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taintedcigs · 11 months

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˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄

vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader

summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!

authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.

please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily

read vol 2 here

Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.

Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.

Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.

Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.

The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.

With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.

Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.

Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.

You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.

Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.

The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.

You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.

You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.

Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.

You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.

The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.

“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.

Steve fucking Harrington.

Falling right into your lap.

Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.

Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.

Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.

The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.

You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.

Exactly what you fucking need.

You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.

This would be a little reward.

“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.

You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.

And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.

God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.

That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.

God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.

“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.

With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”

“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.

And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.

“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.

“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.

“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.

“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”

Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.

“You’re on, King Steve.”

It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.

The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.

And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.

A win-win.

You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.

But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.

You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.

The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.

Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.

“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.

“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.

“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.

You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.

“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.

“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.

If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.

“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.

“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.

“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.

“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.

“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.

Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.

“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.

“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.

“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.

He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”

He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.

He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”

His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.

“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.

He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.

“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.

And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.

He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.

He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.

Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.

“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.

“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.

“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.

His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.

You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.

A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.

He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.

So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.

The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.

Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.

Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.

As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.

Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.

“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.

You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.

Asshole.

With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.

“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.

You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.

King Steve, indeed.

You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.

He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.

He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.

Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.

He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.

“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.

“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.

He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.

Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.

Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.

You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.

You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.

And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.

“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.

“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.

Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.

It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.

Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.

“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.

“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.

He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.

“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.

He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.

“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.

Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.

His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”

“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.

“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.

You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.

You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.

Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.

He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.

His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”

“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.

You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.

“What the fuck? I thought-”

“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.

“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.

One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.

Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.

The poor boy.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.

Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.

His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.

“But–”

“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.

He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.

Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.

And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.

#steve harrington x reader #king!steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #king!steve harrington

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obsessivevoidkitten · 5 months

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Owned By The Demon Admiral (AFAB Reader Version)

Male Demon Yandere x AFAB Demon Reader CW: Noncon/dubcon, terms like pussy used for reader's genitals, yandere DILF, general yandere behavior, groping, biting, captive reader, reader is setup, an overly cute semi-aquatic demon cat named Mr. Sir Buttons Word Count: 2k (I am saying this fic is AFAB versus female because no gendered pronouns are ever used at all for the reader in anyway, rather their genitals are biologically female. Terms like pussy/cunt are used so if that is triggering for you please avoid this fic. This was a birthday gift for a friend normally I don't do AFAB reader so this may be a bit sloppy. I hope you enjoy it.)

The battleship you were on drifted through the calm blood red waters of one of Hell’s oceans. The light of the two suns scintillated beautifully off the serene waves. No evidence at all that your ship had just sunk an enemy vessel, condemning the unlucky demons manning it to death.

In the ensuing ebullience at having survived with no damage the leader of the ship, Admiral Oraan, put one hand behind on your ass and one behind your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss as his tail began to wrap around your leg.

You struggled to push off the larger demon but finally he released you. You steadied yourself and gasped for breath.

“I said no!”

Then you stormed off to your quarters.

This wasn’t the first time your commanding officer had done something like this. This was at least the fourth time you had rebuffed his advances. He just wouldn’t get it through his thick skull. You were focused strictly on your military career. The war against Pride, one of the Princes of Hell, was far too important for romance and sex to get in the way.

But you underestimated his desire for you. And his rage. You should have assumed that the highest ranking admiral in Wrath’s fleet would have some severe anger issues. But you naively thought that service to his prince would take priority over his feelings for you.

The first thing he had done was to sabotage your quarters during inspection. You didn’t know it was his doing and were angered and paranoid that someone would thrash your space in such a way, causing you to get written up.

In reality it was all Oraan. A rising action in the story of your downfall.

The next thing that was done to ruin your uniforms. He told you it was disrespectful to the prince you all served, to the branch you served, and to him to have your uniforms in such a state.

After that it was a more serious infraction. Reported for contraband that was then found in your locker.

The final, and most infuriating, nail in the coffin happened in the next skirmish. A small opponent, easy to sink and posing only a slight threat to the hellish dreadnought on which you served. But Oraan had forced multiple witnesses to claim you were a coward. That you had abandoned your station and hid in your quarters while the rest of the crew gallantly manned their posts.

This led to you having to be court-martialed. No time to dock and have more formal proceedings. You had to be court-martialed right on the ship. Despite the evidence against you, you thought that once you were given your chance to make your arguments and have your comrades vouch for your behavior and character then this would all disappear.

That isn’t quite how things played out for you. You started the court-martial optimistic but with each passing moment a sense of dread became stronger and stronger. Each witness, people you had respected and thought of as your friends, gave damning testimony. They painted you as a belligerent, lazy, neglectful oaf. Someone who cared nothing for duty, rules, or honor.

You had to hold back tears as your body shook with rage and sorrow. Why were they saying such things? Why were they lying about you and your actions and character?

It finally became obvious when the sentence was passed. Not death, as might befit someone who fled from combat. Not dishonorable discharge. No, you were being reassigned. As Oraan’s personal attendant. “A non-combat role where no one would be harmed by your cowardly behavior.”

It was all him. He had pressured or otherwise bribed everyone to turn against you. To lie about you. All to get you in his clutches and punish you for rejecting him. And there was nothing you could do about it. He was an older and stronger demon, you’d have no hope to beat him in a fight. And even if you somehow managed it, how would you escape on a ship? And if by some miracle you either made it to land or just waited until the ship was docked you would be chased for all eternity.

No, he had you in your clutches. Your only hope was that your contract with the navy was almost up. You were only to be enlisted for five years at a time before you had to renew. The only exception for that being prolonged was if a hot war was going on, but this one was nearing its end. Since all that happened was the court-martial was just technically a reassignment you were only bound by the terms of your enlistment.

All you had to do was endure for ten months.

It was humiliating. Oraan really wanted to keep you reminded of your new position. You had to be at his side constantly. Obeying all his orders and whims. You had to press his uniforms and get his meals. And in private the tasks got much worse.

Sucking his girthy cock was a common “request” of his. Almost daily. You also had to bathe with him most nights. This required you to wash his entire well-muscled form. If you were a willing participant you would have enjoyed it, he was very attractive, the tattoo of an anchor on his left shoulder and the three large scars on his ribs adding to his rugged allure.

But you weren’t a willing participant. And bathing him usually led to him giving you an “inspection.” That was where he touched, kissed, groped every inch of you before sliding his cock into your hot pussy, slowly fucking into you until he came hard. His tongue, of course, had to probe your mouth during these inspections, “just to be thorough.”

It was good that he had you eat meals with him in his private quarters, because you didn’t think you’d be able to look any of the other crew members in the eye ever again. The ones that hadn’t been involved in fucking over your entire life were the ones that believed the lies about you. On the entire ship you had not a single ally. The only one you could confide in was Mr. Sir Buttons, the semi-aquatic demonic cat that served as the mascot and unofficial morale officer on the ship.

You were on your way back from taking your food trays back to the galley when you felt something soft rub against your leg. Mr. Sir Buttons! You had a few minutes before you had to be back with Oraan so you stooped down and picked him up. He purred loudly.

“At least I never have to worry about you betraying me.”

He meowed as if in affirmation. You nuzzled his thick, red, waterproof fur before placing him back down to go about his very important demonic cat business.

When you got back to Oraan’s quarters he was naked on the bed. His large prick standing erect and ready for the attention you would surely have to give it, a bead of precum running down the length evidently in anticipation.

You sighed in resignation and began to strip your clothing. You had been doing this for over a month now. Only less than nine more to go. You could do it, just one moment at a time.

Too excited after leering at your naked form, he couldn’t wait for you to come to him anymore. Instead he got up and used his strong arms to pick you up and pin you to the bed. He stole your lips with his, kissing you in a greedy frenzy, his large cock swung below as he groped your chest.

“Mine! I can’t believe after all these years you’re finally all mine!”

He bit your neck, causing you to moan involuntarily. But maybe you should just give into the pleasure of the situation. It was going to happen either way and you’d be able to move on with your life once this was all over anyway. Besides, getting into it a bit might just help him finish faster so you’d have less time stuck in this position.

Oraan massaged the outside of your cunt before sliding a couple of fingers into you to get you wet and ready for his large prick.

When he lined his cock up with your drooling entrance, rough hands on your hips, you didn’t look away or flinch as you would normally. You wrapped your arms and legs around him instead, allowing him the perfect angle to slam deeply into your pussy. He grinned, ecstatic that you finally seemed to have not only learned your place but were actively embracing it. He slammed down with hard but slow thrusts. Each one making you gasp and each one punctuated with another kiss or nip up your neck.

Lewd squelching noises emanated from your sex as he increased the tempo of your lovemaking.

Had any of the crew passed the admiral’s quarters on their way through the halls all they would have heard was the rhythmic slap of Oraan’s nuts against your skin as he bred you along with the occasional grunt or swear from him or moan from you.

“Fuck! I love you so much!”

You only drooled a bit while looking up at him dumbly with lustful eyes, having been fucked nearly senseless. You scratched his shoulders with your sharp demonic nails as you pulled him closer to you in an attempt to somehow get him deeper. You were near your climax, desperate for it.

The pain from your nails spurred him on, causing him to fuck you at a new pace that straddle the line between pain and pleasure. You winced as he came hard, your tight clenching walls milking his cock and sending him over the edge soon after.

He gave a few final thrusts into you to empty his balls good and deep before pulling out and holding you tight, caging you in with his sweat-slicked body. You went limp from exhaustion, practically basking in the afterglow that always followed such intense, passionate sex. If you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken Oraan for a lust demon. Though you imagined saying such a thing to his face would have him prove instantly that he was, in fact, a being of wrath.

