#knuckles gets some with the whole 'being the LAST OF HIS KIND' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

void-my-warranty · 9 months ago

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Ghost in the Bedroom (18+)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content Warnings: Voyeurism, PIV sex, Oral (f-recieving), masturbation, emotional hurt/comfort, she/her reader Word Count: 4.8k

Service Dog Johnny Part 9 (full part list here)

“Ready for another, y’think?”

“Okay.”

You huff a quick breath into Johnny’s neck while he works that second finger inside you. It aches, but not in the way of being stretched out too quickly, not at all. It’s that burn in your pelvis which screams you won’t last long when you finally get a different part of him in you.

At this point you’re too worked up to do anything but roll your hips into his knuckles, mentally taking hold of that throbbing sensation and beginning to paint the picture of your upcoming orgasm by how it feels. It’s going to be thorough, licking fire through every inch of your body thanks to how much foreplay they’ve given you, and how long you’ve been anticipating this.

Johnny uses his free hand to just barely tug on your nipple, and you make a little gasp at that dart of pleasure.

“Is this sensitive?” he asks, doing it again.

“Mhmm.” Everything feels sensitive and tingly right now. Every piece of your skin seems to want his hands on it — in varying degrees of roughness, although you’re pretty unlikely to get any of that tonight.

He seems inclined to make you drag your own pussy up and down his fingers, so you oblige, straddling his thighs and keeping your face hidden in his neck.

“What do you like?” Johnny prompts.

You pull your face back to get a look at him. “What do you mean?”

He pushes his fingers apart a little to stretch you, then curls them in deep. “Got nothing better to do than come over and have disgustin’ amounts of sex all week, so what do you like?”

You don’t do yourself the disservice of glancing towards Simon for permission. This isn’t about him, it’s about you. And besides, he already knows a lot of your kinks, because it was just one of many getting-to-know-you kinds of things that you talked about as the relationship became more serious. He’s always been interested in you, even the parts he can’t exactly experience firsthand.

So you do tell Johnny a little bit about what you like - some things you know for sure, and a few others which you’ve never actually tried - speaking plainly enough that Simon can probably hear if he’s listening. It doesn’t seem horribly awkward to talk about, when Johnny was the one to ask, and he’s steadily curling his fingers inside you while you tell him. This is basically your golden opportunity to experiment sexually, so you’d have to be stupid not to take advantage of it.

“Does any of that sound fun?” you probe nervously, when an entire two seconds of silence have elapsed since you finished talking.

“Aye, I’m game for all of that.”

That’s exactly what you thought he’d say. That’s such a Johnny thing to say.

That warm ache in your pussy fades to nothing when his fingers retreat from you, reaching over to the side table to grab the condom he apparently put there.

“I’m actually on the pill now,” you tell him enthusiastically. Two weeks gave you a chance to get your affairs in order this time around.

“Ooh, brilliant.” His face lights up, but he still tears the condom open. “Maybe just this once, though. Can’t be makin’ a mess on your nice sofa.”

Oh.

Well, that’s… disappointing. You try not to let it bother you, because really, there’s no such thing as being too careful with contraception. But you really were quite happy to finally contribute something to this whole arrangement, besides a needy pussy and emotional baggage.

That disappointment remains hidden, though, tucked away deep down. You keep a pleasant expression on your face while Johnny gets ready for you, reminding yourself that getting pregnant by him would be incredibly inconvenient, and you desperately try to think about something besides your unjustifiably hurt feelings.

The good thing is, there’s nothing like getting fucked when you need it to erase those stale thoughts. You finally get to sink down onto Johnny’s thick cock, and he prepped you so well that it’s nothing short of delicious from the very first inch.

It’s exactly what you needed, and you don’t give a shit that it’s just regular sex. It’s unoriginal, plain vanilla fucking, but it’s you and Johnny and Simon. All in the same room, all breathing the same air and wanting the same thing for each other. You wrap your arms around this wonderful man’s neck, careful to avoid his sore shoulder, and you kiss him like you want him. Soft and sloppy, taking him into your body and letting him feel how much you enjoy having him close.

You want him to be fucked and happy and cared for, and maybe for tonight you can give him two of those things. You can wander your fingers through his hair while you kiss him, make him feel like he deserves to have a warm body and a soft heart looking after him. He may be injured from top to bottom, but you can do this for him. You can let him relax under you while you use each other to feel good. There’s no power dynamic, just kisses and scruff and a warm pussy for someone who deserves it.

Those invisible fingers of release wrap around you from the inside, and you can’t help but whine into his mouth while you chase it.

“Shite.” His hand lands on your hip for a moment to slow your movements, making you groan in frustration.

Just a little bit more, come on. You don’t need much. Look, you’ll just grind yourself on him for a minute while he calms down, just a tiny bit. You’re good, see? You’re almost there, and you’re being so good, so—

“Alright,” he finally allows with a deep exhale, sliding his thumb around to your pussy instead of keeping you locked down.

Suddenly your clit is getting rubbed in a way you can’t escape. You make a muffled gasp into his mouth, your entire world narrowing to only what you’re feeling between your legs. Realistically it’s just in-and-out, rub-rub-rub, but physiologically it’s a steady trickle of dopamine, and a primed, blissed out nervous system.

And then all of a sudden you’re just cumming. All you can process is that rolling flash of pleasure which feels so right. Your body is so willing and open to receiving every scrap of it, that for a moment it feels like you’ve entered your natural state of being. Sweet, floating pleasure, and tingly skin, and a strong hand on your hip grinding you deeper into it when you’re no longer able to do it on your own.

Jesus, it’s good.

You come back to awareness slowly, with your cheek pressed against Johnny’s, and his palm running up and down your back. You try to roll your hips a little, because you’re pretty sure he hasn’t cum yet and you’re here just selfishly resting.

“Still with us?” Johnny asks, his breaths coming faster than before.

You pat his cheek with an open hand, rousing yourself to drag your eyes open and straighten up. “I’m great.”

You swear there’s a soft, second laugh coming from the other side of the couch, at your sprightly resurrection.

You’re more than great. You’ve still got that burn in your thighs that tells you it’s going to happen again, so long as you keep getting fucked. Johnny still hasn’t finished, so you’re going to keep going, and you’re going to cum, and it’s going to be amazing.

That trembling in your legs is nothing when you need this so bad. Johnny has the most lovely, fucked-out expression on his face, kneading your ass with one hand and playing with your nipple in the other. You’re just his lap girl right now, naked and touchable for him. The way he’s looking at you under those thick lashes - with his head tilted back over the top of the couch, lazily watching you bounce on his cock - is just the hottest thing ever. It sends that roll of need through your belly again, making your breath catch in your throat while you come to terms with how you’re about to cum under his gaze like this.

Instead, to your fucking despair, the worst thing happens. Johnny’s head flexes back and he starts panting, pushing you deep onto his cock.

Shit, shit, you were so close. It’s no use, though. You weren’t quite able to get there, and he’s forcing you to stop moving, holding you in place and grinding up into you for the last few pulses of his release.

Not fair, not fair, not fair.

You do your best to act happy for him, stroking your hands up his neck while he shudders a little. He gave you a fucking good one just a minute ago, and it’s not realistic to expect that he’ll last forever, especially since you put your mouth on him earlier. This is just… life. Sometimes you don’t get what you want, and you have to accept that.

It’s not until you drop yourself down to the couch beside him that it occurs to you that you could… it could possibly be an option to ask for more. With boyfriends in the past, you’ve typically hid the problem away and tried to find time to rub one out later in private. But everything is complicated with Simon here, and Johnny seems nice enough that maybe he’d be interested in continuing, even after he’s finished. Even though your mind is screaming at you how unsafe it is to ask for what you need, Johnny’s made it sound like it might be okay to do that.

“Johnny?” you ask quietly, ignoring that overwhelming feeling of danger, of needing to escape.

“Eh?” He’s just getting his first leg back into his jeans, huffing like he forgot his ankle hurts.

“Do you… Do you think you could, um, finger me a little bit more? I’d like to try to cum again, if that’s okay.”

Danger, suicide, humiliation. Why are you doing this to yourself?

Johnny smiles, lowering his eyes to your knees which are clamped tightly shut. “‘Course you can have some fingers. Askin’ so nicely, too.”

“Gets all polite when she’s wet,” Simon confides, his voice full of affection.

You shoot him a look of feigned annoyance, but dutifully pull your knees up when Johnny gets down to the floor in front of you.

You’re shivering a little, from the anticipation and the rollercoaster of ups and downs you just went through. And, okay, maybe you enjoy the way they talk about you to each other. Maybe you like it just a tiny bit.

Johnny pushes your thighs a little wider, works two fingers inside you and gives you that first rolling tide of pleasure. “Are you a very good girl when you need to cum?”

Dammit. You definitely like that. It seems like a rhetorical question, so you just make a little sound in your throat and focus on the feel of his fingers, the way he’s putting pressure on all the best spots while he fucks them into you.

Asking for this was so difficult that you’re replaying it in the back of your mind, still wondering if you’re being too much of a burden, and he’s just going along with it to avoid the awkwardness of turning you down.

Your eyes are fastened on Johnny lowering his head to your pussy, when Simon’s quiet rumble pokes through your thoughts.

“Quite easy to look after, this one.”

He says it right as Johnny begins to suck on your clit, so you have to blink through that flash of pleasure for a second in order to look over at your boyfriend.

Simon regards you with the side of his knuckle resting lazily against his mouth, elbow draped over the top of the couch. He seems happy, content to watch you receive exactly what you asked for. Maybe even a little proud, if you really care to read into his expression.

“Just needs a little loving,” he says, keeping you suspended in the loveliness of his eyes, “and a little fucking sometimes. Easy.”

Johnny gives you his fingers a little harder, making your pussy flutter around them while you gasp softly. You can’t seem to pull your gaze away from Simon’s face, not when he’s looking at you like this. He doesn’t touch you, but you swear you can almost feel the warmth of his eyes as they slide over your flushed chest, your breasts, your trembling knees.

Suddenly all you need in the entire world is just to cum like this. That rushing feeling is already bubbling up and threatening to overtake you, now that you’re positive you’re allowed to have this. You close your eyes and splay your fingers into Johnny’s hair, needing to connect with him in some way, needing to convey how thankful you are for this, even though you’re incapable of speech at the moment.

You’re doing everything you can to keep yourself in place, but one of your legs seems to have a mind of its own when your pussy begins to seize up. Your heel kicks down to the carpet with that first flood of pleasure rolling over your skin. You’re vaguely aware of Johnny hooking his arm around your hip to keep you in place, anchored just enough to reality that you don’t pull too hard on his hair while your body feeds you a long taste of heaven.

Someone’s hand is in your hair, sliding down to your cheek, taking advantage of your incapacitation to make contact with your skin while you cum. Multiple people’s hands on you, inside you, but you still feel safe. Your mind is blank and unbothered while the man between your legs brings you down with gentler movements of his fingers, slower sucks on your clit.

“Okay,” you whimper, pushing against Johnny’s forehead, “okay, alright.”

Yep, you’re demolished. Completely spent and limp, and still floating in a blurry haze of endorphins.

“You can always have that, you know.” Johnny’s voice sounds nice, smoothing pleasantly across the void of your mind. “Any time I’m around, whenever you want.”

You finally drag your eyes open to watch him get to his feet, collecting his clothes from the floor. He grins at you, seeming entertained by whatever dumb look is still on your face. Yeah, okay. How about you make him cum one more time, and then you can compare your mental states.

You feel awfully like a snail on the sidewalk when Simon reaches across to collect you, cuddling you into him and draping your legs over his lap. He wipes your hair off your sweaty forehead and neck, encouraging you to rest on him.

“I love you,” he whispers. You’re pretty sure Johnny just stepped away to clean up.

“Love you too, baby,” you mumble back, wrapping your arm around his stomach. “I’m feeling so good right now.”

“Good.”

“How are you feeling?” you ask, as you usually do after this sort of thing.

“Fucking good.”

“Fucking good?” you peer up at him, smiling. “I must have done a good job, huh?”

Shameless begging for praise.

His fingers skim your jaw. “I don’t think you know… sort of… seeing how brave you are with all this. How much it helps.”

You’re absolutely not brave, but you’re not petty enough argue the point. You kiss him for a minute, as your mind comes back to reality and your body starts to feel more under your control.

Simon pulls away from the kiss, nudging the bridge of his nose against your cheekbone. “Fancy going back to the bedroom with me for a bit?”

You blink for a moment in confusion, staring at the back of his neck. “Do… do you mean…”

“Won’t promise anything will come of it, just—“

“Yes,” you blurt enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.”

You push yourself upright, suddenly experiencing a major second wind, and just absolutely ecstatic that things are apparently going so well tonight. You knew he was in a good mood, but for him to be feeling this good, that’s fucking incredible.

Uncaring that you’re still naked and drippy, you get up and grab Simon’s hand to haul him to his feet. The last thing you want is for him to sit in an awkward moment that’ll make him second guess himself. He’s pushed you through your insecurities, and you can extend him the same compassion.

On your way, you pass a fully dressed Johnny leaving the bathroom. Your mouth opens to explain the situation, but before you can, he meets your eyes and gives you a lazy, two finger salute. “Have fun.”

Wait.

He knew.

Simon’s hand on your waist keeps you walking, but your mind is whirling when you finally realize the significance of insisting on a condom. He wasn’t concerned with getting the fucking couch messy, he was avoiding getting you messy ahead of your time with Simon.

The click of the door closing behind you has your thoughts instantly rushing back to reality. Your boyfriend pulls his shirt off while he nudges you closer to the bed, apparently not keen on wasting any time.

“How do you want to do this?” you ask, sitting down once the backs of your legs hit mattress.

He removes his jeans a little slower than the shirt, staring down at you in that way he does sometimes, where you can practically see the wheels of his thoughts turning.

“I’m not sure how far I’ll be able to go.”

“No pressure,” you assure him. “Whatever you can think of that feels doable, let’s do that. And it won’t hurt my feelings if you need to stop.”

