#maybe it is best not to make eye contact. the sensation stops when you do. you no longer feel like he is looking through you.

[blackwaxidol]

Valin of Sao <- the egoism of a fancy and colourful male bird, personified.

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but i was extra inspired from a tiktok my friend sent me description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long that, when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

[callsign-datura]

a/n: y'all not a word. just literal ghost!simon for those who like this trope <3 tags: cunnilingus, ghost sex, ghost simon. yeah he's a literal ghost and eats you out.

ghost!simon riley. ghost that died, and is now a ghost. you were his wife-- so he haunts your new home. ghost!simon that scares away the men you try to hook up with after he dies. breaking things near them, flickering the lights whenever they're alone. you're his, not theirs. in life and in death, his. of course he's going to make them piss their pants before you can fuck them. he doesn't blame you, though. he blames them.

ghost!simon who can pass through walls and objects at will and touch them, too. so, when he finds out he can touch you? best bet he does.

ghost!simon whose main hobby in the afterlife is watching you. other ghosts may cause trouble... but he's not that type. he wants to watch his gorgeous wife, all the time, no matter what she's doing. ghost!simon who's a little too eager to watch you possibly touch yourself when you get horny. it's been years at this point, and he knows you- your tells. the way your thighs started to rub together as you laid in bed, tossing and turning.

ghost!simon who gets the idea to try and let you know he's there... watching. "bird," he mumbles. he knows you can't hear him, but he'll talk to you anyway. "so pretty." he brings a hand to your leg, dragging it upward gently-- testingly. he's surprised that he can touch you at all, so he continues. ghost!simon who leans down to kiss your arm. ghost!simon who recognizes the way your body freezes at the contact. who snickers when you curse about it. you know it's him... you know you're haunted by him in the back of your mind, even if you're in denial. --- "simon?" you whisper, sitting up. you know in your logical brain that this isn't happening-- you're just imagining it. but when the bedlight lamp flickers twice, your heart sinks and your stomach flutters. "...s'that you?" you ask, and the lights flicker twice once more. you feel more fleeting touches along the outer sides of your legs, and suddenly the bed dips at your feet. you feel something nudging your legs apart, and you curse yourself at how easily you follow suit and spread your legs. you're not the spiritual type... this can't be happening. maybe you're dreaming? maybe you're already asleep?

--- ghost!simon who moves between your legs and leans down, kissing your leg just above the knee. his hands move up to the waistband of your pants, and he tugs lazily. sure, he's been a ghost for a while-- but it takes ghost energy to move things! you should do it for him. and he hums when you do, watching the way your hips shift as you pull them down, panties following. you know it's him, and that makes him smug. even after all this time you haven't forgotten his touch. his love. he moves and lays down, and the bed dips further beneath him. his weight, still tangible somehow even in the ghost plane, or whatever the fuck it's called. ---

you're questioning if you've gone crazy. you feel hands move up your legs yet again, stopping at your hips as you feel a few kisses at your hip bone. your head falls back and your chest swells. you shut your eyes and try to ignore the fact that simon always kissed you there before he went down on you. more proof that this was him. ---

he can't taste you. all of his senses are gone now, but at least he can feel you and at least you know it's him. his tongue darts out, leaving over the flesh at your hip before he nibbles there. he can use most functions of his body, some at will, others are just defunct. saliva is one that he still has. why? he has no idea. it's not like he can eat in the afterlife.

...well, not actual food, at least. ---

your eyes flutter. it's an odd sensation. you feel him kiss closer to your cunt, and you've fully succumbed to the feeling. your chest swells more and you feel countless emotions-- you knew he was with you, in one way or another. feeling his touch, his kisses. it almost makes you cry. you suck in a breath and lift your hips, and you feel vibration against your flesh, as if he laughed at you. you just wish you could hear it... see his face between your legs... the feeling is enough.

---

his tongue dips out again, moving between your folds, flattening against your clit. his hands find the bottom of your thighs, gently hoisting them up to give him better access as he tilts his head, swirling his tongue in slow circles like he always did. two slow swirls, four quick flicks. he knew how quickly it got you to cum when he was alive. he hopes it's still the same.

---

your hips twitch, and your back arches, soft sweet moans falling from your lips. the friction is odd, but lord if it isn't intense, your pent up body relishing the feeling of whatever the fuck this is. if you were doubting that it was simon before, you fucking knew it was now. you whimper and your hips buck, a heat swirling in your lower stomach. you feel another vibration against you and your clit twitches, another whine leaving your throat.