When the two of you had recovered he took you into the small shower with him. This time around, he cleaned you. Gently washing your body of cum and sweat before rinsing your hair. Far more tender behavior than you would have thought possible from the stern leader. Maybe there was more wisdom to just being more open to your predicament than you had initially thought.

It was a change in your behavior that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the man who had orchestrated the vast shift in your life circumstances.

“Finally decided to give in, huh?” Came his gruff voice from behind you.

You had no reason to be dishonest or hide your thoughts from him.

“Well, my contract is up in just a few months. I am not going to renew so this assignment is only temporary. I figured it’ll go by faster if I just accept it.”

He laughed and pulled you close to him, you could feel his stubble on your neck as he whispered words that made your fiery demon blood run cold.

“With my power, influence, and wealth I can assure you that your signature will keep renewing that contract for eternity, sweetheart. Whether you sign it yourself or not. Even if we aren’t deployed I will find a way to keep you with me.”

You went limp and would have fallen to the floor had he not had his arms wrapped tightly around you. The room felt like it was spinning. You barely took note of the water trailing down your skin or the chaste kiss he pressed to your cheek.

It was over for you, now that Oraan finally had you there was absolutely nothing that would make the older demon give you up.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere boyfriend #Yandere Demon x AFAB reader #afab reader #yandere x afab reader #male yandere x afab reader #yandere exophilia #yandere exo #my ocs #My OC Oraan #demon boyfriend

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mushies-stories · 6 months

Text

Showering with TF141 for the first time headcanons

TF141Xreader

Warnings: little suggestive, 18+

John Price

Showering with John the first time made you feel like you had been doing it wrong your whole life.

He has separate shampoo, conditioner and body wash. None of it smells too strong but over is a more masculine scent. He even suggested that maybe you bring some of your own shower supplies over to keep at his place.

He let you take up most of the warm water, the selfless and generous man he is. ^v^

Pampers you. John washes your hair and body without question.

Thinks grooming each other is not only romantic but also is a strong form of bonding and closeness. He craves your attention and presence and showering together is perfect for that.

He uses a loofah to scrub your body, standing a little closer while he washes your back. His hands are firm but gentle as they caress your body and lather it in soapy suds.

You lean with your head and back to his chest while his hands massage over your breasts and stomach. Teasing you just a little, fingers grazing along your nipples a little too much as he presses you closer against him.

When his hand dips between your thighs and he runs his fingers between your folds you can’t contain the little moan you let out. He smiles into the crook of your neck and does it again and chuckles when your back arches, pressing your ass against him.

“Feel good love?” he teases. his hand abandoned your heat to rinse the rest of the soap off your body. With little sighs of protest from you.

When he washes your hair, his hands are too gentle and so delicate that you could hardly believe they could ever be used for violence. He takes care not to snag any tangles and works them out with his fingers. Your eyes flutter shut when he starts to massage your scalp.

He makes sure not to get the soap in your eyes.

Is more than delighted when you take to washing him as well. Smiles and hands over the loofah.

Maybe it's just me.. But… I imagine John standing in front of you with your back against the cold shower wall, his arms caging you in while you trail the loofah along his skin.

It actually takes everything in him not to get to hard and fuck you. He had time for that later. Once you finally moved in he couldn't see a reason why he couldn't shower with you every chance he could get.

Lets you use his bathrobe and laughs at how big it was on you. Make a mental note to buy you one of your own in your favorite color, but fluffier.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

At first Simon wasn’t sure if showering together would be that good of an idea. He already took up a lot of space. When you finally convinced him and managed to actually fit you both in he was a little surprised.

You fit but he didn't get as much of the water, otherwise he would take it all.

To your horror Simon uses a 2in1 shampoo and conditioner BUT he does have separate body wash.

Nothing too extreme or strong for scent. Body Wash is like irish spring or something but even lighter.

He was going to just take care of himself real fast then focus on you but you stopped him, hand on his arm and reaching for the bodywash yourself. You ask him with those sweet eyes of yours if you can help. He nods silently and lets you do as you please.

The only thing he has is a sad looking rag so you opt to just use your hands, rubbing the soap over his chest and shoulders, making him turn around so you can reach his back.

(if you are brave and so desire, you may try and cop a feel, go ahead. Just be ready to get your wrist snatched as he whips back around with a glare.)

But overall he enjoys the attention, it's soothing and relaxing and he's groaning when you wash his hair. Your fingers raking across his scalp helps his mind slow down a little.

Insists on repaying the favor, being as nice and gentle as you were, caressing your body in his large hands. He had an easier time washing your body than you did his, making sure to reach every little crevasse of your body.

He's tried really hard to be gentle with your hair. He doesn't want to pull on any tangles and ultimately fails. But he kisses your head every time he snagged his fingers in your hair.

“Sorry lovie… not meanin’ta tug so much.” he mumbles an apology.

Simon decided he didn’t really mind showering together, you actually made it a much more enjoyable process, not just something for necessity.

After the shower he gives you one of his white shirts that covers just below your ass to lounge in, just to see your still damp body through the thin fabric.

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Johnny was the one who dragged you into the shower with him with one clear goal. To make you smell like him before you go out with your friends, he had to get up early and decided to stay home.

Only problem.. Mans uses 3in1… granted its extra scented and you won't be able to mistake it was meant for men. But still, your cringe at the thought of using it. Even though you complain the whole time he’s lathering your body up and chuckles at you.

He doesn't even have a rag, just a true dude really, roughing it in the shower. Just uses his rough calloused hands that sends chills down your spine instead.

Is handsy, can't stop himself from groping your breasts and lingering a little too long between your thighs. Even nipping and kissing your shoulder once he washed your body off.

You have to bat his hands away to make sure you're not late, knowing you still have to get ready.

“M’sorry dove, just so pretty and naked for me.” he groans into your ear, holding your back to his chest, hands cupping your breasts. “Sure ya gotta go? Can't just stay’er with me?” he pleads with you.

You firmly, while giggling from his kisses on your neck, tell him you can't.

When he washes your hair he puts a little too much in and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rely on Johnny to help you to the water. Teases you when you cling to him in your blinded state.

Honestly he wanted to ask you to wash him too but he knew you were running late so he did it himself quickly so you could get ready.

Overall you don't mind his playfulness or his touchiness, with more time you would even indulge in it, but with better shower supplies.

Drapes the towel over your shoulders and wraps you in his arms to keep you warm from the cold air.

good thing you at least had your makeup and outfit with.

You promise to buy a few new things for him, so you feel better about showering at his place. Then you'll make sure to give him the same treatment, with much more time.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle, like John, has separate products. The scent of his body wash is stronger but with a... spicy?? under-tone to it.

Showering with him is a little slow, and lazy. He normally likes to shower right when he gets up and this time you just happen to join him, wanting to spend as much time with him before he leaves for the day. Not like he was complaining.

Keeps you close so you both can enjoy as much of the warm water as possible. Holds you to his chest most of the time

Goes to wash himself before you stop him and take the body wash from him with a small smile. His heart flutters when you softly ask if you could help, which he responds to with a tired smile and a nod.

He lets himself relax, enjoying your hands lathering his body in suds. You were gentle and a little hesitant at first but soon gained full confidence when he handed you the shampoo and asked you to wash his hair too.

You do so happily. You scratch and massage his scalp, making him groan with delight as the relaxing sensation.

Before you even think of washing yourself, he's doing the exact same thing and stealing the bodywash, telling you it was his turn.

He’s respectful, only gripping onto your hips a little and cupping your breasts for only a moment. He has work and can't give you the attention you deserve.

But that doesn't stop him too much, still not able to resist grabbing your ass and pulling you in for a lazy kiss.

When he washes your hair, he practically has you falling back asleep while you lean against him. He decided he could just eat on his way to base, making sure you were clean and happy was currently his top priority now.

Takes a moment to hold you under the showerhead, relishing in the warm water and you against him before reluctantly turning the water off.

He only has towels, but they're big and cover most of your body.

While he dresses, you crawl back in bed. Naked and clean. Kyle smirks and tells you that you better be right there, just like that when he gets home tonight. And you happily obliged.

“Just like that, got it? Want ya naked and ready yeah.” He instructs with a glint in his eye.

#ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john price #price x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #cod #cod x reader #cod imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #tf141 imagine

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reiderwriter · 1 year

Text

Margaritas and Mistakes pt. 2

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Genre: Smut, just filth really, nothing else. 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Summary: The morning after your night out you wake up and have to come face-to-face with the consequences of your actions. You find you quite enjoy those consequences though.

Warnings: Suggestive BDSM themes, soft!Dom Spencer (I'm a simple woman), daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, oral (F receiving), vaginally sex, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, degradation, name-calling, pet names (baby girl, princess etc.), unprotected sex (no creampie).

A/N: Here's the much anticipated part two for yesterday's fic. Thank you for being patient everyone, and sorry to tease you all by having this completely written before pt 1 was even published but sometimes the anticipation only makes it better lol... Hope you will forgive me 🙏 ALSO! I hit 300 followers on this account yesterday, and I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported my writing here thus far! I can't do anything to celebrate as I'm on holiday for the next few days but thank you so much ♥️

Check out Part One!

Requests are open, and in the meantime please check out my masterlist!

When you woke up; that morning, you could instantly feel something was different. Not wrong, just different.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable, in fact the way the quilts laid on top of you kept you almost deliciously warm in your bed. It wasn’t the general mess of the night before either, as, surveying the room with one half cracked eye, you noted that all your discarded clothes seemed to be either neatly stacked away in the corner or perhaps left in the laundry hamper in your bathroom. The curtains were open, which you guess was somewhat of a change, but you honestly forgot to close them at least twice a week, so that wasn’t what it was.