He leans down to give you a quick kiss while he gets the pants off his feet. God, now you almost wish Johnny hadn’t made you cum quite so good, so that this would be a little more sexual and a little less therapeutic. But Simon did it this way on purpose, and honestly, he’s probably right. Your horny brain doesn’t need to be getting in the way.

“Would you… do you think I could just.. possibly try…” he swallows, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably while he tries to overcome the walls in his head. He’s always had trouble communicating verbally when he’s at the edge of things like this.

You keep your eyes on his face, and your voice steady. “How about you get yourself where you want to be, and then I’ll come get where you want me? That thing in your head, that’s what we’re going to do, okay? You don’t have to explain it first.”

Simon takes a breath and nods. Holy shit, this is happening.

You stay where you are while he climbs onto the bed, until he gets stretched out on his back and pats his chest. “On top.”

A heady thrill shoots through you, and you crawl over to him, unable to keep your breathing anywhere close to normal. Is he going to touch you? Does he want you to fuck him?

You swing your knee over his hips and let your pussy kiss his stomach with all your cum that’s still between your thighs. You hope he doesn’t mind it, that maybe he’d even appreciate experiencing your wetness like this for the first time. It’s not dirty, Johnny made sure of that.

Simon seems to take you for your word that you’ll go where he wants. He hooks his arms under your knees and pulls you up his stomach until you’re practically sitting on his chest, pussy just a few inches from his chin.

“Can you breathe?” you whisper, nervous to have all your weight on his lungs like this.

“Mhmm.”

Simon’s in the thick of it, you can see that in his eyes. He’s tunnel-visioned in on the objective, reaching those thick arms over your thighs to presumably pull himself out of his underwear. He releases a relieved breath at having some contact finally on what you can only imagine is an awfully achy bit between his legs.

This is interesting. You can see why it occurred to him, having you sit here specifically. He can see your whole body and also your face, but you can’t see anything of what he’s doing behind your ass.

To a casual observer, this might seem like a strange arrangement, but to you, this is everything. This is the direction he wants to go in, he wants to feel pleasure that you’re a part of. He wants your body to be touching him while he cums. He wants those trauma pathways to shift, for his nervous system to stop connecting all the wrong wires. He wants to be naked with you, and feel safe.

“Can I have your hand?” you ask softly, once you’re certain he really is jacking off right now behind you.

His eyebrows do a confused flick for a second, but he obediently stops moving and lifts his hand into the air in front of you, his fingers hesitantly curled like he’s not sure what you want it for.

You grab that thick wrist with a gentle pressure, and you deposit a big glob of your own spit onto his palm, smiling at him and wiping your chin when you’re done.

Simon blinks slowly and his mouth twitches into the absolutely loveliest smile for a moment. He cups his hand around your offering and worms it under your knee this time, so he’ll have an easier time of reaching his cock.

Oh god, you love this so much. You’ll do anything for that fucking cock, which you’ve never even seen erect before. You don’t care if it’s beautiful, or scarred, or crooked, or polka-dotted. It’s his, and you love it by extension.

You just wish you knew what you’re supposed to be doing. Should you being saying something? Sweet nothings, or dirty talk? Should you be squeezing your tits, or giving him a bunch of eye contact, or maybe no eye contact? God, are you even sexy at this angle? He’s looking straight up your body, so he’s got a front row seat of your double chin.

Don't get nervous, you’ll psyche him out. He just watched you fuck his friend in a similar position, so even if he doesn’t find this particularly sexy, maybe he can pull from those recent memories.

Simon’s breathing starts to pick up, but his eyes don’t look right. They start getting twitchy, his lids stuttering and not landing on your face as often. You’re just stupidly sitting here doing nothing, waiting for a splash of warm cum on your ass, but his movements start to slow down.

Shit, something’s wrong. His lungs aren’t expanding as much as they should, and then his free hand finds your ankle and grabs onto it hard, like he’s trying to communicate something. You think maybe he hit a wall, because his movements stop and his eyes go a little unfocused and blinky.

“It’s okay,” you quickly tell him, cupping his cheek with your hand. “It’s alright if we stop right now.”

His pupils are shrunk down tight when his eyes finally focus on yours. “You sure?” he pants out, leaning his face just slightly away from your palm.

“Of course, baby.” You brace your hand on the pillow instead, and you’re rewarded with that grip on your ankle finally relaxing. “That was so good. I’m so proud of you.”

He clears his throat a little, scrubbing at his face with his hand. Hiding.

“I love you so much,” you babble, because he’s having trouble talking, and he generally doesn’t mind if you do. “If we have to do this a hundred times before we get it right, that’s totally fine. Or if you never want to do it again, that’s okay too! Day by day, okay? You did good.”

Simon just nods, moving his arm in a way that makes you think he’s putting himself back in his underwear. He’s having some trouble meeting your eyes.

Once you’re sure he’s decent, you haul yourself off him and lay down on your stomach nearby. Close enough that he knows he can touch you if he wants that.

“How about this,” you try. “You go take a nice shower, and do what you need to do to feel better if you want to. Then we can cuddle and watch TV or something.”

“Yeah.” He lets out all the air in his lungs, then leans over to kiss the side of your hair. “Alright.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

It’s not until the bathroom door closes behind him that you let yourself drop the encouraging smile. You bury your face in your hands and just breathe for a moment, going over everything that went wrong.

He was in such a good headspace earlier, and really he made leaps and bounds of progress. Surely it just seems like a failure right now, because the dopamine is gone and you’re alone in bed, and he didn’t get off. Everything is literally fine, you just got fucked as good as any girl could wish for, and Simon touched himself in front of you. That’s a fucking amazing night, so why are you being so dramatic about it?

It’s too quiet and lonely in here. You know if you stay and wait for Simon to be done with his shower, he’ll walk back in on your depression spiral, and be forced to comfort you in a way he’s maybe not equipped to do right now.

Wait, Johnny. Is he still here?

You quickly throw on some underwear and Simon’s shirt, and peek your head out the door. The TV is still playing soccer, but it’s otherwise quiet.

Your bare feet make no noise on the laminant when you cross over and look past the top of the couch, finding Johnny stretched out there with his face turned towards the game.

“Johnny?” you prompt quietly, so you won’t scare him.

His face turns to look at you, and… fuck. Just having someone else around, someone who you trust, has the worst of your emotions suddenly seizing up your lungs.

Seeing the look on your face, Johnny uncrosses his arms. “Aww, what happened?”

“It went really well,” you say, though your voice is cracking with the beginning of tears. “He made… a lot of progress, I think.”

“That’s good.” He’s got a very concerned expression on his face, so you must look like a mess.

The first bit of water slides down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it away. “Simon’s fine, I think. He’s taking a shower. It’s just—“

You try to swallow down that lump in your throat, but it just gets bigger, and before you know it, you’re admitting out loud the debilitating truth. “It wasn’t enough.”

Johnny purses his lips sympathetically, and you just fucking burst into tears. “Everything was p-perfect, and it still wasn’t enough.”

You cover your face with your hands to sob behind them, and Johnny says, “Aww, lass, come here.”

You do your best to blindly make your way around the couch while you cry, and then Johnny drags you down to his chest, pulling your body over his and holding you close.

“It wasn’t anything you did,” he tells you thickly, “it’s just the way it is.”

That just makes you cry harder, because it shouldn’t be that way.

“I hate them,” you sob into his chest.

He curses softly, petting your hair. “I know.”

“I hate them, I hate them!” You just start wailing it into his chest, your lips pulling back in your fucking fury.

Johnny’s shoulders shake a little, and you’d almost think he’s laughing, except that one of his hands moves to wipe his face. “I know.”

He lets you cry on him for a long time. Long enough that you’re very glad you came to him for comfort, because you’d probably be doing the same exact thing by yourself in the bedroom.

You don’t hear the bedroom door open, but you do hear the sigh when Simon wanders over.

“Can’t have a bloody wank without you lot fussing over it like a couple of grans.”

You get scooped up in your boyfriend's fresh, clean arms, and Johnny sits up so you all can recover on the same couch. Simon doesn’t let you apologize for your outburst, keeps shushing you when you try.

It’s quiet for a while after that. Johnny’s team wins, so that’s something. He stays the night, and that’s nice, too.

Next Part

Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop

Chronological Read-Through Path

#simon ghost riley #x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghoap x reader #poly!ghoap #johnny soap mactavish #service dog johnny #call of duty #dinnertime

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lavenderprose · 1 month ago

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Imagine you're Johanna Hezenkoss and your one goal in life is to Be Right All The Time and you've got this sidekick named Emmrich. He can do the whole corpse whispering thing and he's an objectively pretty skilled necromancer but, of course, YOU are Johanna Hezenkoss. And you decide that you like Emmrich enough to drag him along with you to glory. So you spend a few decades doing that. Only Emmrich is six and a half feet of saccharine poetry and fanatical devotion to the core tenants of the Mourn Watch and YOU, Johanna Hezenkoss, are just counting the moments until you can go Beast Mode in this bitch and show everyone what TRUE NECROMANTIC POWER means. So Emmrich weighs you down a bit but you're a little obsessed with him only because he's like. Real? That's a real dude? Saying that shit? Wild. Totally insane. He's like an annoying chattering dog who keeps all your secrets and makes the biggest saddest eyes at you when you say stuff like, "The world could be exactly what we want it to be. Aren't you MAD. Aren't you ANGRY at what they've taken from you. Don't you want to MAKE THEM SUFFER LIKE YOU'VE SUFFERED--"

Yeah. Whatever.

And then Emmrich betrays you because you're scaring him. SCARING him? After everything you've done for him? You were going to reinvent the world--you were going to put him at the top of it all so NOBODY could step on either of you ever again and now he's all, Oh Johanna, you're scaring me, this isn't what we believe in, you're letting your fear control you, blah blah BLAH he never shuts UP

Fear? FEAR, Volkarin? How fucking rich.

Then some stuff happens. Half lich 125 foot skeleton someone named Elgar'nan, maybe a God, who cares. You get so close--SO CLOSE--and then fucking Emmrich rolls in and this time he takes it ALL. Your power and your mortal life and your last remaining shreds of fucking credibility in this fucking world. And then he doesn't even have the basic fucking decency to say I Told You So. He keeps you on his desk like a tchochke and listens to you scream and spit and even THEN he doesn't do anything.

All the while he has his own sidekick now. Some vapid little thing always batting their eyelashes and paying Volkarin the kind of lip service that always distracted him, made his eyes go soft and his chin quiver. He's still such a weak man. You tell him so. You tell him and tell him and tell him until--

The sidekick disappears. Emmrich's eyes go empty and haunted in a way that makes you wonder what he's done to himself in his heartache and grief.

"Whoever did this to you," you tell him on the worst day, "You can make them pay. You're powerful enough. You defeated me." You being, of course, Johanna Balls of Steel fucking Hezenkoss.

"I just want them back," Emmrich admits. Because he's weak WEAK he's a weak man mewling pitifully in a dark room for his piece of ass while the moon rises red in the fucking sky and a God walks the earth.

"You have the power," you tell him. "When the world takes from you, you take those things back. This is what I've been telling you all these years, Volkarin. For once in your miserable life, LISTEN TO ME."

Finally, finally, Emmrich reacts. He screams. He throws a few books. He kicks his desk. Punches something, probably, because his knuckles start bleeding at some point. You watch it all with barely-contained glee. Anger, yes, fucking finally. You've been waiting your whole goddamn life for this man to realize how fucking ANGRY he is.

"How do I break into the fucking Fade?" He screams. He's not even looking at you. His hair is seven different kinds of fucked. His shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, and he's missing a boot.

"You could start by asking someone who's done it," you say. Emmrich turns, startled for some reason to hear you. Again you say, "Listen to me."

"Oh, Johanna," he sighs. "I've rarely done anything else."

It's not the words 'Thank you' or 'You're right'. It's certainly not lichdom or godhood or a 125 foot tall skeleton. But it's one point for Johanna Hezenkoss.

You'll make up the deficit eventually. Volkarin has a kid, after all.

#Johanna Hezenkoss #Emmrich Volkarin #DATV #Dragon Age

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urhoneycombwitch · 9 months ago

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mean mouth

sub!Eddie Munson x Reader Eddie likes when you talk a lil' mean to him. game over once you figure it out.

foreword: n e ways. just a little exploration of that boy's early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master.

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.”

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious.

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering.

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard.

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats.

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, ��Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness.

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls.

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire).

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space.

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again.

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink.

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand.

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink.

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night.

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue.

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place.

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips.

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth.

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse.

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks.

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat.

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep.

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room.

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin.

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.”

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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biteyoubiteme · 4 months ago

Text

cherry flavored

yeonjun x fem!reader x huening kai

synopsis: you go to a costume party with your boyfriends

warnings: 🔞!!! established relationship, throuple/poly, no mxm, fluff, threesome, praise, mentions of drinking/being tipsy, no protection, oral (f!rec), slight fingering, orgasm denial mentions, no protection, creampie, multiple orgasms (f!rec), overstimulation (f!rec), cum eating (f! and m! yj eats kais cum out of reader!) crying, reader called she/her, pretty, baby prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.4k

an: it’s my birthday! so why not post about my favorite enfp’s <333 this photo lineup has been sitting in my drafts since july omg feedback is appreciated :)) not proofread im so sorry bbs forgive me. I have what feels like a ton of other yeonkai fics lol check them out [m.list]

this is apart of my minikinktober event check out the other fics! [dumdum m.list]

“Do you think this one is cute?” you ask, holding up your phone to yeonjun. The two of you are leaned back on the couch, your back to his chest, like you’re his personal weighted blanket.

You're only a month away from the annual halloween party held by yeonjuns team at one of the members' frat. It wasn't usually your first option to spend the night, or any night, in a frat house, with or without your partners but any chance to dress up in your costume was taken. It was always so fun to plan out what the three of you would wear, trying not to do the same as last year, or trying to find costumes that complement each other without having to match.

