he’s going to explain this to the Foot Lieutenant and the Foot Brute, he has no idea.

They take your introduction pretty well. So do you, by how you actually willingly hand over the glove.

But… your reaction when you find out about the Shredder at the baseball game destroys any loyalty he has left for the Foot Clan. He can’t bear to see that terrified expression on your face when you look at him.

Leo may have snuck up to the part of the hotel Big Mama told him to stay away from. But how could she blame him? People watching was his favorite past time! Who better to watch than some stupid humans?

And when his eyes landed on you, he just knew he had to have you. He wouldn’t regret it even when Big Mama punished him. If he hadn’t have snuck up to the floors above ground, he wouldn’t never seen you.

And anyways, his was birthday was coming up… and Big Mama said he could have anything he wanted. He grinned to himself, deciding to sneak into your room that night to ‘introduce’ himself. He’d leave a sticky note and scare you. Just a little.

Big Mama adored you. She gave you all these clothes so that you could look as perfect as her and Leo. She used for entertainment for the other Yokai, even when Leo glared on with jealously.

Soon enough, she was going to get her hands on some mysterious green ooze from three other turtles that looked suspiciously like Leo. As long as Leo didn’t find out about it, you would be the perfect test subject. And wouldn’t it be so sweet to see a lover’s quarrel in the Battle Nexus? She giggles at the thought.

Donatello has been bugged by you for a while.

In one of his rare outings to New York, obviously not letting Draxum know, he had run into you. He had been trying to break into a tech store and then you had appeared behind him.

He broke your nose but he hadn’t been left i scratched.

Then he just kept running into you again and again. He was half inclined just to kill you, but he feels like it would annoy him more with how much effort that would be towards someone like you.

You were annoying and just as mean as he was to you. It irritated him whenever you came back with a comment just as sharp as what he gave you.

One day, in one of his complaining rants to Mikey, Draxum overheard. Even though Donnie denied that it, Draxum was convinced he had a crush on a pathetic human. So, he decided he would kill you. As if you were nothing. Just scum on the Earth. All so Donnie wouldn’t be ‘distracted’ any longer. By that he meant he just wanted Donnie to work insane hours so Draxum wouldn’t have to work as hard.

And Donnie… couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let a single hair on you be injured.

There’s an angry turtle staring you down. Michelangelo and you had run into each other. One looking beat up and the other looking flabbergasted.

“You’re a… turtle?!”

Suddenly, you’re wrapped up in chains. That burnt badly.

“Ow!” you shriek and suddenly, just as quickly as they had come, they vanished. Big brown guilty eyes stare at you.

His face twitches before it turns disgusted. “Ugh. You smell disgusting.”

He was talking about the smell of your brunt skin. You glared at him angrily before seeing how bashed up he was. “What… happened to you?”

He was very reluctant to follow you home. And he kept asking you weird questions about other green turtles. Had you ever seen anyone that looked like him? Where? When? All these questions while you tried to stick a bandaid on him.

He also didn’t hold back on his mean comments about the human race. But as long as he sat still as you tried to rub the ash and debris off of him, you just let him talk.

Quickly, he warms up to you. It’s as if he never hated humans. He enjoys learning about everything you do and seeing all of what New York has to offer. He knows you can never meet Draxum. And even though he’s getting suspicious the more he leaves and the longer he’s out, Mikey continues to see you.