You left out a quick yawn and decided whatever it was wasn’t as important as sleeping off the absolute killer headache that was currently burning a hole in the back of your head, a constant thumping that you wanted to do your best to avoid for now.

It was when you snuggled back into your sheets and attempted to turn over to find a new position that you realised exactly what it was that was wrong. You weren’t alone.

Cursing yourself for drinking so much you stayed as still as possible, as the man in bed next to you groaned in his sleep and seemed to pull you in tighter to his chest. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you couldn’t help the panic forming in your mind, as you absolutely had no recollection of bringing anyone home.

Scratch that, you had no recollection of getting home yourself at all.

Whoever it was, it was evident that he’d at least somewhat taken care of you. You couldn’t feel the mascara you’d worn last night glueing your eyelids shut, so obviously one of you had had the foresight to remove your makeup, and you honestly doubted it was you. The fact that you were wearing pyjamas, too, was probably a more positive sign. If you did have sex with the man, he’d most likely encouraged you to put clothes back on so you didn’t catch a chill in the night.

And boy did you hope that you had gotten lucky with whoever it was at your back last night. You couldn’t see his face obviously, with your back pressed up against his entire body, but you could feel him and he felt delicious.

He was long, and lean, but you could feel some strong muscles underneath as well. Even in sleep, he had a strong grip on your waist, the pressure of it pulling you back so your ass was directly in line with his crotch. You were almost tempted to shift slightly, to see if it’d give you a few more ideas about who your mystery man could be.

The best thing about him, thus far, however, was his scent. You knew that after drinking all of the alcohol you remembered ordering last night - and perhaps more that you didn’t remember - you absolutely didn’t smell that hot. And after a night of partying and dancing, too, you could almost feel the winter sweat sticking to your skin. Your bedmate, however, smelt absolutely fucking amazing. He had a musky, earthy scent, but it didn’t seem artificial. It felt warm and homely and all you wanted to do was turn around and nuzzle into his neck so you could breathe him indeeply.

But you had no fucking clue who this was, and you were coming up with blanks as to where you could’ve picked him up.

“Think, Y/N, think for once,” you whispered to yourself, chastising yourself for going shot for shot with Emily of all people.

You remembered being in Penelope’s apartment listening to Emily talk about her love of chardonnay, and you remembered the girls promising to find you a man that night. They’d obviously succeeded, but at the cost of your entire memory of the situation.

You thought a little harder again, back to sitting at the table and your stupid little game of fuck, marry, kill where you’d amitted your growing attraction to your office’s resident genius, and then downing a probably near fatal amount of shots to inspire your friends to forget they heard anything, and then… And then it all goes blank.

So you had no clues as to who your mystery man could be, and you didn’t want to risk waking him just to find out. In a last ditch effort, you cracked your eyes open again and reached out for your phone, sitting prettily on your nightstand, plugged in and charging. Whoever this man was, he was a saint, because if you couldn’t remember getting through the door, you definitely didn’t put your own phone on charge.

Trying not to stretch too much, you grabbed the phone and bought it as close to you as possible, shielding your bedmate from the light coming out of it. You immediately opened the messages, and your stomach dropped at what was waiting for you there.

Emily: I TOLF U I WAS A GR8 WING WOMAN!!1! When you two make baby ggeniuses, dont say I dind’t tell you so.

Penelope: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Which is admittedly not a lot, but still!!!

JJ: Remember to take advil in the morning, I’m sure Reid will remind you as well, but you drank a lot tonight, and you never know when we’re going to get called in 🙂

The messages didn’t give you much of the context you needed, especially the ones sent by Penelope and Emily, but there was enough there to work out that you had majorly fucked up. And the sound of his groans from next to your ear told you that you only had around thirty seconds before your theory was tested and your mystery man woke up.

“Mornin’” came the voice from behind you, and if it were possible your heart started beating even faster. It was him.

“Reid! Good morning!” You tried to keep the curiosity and anxiety out of your voice, as you finally turned over to look at him. His sleepy face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. His hair fell in small waves into his face and you had to stop yourself from brushing it behind his ear for him. There was a five o’clock shadow forming on his face that you’d never seen before and the scruff really suited him. His most distracting feature, however, was his lack of shirt. And the many small love bites that were now forming on his neck.

“How’s your head this morning? I was going to try to get you to take something for it last night, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh my head? It’s fine, totally fine. Nothing to worry about there. Totally not pounding.” You groan and he cracks a smile at your attempt to downplay your self-injury. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer somehow, and you almost panic, ready to place your hands on his chest and push him away, but you’re not quite ready to admit that you don’t remember exactly what you did or didn’t do the night before so instead you push your hands up to his neck and play with his hair.

“Are you going to ask or do you remember?” He smirks down at you, rubbing small comforting circles into your back. You let out a small sigh, a goodbye to those few blissfully peaceful moments.

“Ask what? Ask if I remember climbing into bed with my coworker and leaving some quite pretty marks on his neck or ask if I actually got further than my fantasies have in the last month?” You trace your hand down his neck, stopping at a rather red patch where you can still see some trace of your lipstick from the night before.

“Ask whether or not I’m going to be fair and tell you what actually happened, or keep you in the dark and let your imagination keep running wild.” He lifts his body up, and rests on his side, his arm propping his head up.

You make a sound of protest and attempt to follow his movement but his free hand holds your hips down with a soft pressure, holding you there less with strength and more with the weight of your own curiosity at whatever it is his body is suggesting.

“You begged me last night you know,” he starts, leaning down and whispering it directly into your ear. “To stay. To fuck you like a desperate little whore.” Your legs pushed together now, a sorry attempt to curb the growing need pooling between them, but he didn’t let up.

“You pushed me down on the bed when I didn’t do what you wanted, like a little brat. So drunk out of your mind that I couldn’t touch you, but begging for it like you would die if I didn’t hold you down and let you scream my name.” The hand on your hip moved up and under your pajama shirt, a rather flimsy thing that did nothing to stop his oncoming conquest of your body.

“You made me promise something, you know?” He says just as his hand reaches one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, as you throw open your mouth in a near silent gasp. Your hips buck involuntarily, and suddenly one of his legs is between yours, pinning you down again so you can’t move as he keeps his attention on your chest.

“Made me promise I would stay and not let you forget. Promise that, when you woke up in the morning, I’d fill you in on everything you did, everything you asked for.” He keeps his voice as low as a whisper and you can feel his breath on your neck, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, arching your back and pushing your breasts further into his hand.

“S-Spencer-” you beg with just that one word for more. But he stills his hand and moves it out from under your top.

“But if you remember, then we’re finished here right. I can go?” He looks down at you, pouting now and you hesitate for a second before answering him.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything, so please…” you don’t quite know what you’re begging for at that point, but if you’d filled him in on any of the jucier details of your fantasies as of late, then you were in for a very fun morning.

He shifted his weight again, this time pushing your hips together, and holding his chest up with his arms stacked on either side of your head, you looked up at him again as one of his hands came down and encouraged your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him to push even more of his weight down into you.

His head moved back to your ear as he began rocking his hips tantalisingly slowly into yours, dry humping into you.

“At first, you didn’t even know it was me. Just fell back into whatever body you thought would pay you the most attention. Rocked yourself back into me on the dancefloor, right where anyone else could see what a little whore you were being.” Despite the layers of clothing that separated you and the torturious pace, you felt your arousal growing by the second as you listened to him recounting the events of the prior night.

“And even when you realised it was me you didn’t fucking stop. Kept teasing me and playing with me in public, in front of our friends.” He growled a little bit then, obviously still angry about your actions the night before. You were bucking your hips up to match his movements now, teetering close to the edge of an orgasm. He hadn’t even really touched you yet, and you were like putty in his hand, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wanted you in.

“I drove you home, kept my hands off you, I was perfectly ready to let you forget the entire thing, but you couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you.” His hand was on your ass now, encouraging you to keep up your pace and deepening the contact between the two of you. You could feel his entire length pressed into you, and you wanted it inside you.

“Told me you wanted me to slam you against a wall and finger-fuck you, wanted to be my cheap little whore, wanted me to use you,” he groaned into your ear and bit down on your neck a second later, and you moaned, the pain and pleasure mixing together deliciously.

And then he stopped, pulled away and rolled off of you, and you cried out at the loss of contact when you were so close to your release.

“What is it, baby? You want more?” He smirked from his new position, sat up on the opposite side of the bed, just far enough out of reach that you had to crawl over to him.

And so you did. So desperate for the man, you climbed into his lap, and begged him for any reciprocation with your moans as you began grinding down on his leg again.

“Does my little slut want to cum?” He asked, his hands placed firmly and flat on the bed sheets either side of him, leaning back softly to watch your attempts to entice him into touching you again.

“Get off and strip down to your panties,” he demanded, and you happily complied, not caring where the offending pieces of clothing landed before jumping back into his lap. Apart from his lack of shirt, he was still in all of his clothing from the night before, a pair of loose sweatpants and boxers, and you relished the feeling of the fabric against your legs as you wrapped your legs back around him.

“I want you to use my leg to get yourself off baby, do you think you can do that?” He asked you, and you immediately nodded your head, desperate to start, but his hands on your hips stopped you.

“Use your words baby, answer me nicely.”

“Yes, fuck, yes I want to do that, please,” you whimper and he loosens his grip a little bit.

“Yes, daddy,” he demands and your eyes shoot up to his. Seeing that he is completely serious you feel yourself only growing more aroused as you stutter out another reply.