It was one of the best parts about october. The trips to pick up costumes are always fun. Walking the aisles as yeonjun flips through his options, knowing exactly what he wants to be just as early as you do. Huening on the other hand usually needed help and was always open to whatever you put him in. you would hold up options asking, “what about this one?” and he would say the same thing, “this one's good, i like it,” his cute little smile so ready to please. Even when you would hold up all the different choices asking him to pick just one he's just going on, “you pick one, the one you like,”

“It's your costume,” you try to remind him but he insists every year on letting you dress him up. It's always your favorite part that if the costume has some kind of makeup kai will sit so still for you, eyes closed as you fuss over his look. And when you're done, your knuckle pressed to the bottom of his chin looking him over, he will open his eyes and look up from under his lashes at you. It gives you butterflies everytime, that puppy dog gaze telling you he's so willing to let you do anything you wanted to him.

But this year you were leaning towards simple, angel and devil themes. It had been easy to find yeonjun and kai’s outfits but you needed to get yours ordered. And now showing yeonjun your pick he nodded, “that one is perfect,” the costume was added to your cart and ordered without question.

And when the three of you were getting ready for the party you sat down both boys to place their headbands on. “For you, my angel,” you smile down at kai tucking his hair behind his ears. The little halo is perfect to match the wings on his back. You bend to place a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose before turning to yeonjun, “and for you,”

As soon as you step into the space between his legs his hands are on the back of your thighs pulling you closer. The red and white dress you're wearing is short, split down the middle showing how the two of them make up two halves of a whole. “Your devil?” he asks, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you place the little red horns on his head.

“You are devilish,” you grin, feeling his hands slip up your skirt cupping your ass. It was his favorite thing to do when you wore anything short; handsy at the best and worst of times. It was so easy to fall into a kiss with him, arms wrapping around his neck, needing him closer. His lips are so perfect for makeouts but you feel kai tug on the edge of your dress. “If we start now we won't go at all,”

“Okay okay,” nods pushing away from yeonjun who only shrugs, “we don't have to go,”

“You're the one who has to show face,” you remind him, the complaints always about how yeonjun never really went out with the rest of the team. But he was content with his small group of friends and he hated drinking around people he didn't know well. It was why he claimed being the designated driver, not wanting to deal with an uber on that side of town anyways.

But almost as soon as you arrived he was pulled away from you and kai. Thrown into conversations so easily. But you never minded it, especially when you had kai by your side following you around like a lost puppy, making room in crowds so you wouldn't bump into anyone, carrying your drink that he made for you.

The two of you giggling in the kitchen together trying to think of what exactly went well together with all the random bottles around. The kitchen is the only place in the house with the normal lights on, no colored LEDs washing you out. Kai keeps bumping into your headband when he lowers his head, his fingers flicking the halo before tapping the little horns. “ Angel or devil?”

“Both, i needed to be able to match both of your outfits no matter who i was standing next to,” you sip from your cup grimacing at the taste, “this one isn't that good,”

“Sorry,” he laughs taking it back passing you the other one he's made, “try this one instead,”

The ratio of cherry coke to liquor is just right enough to keep drinking.

But it was easy to lose count of how many you had. Dancing in the crowd and you didn't even realize the two of you were feeling it until you found yourself in the back corner of the room with kai grinding into you. all mentions of dancing out the window. He was fully hard pressed against you, mouth hot on your skin. Both of you trying to devour each other like you weren't in public.

“Look at you two, I can't leave you alone for five seconds when you get tipsy, too horny for your own good,” yeonjun chuckles from behind you. You don't even have to turn around to see his smile, the ghost of it in his words.

“Sorry,” Huening tries but it's insincere; he's already dipping down to put his lips back on your neck. You giggle, turning in Kai's grasp to reach out for yeonjun, wanting to be sandwiched between them. Kai wraps his arms around you keeping your ass pressed against his erection, lips behind your ear.

Yeonjun knows exactly where your mind is going; see the way the idea flashes in your eyes. It wouldn't be the first party you suggested the two of you wedge into an empty room, not even the first time you would have suggested it just be the three of you.

“We are going home now,” he shuts the idea down before you can even open your mouth.

“Jjunie,” your whine almost always works on huening but he wasn't so easy.

“oh no we’re going home,”

“Nooo,” “but hyung-” you and kai try but yeonjun shakes his head, the dull party lights making his horned headband glow.

“yes, yes we are,” you reach out for him hoping physical contact will persuade him.

“But don't you want me?” it's a stupid question, you both know it, there is never a time he isnt thinking about wanting you, especially not when he sees you a mess in huenings arms.

“i always want my pretty girl, im just not able to fuck you the way i want in the frats bathroom so we’re going home,”

“But don't you want me bad enough to not care?” he knows you're trying to push his buttons, the way you are looking up at him under your lashes, hand sliding up his arm beckoning him to break. “You can wait the length of the drive,”

“So you don't want me bad enough?” he only has to take a step to be flush against you, the hard length of his cock pressed right to your pelvis, you gasp, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. His nose brushes your ear as he whispers, “we're going home,” no room for any more argument as he pulls away, “huening are you ready to leave?”

Kai hums in response from behind you, the vibration felt against your back. Yeonjun links his hand around your wrist like a cuff pulling you to follow him. Your hand in huenings, the three of you a chain as you weave through the bodies to make it to the front door. Yeonjuns nodding goodbye to anyone he knows, free hand shoved into his front pocket to fish out his keys.

When you make it to the car, he opens the backdoor for you and kai, “buckle,” he mutters, not closing the door until you two are both fastened in.

The way yeonjun climbs into the front seat feels like a scolding alone. But you ignore him distracted by the way kai keeps readjusting in his seat, jeans pulled tight now that he's sitting. Your thighs pressed together as you leaned into him, usually you hated the middle seat but you wanted to be close, perfect now for you to reach out and trace the outline of his bulge.

Kais hips jerked at the feeling, his hand reaching out for your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh. You giggled as you danced your fingers over him, his soft whines filling the car as yeonjun pulled out of his parking spot.

“Neither of you understand how to wait,” yeonjun tisked, hands tightening on the steering wheel. You're watching him in the rearview, kai kissing over all the hickeys he made earlier on your neck, fingers sliding farther up and under your skirt. You're fumbling with the button on his jeans, widening your legs as he rubs over your clothed clit.

Yeonjun doesnt let the sounds in the backseat distract him, eyes on the road, the soundtrack of your moans playing for him as he comes to a stop at a red light. He looks at the rearview to see you already looking back, mouth slightly open as you whine, washed in the crimson glow, huenings face buried in your hair as you palm him over his underwear.

It's only a block away from the apartment but it feels like the longest stretch of time between that light at your front door. But as soon as you are in the elevator headed up to your floor it's impossible to keep himself away from you anymore.

yeonjun pushes up against the cold metal walls, skin flushed enough to feel the sting. Hot hand sliding up your thigh, the skirt of your dress caught on his wrist as he held your waist. He pushed his body into you, holding you captive, free hand coming up to cup the side of your neck, thumb brushing against your jaw. He can feel the pulse in your neck as he kisses you; taste the remnants of your cherry chapstick.

If he could kiss you forever he would make this elevator his home if only to keep your fingers in his hair, the echoing sound of your sloppy kissing never ending. The way you moan into his mouth makes kai jealous, it's never a feeling that lasts too long but when he's needy and hard it's impossible not to wish he was pressed against you. But watching the way yeonjun holds you makes him itch to get out of the elevator and into bed. The pressure of his zipper gone but even with his pants undone his clothes were feeling too tight.

When the ding of the door opening was heard, the three of you stumbled out, yeonjun already with his keys in hand to unlock the door. Kicking off shoes as soon as you passed the threshold.

Kai practically drags you to the bedroom, flicking on the lamp as you climb into the bed. He doesn't even give you time to decide where to go before he's pulling you back to the edge of the mattress. You're on your hands and knees, dressed getting flipped up and panties pushed to the side when yeonjun comes in, arms crossed as he watches.

You had put a chair in the corner of the room for occasions like this, sometimes yeonjun just liked to sit back and watch, cock in hand as he praised you from afar. Other times he wanted to be up close, fingers on your clit, fucking your throat, leaving the chair empty. Now was one of those times, crouching down by the edge of the bed, finger lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. you felt kai dragging the head of his cock through your folds, already slick and ready for him. "look at me when he fucks you, i need to know if he's doing a good job or not,"

Kai only just inches in and you're gasping at the stretch, nails scratching at the duvet. Kais soft moans send you on a spiral as they gradually increase in volume, the pressure feeling so good. When he fully pushes in your lashes are fluttering, shoulders wanting to drop down to let him have his way with you. “Youre so fucking perfect,” kai moans, both hands holding your hips keeping you still so you can adjust to change.

“Isn't she?” yeonjun can practically feel the way you would be wrapped around his cock, dripping wet and warm, squeezing him just right.

“She's been teasing us all night,” kai starts, picking up a rhythm that has your stomach fluttering. “grinding on me knowing exactly what she was doing,”

“hum now that’s not very nice,” your chin still lifted with yeonjuns finger as he shakes his head. “and not listening to me the first time and yet somehow you’re still getting what you want,”

“i’m sorry-“ you try but yeonjun drops your chin, hand snaking under you until he’s pressed his fingers to your clit. it’s hard to breathe for a second with the combined stimulus but as soon as you look like you’ve regained the ability to think, yeonjun pinches your clit for a second. you jolt at the feeling slamming back on kai’s cock mid thrust. the pleasure and pain mixing together as yeonjuns quick to rubbing patterns back over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

Nothing could slow kai down as he pounded into you, the slapping sounds mixing with your whimpers as you fell forward, elbows buckling until your face was pressed into the mattress. One of kais hands slips up your back pressing you down further to keep you in place. Yeonjun presses his mouth to your ear, “i don't even know if you deserve to cum,” his fingers stopping on your clit adding more claim to his threat.

“No please, please,”

“Let her- im- im so close and i need to feel her cum,” kais demanding head falling forward, the white wings still on his back, halo on his head of messy hair, strands falling in his eyes. His hold on your waist in bruising as he shoves the fat tip of his cock right against your gspot, it's almost impossible to think straight when yeonjuns back to rubbing on your clit. And when kai stills one last thrust pressing him right against your womb he dumps streams of warm cum inside your pulsing walls, your orgasm cresting, sucking him in and wringing him dry.

Yeonjun is tired of waiting as soon as kais pulls out he's rolling you on your back and tugging your panties off. You're an absolute mess, cum spilling out from between your swollen lips, knees pulling in as soon as you feel yeonjun trying to get between them. “Oh no you're going to keep them open,”

Kai pushes himself behind you so that he can hold your legs open for yeonjun. You're so exposed it should be a shocking sight but for yeonjun it's the best thing he could ever ask for. He blows a line of cold air over the sticky mess of your cunt watching the way you try to pull your legs closed. But kai does his job well even when your fucked out expression is so close to being tearstained.

Yeonjun licks up your thighs first collecting anything wetness that's made its way down the smooth expanse of skin, the salty flavor of your combined release familiar. And when he licks up to your clit, circling his tongue around the swollen bud he's moaning like he's just found ecstasy. The vibration goes right up your spine and down to your toes. Your hands reach out to grab at huenings thighs, nails digging in as yeonjun dips down lower to your leaking entrance, sinful eyes watching you as he tilts his head sideways, devil horns pinching your thigh as he shoves his tongue into your waiting hole.

Sucking lips and expert tongue working to clean you of the remenates of your orgasm. When he pulls away, chin glistening he mutters, “fuck i could cum just from the taste of you,” and when you clench around nothing more of kais cum slips out in a white stream that yeonjuns fast to collect. He pulls himself up and you open your mouth knowing exactly what he wants from you. Yeonjun lets the droplets of release fall into your waiting mouth and you're moaning as you swallow it all. Yeonjuns sloppy kiss only lasting a second before hes back down on your clit, latching onto your clit and sucking until you're trembling, tight knot in your stomach about to explode. “No jjunie please-” but you don't know if it is a plea for him to stop or continue not until your tears are tracing down your cheeks and you're cumming. You give a sharp whine, kais hold on you the only thing keeping you upright and open to take the wave of pure pleasure. “I love the sounds you make,” kai whispers into your ear, kissing your wet cheek. “Look at how sensitive we made you,” he drops one of your legs as yeonjun pulls back to unbuckle his belt.

Kais free hand drips to your abused clit, even the smallest brush makes your whole body react, your hand reaching out to him to try to stop him but your hand is a weak bracelet around his wrist tightening as he asks, “who does this pussy belong to?”

“Y-you,”

“Us,” yeonjun clarifies and the pads of kais fingers start to move, spelling out yj & kai’s . Your back is arching, toes curling as he draws it out. each letter pulling out sounds you never thought you would hear before, gasping pleads and desperate whines. You're cumming as soon as he gets to the ampersand, his name drawn out to let you ride out his high.

Yeonjun pulls you to the edge of the bed needing to be inside you. Your halo/horned headband is askew on your head and he's surprised it's strayed on so long. But he grabs your legs by the back of your knees, spreading you open and watching how your face goes slack, sweet eyes fluttering as he slides in between your abused folds, sinking deep into your welcoming walls. He doesnt think youll be able to cum again unless he really wanted to overstimulate you but you're still rippling around him from all your other orgasms, enough so that he knows he won't last long.

Yeonjun rams into you taking out all his pent up want spill out here now. “Look at how pretty you are on my cock,” hes goaning, “so fucked out and willing,”

arms are above your head, tugging on the sheets, taking the pounding, feeling him in your guts like he was made to be there. When huening reaches over to press on your pelvis your legs spread wider, yeonjuns moan ripples through his body, sinking impossibly deeper.

Yeonjus body starts to tremble as he stills giving shallow thrusts before cumming, the look on his face intoxicating as you feel the heat of his cum dripping out of you. Hes fast to use his tip to collect anything that's spilled to push fuck right back into you, the mess of it slipping down his balls and spilling on the floor.