---

he's never forgotten you or your body. he's never forgotten the memories he had when he was alive, and even though he can't taste you now he remembers it. sickeningly sweet, he remembers. like honey. "pretty pussy," he grumbles, more to himself since he knows you can't hear it. his tongue flicks against your clit again, relishing in the way it makes your back arch and your hole clench. neglected. he knows you haven't had any since he died. dammit he's made SURE you haven't. of course he can only control things within the bounds of this home, but he knows you prefer having sex in your home-- where you can control things. the setting, the ambiance. one thing he loved. you always controlled all of that, and all he had to do was love you. and if he knew anything, it was how to love you. he decides now to just use his tongue. he didn't want to overwhelm you.

---

you were already overwhelmed. your clit twitched again with each flick, your back arching further and your legs twitching as you got closer to your orgasm. you know, you never thought it was possible to get eaten out by a ghost, but here you were.

---

you mumble his name, and he's done for. his pace increases suddenly, and he grunts to himself at the way your body writhes beneath him. his grip on your thighs tightens, and he pins them down to keep you in place, opting to flick his tongue against your clit to just get you to the edge. when you start whimpering and wailing, he slows down-- smirking when you whimper at the loss. he keeps doing that for a few moments before speeding up again, flicking his tongue against your clit and swirling it at the same time, squeezing your thighs once or twice. ---

you fold your hand over your mouth, head falling back against the pillow beneath your head. you cum seconds after he speeds up again, gasping and writhing still. it comes over you in waves, vision dotted and mind hazy with pleasure. your orgasm ebbs, and his movements slow until you're panting. you barely notice when he detaches himself from you, the bed dipping a bit more as he leans over you and kisses your head. "still as pretty as ever. haven't changed a bit, my wife." --- ghost!simon who breaks all rules of the afterlife to get between his pretty wife's legs again.

[myerssimp21]

Tim Drake, Aphrodisiac Victim (YAN!Pt.1)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam x fem reader. Part 1 Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

It’s easy for him to excuse it, easy for Tim Drake to pretend like he hadn’t intentionally fumbled the latest conflict with Poison Ivy. He could have done more to stop her, but when he discovered her plan and spent days pouring over the ingredients in her new concoction, the holistic quality of her potion calmed his nerves and quieted the anxious parts of him that screamed he would get caught. Ivy was known for several atrocities in Gotham, but she didn’t usually act as aggressively as Scarecrow or Joker with her toxins.

So when Tim Drake definitively concluded her newest potion wouldn’t have any adverse health effects, he was slower than he should have been when she whipped out the perfume bottle and sprayed it at him.

He’d been expecting this; what he hadn’t expected was Bruce yanking him backwards in an attempt to save him from the mist. The Batclaw shot out, aiming for the bottle in her hands but failing to retrieve it halfway through the delivery, the glass shattering on the ground and splashing all over the Bat and Tim Drake.

There had been dizzying action, and then only silence for a moment. Ivy had a shit-eating smile creeping onto her face as she began backing away, keeping her eyes on the two men trying to catch their breath.

“Gentlemen, it looks like you have the night off,” she said with a giggle as she continued to retreat, eyeing her escape route, “maybe make plans?”

“Pamela,” The Bat growls in a dark tone, his anger barely contained over how their mission had gone so wrong, “Give me the antidote.”

She turns to run away and he lunges forward to grab her before his knees buckle under him and he collapses to the ground, catching his balance and hearing her scurry off.

“Batman,” Tim says, feeling the weight of consequences of his actions as he feels his crotch begin tingling, “she doesn’t have one. I checked.”

The silence is palpable as Bruce evens out his breathing and pushes off the ground, using a nearby wall to steady himself, “We need to get to the Batmobile before it sets in.”

Tim shudders as Bruce places a giant hand on his shoulder, concerned both at how hard the big man is taking the dose and at how good the physical contact feels in this state. He hopes Bruce doesn’t feel pleasure at the slightest touch like he does; he’s frustrated since it was supposed to be just him.

Tim Drake was supposed to receive an accidental dose of Ivy’s new aphrodisiac. Tim Drake was supposed to stop by their darling’s apartment afterwards to relieve the strain in his crotch and the desire in his heart. It was supposed to be the best porno he’d ever see; getting the best angles for the cameras discreetly set up at her place earlier that month to rewatch later.

He knew Bruce was smart and Tim only hoped to earn forgiveness for this by making the best home film with you. He also knew Dick, Jason, and Damian would be grouchy he’d gotten to you first and it was entirely possible he’d get just decimated by your lack of interest altogether. Even though you and Tim had become close over the past couple semesters, he could tell you were reserved at times, just anxious or uneasy enough to pull away before anything with lasting complications happened.