“Yes, please daddy.” He smiles at you again now and lets go of you completely, resting his hands on the bed again. Your hands come up to his shoulders and you begin your movements. You push your chest directly against his, desperate for some of your bare skin to be met with his, your aching nipples rubbing up against the plains of his chest in a near perfect way. You grind down into his thigh like its a lifeline, your every attempt to set an even tempo foiled by your absolute desperation to reach your climax.

He keeps talking to you throughout, mixing the sweetest of affirmations with the most disgusting insults, both driving you more and more crazy as the minutes tick by.

“Look at this disgusting little puddle my little girl has left on my pants. You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you my sweet little whore?” You moan out a reply, but he wants your words again. Delivering a painful slap to your ass he asks again, and this time you eke out a reply.

“Yes, daddy, I’m a nasty little whore, I want you so badly, daddy.” You whimper, the words and the shock of the slap bringing you ever-closer to your first release. Your arms are wrapped around his back now, scratching and marking him as if to claim territory, each one of his sharp-intakes at the pain driving you closer and closer until you finally feel yourself fall off the edge.

“So good for me baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple as you collapse into his arms, breathless from all of your hard work.

“I didn’t even have to touch you, and look at you. Looking like a fucked out whore, just for me baby girl," he whispered into your ear as he lifted you up, gently laying you back down on the bed.

“You think you can still do some more, baby?” He asked, and you nodded. This time it was enough for him, because he instantly shed the rest of his clothes and moved between your legs.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby. Gonna take care of you okay, just relax,” he kissed the words into your neck and started trailing kisses the entire way down your bosy. He paused briefly to show your breasts some attention, swirling his tongue around one nipple while he teased, pinched and pulled the other one, eventually switching to give them equal love.

But he didn’t stop at your breasts, pressing kisses down the length of your stomach before reaching your panties again. He looked up at you from his position before pulling them down your leg, making sure that your entire attention was devoted to him. He didn’t have to try hard, as your thoughts had been filled with him ever since he’d woken that morning, and you found you were quite content for it to stay that way forever.

He lifted your hips and slipped the offending piece of fabric down your legs. You shivered at the loss of contact at first, the sodden lace having been stuck to you after your desperate movements earlier. You were bare for all of five seconds before he dove into you, nudging your clit with his nose while he pressed kitten licks against your slit. You moaned out, not caring about controlling your volume, and didn’t stop as he continued licking and kissing like he was a man starved.

His tongue eventually made its way up to your clit and that’s when you lost it, bucking your hips wildly up into his mouth in a desperate attempt to use his face to get yourself off, but one of his large hands pinned you down again. He didn’t let up, rolling your clit around his tongue, bringing his other hand up to press a finger into you, beginning to pump in and out.

You didn’t even feel the build up this time, just closed your eyes as your hips jerked up once, twice into his face, not even a breath escaping your lips for what felt like an eternity as he let you ride through your second orgasm. He didn’t stop, but he removed his mouth from your centre, his fingers still pumping into you as you began twitching underneath him.

“Good girl, so fucking good for me. You’ve got one more left, right baby? One more left to give me, hmm?” He asked, but you couldn’t answer anymore, just nodding your head as best you could and bucking into his hands like a woman gone mad.

“Perfect baby, open your legs wide for me, okay?” His voice was gentle now as he gave his cock a few pumps, removing his fingers and flipping you onto your knees, putting you in the perfect position for him.

“You have to tell me if you want me to stop, okay princess? Tell me if it’s too much and we can end this right here,” he gently pulled the hair away from your face and pressed a final kiss to the back of your neck, finally lining his cock up with your glistening hole.

Then he’s finally pushed into you, and you could've sworn you saw stars. He fully sheathed himself inside of you and didn't move for a minute, choosing instead to press small kisses against your neck and back whilst you adjusted to his considerable length. He didn’t have to wait long though, as you could feel yourself practically dripping around him, making even more of a mess of your sheets.

He picks up a steady pace, pulling out halfway and then snapping his hips back into you with such force you’re grabbing your pillows with a vice grip. You tried to push your head back down into the pillow to soften your moans as well, but he grabbed you by your hair, wrapping it around his wrist, using his new leverage to pull you back onto his dick with each stroke.

“Wanna hear you baby girl, don’t fucking hold back,” he grunted into your ear, the new angle of his hips hitting that deep spot within you that had you flooding the sheets almost instantly, pushing out wave after wave of cum as you moan his name like an animal driven mad.

“That’s right baby girl, fucking cum around my cock, get it nice and wet,” he continues pounding into you, pulling out more and more of his length each time to hit deeper and deeper each time he returns to you. Your legs were practically shaking then at the overstimulation, your tongue hanging out of your head as you failed to form any coherent thought except “yes.”

His hips start faltering quickly and you knew he was close. A few more snaps of his hips and he pulled out of you completely with a small curse, shooting his load up your back as he released his hold on your hair gently. He collapsed on top of you, his arms around you as he kissed his way up your spine.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, the only sound that of your ragged breaths as you both attempted to catch your breath. After a few minutes he pulled away, and you heard him retreat to the bathroom. He came back swiftly with a washcloth and cleaned the two of you up, wiping his cum from your back and chest and doing his best to clean up your cunt without overstimulating you even more.

“Baby, we have to go to the bathroom now, you need to pee,” he gently turns you over and you whimper at the movement. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and you push yourself up to a sitting position next to him, unhappy that he’s being so responsible now after possibly ruining you for other men forever.

“You’re going to have to carry me, you know,” you grumble, resting your head against his shoulder. “My legs are still shaking like I’ve just walked a thousand miles with no rest.”

He chuckles at that and wrapped your legs around him, picking you up swiftly. He didn’t move immediately, just content to have you in his arms for a few seconds. You looked down into his eyes and you felt it too. Like you’d never want to be anywhere else but right here, in his arms. You pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips and you felt his smile as he returned it.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s not the first time I’ve had to force you into the bathroom and I doubt it will be the last,” he laughs, and you laugh with him. And in that moment you realise that he has you for life.

--X--

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(I know some of you didn't ask to be tagged but you asked for a pt. 2 so thought it couldn't hurt, lmk if you want to be untagged!)

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader

(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth

once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!

Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.

The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately. No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it. And believe it or not, he wanted more than that. Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone. He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night. Either, or both, would do.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you. He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job. It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels. The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security. This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.

But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window. His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs…

He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation. But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.

Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.

The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you. He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with. Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.

For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you. It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction. Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong. This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been. His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike. God, did he really have a crush? How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.

"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.

"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said. He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.

"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.

"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.

"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"

Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."

He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive. "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.

"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”

As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.

“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."

"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer. Like fish in a barrel. "How old is it?"

"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.

"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again. "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious. Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."

You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about. He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.

“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson. It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”

You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him. “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”

“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”

“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained. “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”

Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying. And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still. A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do. And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people. You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again. He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it. No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all. Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.

And he also found that annoyingly attractive. Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.

….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!

“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied.

“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.

“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around. Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”

“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own. I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”

“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled. “For me it’s probably cocktails. I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.

Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess. Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected. All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.

“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”

You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.

“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.

For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh. “You were on the right track,” you admitted.

“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration. After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”

“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.

“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself. Your drink order, I mean.”

Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far. Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment. “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.

He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown. Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off? You’d seemed so flattered before. “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice. “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?

“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face. “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there. So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”

“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch. “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there. I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”

You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly. “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on. “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”

You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace. “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply. “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.

“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.

“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.

Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself. Bitch. But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course. Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted. Do what I say, or he gets hurt.

Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician. But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.

The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.

“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.

And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him. He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties. “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him. But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going. Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck. “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”

Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.

“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while. “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."

Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long. That made you feel more violated than anything.

“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait. I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”

You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything. “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”

It was the way he said that word: sweet. It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day. Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that. “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”

“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.

“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”

“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face. “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly. “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”

“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.

“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned. “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers. Don’t give me one.”

Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself. Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen. And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.

“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.

“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.

“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.

“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.

“Yours! Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek. “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this. Please don’t do this.”

You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest. “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”

You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.

“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.

“Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck. “You’re right— you can do whatever you want. I can’t stop you. Isn’t that what you wanted to prove? Just… just don’t make me—”

“Make you?” he repeated. “No, no— you wanted me. I could tell. Only thing stopping you was him.”

He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.

“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you. “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”

Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.

“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts. “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”

You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come. “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.

“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.

“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick. “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic? That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only. That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least. You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”

He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.

“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.

“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved. “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”

"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"

Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.

A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin. You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.

"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"

He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"

As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.

"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself. You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip. “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”

You shook your head. “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say. Don’t hurt him.”

“Open your legs,” he ordered.

Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.

“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.

He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further. His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.

Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum. "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled. You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away. Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other. "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.

Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.

You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking. Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you? Or was it for his own benefit?

He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open. Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course. Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely. “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”

You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips. “So wet. Fuck. When’d you get like that, huh? Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”

He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.

“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly. “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”

You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.

“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed. “Fuck, I might break you…”

He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction. There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips.

“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless. “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”

He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.

“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised. “Now you try it.”

This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside. He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.

“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks. “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl. Knew you could.”

You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet. He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.

“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head. “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”

You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned. “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”

Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.

“Go on! Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.

You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this. From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening. Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…

But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.

“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”

“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.

“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly. “Please fuck me.”

You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you. You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside. “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh. “Fuck, it’s tight. Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town. I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”

Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.

Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this. The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.

Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment. “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.

“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously). “Not used to anything this big, huh?”

You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend. You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.