Kai leans down to plant kisses all along your flushed cheeks, your weak giggle making him smile. Yeonjun kisses each of your knees before slowly dropping your legs back down. It's always so comforting to feel them around you, taking care of you after feeling so intense. Every little kiss goes straight to your heart. Nothing beats that feeling.

🏷 taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 @tomorrowxforever r @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii i @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh @wand3rlustm3

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loveinhawkins · 11 months ago

Text

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C��mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

#on struggling with the aftermath #the trust in falling asleep in front of someone ❤️#this may have a second part #a lil anxiety soothing stuff ❤️#pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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tired-biscuit · 7 months ago

Note

is it weird I wanna rub my face against Logan chest hair?

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // established relationship, domestic bliss

wc: 1.2k+

———

definitely not. hairy men are hot!

like, now i’m thinking about finally getting a day to yourselves and spending the majority of it in bed. cuddling, resting, catching up after an excruciatingly busy week, with your limbs tightly intertwined and your voices soft and hushed because despite being a mutant that’s been blessed with inhuman strength, logan’s body and mind both feel so overworked and exhausted that he’s practically sinking into the mattress with a prolonged and incredibly grateful groan.

continuously fighting for the sake of being the ‘good guy’ is no small task, after all… it can take quite a toll on him sometimes — powers or no powers.

still, that specific role has been graciously placed to the back of his mind for now because he’s fresh out of the shower and he’s scrubbed all of the grime and sweat off of his skin, keeping it clean until it’s time for him to head out the door again — straight into a world where wolverine stands front and center.

but for now, he gets to be just logan. nothing more, nothing less.

and speaking of logan; his hair is still slightly damp from the previously mentioned shower. the wolfy ear-like shapes that he prefers to style atop his head have drooped slightly with the weight of the water, and the apples of his cheeks have become flushed from the steam.

the smell of the shower gel that you had picked for him a little while ago at the store mixes with his signaturely masculine, heavy scent. it only intensifies, steadily filling your nostrils when you swing your leg over his middle to pull yourself on top of him and lay your head on his bare chest.

he didn’t bother putting a shirt on. i mean, why would he, when he’s in the privacy of his own home and at long fucking last doesn’t have to look presentable — he calls it fancy, the idiot — for anyone?

but anyways, his rough hands wrap around your hips when you straddle him. he exhales deeply, the breath long and content, but it breaks into a confused chuckle when you begin to rub your cheek against the hair on his chest all of a sudden.

“uh,” he starts, arching a dark eyebrow even though you can’t see it from how busy you are with smushing your face into his tits as far as it’ll go. “should i even ask, or…?”

“just petting myself against your love rug, my dearest,” you mumble, unfazed by the curiosity that’s lacing his voice. “unlike the rest of you, it’s surprisingly soft. feels kind of nice.”

the corner of logan’s mouth twitches upwards at that. it’s barely there, less of a smile and more of a smirk, but it’s there.

“unlike the rest of me?” he repeats, clearly amused in some shape or form now.

you stop the movement to roll your eyes at him. “i meant your crazy man muscles and the whole skeleton enveloped in metal thing that you’ve got going on for yourself, not your dick, you pervert.”

there’s a second chuckle slippist past his lips, and you can hear this one rumble in the depths of his chest before he asks, “who said anything about my dick?”

you look up into his hazel eyes as you rest your chin on your knuckles, grinning at the glint of playfulness that’s residing there. his forehead is smooth, no deep wrinkle of agitation in sight. gosh, you love it when he’s relaxed and happy. it makes him appear kinder, even if you do have a weak spot for his more broody side.

“well… what else have you got that’s hard, then?” you ask, choosing to play along now.

“easy,” he replies. “my heart.”

you stare at him. he stares at you.

a steady beat of silence stretches out between you.

“pfsh,” you huff finally, immediately snickering like a girl in love. “your heart? seriously?”

“what?” he asks, stroking his fingers up and down your sides. his touch is so warm, it stirrs you into motion, lures you into grinding your hips against his own. slow and lazy and thorough — just like the way your entire day off has been spent so far.

blood rushes below logan’s waistline as a result. he readjusts, gripping you tighter by the hips, pressing you down on instinct. you can feel him poking you between your legs already. eager.

“oh, nothing,” you purr, reaching out to comb your fingers through his hair, picking up the moisture there. “i’m just a bit taken aback by this piece of information, that’s all… i mean, for a man who loves to cuddle every chance he gets and who secretly enjoys having his fruit cut up by me into tiny little slices despite possessing claws, you sure as hell don’t strike me as someone with a hard heart, you know.”

foreheads pressing against one another, you keep your voice as quiet as it can be when you add, “the truth is that you’re a softy, logan... like a teddy bear or a really good pillow, it’s always nice to have you at home. and i love you for it.”

you say it like it’s a secret.

before he can respond, you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his lips, then, just for the sake of provoking him further. his stubble scrapes your skin, prickling slightly when he pushes forward to deepen the kiss, and you can feel his strong heartbeat speed up underneath your palms.

it keeps doing that as of late. racing on and on and on… hmm.

logan looks up at you, his pupils visibly dilating as he takes you in. the shape of your face, the curve of your cupid’s bow, the love that he still can’t believe you harbour for him of all people, and that’s currently swirling inside your eyes. you even smell like love, goddammit.

he doesn’t say the words back — he can’t yet, he’s not ready but he will be, you just have to give him time, just wait for him, please — but what he does is flip you around in one smooth movement and pins you down with the help of his hand holding onto both of your wrists.

there’s no pressure behind the grip, but you know he doesn’t feel the need to apply it because he’s positive that you won’t go anywhere. and he’s so big above you now; the curve of his shoulders is broad, the muscles in his back are strong and flexing with anticipation. even his eyes have turned dark. like an animal’s that’s gone into hunt.

he hunches his shoulders slightly as he drops lower to cup your cheek and kiss you again, this time being the one to initiate it first. with the distance now nearly gone, you open your legs further for him, locking your ankles on the small of his back. he uses the chance to press the hard-on that’s painfully straining his boxers against you.

breaths intermingle as you both begin to pant. his cock is big just like the rest of him is, heavy. you squirm, lifting yourself just enough for him to help you take your shirt off. his chest presses against yours after that, sharing the warmth, sticking with upcoming sweat, making you feel the silky smooth hair that’s residing there and driving you even more wild.

“oh, by the way,” he murmurs between hot kisses, fingers already tugging on the waistband of your panties, “never say love rug again. when you need me to pet you, just tell me.”

#wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #biscuit drabbles

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starlightandfairies · 11 months ago

Note

Ahhh your writing is just perfect! ❤️ I dare for another idea hehe 🫶🏼 just maybe something where you're dating but you get incredibly jealous as Katherine appears back in town and you know of their past. So you think it would be better to step back for a while but Elijah notices immediately and misses you as you not show up at any occurrence. He later finds you at the Grill, talking with the Salvatores about that topic and Elijah eavesdropped the whole conversation, finally realizing what's wrong with you and feeling bad for this to happen, as he only has eyes and feelings towards you. Then one night he invites you over to his house and tells you about his feelings and that you don't have to worry about Katherine as she's long forgotten to him and he proves that to you that night? ☺️ Ugh I love cute and fluffy Elijah !

Description: With Katherine back in town, knowing Elijah's past with Katherine brings some unwanted shades of jealousy to the reader.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for both of your lovely requests! I hope you also enjoy this one and thank you as well for your kind words!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, F/fs = favourite flowers

Word Count: 1,279

First Person's POV

Elijah and I currently sat in my favourite café, it was normally very quiet and once again today was one of those days. Elijah stared at me with admiration, he held my hand softly in his, rested small kisses on my knuckles and whispered words of devotion.

"I'm just going to run to the bathroom." Elijah nodded, resting another kiss on my hand and finally let me go off to the bathroom, I did what I needed to do and finally came back out. I stopped in my tracks, seeing a brunette talking to Elijah, he looked less than impressed, he looked pissed and I could only assume what that meant.

"Katherine." I simply stated, choosing to sit beside Elijah instead of across from him, the woman forced a smile to her lips the resting bitch look not fading from her eyes. I could feel this twinge of hurt and jealousy invading my being. Katherine took it upon herself to sit down and join us, Elijah let go of my hand and the once gentle and tender look that decorated his features was long gone.

"What was your name again...?"

"Y/n" I answered, hating the way she stared at Elijah, I knew of their past as Elijah had been quite open about his past relationships. Katherine nodded, shrugging and turned her attention to Elijah. I grabbed my things, kissed his cheek and pushed myself up to leave.

"Bonnie wanted me to do something, I'll see you later." Elijah nodded, staring at me for a moment, I walked out before anything could be said and made my way to Bonnie's house. I asked Bonnie to do a spell, something that would allow me to go under the radar and not be found by Elijah considering that I would be distancing myself from the love of my life to conceal the ugly green monster.

I had been cancelling dates, vague answers over the phone and would leave quickly with some bullshit excuse if Elijah appeared out of the blue. I could tell he could sense something was, I didn't want to mention that something was wrong and he hadn't questioned my actions.

Elijah's POV

Something was wrong with Y/n I couldm't place my finger on what it was, I couldn't understand what had happened and why she decided to almost disappear. I was missing her dearly, I missed seeing her smile, I missed her silly little jokes and her ability to make all my world seem so much better against all the issues going down. I missed her little rambles she would go on, the point is that I miss her and I don't know how to bring her back to me.

I had finally been able to catch the trail and follow her around, see if I could understand what was going on and it took me to the Grill. I stood near the bar, blending into the ground and proceeded to listen in on her conversation with the Salvatore brothers.

"I know it's silly of me but I can't help but be jealous."

"Come on, you know that the noble fossil wouldn't cheat on you." Damon remarked, a clear roll of the eyes that made Y/n whack him lightly.

"I being serious Damon! I know he has history with Katherine, when he was human he loved Tatia and then he found Katherine. What if her coming back brings back the feelings? I can't stand the idea of him leaving me for her and I don't want that to happen."

"Y/n have you tried speaking with Elijah? You know he'd hear you out and he'll be respectful of what you're going through." I let out a breath, I clenched my eyes shut, hating in myself for not reading the signs. If I knew sooner I would've done everything in my power to reassure Y/n that the only person my heart sings for is her.

"He's a 1000+ year old vampire, he has more important things than dealing with my petty feelings."

"Y/n listen here. Elijah worships the ground you walk on, he wouldn't think any less of you for worring about Katherine. We all know what Katherine is like and you have every reason to be worrying about it." Damon's response seemed to freeze her in her place.

"Thank you..."

Four nights later, I invited Y/n to come over, I will admit I was surprised when she agreed. We journed to my bedroom, she placed herself on the bed, fiddled with her hands and I took this as an opportunity to shut down the feelings of doubt and jealousy.

"Y/n the other night, I overheard you speaking to the Salvatores about what's been going on..." She buried her face in her hands, looking ashamed and worried about what I could possibly say. I sat beside her, took her hand and cupped her face in my other hand to ensure she met my eyes.

"I understand your worries completely. I understand and I want you to know, that Katherine does not matter to me. She hasn't for 500 years. All I care about is you, no one else matters to me, just you. I love you with all my heart, I love your smile and your little jokes. I love when you leave me a note with a little picture, I worship the ground you walk on and I will go to hell back to prove that I love you as much as I do. I am awfully sorry that you haven't felt as if you could speak to me and I feel awful that this happened. But please, my love... know that I would never ever dream of breaking your heart and leaving you alone. You have my word, I promise you that I won't let the devil of a woman try and break us apart because she is long forgetten."

She took a few breaths, Y/n moved closer to me, rested a kiss upon my forehead and took a moment before finding the courage to speak.

"I am sorry, I'm sorry that I didn't come to you, I'm sorry I didn't allow you to know what was going on. It was fair of me to shut you out when you haven't done anything to warrent it. Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to apologise or forgive for. My love, let me prove to you my undying and everlasting love for you." Her shy little smile brought a smile to my lips, I cupped her face in my hands, bringing her in for a kiss and listened to her hum as I brought her into my arms for an embrace, Y/n took a moment to breathe and whispers softly into my ear.

"i love you, Elijah. I love you more than you'll ever know."

"I love you more my love."

First Person's POV

Late into the night, we lay in each other's arms, Elijah and I lay naked under the blankets. My headed rest on his chest, he took my hand away lying across him and brought my hand to rest a sweet and longing kiss against my palm. The action was enough to keep my smile stuck on my lips and it was enough for me to snuggle in closer to him with my hand resting in his and his tender eyes continuing to made me feel incredibly loved and devoted to.

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king-sil44 · 2 months ago

Text

I’m tweaking out a little. I went with friends to see the Sonic 3 movie on release day. Was really good ofc. Went to see it a second time the other day with my best friend. Sorta fixating on movie Sonic content. Might even watch the Knuckles show (y’know despite the unnecessary amount of Wade I’ve been hearing about) because he’s my favorite version of Knuckles in the Sonic franchise.

But that’s not what I’m here to yap about.

What I wanna know is why aren’t more people hopping on the Knuxadow ship train? Like???

I’m usually not a big shipper of Knuckles and Shadow, more of Sonadow girlie. But in the movie universe?? Please people imma need y’all to start dropping fanart and fanfics of them before I start having to make it myself.

LIKE THINK ABOUT IT.

(Spoiler Warnings btw)

- Both watch the same soap opera, La Ultima Passion I think it’s called (Knuckles is watching it in an episode of the Knuckles series I think and Shads is getting into it in the movie while hangin with Stone in the Crab). I could totally imagine them watching it together and arguing over the plot lines.

- Both ride motorcycles.

- You can’t tell me Knuckles ain’t the type to fall head over heels for someone who can EASILY kick his ass. “What a woman😳” type vibes but it’s after Shadow rocks his shit.

- IMAGINE Sonic and Tails. Cuz Knuckles is their big brother. Can y’all just imagine them lowkey bullying him? The whole immature nine miles? Making barfing noises if they catch Knuckles and Shadow flirting (in their own way), making very obnoxious kissing noises when Knuckles is gushing about how powerful and strong of a warrior Shadow is. THEY WOULD.