“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust. Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life. “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to. It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.

“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this. “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”

Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once. Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder. He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore. Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck. One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.

“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss. “Fuck.”

But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him. “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”

“God,” he growled, “say my name again. That’s so hot.”

You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late. “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.

“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.

“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this. “Jackson, f-fuck—”

He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…

As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair.

"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.

Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.

Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.

You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole. “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.

“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain. “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper. Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling. “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”

Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.

“See? Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb. Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.

He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck.

"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"

He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass. You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…

"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."

You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.

“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster. “Needy little slut. You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”

You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.

"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.

"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.

“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone. “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”

“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”

"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"

He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.

"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue. "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."

You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.

He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction. "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"

You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird. Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.

“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting. But in a literal sense, it hurt less.

“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back. Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected. You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly. “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”

Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly. “F-fuck, wait—“

He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him. For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”

As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going. “Fuck!” you screamed. “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.

You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something. Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized. Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.

“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder. “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll. Show him who you really belong to now.”

“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries. If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).

It felt fucking good. You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious. And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless. You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually. Shameless. Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed. “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.

It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"

“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.

“Mm? Why not?” he smirked.

You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that. “What?” you just asked groggily. “Why… why do you think?!”

He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going. Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?

“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific. “Fuck!”

He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing. But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could. You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.

He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?

As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.

“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.

You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.

“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.

Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor. Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him. He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat. “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.

He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest. You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.

When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.

It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved. It’s over, he’s finally done with you. You did it. It’s over. But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.

“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you. “You see it, don’t you? He looks different now.”

You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing. You suddenly felt sick.

“He looks at you different now.”

You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that. Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you. But what had you done wrong? All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person…

Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.

“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”

Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek. “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault! I didn’t want this to happen!”

“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”

You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly. After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.

He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence. “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.

“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took. Everything. From me.”

“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you? Can’t help that?”

“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.

“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?”

Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience. You shook your head.

“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that. I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”

“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.

“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked. “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”

You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself. “Work…?”

“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”

#jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner dark fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #red eye fanfic

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joeshiestyslover · 4 months

Text

fuck it i love you- c. sturniolo

pairing: fratboy!chris sturniolo x academicweapon!reader

summary: you and chris were on two completely opposite sides of the college spectrum. chris loves to party and hook up, and you love to stay in and do your homework. chris would never notice someone like you…right?

warnings: language, mentions of sex, angst, fluff, chris is lowkey an asshole at first but he gets better, reader is good at poker, some typos

masterlist

lowercase intended

you were never one for parties or large social gatherings in general. you are an introvert and very much a homebody, spending most of your time doing schoolwork or just lying in bed. because of this, you never made many friends as a child, and you especially never had a boyfriend.

chris was the complete opposite. chris loves parties and being around people. he can’t stand being in his house and doing nothing. since chris got to college, he spent most of his time at frat parties or hooking up with random girls. another thing about chris is that he’s never been the relationship type of guy. there was always an insane amount of girls that wanted him, but he never gave in, opting for random hookups.

you’re a sophomore in college and the only actual friend you’ve managed to make is your roommate, jasmine. she understood your introverted tendencies and respected them, but she was never afraid to urge you to get out of your comfort zone once in a while. right now, she’s trying to get you to attend a party that one of the school’s fraternities is throwing.

“come on y/n! it’ll be so fun!” jasmine begs. “i don’t like parties. i’d rather stay here and watch bridgerton.” you retort. “you’re always home and it worries me. you need actual human interaction. come on, please! i promise i won’t ask you to do anything like this again if you don’t have fun.” “i don’t know, jas.” you say skeptically. she gives you a look and you know she won’t give up until you go, so you give in. “fine.” you tell her with a roll of your eyes. she smiles and clasps her hands together. “yay! now let’s find you something to wear. i doubt you have anything, so you can borrow something of mine.” jasmine heads towards her closet and digs through until she pulls out a skintight light pink minidress. your jaw drops. “absolutely not.” “you’re wearing this y/n. it’s gonna look so good on you.” she walks over to you and throws it on your bed.

you pick it up and hold it against your body. “oh my god jas. my ass is gonna be on display!” you tell her. “don’t worry girl you have a great ass and you should show it off.” she winks. “okay the party starts in twenty minutes and we still have to get ready so come on.” jasmine leads you into the bathroom and does your hair and makeup first. she spends about half an hour on it before she finishes. you look at yourself in the mirror and gasp. “wow i look so good.” you smile at your reflection. “you’re welcome. now go get dressed.” you walk over to your bed where the dress lays and you quickly undress and throw it on, along with some clear wedges you had stuffed in the back of your closet.

jasmine finishes getting ready and she walks out of the bathroom. you both compliment each other’s looks before grabbing your purses and walking out of your dorm and towards jasmine’s car. you both get in and jasmine puts the car into drive, making her way towards the frat house.

once you both get to the party and you can hear the music thumping from outside the house. you can feel your palms begin to become sweaty and your heartbeat quicken. “jas i don’t know about this. what if something bad happens?” you ask nervously. “everything’s gonna be fine. i promise i’ll stick with you as long as you want me to, okay?” she reassures you. you slowly nod you head. you both then get out of the car and walk into the frat house. the moment you walk in, you can smell the strong scent of weed, alcohol, and sweat.

you look around and notice some people you know from your classes, all of them stoned, drunk, or both. your eyes continue to wander until you lock eyes with him. chris sturniolo. he’s easily the biggest asshole you’ve ever met. he was in your english lit class last semester and the only thing he did was show up late and extremely hungover. you can see his eyes trail down to your body and back up to your face. you roll your eyes and turn to jasmine. “we should get drinks.” you yell over the music. she nods and you both walk into the kitchen, where a vast array of drinks sit on the counter. you grab a beer out of the ice filled bucket where they sit, twist the cap off and take a drink. you look to your left and see jasmine flirting with some guy you’ve never seen before. after a few seconds, she turns to you and asks: “do you think it would be okay if i went with him? it’s totally okay if you’re not comfortable being by yourself. i’ll let him down and stay with you if you want.” you can’t help but smile at her. “it’s okay jas, i’ll be fine. i think i saw some guys playing poker and you know how much i love texas hold ‘em.” she grins and turns back to the guy and he leads her away.

you walk out of the kitchen and walk over to the table where a bunch of guys are sitting, dealing out cards. “y’all got room for one more?” you ask them. “you play?” one of the guys retorts. you nod. “yep. been playing since middle school.” “i guess we could deal you in.” he motions to one of the empty chairs. you sit as the dealer hand you the cards. you take a peek at the cards and see pocket aces. your face remains stoic as you look around at all the guys, trying to read their faces. everyone around the table checks, and so do you. the dealer puts down one card. about half of the guys fold, and a few of them raise, and of course, you match their bets. once again, everyone checks, and the dealer puts down the rest of the cards. you all then turn over all your cards, with you obviously winning. you smirk and gather all the chips to your side of the table.

before you can start the next round, chris walks over to the table. he claps one of the guys on the shoulders before his eyes find yours. he then walks up to you and you once again roll your eyes at him. “hey, what’s your name?” you ignore him and deal out the cards since it’s your turn. “c’mon don’t be like that.” he presses as he sits down next to you. you sigh and turn to him. “if i were you, i wouldn’t even bother learning my name, especially if you didn’t care to learn it last semester.” chris looks confused. “do i know you from somewhere?” you shrug. “wait,” he begins. “you’re that girl from english. the one that always asked a bunch of questions.” “guess so. do you mind? i’m in the middle of something.” you flip over the cards in front of you. “damn okay i see how it is. i’ll catch you later though.” he stands up out of the seat and you flash him a fake smile. “i hope not.” you mutter before he walks away.

you continue to play for a little while longer, surprisingly having fun. you had to admit, tonight is going a lot better than you thought it would. after winning most of the hands, you decide it’s time to head out, so you get up and say bye to the guys you were playing with. you wander through the crowd, trying to find jasmine, but she’s nowhere to be found. she must have gone home with the guy she left with earlier, so you pull out your phone and order an uber. your feet begin to ache and you spot an empty seat on a sofa, so you take a seat. you scroll on your phone for a bit before feeling the couch dip next to you. you look up and see chris sitting directly to your right. you immediately look back down at your phone, desperately wanting to avoid another conversation with him.

“you know it’s dangerous for a pretty girl like yourself to be alone at a party like this. you never know what kinda creep will try and take advantage of you.” he smirks. “i think i can handle myself, thanks.” you say back, avoiding eye contact. “hey, i’m just looking out for you, ma.” you finally turn to look at him. “don’t call me that.” “well, you never gave me your name, so…” he trails off. “you don’t need to know my name.” you say coldly. “why not?” chris tilts his head. “i don’t know what you think you’re doing, but i’m not gonna sleep with you so find another girl to bother.” you snap. before he can respond, your phone goes off, signaling that your uber arrived at the house. without a word, you stand up from the couch and walk towards the front door, leaving behind a very shocked chris.

once you got back to your dorm, you took off your makeup and changed into comfy clothes. the moment you lied down, you fell asleep, but couldn’t help but think about the brunette boy that managed to get under your skin so much.

a week later, you’re at the campus coffee shop, where you work. today isn’t a very busy day, just a few tired college kids in desperate need of coffee. you’re cleaning the tables near the back when you hear the bell ring, signifying that someone had walked into the shop. “welcome in.” you say out of habit. when you look up, your eyes meet chris’ blue ones. you walk behind the counter and plaster on the fakest smile you could muster. “what can i get you?” you ask, trying to get him out as fast as possible. “hey it’s you.” he smirks. “yes it’s me.” you roll your eyes. “what do you want?” “well, y/n,” he reads your name tag, “i would like a cappuccino and your number.” you scoff at his request. “absolutely not. i made it very clear at the party that i’m not interested in being one of your casual hookups.” “i promise i’d make it worth your while.” chris leans in closer to you. “okay buddy.” you say, unconvinced. “come on, y/n-” “not interested chris, either pay for your coffee or get out.” you tell him sternly. now, he rolls his eyes at you. “fine how much?” he pulls out his wallet. “$4.25.” he hands you a $5 and says: “keep the change.” you nod and begin making his drink.

once you finish making the cappuccino, you put the lid on it and hand it to him. “i’ll pull you one day, you know.” he smirks as he takes his drink. “in your dreams.” you retort. “i’ll see you around, ma.” chris yells as he walks out of the coffee shop. you continue the rest of your shift, still not being able to believe the audacity that boy has.

over the next few weeks, chris has been coming to your work, trying to get you to give him your number, and you shut him down every time. “come on, ma, i’m begging you, just one chance, please.” he all but begs you. “no chris, now go away i have customers to deal with.” you walk toward the register, taking a customer’s order. “what do you have to lose?” he questions. “my sanity.” you say putting in the person’s order. “what time do you get off?” “5:30. why?” you raise an eyebrow at his question. “i’ll pick you up and take you to dinner.” you laugh a little, “sure you will.” chris doesn’t say anything and walks out of the store.

sure enough, 5:30 rolls around and as you’re packing up your things in the back, you hear the bell ring. you walk out to the front and see chris at the door. you freeze. you really didn’t think chris would actually show up. “what the hell are you doing here?” you ask. “well, you get off at 5:30 right? i told you i’d pick you up.” he smiles, but it’s not a cocky smile or smirk, it’s a genuine smile. you let out a breath, knowing you can’t get out of it now. “one date. that’s it. you fuck up, you don’t get another chance.” you tell him sternly. he raises his hands in surrender. “i can be nice when i want, you know.” “uh huh, i’m sure. where are we going?” you both begin to walk out the door and chris holds it open, you mutter a small “thank you.” “where do you wanna go?” “ummm” you think, “how about mcdonald’s or something lowkey?” you suggest. “sounds perfect.” he replies, leading you to his car and opening the passenger door for you.

the car ride is relatively quiet, a few comments being made here and there, but it was mostly silent. however, it wasn’t an awkward silence, it was actually quite comfortable. you both get to the nearest mcdonald’s and order your food. it comes time to pay and you begin to pull out your card. “don’t you even dare, y/n.” chris says before you can even get your wallet out of your bag. “chris it’s really not that big of a deal.” you try to reason with him. “no y/n. i’m paying. a gentleman doesn’t make the girl pay, especially not on the first date.” he explains. “okay fine.” you relent.

the rest of the night went much smoother than you thought it would have. chris was a total gentleman and you genuinely had fun with him. at the end of the night, he drove you back to your dorm, but before you left, he asked you out on another date and you immediately said yes.

of course, you still have your reserves because of chris’ reputation around campus, but you wanted to give him a chance. you walk into your room, and see jasmine sitting on her bed. “and where have you been?” she asks. “i was out… on a date.” you say sheepishly. “a date?! with who?!” she becomes interested. “ummm i was with chris actually.” you look down at your shoes. “chris sturniolo? don’t you hate him?” she tilts her head in a confused manner. “i did, but he surprisingly isn’t that bad.” i smile at her slightly. “okay girl just be careful with him. make sure his intentions with you are good before you get too attached.” jasmine warns and you nod at her words. “of course, jas.” you walk over to your bathroom to take off your makeup and get ready for bed.

over the next couple of weeks, you and chris have been hanging out constantly. you actually enjoy his company, and he enjoys yours. you’ve managed to learn more and more about each other. you now know that chris loves hockey, he’s a triplet with his two brothers matt and nick, and he has a dog back home named trevor. all of this new information made him seem like more of an actual person to you and not some asshole you shared one class with for a single semester.

you’re currently getting ready for a party that chris had invited you to. this was the first time you would show up to a gathering like this as a ‘couple’, and you’re a little nervous. you don’t know how people would react because you being with chris is probably the most unexpected thing to happen on campus.

just as you’re putting on your shoes, chris texts you that he’s outside. you say goodbye to jas, and as you’re walking out the door you hear her yell: “be safe! text me if you need me!” you walk over to chris’ car and see him in the driver’s seat. once you open the door, he looks over at you and his jaw drops a little. “whoa. you look amazing, y/n.” you blush a little. “thanks chris.” he smiles at you and begins to drive towards the party.

you get there and can already see drunk students stumbling out the front door, something leaning over to throw up in the bushes. chris puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt. he then gets out and walks over to your side of the car, opening the door for you. he holds his hand out, and you take it. you stand up and before chris releases your hand, he leans down presses a light kiss to your knuckles. you giggle and begin to walk inside the party.

chris puts his hand on your waist and leads you over to the couch in the middle of the room. “i’m gonna grab us some drinks?” he yells over the music. “okay! i’ll be here!” you yell back, hoping he hears you. chris nods and turns to walk towards where you assume is the kitchen.

you wait for a few minutes, think it just takes a while to actually get to the drinks because of the large crowd of people in the house. you wait a little longer before deciding to go and find chris. you walk through the house and you can hear a group of male voices.

you turn the corner and see chris talking with his frat brothers, and you can’t help but listen in. “so how’s it going with that one girl you’re seeing, the smart one?” one of them asks. “her? there’s nothing going on with her. she’s just a hookup, nothing more. she means nothing to me.” he and his friends all laugh. you immediately lose your breath. you were so stupid to believe you actually meant something to chris. you should have listened to your gut, he’s just like all the rest.

you turn on your heels and walk out of the house, needing fresh air. the moment you walk outside, you break down, tears rolling down your cheeks one after another. you pull out your phone and call jasmine, knowing she’d come pick you up. the phone rings a few times before she answers, “hello?” “jas.” you say through your tears. “y/n? what’s wrong? what happened?” she immediately becomes worried. “can you come get me? i’ll explain everything to you later i just can’t be here any longer.” “of course. stay where you are, i’ll be there in a few.” you hang up the phone and look into the distance.

you then hear your name being called. you turn your head and see chris walking towards you. you look away, knowing that if you looked at him, you’d absolutely lose it. “y/n? are you okay? why’d you come out here?” he asks, completely unaware that you overheard his cruel words. “how could you chris?” he becomes confused now. “how could i what?” “do i really mean nothing to you? is getting into my pants the only thing you want from me?” you’re fighting the urge to sob. “of course not baby. who’s telling you that?” he steps closer to you and you step back, finally meeting his eyes. “you did! i heard you talking to your friends! about how i’m nothing but a hookup!” chris’ face drops. “baby no you got it all wrong. i didn’t mean any of those things i said.” “then why would you say it?! i can’t believe i trusted you! i really thought you were different, but you’re not! you’re just like all the other douchebags on this fucking campus!” you yell in his face. “y/n please i-” “save it.” you cut him off. you see jasmine’s car pull in out of the corner of your eye. “i never wanna see you again.” you tell him before walking to jasmine’s car and getting into the passenger’s seat. she swiftly pulls out and heads towards your dorm.

“what happened y/n? what’d he do to you?” she asks, worriedly. “i overheard him talking shit about me to his friends, about how i mean nothing to him.” you sniffle. “oh babe i’m so sorry. he’s such an asshole.” she reaches her right hand over to rub your back. “i should have known. i’m so fucking stupid.” you lean forwards and put your head in your hands. “no he’s stupid for not realizing what he had.” she reassures you. “i just wanna go home and go to bed.” you say. “of course, we’re almost there.” jasmine says as she continues driving.

once you get back home, you flop onto your bed, not bothering to take your makeup or clothes off. you just lie there and stare at the ceiling, thinking about chris. you thought about how sweet he could be, but it was all just a lie to get you into his bed. it’s bittersweet. you felt so humiliated, but you were glad you found out his true intentions before it was too late. you turn over and look at your phone. there are ten missed calls and about fifty text messages from chris. you shut your phone off, not wanting to deal with him right now.

the next few days, the world seems grey. you have almost no motivation to get out of bed. after a day or so, chris stopped texting you and calling you. you assumed he had given up, until he walked into your work holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a small teddy bear. you looked at him with sadness in your eyes, while chris’ eyes are filled with guilt and regret. “y/n,” he begins. “i’m so sorry for what i said. it was wrong and i promise i didn’t mean it. i just didn’t want them to shit on you for dating me. it’s okay if you don’t forgive me, but i just want you to know that i truly am sorry.” he hands you the flowers and bear. you take them hesitantly and say nothing. you nod and walk away, leaving chris behind looking broken.

chris fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you. not at the party, but the first day he walked into his english lit class. he quickly thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. he wanted to go up to you so bad, but based on the dirty glares you would shoot his way every time he walked into class late, he thought you wouldn’t be interested. when he saw you at the party, however, he couldn’t resist, he had to talk to you. he definitely expected you to turn him down, but he vowed that he wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go on at least one date with him. when you finally did, chris knew he was a goner. you were pretty, smart, and funny. you were perfect. the feelings that chris had for you scared him because he had never felt this way before. he didn’t know what to do. when his friends asked how you two were doing, he panicked. he knew you would get shit for dating him because you two are so different, so he told them you meant nothing, which was the furthest thing from the truth. however, he didn’t consider how those harsh words would affect you. the moment he walked outside and saw you crying, his heart broke. chris fucked up. badly. and he won’t stop until you know that he truly is sorry.

after your shift you go back to your dorm and set the teddy bear on your bed and put the flowers in a vase with water. suddenly, your phone dings, and it’s a text from chris: please let me explain what happened. i promise i’ll tell you everything. you stood there and thought about it before replying: meet me in front of the coffee shop in an hour. you shut your phone off and sit on your bed. you hold your head in your hands before you stand up to change into one of chris’ hoodies that you took and some sweats.

about 45 minutes go by before you’re grabbing your phone and keys and walking out of your dorm and towards the coffee shop. once you get there, you see chris standing outside. once he hears your footsteps, chris turns his head and watches you walk up to him. he smiles a bit seeing you in his hoodie, and his hopes raise just a little.