- Also Shadow, not being experienced with romance feelings or a crush, would have no IDEA what he’s feeling. I think his “OH” moment would be while watching other people interact. Be it in a movie/show, seeing Sonic and Amy interact, or Tom and Maddie. A whole “So this is love?” vibe.

- Someone theorized that in the hypothetical Knuckles & Shadow series that Keanu and Edris had talked about, they would be working together to locate all the Chaos Emeralds after they got lost at the end of the movie. CUE TWO SUPER POWERED ALIEN DUDES GOING ON A ROAD TRIP TOGETHER. And I think THAT is when they would become friends and start to form feelings for each other. Chat does this count as forced proximity?

- And we mustn’t forget Tom and Maddie. Tom doing the typical “I don’t want this dude dating my kid” routine (in his case tho it’s fair. Shadow did try to destroy earth and almost killed him) and Maddie would be supportive and I KNOW she would pull out the “leave the door open” line. Iykyk hehehehehe. They would both be really supportive of Knuckles having a crush and I feel like Shadow would try his best to be kind to them for Knuckles. He would be awkward.

- It’s also worth noting that if the whole Black Arms thing does happen in the cinematic universe and it ends like in the Shadow game with Shadow basically killing all of them, Knuckles and Shadow would BOTH be living the “I’m the last of my kind” lives. Not to mention both of their species have MESSY histories. Like we know the Echidnas were not perfect, otherwise they wouldn’t have been at war for so long. And we KNOW that the Dark Arms are all lunatics. Boyfriends can bond over their family drama.

THATS ALL. For now. 👹

And I know we probably gonna get Rouge in the franchise at some point and Knuxouge will be canon I’m sure but like… can a dude dream? And ask for more people to share this dream?

HEAR ME OUT PEOPLE-

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT!!

#sonic movie universe #sonic movie 3 #knuxadow #movie knuckles #movie shadow #shipping #please ship them guys #i need more content #don’t make me do it myself I have so many other projects to do

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 15 days ago

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The Kitchen Window (pt. 4)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (everything finally clicks into place when you're invited over to Vern's place. some new friends mean new experiences)

warnings - swearing

word count - 4.7k (I told y'allll)

READ PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - one - two - three

You’ve been brooding the past couple of days. Life has been sucker punching you in the gut, one insane, unthinkable blow at a time.

Work hours are getting ridiculously longer, April O’Neil hasn’t texted you back since the night you spilled all of your secrets. And you haven’t seen or heard Raphael around. Not that important, but it still contributes to the pile of miserable shit you’re handling. Thankfully, Vannie seems to be filling that lonely space in your flat. She’s a sweet relief to see at the end of each night when you get back from work, purring and content. You hadn’t realized how nice it was to come home to someone that’s so pleased to see you. She’s helping you cope, even if just a little. A cat tree now sits in the far corner of your living room so she’s not climbing all over the counters and scratching at your sofa. Though simple, it adds a new, homey addition to the space.

This night off is uneventful. Vannie sits in your lap, fast sleep, while you mindlessly scroll on your phone and sip on a glass of fruit juice that’s been sitting in your fridge for just a little too long. Hometown highschool friends with their engagement rings and college graduation posts. Not something that you particularly yearned for, but it still hurt a little. It was probably time to pick up a damn hobby. Vern texts you. What a surprise.

[Hey kiddo]

He hasn’t called you that in a long time. It makes your throat tighten up.

[what up big man]

It takes him a second to type out another text.

[I know we haven’t seen each other much. Figured you might wanna come see my apartment? it’s nice]

An invite to your older brother’s fancy new place is the last thing you’d expected in the form of a late night message.

[tonight?]

[tommorow]

[hell yeah]

Finally, a small start to getting better. Vannie stretches in your lap and you stroke her fur.

The subway ride uptown is weird. You forget that there’s literal trains running underground, after walking to and from work for so long. It would be more exciting, if not for being sandwiched between two total strangers and the silence of people kind of just looking around. The screech of wheels on the tracks breaks it every once in a while. You’re also not a fan of the shoving and pushing of total strangers through the way-too-small sliding doors when you reach your destination, almost tripping at least twice. Rude.

At the very least, Vern’s apartment complex was just two blocks away from the subway exit. You knew the upper parts of the city were nicer, but it doesn’t really hit until you’re walking on the wide sidewalks and passing restaurants and window shops that put your cafe to shame. Even the early afternoon atmosphere just seems less heavy. There’s more light. You catch just a few more passing smiles than you usually would, up the steps into the main building, where you have to press a button and announce you’re a visitor to your older brother.

The elevator takes you to the 11th floor of the nicest complex you’ve ever been in (not that you’d been in many anyhow).

The whole way here, you've been excited to see Vern, practically bouncing with every step all the way up to his door. But now your fist freezes right above the place where you’re about to knock. Something was so off about this. You rap your knuckles on the wood anyway.

Someone opens the door, after a few shuffling footsteps, and it’s not Vern. Your heart drops.

“April?” A voice crack slips its way through your dry throat.

Oh my god. She’s told him everything.

She told your older brother all of your insane ramblings, and now she’s greeting you with a friendly smile like it’s nothing. So this is what the invitation was all about. The both of them were probably waiting inside with a psychologist or a one way ticket to a padded room. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Oh hey!” April is warm with her greeting, but it does nothing to shake the spirit of your utter confusion. To add to it all, Vern’s head peeks over hers with a weak wave of his hand and a sheepish expression.

“Hey kiddo.”

You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between them. The reporter still holds that confident, close-mouthed smile, while your older brother is struggling to keep it together.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” it’s more of a question than a statement, “Are we having a little get together or something?”

Vern tries to speak, but April cuts him off.

“Yeah we figured it’d be good to talk here!”

You can’t protest when she grabs your arm and all but drags you through the doorway and slams it shut, leaving you in the entryway of a lavish, modern, way-too-white apartment. It’s hard to process anything going on. The scenery, Vern’s guilt ridden eyes and the millions of thoughts firing in your brain are all increasingly overwhelming. You're starting to get a headache.

“L-Look, April, about the other night-“

“You don’t have to explain anything.” She pulls you again, this time in the middle of taking your shoes off and past the coat rack. You catch your brother's eye and he looks nearly as lost as you feel. April continues.

“It’s about time we talked about this anyway.”

That makes you nervous. You’re being led into a nice kitchen, Vern at your heels and watching helplessly.

“We don‘t have to!” You exclaim and yank your wrist from her determined hold, “I was just-just tired! I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, I know I sounded like a total maniac-“

She is completely uninterested in hearing your case, instead rolling her eyes and taking hold of your arm once again.

“We can just forget this whole thing! The loneliness has been getting to me, it’s really…not…”

When you step past the wall of the kitchen you trail off, dumbfounded to silence. All and any rational thought has fled.

Raphael, your savior, the giant fucking turtle, is standing, cross-armed, and a little nervous looking, next to three others that look eerily similar in their stature and green scales, though they all wear vastly different expressions that give away their thoughts. They’re all decked in various scraps of gear and oversized clothing, and like the one in red, have different colored bandanas over their eyes.

You look and feel like a total moron. Just standing there, mouth agape, only wearing one shoe and eyes flicking between the quartet of reptiles and your brother, who’s pinching his temple between two fingers in distress. The shortest of the four offers an over exaggerated smile and wave, before being kicked in the back of the leg, by another in a blue mask. He looks immensely annoyed. You have no idea what to say and when you open your mouth to speak, a flustered gasp squeezes its way from the back of your throat.

“I told you guys this was a shit idea,” Vern says. The tallest turtle shifts his weight from one large foot to another. It’s so quiet, so awkward, and yet you’re so discombobulated, your head starts to spin and you lean against the wall for support. You knew there was more than one night assailant. But four? And all nearly the same size and appearance? This was beyond absurd.

“Okay,” your voice is quiet, but it immediately captures the attention of everyone that’s standing in the room, “Can someone, genuinely, please tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you right away.” April speaks up from behind you. You turn to see her apologetic eyes. Your silence prompts her to continue an explanation.

“These are my friends.” She sounds like trying to tame some wild animal, and her arm sweeps out to gesture towards the four, “I just wanted to see, you know… if it was really just ‘some guy’ that stopped whoever was grabbing you.”

Guess she was right. You rotate once again at Vern who is trying to avoid eye contact.

“You knew?!”

Everyone jumps at the sudden escalation in your shocked question.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!”

You scoff.

“What, am I supposed to just tell you I’m acquainted with four, crime fighting, ninja turtles?! I’d sound batshit crazy!”

It was only fair that he thought that way. Suddenly, your distant, uninvolved brother was in your exact shoes, and your shoulders slump downwards in exasperation.

“So would I, Vern! I knew- I knew-, I wasn’t insane, but this whole situation has been eating at me for fucking weeks!”

If not for the absolute shock running through you, you would have laughed at the way April and the vigilantes just stand there and watch your argument like it’s reality TV, turning their heads each time one of you speaks up.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You should be glad we're telling you now!”

You throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes, once again rendered speechless.

A different voice pulls you from the confrontation. It’s the one in blue, now standing a little nearer to you. He’s massive, just like the others, even more now up close. You’re still not used to them talking in perfect, clear English. Or, really, at all.

“Sorry we had to meet this way.” His voice is deep, mature, and assertive. Surely the head honcho of the group. He’s smiling like it’s a peace offering, lopsided and gentle.

“I-I don’t-“ You search for the right response, but he does the talking for you and offers a calloused, three fingered hand.

“Leonardo.”

A long pause. Then an overtaxed sigh. You accept his introduction and awkwardly take it. You’re literally shaking a talking turtle's hand.

“I guess you already know my name.”

“We sure do, angel!” Leonardo is being shoved suddenly, quickly replaced with the energetic, shortest of the party. His bandanna is orange, and he’s puffing out his chest with confidence that out’s Vern’s ego to sorry shame. It immediately puts a curious smile on your face.

“I’m Michealangelo, but all the ladies call me Mikey.”

He grabs your hand delicately and places a cool kiss to the back of it while he bows toward the floor. You can’t do anything but awkwardly chuckle and watch as the others groan and cover their faces in embarrassment. This guy was pretty funny.

“Save some for the rest of us, Mike.”

You look to the tallest, who’s pushing the thick-lensed, tortoise print glasses up his nose. He opts to wave his hand from where he’s standing, seeming to sense the already overwhelming lack of personal space you have.

“Donatello.” It’s the voice you overheard on the radio last week, that accidentally gave away Raphael’s name.

Oh. OH. It finally clicks in your brain. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello. Raphael.

“Renaissance artists, huh?”

April meets your face with a kind of look that reads, ‘now you get it’.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Mikey kisses his flexed bicep, “Works of art.”

You laugh.

“I named my cat after Van Gogh.”

Raphael, still standing back from the group, lifts his head and meets your eyes at the mention of her. He looks away again, but a little smirk breaks as he rolls a toothpick off his tongue and in between his teeth.

The sort of shared interest seems to break a little bit of the tension, and the other three smile.

”Damn, Raph,” Mikey grins over at the ray of sunshine, “Not even gonna come say hi to your girlfriend?”

Your face flushes lightly. It’s clearly just a little jab to get under his skin, but you’re caught slightly off guard. Thankfully nobody seems to notice.

The smile’s gone, replaced with a huff of his nostril and a flick to Mikey’s head when Raphael walks over to finally introduce himself.

“Hey.”

You realize, this is the first time you’re standing in front of him without a window in the way. He’s still impossibly large. But you’re just so close. It feels almost foreign, witnessing the broad shoulders and tough plastron that pairs with those intense, forest colored eyes.

“Nice to meet you. Again.” Is all you can say, through a warm smile.

He snuffs, a sort of amused laugh, that makes you smile widely.

“Yeah. Sorry this got turned into such a big ordeal.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad I got to put a name to the face.”

You two kind of just stare at each other in silence. Mikey doesn’t let it draw on for long.

“You need to let me see this cat!”

“Oh, of course!” You don’t realize how warm your face is until you’re grabbing your phone from your pocket.

April and Vern are standing near each other again, now a little more relaxed seeing you warm up and pull up a photo of Vannie from your camera roll while the four look over your shoulder. Mikey coos at a video of her playing with the strings of your hoodie.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

So maybe it wasn’t ideal, the execution of their plan. Maybe you felt a little betrayed by your brother and his friend.

But.

You’ve made four new friends. And, as odd as they come (and intimidating as they look), they seem to like the way you welcome into your life.

The weeks flying by after you meet the four brothers have gone so much better than before. You’re getting sleep, still working your job up at the cafe, you’ve got Vannie. And that late-night sound of the manhole sliding against asphalt in the back alleyway begins once again. Now when you awake early in the morning to its noise, you just smile and snuggle further into your covers, with the reassurance that there are no scary monsters or felons that stalk in the night. Just four city-protecting vigilantes doing what they do best.

On the weekends, you stay up late to their frequent visits to your kitchen window. They usually swing by for a quick chat or check in on you. Most of the time it’s Mikey or Raphael. Or both. Sometimes the younger will tag along just to pay Vannie a visit while you and Raphael make playful small talk. Donnie will come through your area every once in a while, and though he doesn’t talk as much as his other brothers, it’s a refreshment to just listen to him talk about the state of the city and whatever new nerdy experiment he’s got going on. Leo rarely visits, unless you happen to catch them all leaving the sewer exit and he sticks around to hear you tell a crazy story about a rude customer or stupid order you’ve had to deal with during the week.

It’s so refreshing to have friends to talk to, even if it’s not every day.

Along with these pop ins, Raph’s been leaving things in your window on some of the nights you’re sleeping or coming home extra late from long shifts. Sometimes it’s a cool rock he found (who knows where), other times, an old abandoned action figure, or more recycled toys for Vannie. Your collection had accumulated on the dresser in your bedroom. It’s sweet.

Sometimes, you return the favor and leave him a cold drink you made at work by the open window before you flop into bed, exhausted. Summer’s rolling around the corner and even the nights get hot, especially considering moving around the city with all of his (badass) parkour. On occasion, you’ll make some for his siblings too, but the weird looks from your coworkers, leaving the shift with a cup holder full of unpaid drinks, limits this to every once in a while.

You don’t know it, but Raph feels so spoiled by your gifts to him.

Life is going so great, and you can feel the stone wall of his gruff exterior start to break when he chuckles at one of your jokes. Your heart warms when you think about him at work. As much as you enjoy seeing all of the brothers, it’s the red-banded one you’re drawn closest to. He makes you feel kind of giddy. It’s hard to put a label on it, but you’d love to call him your best friend, if not, one of your only.

It’s sticky and humid outside, on a late Saturday night in June. You’ve been watching a movie in your bedroom, with Vannie nestled beside you, sleeping, a bowl of microwave popcorn in your lap. The tv’s loud enough to almost drown out a little noise that comes from the kitchen. You barely hear it, but it catches your attention and you quickly snatch the remote to pause the movie.

Tap, tap, tap.

You smile. The shifting of the bed wakes up your cat, and she watches as you throw off the duvet and walk from the bedroom into the hall, bowl of popcorn in hand. When you pass the hall door, Raphael is grinning at you through the window and you fast-walk over to unlock the latch and slide it open. Humid air immediately flows in with his smug smile. Now you remember why the window was closed.

“Hey stranger.”

He snorts, and leans to rest his forearms on the sill.

“Whaddup, short stack?”

You shrug, and then offer out the bowl for him to take from. Raph grabs a handful and stuffs it in his mouth.

“What brings you to this part of town at…” you look at the stove clock, “3 in the morning.”

Raph talks while he’s chewing. A usually crude performance that you find kind of endearing.

“Slow night,” He swallows, and there’s a crumb on the corner of his lip, “Not a lot goin on for us out here.”

You nod, trying not to laugh at the leftovers that he clearly doesn’t notice. He quirks a brow.

“What?”

You reach out to try and swipe at it with your thumb but Raph flinches backwards.

“Come here!” Your laugh is soft, “You got something.”

He brings his face a little close and you wipe it away. It’s the first time you’ve touched his face, you realize. It’s cool, but there’s softer skin on his snout compared to the rest of his leathery scales. You try not to linger on it too much. He sees it on your thumb and playfully rolls his eyes. You can’t tell for sure, but there seems to be a little warmth creeping on his face. There’s tension.

“Yeah, I was savin’ that for later.”

Raph swats your hand away and you laugh.

“That hungry, huh?”

He nods.

“Actually yeah. We got leftover pizza at the lair, but I’m not supposed to be goin back for a while.”

“Want me to make you something real quick?”

He seems a little surprised at your offer (not like he’s gonna turn it down). You hear his stomach grumble.

“Can’t say no to that. How long you think it’ll take ya?”

“Probably a little bit. Do you wanna come inside?”

The invitation leaves your lips before you can think. None of the brothers had actually come inside your apartment before. It takes everything in you not to cringe and brace for the impact of his rejection while Raph looks at you with a perplexed glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” his answer sounds nonchalant, but his grin tells you a whole different story, “Dunno how you expect me to squeeze through this teeny little window though.”

You ponder for a second.

“You think you can sneak up to my front door?”

Raph shrugs.

“I can try. If I die, tell everyone it was your fault.”

You laugh.

“‘Vigilante turtle is found dead trying to get some of the worlds best chicken and rice.’ I can read the headlines now.”

He just shakes his head with a smirk, and then jumps off the fire escape.

“See you in a few.”

You shut the window, and in 45 seconds, there’s a knock at the door, and you rush over to open it and quickly let him in. Raph has to duck just a little to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

“Welcome to my crib.” It’s cringe, the way you lightly punch his shoulder.

“God, you sound like Mikey.”

“That was the goal.”

The turtle rolls his eyes, and then looks around the living room with a little smile.

“Gotta get you some decorations in here.”

You sigh.

“I know. I’m not here all the time. Plus I think Vannie would just knock shit over.”

Meow

“Speaking of.”

She’s already making her way over to him from your room, and rubs herself against his muscular calf.

“Hey kitty.”

Raph bends to give her head a little scritch, not following you over to the kitchenette where you’re pulling thawed chicken from the refrigerator.

“I think she missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks up at your turned body, as you fill a small pot with water from the kitchen tap.

“You said chicken and rice, huh?”

You nod, looking back at him. He’s walking over to you, sandaled feet scuffing on the carpet.

“Small-apartment-owner staple. Plus it’s easy.”

He’s standing behind you now, arms crossed, and curiously watching as you turn on two of the stove burners.

“Probably not for me. I burn just about everythin I touch.”

You think quietly to yourself, the irony of such a hothead setting a bowl of cereal up in flames.

“This is super simple. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“Oh so you’re a barista and a culinary teacher

“This is one of the only things I can cook. You wanna cut up some of that for me?”

Raph sees you gesture to the unopened package of chicken, while you’re pouring a cup of white rice into the pot of slowly boiling water. Cutting, he could do.

The two of you work silently in the small space, ducking over and under each other to grab utensils and spices. You instruct him here and there, but still leave room for the comfortable quiet that’s settled in the air.

After about 15 minutes, you pour a bowl for each of you (his is filled just a little bit more than yours) and invite him to sit on the couch to eat together. The first bite he takes has his eyes rolling in the back of his head with a guttural groan. You flush from behind your fork.

“Good?”

“Fuckin good.”

Your giddy smile says it all. It’s flattering the way he eats without saying a word. You’re so at ease, sitting criss-cross on the couch next to this beast of a guy, both enjoying the comforts of a meal your mom had taught you how to make long before you had left for New-York. This felt so domestic. When he's done, Raph wipes his mouth and sets the bowl down on your coffee table, fork clattering against the ceramic, and leans back on the couch with a stretch. You’re only halfway through your dinner.

“That’s some Gordon Ramsey shit.”

You scoff.

“Hardly. But thank you.”

“Nah, thank you. I’m gettin tired of all that takeout Mike brings home.”

His eyes are closed, hands resting on his plastron, and feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Beautiful, you think, and you’re surprising yourself again with the thought. You take advantage of his relaxed eyes, eyes trailing up the long, muscular extent of his body. A weird, warm sensation trills its way up your body, when his broad chest moves with a heavy breath, stopping it’s way at your lungs to give them gentle squeeze. It slows your chewing. When Raph’s eyes open, you quickly focus your attention back down to the food that you’ve suddenly become full from. He says something that you have to ask him to repeat.

“Show me around?”

“O-oh. Yeah sure.” You stand fast, and clumsy, bowl taking its place next to his. You awkwardly adjust your shirt and wait for him to stand from the couch. He follows you down the short hallway.

“Here’s the bathroom,” you point to your right, and wait for him to kind of peek his head around for a moment, “And here’s my room.”

The movie on the tv is still paused, but it lights the room with a warm glow, along with the dim led lights strung up in the corners of the small space. A simple twin-sized bed in the middle, in between a matching bedside table and dresser. Raph steps into the room past you. It looks so cramped with his massive body in here. You can’t stop his eye catching the little collection of trinkets, lined up in a neat row, on top of the black dresser. His grin is small.

“Was wonderin if you kept all this shit,” He chuckles, picking up one of the little superhero action figures and admiring it. His whole hand engulfs the toy, which is covered in scuffs and scratch marks from years of play.

“Can’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.”

Raphael’s response is a relaxed smile when he looks over his shoulder at you. Your heart skips. He turns again and gently sets the figure in its place.

“This your family?”

He’s referring to the framed picture of you, Vern and your parents behind the line of his little gifts.

“Yeah. My mom and her husband.”

Raph lifts it and you walk over to look at it with him. It’s from a few years prior.

“Not your dad?”

You shake you head.

“Vern’s dad. But we’re close.”

The four of you are in mid laugh, in the selfie that you take with an outstretched arm. You remember taking it on a vacation in the mountains.

“Vern’s always got that stupid look on his face.”

You snicker, shaking your head.

“Yeah. Idiot.”

Once again, Raph places it in its exact spot. It makes your knees shake a little when he’s looking down at you, just centimeters away from your body. To ignore and prevent anymore weird and confusing tension to build, you flop backwards on your bed with a sigh.

“Whatcha bitchin about now?”

You smile up at the ceiling.

“Just don’t wanna go back to work.”

He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. Sounds boring.”

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you. You can feel the warmth of his leg bouncing next to yours.

“Whatcha thinking about, Red?”

“Nothin’ important.”

You tilt your head down just a little to see his massive shell facing you. He’s hunched over. You kick him lightly, and he knocks your leg away gently.

“Come onnn, talk to meeee.”

You go to kick him again, but Raph grabs your leg and tickles the back of it. You squeal.

“STOP,” the fight is useless, kicking and scrambling to get away, with an ornery grin on his face, “I’m gonna piss myself!”

With that he backs off, and you’re heaving through laughter.

“Mean.”

“Annoying.”

His smile is wiped away with another thought crossing.

“What time is it?” You both glance at the digital clock on the bedside table behind you.

“Shit. Almost five.”

“Yeah. I better get goin. Gettin’ late- or, I guess early.”

You follow him up to the front door, walking past Vannie who’s playing with that first cat toy he left on your window.

Raph reaches for the door handle, but stops.

“Thanks for lettin me in. And for the food.”

You smile softly.

“Anytime, Raph.”

You didn’t mean to stop so close to him, but here you are, smile slowly fading while you look up at his face. His eyes have got you in a strong hold, and he mirrors your expression, unintentionally. His nostrils flare with a breath outwards.

You want to kiss him, all of a sudden.

Kiss Raphael right on the mouth and not have a care about it.

But you don’t. He grins.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The click of the closing door is your cue to slap your hands over your face in exasperation.

He’s left you with dirty dishes, an empty space, and flustered, red cheeks. You smile behind your hands hearing the scrape of Raphael heading back down into the sewers

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

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rosyhoneydew · 9 months ago

Text

"Buck, Tommy, hey! There's room over here, we'll scoot down!"

Evan bounds over to the booth, sliding in easily next to Eddie. Tommy's quick to follow, finding his seat next to Evan, but taking care to keep a small gap between them.

In the weeks that the two of them have been together, it’s been kind of amazing to watch Evan dive headfirst into their relationship. Tommy has zero doubts about the two of them, but he does know that these moments can still feel a little scary in their novelty, and he meant it when he said he didn’t want to pressure Evan.

He's aware that the 118 aren't anything like the guys he worked with when he was there. He's also aware, however, that no matter how close you are with your friends, your family, no matter how well they take it when you come out, it’s different, showing affection to another man so openly in front of them for the first time.

At least, it wasn’t easy for him when he finally brought his ex, Mark, along to Harbor's holiday party. They were only together maybe 4 months before it was clear they wouldn’t work out, and Tommy's not convinced that it didn't have anything to do with how he'd tense up any time he felt his boyfriend's hand around his waist. He needed some time. He doesn't blame Mark for anything, of course, but he really likes Evan, so he's going to do whatever he can not to scare him off.

"You guys must work some crazy calls in Air Ops, huh Tommy?" Ravi asks, a while later. They've been trying to keep the shoptalk to a minimum, not everyone's partner is a first responder, but they seem to keep finding themselves back here.

Tommy opens his mouth to respond, but Evan is speaking before he has the chance.

"Ravi, you have no idea. The other day he flew out to PV, right? And his team had to rappel down and get this hiker into a basket. It was crazy! It's super hard to get close to those cliffs 'cause they crumble so easy, you know? They kept showing footage of it on the news." And Evan's a couple of beers deep but Tommy is certainly not expecting the confident way he slings his arm around Tommy's shoulders, effectively killing any space that was still between them, or the way he turns to Tommy, lowers his voice, and adds, "It was so hot."

He's pretty sure that last part was only meant for him to hear, but, well, Evan's not really known for his discretion. Hen snorts and Tommy's pretty sure she's laughing at whatever dumbstruck, lovesick face he's wearing.

"Cool!" Tommy hears Ravi say, through the thrumming in his ears.

It doesn't stop there. Evan keeps a hand on him all night. When Tommy goes to the bar to get their next round, Evan kisses him on the cheek, and when he returns to the table, his hand finds Tommy’s thigh. And more than once he feels his face burning hot at the sensation of Evan's eyes on him.

He’s brazen in the way he looks at Tommy, leans in to mutter comments in his ear, and orients his whole body to face Tommy. He’s pretty sure they’re being a little rude, neither of them fully tuned in to any conversation being held tonight, but he's silently grateful for the way their friends give them a little grace. He only spots a few good-natured eye-rolls despite the way they’re clinging to each other. Though, he has a feeling they’re only going to get away with this once.

They stay a little while longer, finishing up a few bar snacks and listening to some of the wilder 911 calls Maddie had fielded that week before everyone starts to make their way back home. Tommy’s barely buckled himself in before Evan’s hand reaches for him again. He’s flushed, clearly buzzed, but his head seems to still be on straight. It lolls to the side as he looks at Tommy.

“Did you have fun?” His boyfriend asks.

Tommy smiles, lifting their joined hands, and kisses Evan’s knuckles. “Yeah,” he says, “I did.”

#911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #just a little something I thought up the other day!#bucktommy ficlet #tevan ficlet #my ficlet

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eternalsams · 7 months ago

Text

Never Again ↝ Tyler Owens

pairing: Tyler Owens x gn!reader

content/warning: bit of fluff, pet names, mention of sex (but no description whatsoever), mockery, swearing, slight angst

summary: When Tyler is invited on a talk show about his notoriety on YouTube, he doesn't expect that kind of meeting.

words count: 1.6k

notes: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. NOT PROOF READ

You just came home from the groceries, your arms loaded with full bags and balancing yourself not to drop the keys when Tyler almost jumped on you. "Babe, I'm gonna be on TV!" He exclaimed, holding his phone and showing you the email he received. You blinked at him and didn't answer immediately, trying to process his words. "You what?" You then asked. He slipped his phone in the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed the two bags you were carrying, helping you get everything inside. "They somehow found my email and asked me if I wanted to be interviewed on live TV. National TV, babe!" He laughed and his phone started ringing. He pulled it out and his smile widened. "It's Boone. Don't worry about the groceries, I'll store everything myself, beautiful." He answered the phone and went to your shared room to call his best friend. You could hear his excited voice as him and Boone started getting each other going about the whole thing.