“y/n. hi.” he says nervously. you just nod at him, not knowing what to say. “look y/n, i know i fucked up. what i said was horrible and i can’t excuse that i just… you scare me.” your eyebrow raises “i scare you? why?” you question him, confused. “because you’re so perfect. you have your life together, you know what you want, and i’m just me.” he says desperately.” you’re still confused. “but that doesn’t make any sense.” chris sighs. “fuck it. y/n i’ve been in love with you for a long time, and i know i’ve never said that and maybe now isn’t the best time to tell you that, but it’s how i feel. i swear if you give me one more chance, i’ll do better. i’ll be better. just please let me prove it to you.” chris begs. you stand there, shifting your feet. you bite the inside of your cheek as you process what he just told you. “you love me? you aren’t just saying that?” you ask. chris steps towards you and cups your cheeks with his hands. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it’s honestly terrifying, but all i want is to be with you.” he looks into your eyes and you know he’s being honest. “chris.” you begin. “yes?” he asks, hopefully. “kiss me.” chris grins and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling into the kiss. you break away after a few seconds. “but if you ever pull some shit like this again, i’ll cut your dick off christopher.” he laughs out loud. “i wouldn’t expect anything less, ma.” he says before he leans down to kiss you once again.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo

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riality-check · 1 year

Text

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

#ria writes #dilf and concert #d&c au #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #rockstar eddie munson #dilf steve harrington

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lukecastellanlov3r · 4 months

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thinking about y/n accidentally flashing Luke while changing, and him being super flustered and horny for the rest of the day, than later, y/n catches him in the bathroom moaning her name while… you know 👀

OMGG, YESS. I LITERALLY CAN IMAGINE THIS HAPPENING

Luke Castellan x Reader

Smut warning

All the counsellors had a day off from camp activities today, meaning everyone was down by the docks.

You headed down there with Luke. He had just assumed that you weren't going to swim in the lake since you had your normal shorts and camp shirt on. He didn't know that you had your bikini underneath.

"You swimming, Luke?" You asked as you guys reached the docks

"Not today, no," he shrugged, laying out his towel on the sand and sitting on it. You sighed. He never came into the water anyway. You just shrugged it off and started to pull off your camps shirt, then your shorts. You bend over to put your clothes in your bag, not realising that your bikini bottoms were riding up slightly.

Luke's eyes widened as you bent over, getting a full view of your ass. He groaned quietly, his hand already adjusting his shorts as he felt a tent forming in them.

~★~

Luke had left the docks soon after you got into the lake, which was odd. Not to mention, he was acting a bit weird around you. Fine, a lot weird. But he was weird in general, so you barely batted an eye to it.

You got out of the lake and grabbed your bag, heading towards the counsellors' shower rooms. Slowly, you push open the door and are instantly greeted with groaning. The voice sounded very familiar. And the person was.... moaning your name?

Then it hit you.

Luke.

You dropped your bag onto the floor out of pure shock. It makes a thud loud enough that his moans stop.

It takes you a while, but you work up the courage to speak after a few seconds of gruelling silence.

"Luke.....?"

"Y/n?" He calls back, his voice hoarse and shaky.

You take a few shaky and slow steps towards the shower cubicle that you heard his voice coming from and knocked softly.

"Can you.... let me in?"

There's another beat of silence before the door clicks open, and the next thing you know, you're being pulled in, and the water from the shower soaks your hair. He pins you to the wall abruptly and makes out with you like there's no tomorrow. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and explores. His hands begin to wander, and they start pushing your bikini down. They hit the shower floor with a wet slap.

You gasp quietly, pulling away from his lips as you feel his long and nimble fingers trace all the way down to your folds.

"You want this, Y/n, right?" He whispers in your ear, nipping at your ear lobe.

You let out a small mewl, and that gives him enough of an answer. He turns you around and undoes your bikini top. He drops it to the side and presses your front against the shower wall. He trails gentle and slow kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders. His hands trace down your curve, and he groans into the nape of your neck.

He guides your hands up and presses them on the wall as he bends you over. Without warning, he slips two of his fingers inside of you and starts pumping in and out of you. His fingers curled inside of your gummy walls.

"F-Fuck, Luke..... just do it already," you moaned, cleching around his fingers. He'd barely even done anything, but he already had you begging for more.

"You sure?"

"Mhmm~ just do it. Please," you mumbled

He pulls his fingers out of you, and you instantly feel empty. Not for long, though. His tip presses against your entrance before he starts to ease his length into you.

He barely got halfway before you had tears brimming your eyes, and you were moaning his name loudly.

Out of nowhere, he slams his hips into you, pushing himself completely inside you.

"You're fine, baby. Im not gonna hurt you," he murmured as i pumped in and out of you quickly.

He clamped his hand over your mouth as you started to get too loud. You were close, and so was he. You could barely keep yourself standing, and you could feel his dick twitching inside of you.

"L-Luke, 'm close," you muttered between sharp breaths and moans.

"Whenever you're ready, baby." He whispered, groaning while he bucked his hips into you faster and faster.

You both rode out your high together, loud moans ringing out through the shower. Your legs shook, and shivered as he slowly pulled out of you and his cum spilled out of you, dripping down your inner thighs

"Gods..... y/n, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that to you," he whispered.

~★~

Hey guys, sorry if this is bad, but it's my first ever fic. I'd love any tips or points. Thank you, anon, for the request.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke x reader #lukecastellanlov3r

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hyomaslut · 1 year

Text

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! what is this? boyfriend material.

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴘᴛ. 𝟷

✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, chigiri hyoma, reo mikage, nagi seishiro ✿ ─ cw: fluff, gn!reader, no pronouns but there are a few 'fem coded' things referenced like make up or skirts, aged-up!characters, established relationships, pet names, kissing, groping, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread so many times so if there’s a typo ill cry ✿ ─ notes: this is my first post ♪(´▽｀) i haven't written stuff like this in a pretty long time so bear with me ‹𝟹 this is some hybrid of headcanon and drabble idk

ISAGI YOICHI is a full-fledged bonafide simp...

he suffers from tragic a condition. when he’s not trying? flirting supreme panty dropper. however, when he tries to flirt with someone he likes? bro is fumbling. at first he seems like such an instant charmer. hes a classic gentleman, great listener, and super attractive. but the second he gets an inkling of a crush, he ruins it for himself. stuttering and getting his words mixed up, saying the most embarrassing jumbled combination of what he actually meant to.

follows you around to all your tasks because how else would he spend his free time except hanging with his baby. to sephora, to the grocery store, to the salon, the the ends of the earth if that's where you're heading that day. more than happy to hold onto your hand as you go about your business, rambling about global soccer statistics and looking at you like you hold the world. yoichi is a prideful purse holder too, his arms and pockets and car being full of your belongings makes him insanely happy for some reason he can’t put his finger on. always ready to press the lip gloss you’re patting yourself down for into the palm your hand, taking a kiss as payment.

he’s bad at planning dates, so don’t put him in charge unless you want to be late to a reservation at a restaurant 2 hours away with mediocre food. he’s good at paying for them though!! the dates he does get to plan are usually to the mall. what can i say, man likes to spoil you.

at the mall isagi can kind of trick you. because typically if he were to offer to buy you a couple hundred dollars worth of things, you would absolutely refuse. buttt if its just one thing from this store and one thing from another, and maybe its the fact that you dont feel the weight of all the items as your boyfriend carries it all, but it flies under your radar. and at some point you look at yoichi… and he has a lot of shopping bags. surely some of those were his right? the little pleased love sick smile on his face says otherwise.

its so worth it to isagi tho. he gets to spend time with you, make you happy, be a doting bf. but it also means that he can pick out clothes for you. as generous as he was, he could be a bit of a greedy gifter - never leaving the mall without a new skirt of his choosing. will personally pick out a pile of things he wants you to try on just for him.

once youre with isagi for a few months, he reveals his true colors. man is a serial PDA offender. he just thinks you’re so pretty, and it gives him such an ego boost to be the guy by your side. better hold his hand or its going in your back pocket. leans in under the guise of giving you a quick, generally acceptable peck on the lips… but all of a sudden he wants another before you even fully pull away from the first and its all downhill from there. sits on your side of the table at restaurants instead of across from you so he can rest his hand on your thigh and sneak in small squeezes when he thinks youre not paying attention. and be careful about walking in front of him, he’s not strong enough to resist the urge to smack your ass.