You grabbed Tyler's laptop and opened his mails, reading the last one he received. He was right, it was a big thing. The Tornado Wranglers would get a lot of new visibility with that interview. You were excited for Tyler, he loved being on camera, that was for sure. But he also loved meeting people who were interested in what he was doing. With that interview, he had the chance of showing the whole country how fascinating weather could truly be. You were disrupted in your reading by Tyler's scream in the bedroom, quickly followed by a loud laugh. You chuckled at how excited he was and closed the laptop before starting to put away the groceries. Tyler quickly joined you after his numerous phone calls and gently scolded you when he noticed you started storing the groceries while he said he'd do it himself.

"Did you answer yet?" You asked him after the euphoria of the moment passed. "No, not yet." He chuckled as he grabbed a piece of bread to eat it. "I wanted to tell you and the guys first. But especially you. What do you think?" He then asked, looking into your eyes. "I think it's amazing, Tyler. You're so passionate about what you do and you know so much. You'll be able to show people how interesting the weather can be. Maybe some kids are gonna go study meteorology because of you." You smiled at him as you grabbed his hand in yours. Your boyfriend smiled at you and brought your hand to his lips to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. "It's gonna be amazing." He practically day-dreamed. You laughed and bent over the table to gently kiss his lips, your hand taking place on his cheek.

Two weeks later, you were standing behind Tyler as a girl brushed some mattifying powder on his face. He didn't tell you but you knew his heart was beating fast and hard in his chest, both from excitement and anxiety. He was so scared to make a fool of himself, to fumble over his words and look like he was a fraud. When the makeup artist finished her job, someone opened the door and announced you had 5 minutes left before Tyler was called on-stage. "You ready?" You asked, smoothing his flannel shirt. "Why is my heart beating so fast? I drive through tornado for a living, I shouldn't be scared of this." He sighed, carefully rubbing his eyes not to ruin the makeup artist's work. "Don't worry, it's just the nerves. You'll be great." You ran your fingers in his hair, styling it the way you loved it and he kept it everyday. "I'm just a bit upset Boone and the others weren't invited. We're a team, they should be there too." He closed his eyes and tried to focus on your fingers against his scalp.

The door opened one last time and a man called for Tyler. You kissed his cheek and wished him good luck before you watched him leave with the man to get everything checked for the mic. A woman came to lead you in another room where the program was on TV. You thanked her and grabbed a glass of water before taking a seat on the sofa. A few minutes later, Tyler was called on-stage and you saw him on the TV. He was smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as he shook the host's hand and took a seat in front of the man. A wide smile took place on your lips as you watched the man you love glow with pride on cameras.

"Tyler, I'm so glad you could join us tonight. You have quite a reputation on the internet!" The host started when the applause stopped in the audience. "The pleasure is mutual, thank you very much for the invite. It's an honor to be here." Tyler said, looking around at the audience. "For anyone who doesn't know Tyler, he posts videos on YouTube of himself and his staff driving through tornados in Oklahoma and Arkansas. You must be some crazy fella to do this willingly!" The man said, making the audience laugh and Tyler chuckled. "It's a good summary, yes. But we're professionals, we are equipped to do so and we only drive through EF1s or small EF2s." Tyler reminded with a smile. "EF1, EF2, what's that?" You knew the host wasn't stupid enough to not know what that meant, but you were grateful that Tyler could explain it, the passion on his face was pure gold. "It's a scale we give tornados. But what's really interesting is that we don't scale a tornado according to its size or its speed. We give them their scale according to their damages." Tyler explained. "So how do you know you're driving through an EF1 and not an EF5?" The host asked. "I studied meteorology so I can identify whether it's gonna turn bad or not and if I catch a single sign it's gonna turn violent, we just leave and find shelter." He explained with simple words.

"So you studied meteorology, got a degree, and still shoot fireworks up tornados for YouTube?" The man laughed and you could see something break inside Tyler's eyes. He played it off and chuckled. "Well, yes. I love that job, I'm having fun with my best friends and entertaining people. That's the dream." He laughed and looked around, starting to notice some unpleasant looks in the audience. "And have you ever tried doing anything else in that car when the tornado is hitting you? I don't know, read a book, play scrabble or even have sex." New laughter were heard in the audience as the host laughed at his own joke. A dry smile stretched Tyler's lips as he slowly nodded, thinking about how to answer this. He couldn't just leave, he wanted to be the more mature on this stage. Before he could even say anything, the host looked back at him with a smile. "Your partner is part of your team, right? Maybe if you asked, you could get a lot of views." He joked, making Tyler's blood boil in his veins. "That won't be YouTube anymore, that's more like reality show. That's not what we do." Some laughter were heard in the audience but he knew better.

"Alright, alright... But be honest for a minute, you have a million followers on YouTube, your whole staff-" The host started to say. "We're a team. I'm not the boss, I'm only the driver." Tyler corrected and you could feel he started to lose his patience. "Your team is very active on social media, you must've had some weird requests." The host then asked, faking a smile for the television. Tyler knew what he was trying to do, he wanted him to admit he'd been asked for a sextape through a tornado. And even though he received that peculiar request once or twice, nobody needed to know. You and him would never record that kind of video to post on the internet. "Someone once asked us to eat a pizza. And we all ended up having tomato sauce all over our faces." Tyler answered with a chuckle, now counting down the minutes before the end of the show. You watched as Tyler started to tap his foot in annoyance and you almost prayed for the host to stop his disrespectful questions.

The show regained a more respectful rhythm and when Tyler was dismissed, he immediately joined you in the backroom. "Let's go." He only said, grabbing your bag before taking your hand in his and walking, if not running, to the exit. He didn't say anything more until you were both in the car. He didn't start the engine, only staring at the steering wheel. "Tyler?" You gently put your hand on his arm but he violently hit the wheel with his hand. "Fuck! I really thought... I'm so stupid for thinking they'd be willing to listen to me." He rubbed his face and fought the tears away. Shame, embarrassement and anger were swirling inside him. "It's not your fault, Tyler. They were real bastards in there, you didn't deserve this." You tried to calm him down. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his shoulder, feeling him breathe deeply and relax. "Come on, let's go back to the hotel and tomorrow we'll have our flight home. You can tell Boone New York was shit and he'll tell you 'I told you so' before offering you a beer." You chuckled softly as you gently stroked his arm. Tyler nodded and started the rental before driving to your hotel. At least the show runners had the decency to pay for everything.

taglist:

@iliketopgun @callsigns-haze @toxiqueamour @choppedgalaxynerd @luvrofdilfsandmilfs @y-nk-live @books4ever03 @hookslove1592 @ipowell-tyler @floydsglasses @blue-aconite @28cnn @iscience02

@senawashere @melidot @cevansbaby-dove @katiemcrae @twisterschaser @starsrfun @lovemmay @lyn-js @lynnestra44 @classyunknownlover @imaginesofdreams @horseslovers2016

@og-baby-ob14 @attastarkey @sehnsuchts-trunken @tngrace @rockandrollbuckarooo @natzp03 @havaneselover08 @callsignrambam @trustingmina @obsessed-fan-alert @siriuslysirius05

@goodoldfashionedunderdog @xsoultruthx @hotsauceeater @mae-murdock @kadygirl @zombiedixon89 @kamperzz @lokisvariant @nixlikestix8 @another-tblr-fangirl @wpdarlingpan @puttyly

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fic #glen powell #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you #glen powell fic #twisters #twisters 2024

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pomefioredove · 10 months ago

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Hi hi! I have a request

Could I ask for romantic headcanons of dorm leaders(expect melleus) with a so whos melleus's younger sibling and when their on a date all they see is the disamona gang is spying on their date

AHHH help this is such a fun request!! diasomnia stakeout that lasts 5 minutes because sebek starts yelling the second he sees you holding hands with someone

summary: malleus' younger sibling type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

so we all agree that Riddle is probably the best choice? right?

as in, the least likely to get in trouble with the Diasomnia fam

Riddle, as a partner, is a perfect gentleman. won't even hold hands with you until a certain point in the relationship

(I mean, we're talking about Victorian England-level courting here)

out of everyone, he's the least likely to raise concern

...and yet.

it's probably Lilia that gets everyone worried

Riddle is a little... uptight for his tastes, after all, and Lils doesn't want you squandering your youth on rules and expectations

and so, he leads the great date stake-out

...for a completely inconspicuous mid-afternoon walk through the Heartslabyul rose gardens

you, of course, find all of them peeking at you from over a hedge almost right away

and just barely manage to shoo them off before Riddle sees and dies of embarrassment

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

GOOD LUCK

it's honestly a miracle that there even is a Leona Kingcholar left to date, rather than a pile of ashes on the ground

(Malleus is a terribly overprotective older brother)

...and he's quite convinced that Leona is dragging you around just to annoy him, specifically

so, what's he gonna do? not spy on you with the whole entourage?

he just needs to make sure you're okay, that's all

you, of course, knew that he didn't like the arrangement from the start, so you've already got an eye out on your dates

by the second or third, both you and Leona can tell you're being followed

...much to his annoyance

it takes a lot of "family meetings" with Lilia mediating before Malleus makes his peace with it

for now, anyway

so help him, if that oversized house cat hurts you...

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

everyone is... a little concerned that this is some kind of power play on Azul's behalf

Silver is probably the most worried, being in the same grade as him and knowing how tricky he can be

the original plan was to sit you down and express his concerns to you, and somehow that got turned into Lilia convincing everyone to wear fake mustaches and fedoras and spy on one of your dates in the lounge

(Malleus agrees because he thinks it's funny. Sebek agrees because Malleus does. poor Silver is powerless to stop it)

of course, you notice them right away

that's like... a given

besides the terrible disguises, Lilia and Malleus keep laughing and Sebek is white-knuckling the menu while trying to stay quiet

after that, you have a nice sit-down with everyone to discuss your personal boundaries

Silver gets his talk, after all :)

𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐥-𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐦

Lilia's failed attempts at convincing everyone that Kalim is a totally great boyfriend (wingman of the year, everyone) obviously don't work well

listen, Kalim is great. it could be a lot worse!

but also, uh...

his life tends to be a little hectic

the last thing the Diasomnia fam needs is for you to get poisoned

...or assassinated in some other grotesque fashion

so, of course, they tag along to a few parties, some dinners here and there...

they get caught pretty quickly, but lucky for them, Kalim is a great host, and so he invites them to just. join the dates

(much to your horror)

Sebek and Silver argue about who's going to taste your food for poison first

which Lilia ends up doing, anyway

(even if it is poisoned, it won't have any effect on him. he might even like it more)

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

Vil is probably the second safest option on this list

...and, of course, he gets scoped out for the same reason number one does

Lilia considers him just... too strict. I mean, he's young! you're young! you shouldn't be acting like grown-ups, you should be frolicking

or whatever it is kids these days are doing

when the four follow you on one of your way-too-nice dates, Vil is the first to notice

he's definitely annoyed at first, but comes to find the situation really funny

it's like paparazzi, but if the paparazzi were your extremely strange found-family, who are also wearing fake mustaches and pretending to be tourists at the table behind you

he'll let it slide, just this once

...but maybe you'll have more indoors dates for a while

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝

Idia has already taken the necessary preventative measures

i.e., never actually going out for dates

if you want to eat something together, you can just come to his room for ramen and anime. what's so great about cafes and restaurants, anyway?

if you need some new scenery, he'll design a VR room for the two of you

it's pretty hard to spy on Idia- he's got a hell of a custom-coded security system on all of his devices

and besides that, Lilia was the one who set you two up in the first place. why would he be worried?

...okay, maybe the rest of the Diasomnia fam is a little concerned that you're dating someone who hasn't seen the sun in years

but you can handle yourself!

(he may still be receiving hundreds of very strongly worded and untitled emails from Sebek, though)

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader

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kyeomszone · 4 months ago

Text

motive ○ lee dokyeom

tags. exes to ??. ex-fwb. hate sex (started off atleast, these bitches are idiots). fingering. rough sex. penetrative sex (vaginal). degradation. objectification. unresolved romantic tension.

synopsis. there aren't a lot of things that can get the Lee Seokmin angry. He's seen a lot in his career as the district attorney, has lived through a lot but goddammit did you know how to get under his skin better and faster than anyone with the infuriating smirk of yours.

masterlist. series masterlist.

If someone were to ask about what sort of person Lee Seokmin is, the first thing that would pop up in people’s heads is kind or a saint or some other iteration of it.

The man had built his career from these very acts, pro bono cases ( despite being very broke straight out of university ) to tackling big public figures━ politicians, businessmen and women, none were safe from Lee Seokmin and his silver tongue━ to now, having been elected the district attorney, the youngest in the country’s history.

You call bullshit.

The Lee Seokmin you know is all teeth, bruising grip and unforgiving mouth.

You remember the man as clear as day, even though it has been almost half a decade since the two of you last crossed paths━ a hurried conversation, the crack in your heart, the coldness in his eyes-

You remember the man, the way he spun arguments in his favour no matter how bad the odds were, the way he brought the room’s attention to himself so irrevocably, so effortlessly with that bright smile of his, the very same smile that turned sharp and sharklike behind closed door, having you shaking in your knees and your cheeks stained with tears as he denied you the high.

He was kind yes, but not a saint.

Lee Seokmin was the farthest thing from a saint.

Maybe that was why wherever you get the chance, you try to get under his skin and show the world the cruel thing that lay behind their saint. That this-this whole kindness, this love, this care that he shows are all a carefully done facade.