if the PDA thing wasnt a dead give away, isagi is just very affectionate in general, honestly has a hard time leaving you alone when you’re in the same room as him. he just gravitates towards you no matter what he was previously doing. very easily distracted, very easy to bribe. he’s the type of guy where when he goes to get out of bed in the morning to go to practice, and you cling to him and ask him for just 5 more minutes, theres nothing that could stop him from sinking right back into your arms. his attendance record has definitely suffered because he is unable to deny you a single thing you ask for, especially if that thing is him.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is taken and makes sure everyone knows it…

hyoma’s partner very quickly becomes his best friend if they weren’t before they started dating. it’s not even intentional, but he gets very quickly attached to you. sure, he has a decent amount of friends, but none of them know him like you do. he loves to hear you talk about your life, invested in your daily drama and indulging you with all of his. he likes to hear your input and insights on situations. he takes notes in his phone when he sees things he thinks you would like, or conversations he had that he wants to tell you about. forever surprised by how much he misses you when you’re apart, chigiri is used to not needing anyone the way he needs you. is so much grumpier at matches that have him go abroad without you, texting you often throughout the day, whenever he can get his hands on his phone.

because you’re now his best friend and partner, chigiri’s a bit tied to you at the hip, but he would never admit to being clingy. not that you mind, hanging out with him is fun and surprisingly intimate. he never fails to hold your hand wherever you go or throw an arm around your shoulder. on dates he’ll lean in close to your ear to whisper little observations and jokes about the people around, the two of you sharing witty comments and secretive snickers behind your hands. when hanging out with mutual friends, the way yours eyes meet his wordlessly, both holding the same micro expression, indistinguishable to other people, that says “we are so talking about that later”.

speaking of clinging to your side, hyoma can have a bit of a possessive streak at times. i feel like it’s something you don’t really expect of him until there’s a guy flirting with you in a store. the way your boyfriend is at your side before you can even answer, standing at his full height, squaring his shoulders with a sour look on his face, not at all shy about the way his arm snakes around your waist. “they’re not interested.” he states plainly, as if it were obvious, but if you payed close attention to him (which you always did), you would notice the distasteful curl of his lip or the venom seeping into his tone or the way his usually gentle fingers hold onto your side with a firm grip.

he doesn’t meet your eyes after, already sensing the knowing smirk on your lips. his ears turn red when you break the silence to tell him that green was a good color on him. but, your ever clever boyfriend is quick to reply, “that’s cute baby, but i’m not jealous. you haven’t seen me when i’m jealous.” the mischievous glimmer in his eye and the smug smile he wears reminds you to not test him.

king of matching outfits with you. not in the novelty shirts cheesy way, but he always asks for a fit check before he picks you up on dates. chigiri is outside your apartment within the hour, wearing a jacket that matches the color of your shoes and a sly grin. generally starts to shift his style to be a bit more cohesive with yours, he loves going out and looking like you belong together.

not to mention, matching outfits give him more excuses to take pictures with you. photos of you and him are plastered all over his instagram, your handle in his bio and everything. he’s no amateur either, always able to catch your best side, in perfect lighting. really makes you feel as pretty as he seems to think you are. hyoma is a bit of a show off too, so he gets a bit of an ego boost getting to let everyone know how cute you are, and that you’re all his.

hyoma greatly values the alone time he gets to spend with you. the best part of his week is sitting on the couch as you help him with his hair care routine. you running a mix of the comb and your fingers through his hair as the two of you catch up on the k-drama you started together. your touch and your attention and your warm presence enough to make the stress of a pro soccer career melt off his shoulders. makes you teach him how to do your nails and learns your skin care routine so that he can return the favor, although he’s much better at the latter.

MIKAGE REO is ungodly whipped and more than a little dramatic…

if we’re talking about social media boyfriends, reo is near insufferable. let’s be real, reo was already flexing on the gram before you got with him. constantly posting pictures of his car and expensive watches and exclusive clubs. he just becomes worse when you agree to go out with him. his story is full of aesthetically blurry shots of you, sometimes featuring him, anywhere and everywhere. in his car, on dates, cooking in his kitchen. he even found the audacity to post a picture of you in his bed, your bare back in full frame, the sheets pooled around your waist. “i’m so lucky” was the caption and the only context provided. unsurprisingly the lifespan of that post was quite short once you caught wind of it, with the assurance that he wouldn’t be getting so lucky in the near future.

i totally think reo is the type of guy that tries to act like a fuckboy but is secretly a hopeless romantic. in other words, reo is a huge sap™. has a picture of you in his wallet. you’re his screen saver and all his passwords feature your name. nagi is the last person left that will still listen to reo ramble on about you, all of his other friends having gotten tired of it.

we already know that reo is taking you to fancy dinners on the regular, but more unexpectedly i think he is a big fan of outdoorsy dates. previously mentioned hopeless romantic tendencies means reo loves a picnic way more than he lets on. his favorite is when the summer comes around and he gets to take you to the beach. if reo dies and goes to heaven and it's not you rubbing sunscreen into his warm back in a skimpy swimsuit he picked out for you himself, he's not interested. a close second favorite of his is late night drives with you. all the windows of his luxury sports car down, blasting a playlist the two of you made together, singing loud and ugly down the empty freeway. in these moments you make him feel weightless and he swears it’s addicting.

king of clingy. every time that you feel your phone vibrate, there's a good chance that it's your boyfriend. never with anything important either, asking where you are, how was your day, sending you pics of whatever he is doing, even resorting to imessage games when he runs out of things to talk about. he just always finds himself itching to open your contact. if mikage reo could eat up all of your attention, he would not hesitate to do so.

reo is usually the caretaker. when he obtained status of boyfriend, you automatically went on his list of special people in his life, only really consisting of you and nagi, and this granted you the exclusive privilege of walking all over him if you so please. truly a pushover and weak to your pouts. while we’re on the subject of ways to get him to fold, reo is surprisingly easy to flatter. your compliments are honey to his ears, no matter how many people have said the same to him before. his heart thumps loud in his chest whenever you do any act of service or labor of love for him. just wait for the day you buy this man some flowers. got his hand splayed over his red face, his palm not wide enough to cover his infatuated grin. "they're really for me, babe? god i knew i picked you for a reason.”

reo's feelings for you run extremely deep. scary deep. you make him feel stupid and irrational. he can't think straight, he's impulsive. you have to keep a close eye on him because give reo enough time alone and he'll convince himself that getting your name tattooed across his chest is an amazing idea, a grandiose display of his affection and devotion to you - sick as hell too. god forbid you go on a trip by yourself, there's honestly a decent chance you'll come home to a marriage proposal and explanations on how "no no, don't worry babe, i know its sooner than you expected but i've got it all planned out.” just be glad that up until this point he has resisted the strong urge to drop a fourth of his trust fund on a ring, a price he's more than willing to pay to make you all his.

NAGI SEISHIRO is greedy and will readily take a mile if given an inch…

nagi is… new to the whole boyfriend thing to say the least. not to say he’s bad at it or anything, but i imagine that in the beginning of your relationship, things are a bit, for a lack of better words, lukewarm. he struggles a bit with recognizing that the switch from friends to more than friends is more than just the title, letting you completely take the wheel. but his passiveness doesn’t last long. not when he can’t escape the way you are constantly on his mind. he thought it was overwhelming enough having a crush on you, but now that he’s falling for you it’s on another level. he thinks of you when he first opens his eyes, facing the obnoxious blue light of his phone to send you your daily goodmorning :x . he thinks of you at night, when he’s restlessly fighting to fall asleep before he ultimately caves and facetimes you so that he can drift off to your tired mumbles and even breaths. he thinks of you when practice drags on, the anticipation of seeing you after the only thing keeping him from giving into his exhaustion.

nagi can’t get you out of his head for the life of him, but to be fair he doesn’t put up much of a fight. seishiro is used to getting what he wants, so what does he do when his desire for you becomes a hassle? he makes it your problem. constantly calling you and asking you to pick him up from social functions because he misses you. insisting that he stays the night at your place or that you come to his because he needs his daily dose of you. and he doesn’t have the shame to be shy of telling you everything on his mind either. he unintentionally says very flustering things, unabashedly demanding your touch and your company, no matter who is listening. it’s your fault he’s like this after all, you might as well take responsibility and give him what he wants.

and what he wants is affection from you, as much as he can get. serishiro is mesmerized by your reactions. being in love with you is uncharted territory that he maps out with piqued curiosity and newfound greed. especially kissing. once nagi gets his first taste of kissing you for real, messy and needy and drawn out, he never wants to go back. not after seeing your red face, eyes lidded and lips parted so cutely he just has to steal one more. now his day dreams revolve around you, what flavor of chapstick you’re wearing, what perfume do you have on, are you thinking of him as much as he does you? thats one thing he never really finds the courage to ask, but that he secretly hopes is true.

he loves to find things you can work on together, even if you always end up being the one putting in more effort. nagi will insist on cooking dinner together, and maybe you get his help for a good 10 minutes before he’s slumped in a seat at the counter eating the ingredients. buys tons of lego sets for the two of you to put together and while you’re following the instructions, he’s stealing pieces you need so he can build a little car to push around the table while he watches you figure it out. he’ll even settle for a puzzle and a movie, but your out of luck if you expect him to do anything but the edges.

the lazy genius only really has the time and energy to have a couple of important people in his life, but once you make it into that inner circle, that shit is permanent as far as he’s concerned. it begins with him telling you that it only makes sense to leave some clothes at his apartment, you’re at his place half the week anyway. and then its him smuggling over your favorite pillows and stuffed animals to his bed instead of yours. then he’s asking you to go grocery shopping with him every week. the jokes he makes about the fact that, “you keep all your stuff here anyway. just move in with me already,” are far too frequent to be subtle. but when he hits you with the puppy eyes, which are annoyingly effective, how could you say no?

you’ve put yourself in his orbit after all and now the solar system that is nagi seishiro will use his gravity to pull you inevitably closer. it’s doomed.

is my bias obvious?? cuz i feel like it might be… lmk which one was your favorite!!

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