So, you were on the witness stand, repeating the oath as a smirk played on your lips with your eyes not leaving Seokmin’s form. He looked tense, jaw clenched, knuckles white and eyebrows set.

The man looked far tenser than he did when had introduced the case, a hard look on his face but eyes still infuriatingly kind, the opening a carefully curated string of words that had the audience━ judge, jury, defendant, everyone entranced, the words spoken in that soft, sweet voice of his already swaying the jury.

The case had been against one of your former business partners, you having been brought in as a witness or said man to use against Seokmin’s arguments and even though the man you had worked with could be described as scum, you played up the act. Doing your part to convince the jury that the accusations were baseless and the prosecution was simply trying to bring down a good man (and if you threw in jabs against Seokmin in between your words, well that was between you and him).

Which brought you this very moment━ you sitting in one of your office chairs after hours, the plush material soft against your back as you lift the glass of bourbon to your lips, the smile on your lips smug as you stare down Seokmin, the glass you had offered him sitting untouched.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for humiliation,” Your words are sharp as they fall from your lips, mocking. “You think you know a person.”

Seokmin doesn’t rise to the bait, instead, he looks at you, something angry, something resigned in his gaze that makes your skin itch. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” Seokmin repeats himself, a sigh falling from his lips as he finally picks up the glass of alcohol, staring at the amber liquid. “Why go out of your way to defend him?”

You scoff at his audacity to question you after everything he has done. “What do you mean, why? He’s my business partner, we worked together and I━”

“Bullshit.” Seokmin snaps, his eyes hard as he glares at you, his grip on the glass now white-knuckled. “That's bullshit and we both know that. He is a murd━”

“You don’t know me Lee Seokmin,” You interrupt him, setting the glass with a hard clang as you narrow your eyes at him. “So don’t barge your way in here and give me a fucking lecture on morality.”

“You're right,” Seokmin sighs, taking a large gulp of bourbon and your eyes can’t help but trace the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I don’t know you, the version of you that I knew is-is gone and...” a sharp laugh falls from his lips as he sets the glass back down. His eyes turn cold, lips twisting into a cruel little smile as he tilts his head. “What’s left of you is an empty shell filled with nothing but greed and━”

You are out of your chair before he finishes speaking, pushing his shoulders harshly as you glare down at him. Your breath comes out in harsh pants, jaw clenched and nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder, “Fuck you.”

Seokmin stares back, his eyes not leaving yours and he keeps staring and staring and━

His lips find themselves on your, hand cradling your jaw as the other tangles with your hair. You freeze for a minute, eyes wide at the unexpected course of action and it takes a minute for your brain to reboot before you find yourself kissing him back, your tongue licking across his seam, his tongue tangling with yours, mapping your mouth.

He stands up, lips still moving against yours as he gently pushes your backwards until the small of your back hits the desk, his body pressing against yours and━ fuck, you hate how this has your hold body burning, heat settling in your bones and turning you to putty.

He pulls away, panting as his forehead rests against yours. His grip on your jaw doesn’t loosen, neither does his hold on your hair and it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“Seokmin,” You breathe out, eyes on his face, the sharp contours of his face, the slope of his jaw, the moles shattered on his cheeks, all of which as like familiar in a way a book you had read years ago is. “Seokmin what━”

“Shut up,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips, pulling them back in and in one fell swoop, he has you lifted onto your desk, settling in between your legs and the casual display of strength has wetness pooling in your panties. You knew Seokmin had filled out, the muscles on his body no longer lithe the way it had been in university━ not from the way his shirts and suits hugged his body, almost tearing at the seams due to the stretch with each contraction.

His hand trails down from your hair, moving down until they’re at the buttons of your shirt, fingers undoing them and pulling it off, the fabric pooling near your hips and your shiver as the cold air of room brushes against your skin. Your grip on his shirt tightens, the fabric crinkling as you try to bring him closer than he already is, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth with a fervent need.

He pulls away for a second, breathing harshly, “Do you want to stop?”

You stare at him, the words taking a moment to skin in and when they do, you shake your head, “No,” the word falls off your lips without a beat of hesitation.

“Still the slut I know.” The words fall off Seokmin’s lips accompanied by a small laugh, a deeper, darker sort of under that makes molten heat course through your veins despite the humiliation that burns in you. “Maybe not everything has changed.”

You ignore the way his words sound wistful by the end, tugging him back down to meet your mouth, moaning at the way he bites your bottom lips, thighs pushing against your core. A beat later, his mouth starts trailing down, from your lips to your jaw, biting and licking and tugging at the skin of your jaw to your neck to your shoulder and then down to your tits.

One of his hands moves to unhook your bra while the other moves the garment. His mouth settles on one of the nubs, the teeth sinking into the flesh sending a flash of pleasure that has you gasping, back arching as you push yourself more onto him. His hand cups the other breast, fingers digging into the soft mound and as he tugs and tugs the abused nipple before moving onto the other.

All the while you’ve turned into a mess of pants and moans, your eyes rolling the the back of your head as Seokmin works his way through your body, taking you as he pleases, however he wants, wherever he wants━ uncaring of what you have to say.

It makes you feel like an object to use for his pleasure.

It makes your core throb.

“Pretty,” Seokmin mumbles against your skin, his breath warm and making you shiver. “My pretty girl.”

You burn at the praise, at being called his and you hate how it makes you feel.

“Fuck me already,” You snap instead, distracting yourself from whatever's starting to take root in you.

Seokmin’s eyes snap up to yours, eyebrows scrunching as he takes in a sharp breath. His hand trailed from your waist to your neck, fingers curling around the base of it and giving a light squeeze, making your breath hitch. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” He grits out, his words sharp and syllables coated in warning. “Behave.”

You swallow and nod. “Okay,” your next breath is shaky as you look at him. He stares at you for a second, before nodding.

“Be a good girl for me, baby,” Seokmin says, kissing you again as his hands start moving down. He unbuckles your belt, undoing the button and taking off your pants and underwear together, dropping them to the floor.

“So wet for me,” Seokmin mumbles, running a finger through your fold, wetness gathering on his finger making you moan, his mouth swallowing the sound. Two fingers slip into your hole easily, Seokmin groaning at the smooth motion and the subsequent tightening around the digits. His thumb settles against your cilt, rubbing circles as he starts fucking you rough and fast with his fingers.

He pulls away from you slightly, lips a breath away as he says: “How many times can I make you cum before you start sobbing?” He grins against your lips as you can only reply with a moan. “I remember it being four before you started whriting and sobbing as you begged me to stop.”

“Seok━” You gasp out as he presses against your cilt harder, your whole body tensing as you get closer and closer to the edge, your whole body tight as a coil.

“Has it gone back to one?” Seokmin keeps the conversation going nonchalantly as if you weren’t seconds away from crumbling to the ground. “No one’s been able to fuck you as well as I did to keep up?”

The coil in you snaps, as you clench around his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan; your orgasm washing over you.

“One.” Seokmin counts, his thumb still working away at your cilt and your body starts to tighten again, limbs locking up and you’re sure the only reason you're still upright is due to the hold Seokmin has on you. His fingers still piston in and out of you and within a few breaths you’re being pushed to the edge again, body coiling and coiling and━

“Seokmin,” You can’t help but sob out when the second orgasm washes over you and Seokmin still keeps going, thumb working and working and working away at your cilt. “Can’t, please, Seok━ Seokmin.”

Seokmin stops, his fingers pulling out as he ticks an eyebrow, “Just two?”

You take in a shaky breath, your whole body shuddering as you nod. “I... I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying, despite the embarrassment stelling into your bones━ you don’t even know why.

“It’s okay, baby.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, soft and warm and a complete juxtaposition to his demeanour a beat ago. “You did good, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, letting him completely overwhelm your senses. His hands caging your body, clothed thigh pressed against your dripping core, mouth moving against yours, soft, wet warm and grounding.

“Lay back,” Seokmin orders softly once he pulls away and you do, your back settling on the cool surface of the glass as you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor. A moan falls from your lips as you feel his head against your folds, moving to collect the wetness on the dull nub. Your whole body arches, mouth falling open as he pushes in, the thick length of his stretches you to your absolute limits, and despite the wetness from his ministrations and two orgasms, it still takes a bit of effort to fully seath himself inside.

Good god, you’d forgotten how big he was.

No wonder anyone who came after could never fully make you feel half of what he did.

“Fuck,” Seokmin pants, his body leaning over yours, “My perfect little toy,” Seokmin moans out as he starts moving, a slow drag followed by a snap that has you arching. With each thrust, he picks up his pace, playing with your cilt every once in a while to bring you closer to your orgasm as he fucks you fast and rough and hard enough to leave you aching for days.

Your body is putty by the time his pace grows erratic, hips snapping against yours as he fucks you, pistoning in and out and in and you feel your body tightening, his own breaths coming out sharp and short and a few thrusts later, you're coming around his cock, tightening around his thick girth and that seems to push him over the edge as well as he quickly pulls out and paints your stomach white.

It takes a minute for you to catch your breath, your senses slowly rewriting itself from having been fried. You push yourself to sit up despite the exhaustion settling in your body as you stare at Seokmin, hair damp from sweat, skin flushed with the effect of sex and he looks just as breathtaking as the first day you saw him.

A heaviness settles in your chest the longer you look.

You missed him.

You hate yourself for thinking that.

note. i have a part two for it that is more plot than smut, so lemme know if anyone's interested

#dokyeom smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom x you #lee dokyeom smut #lee dokyeom x reader #lee dokyeom x you #lee seokmin smut #lee seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x you #seventeen smut #series: decode

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gurugirl · 9 months ago

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The Outlaw | biker!h | Only on Patreon

opposites attract | good girl/bad boy | strangers to lovers

Summary: Y/n is an innocent young woman struggling to get along in life. Harry's the leader of a group of an outlaw motorcycle club with a troubled past. When they meet, she can't help but feel an intense attraction toward the mysterious man, and as cute as she is, Harry thinks she's too sweet for him.

Short series only on Patreon -54k words, 4 parts, completed-

[894 word teaser ↓]

“Um, thank you, Harry. Really. You’ve been so… so helpful and kind,” she looked up at him, a genuine smile on her face. He made her feel excited and a bit light-headed as well. She was sure she was reading more into it than was there but the sudden interest he’d taken in her and the muffin comment from earlier made her knees feel jittery and her pulse pick up.

He nodded, his eyes soft on her face, “Just wanted to help. Wouldn’t have just left you there on the side of the road with a flat tire like that.”

She pushed a breathy laugh out, “I would have figured it out. I always do.”

His eyes moved over her arms and down to her hands where he knocked at her knuckle with his, “You okay? Shaking a little.”

“Oh,” she looked down at her hand and shrugged, “I’m fine,” balling her hands up she shifted on her legs, “Just…”

Harry flattened his lips and raised his brows at her as she tried to find the rest of her sentence, “Just what? Surely you’re not cold.”

No. She wasn’t cold. It was hot and humid out despite the late hour. In fact she was sweating just the slightest under her arms. Sweating and shaking like an idiot. He probably thought she was on drugs.

“No. It’s uh…” she swallowed and smiled, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

His unrelenting scrutiny only made her heart pound harder which made it difficult for her to stop the way her body was shivering under his gaze. He was too handsome and he was standing at her door at 3 in the morning looking like someone who could hurt her but she knew he wouldn’t. Her brain was coming up with some very unwholesome thoughts about the man she hardly knew. The whole thing had her in a tizzy. Images of him unlocking her door with his irises searing into hers and pushing her into her apartment and having his way with her. Whatever he wanted.

The edge of a smile crooked up on his mouth as he licked lips, “All right then. If you say so. Sure you don’t need anything?” It was like he could read her thoughts.

Yes. I have a few things in mind that I need right now. All of them include you and your hands and your tattooed arms and those pink lips…

“No. I’m good. Probably just tired.”

He squinted down at her, as if he didn’t believe her words, “Probably. Well, you’ve got my number. Please use it if you need anything, okay?”

She nodded, “Yes. I will. Thank you.”

He smirked as he squeezed her arm, “You’re welcome, muffin.”

. . .

Harry knew better than to get involved with an innocent girl like Y/n. She was too sweet. Not for him. She deserved a nice guy with a boring job. Someone who’d treat her right and not break her heart. Someone reliable. Harry’d just destroy her sweetness and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Though, he could admit she was pretty. Really pretty. He’d thought so since the day he walked into the shop to get his sparkplugs replaced. Thought she was an awfully cute, nervous little thing. And then when he saw her in her diner uniform… well that fit her rather nicely he thought. It was quite the contrast from the frumpy getup she had on at the shop. Which pushed his opinion of her being cute into naively sexy. She really had no idea. And something about that was alluring to him. She was refreshing.

The other thing that had him all worked up over her was seeing her little panties when she spread her legs to climb up onto the seat behind him on his motorcycle. He helped steady her and he watched as the material of her dress slid up her thigh, revealing a pretty stretch of skin and he had the perfect view of what she had on underneath. Between her soft inner thighs, she donned a cute pair of panties that thankfully covered everything. And even with all her bits covered, the peek of her underwear doused his body in wanton heat. He couldn’t get over the little muffin pattern. Terribly cute. So innocent. So sweet. And she was like a muffin in that way, so it was a perfect name for her.

Harry had no shame. He called her muffin to get a rise out of her. He wanted to see her reaction. Didn’t know if she’d figure it out or not but he was compelled to say it anyway. Muffin. And her stunned face didn’t disappoint. She parted her lips and blinked her eyes in silence as he winked and then left her standing there in front of the diner.

But that was as far as it could ever go. She didn’t want a man like him and he couldn’t possibly think she’d be a fit for him in any way.

And not only that, but there was also something so sad and fraught about her. Someone had damaged her and she needed healing. Not Harry. Harry would only make it worse, whatever it was. He was curious, certainly. He’d like to hurt anyone who’d ever made her suffer or cry. But that was all he could offer her.

. .

All 4 parts on Patreon! If you'd like more consider joining!

xoxo

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