The Batmobile had an autopilot feature which Bruce immediately enacted, setting a course for the Batcave. Wordlessly, Tim adds their darling’s apartment complex in as a stop, trying to not get shaky at the thought of getting laid in this state. It’s so easy to add it; all he has to do is press it from the list of saved priority locations in the portal.

“I had my suspicions,” Batman murmurs as he closes his eyes and lays against the headrest, trying to control the sensations in his body, “you wouldn’t have gotten sprayed at that range unless you wanted to.”

Tim says it before he can think in misplaced irritation, “Then why’d you get in the way?”

It’s embarrassing the moment he says it and Bruce says nothing in response, letting the silence sour in the air to make a point.

“What are you going to do?” Tim asks him, too aware of the growing urge to sink his dick into a warm, wet hole. The urge is going to be hard to wrangle enough to talk to her, let alone look normal enough to seem like a regular hook-up.

“I’ll manage,” is all Bruce says, and Tim hopes that means he’ll call Catwoman as soon as he leaves; he suddenly doesn’t like the idea of everyone tuning in at once to the live camera feeds as he tries his hand at seducing you. It feels like lots of pressure, and while Tim Drake is usually phenomenal at working under pressure, he doesn’t want to get rejected in 4k.

Bruce grips the steering wheel tight when the tingles begin in his crotch, trying to distract himself, “I have a change of clothes under your seat. Change before we get to her place.”

~

Bruce makes the call while he can, letting Damian know he and Tim were not going to be able to finish their patrol shift. Damian sounds unimpressed when he asks why and Bruce doesn’t answer him, hanging up.

Bruce goes to voicemail when he calls Jason, and his jaw clenches in irritation. He knows Jason holds more resentment towards him and might murder some criminals if made to do patrol on a night he’s supposed to have off, but Bruce can’t let Damian do patrol alone in the big city yet. He’s also a little concerned that Jason might murder Tim if he hears him with you, so getting him out on patrol is better for everyone.

After calling Jason two more times, Bruce gives up and calls Damian back, telling him he’d send Grayson over. Ever efficient, Damian is already dressed as Robin on the Batmobile’s call screen, his eyes narrowing in his domino mask.

"Father, your demeanor suggests trouble. What went wrong with Drake during the patrol?"

"It's nothing, Damian. Just a minor setback. We handled it."

"Minor setbacks don't usually disrupt patrol schedules. What are you hiding, Father?"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," Bruce says, ignoring Damian's rude interrogation, "Make sure to stop by the GCPD to follow up with Jack Ryder on-" Bruce's voice falters as he struggles to remember what the story is; his crotch begins throbbing uncomfortably and he feels like the heat is spreading up his torso with each beat of his heart.

"On those cryptic messages left in the GCPD mailbox," Tim finishes for Bruce, leaning in to fit in the camera lens so Damian can see him too. Damian rolls his eyes.

"Your knack for evasion is quite the talent, Father. Maybe it's worth pondering why you choose partners if transparency isn't part of the deal."

With this scathingly cold delivery, Damian ends the call on a sour note. Tim would check with Bruce but their darling lives on the street they just turned down and his heartbeat has begun violently thudding in his chest and in his dick.

"Tim," Batman says firmly before Tim leaves the Batmobile, "stay in control. Scaring her off is not an option."

Tim's trying to not be sensitive about it because after all, it makes sense; if he comes off too strong and scares her, not only is he fucked immediately with Ivy's aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, but he will complicate things for the whole Wayne family. The other part of him, the part being drugged by Ivy's potion wants to whine in protest. How is he supposed to exercise control!? He'd never force himself on her but he doesn't doubt he might pass out if he doesn't find relief soon. As he exits the Batmobile with her apartment building in front of him, he just prays Jason is asleep and doesn't cockblock him.

You weren’t asleep yet. At 10 PM, you were drawing in bed, pausing at different parts in the pornographic video you were watching to practice drawing bodies. You couldn’t deny this way of practicing wasn’t tempting you to turn the lights off and rub one out with one of your vibrators though. They were recently charged, after all.

Not wanting to stop drawing quite yet but wanting the desire to build, you turn up the volume of the tv and make an effort to not pause as much. It felt good to feel a building arousal in your body and know you could use your toy as many times as you liked. It had already been about twenty minutes of you rotating out on your favorite pornography and hentai tags, working your brain up to arousal under the guise of practicing art. It honestly didn’t take much to get you feeling hot; growing sexual tension in your personal life made it easy to tap into. Maybe it was just that it never left your mind in the first place, and your mind wandered as your fingers snuck under the waistband of your shorts.

You thought of the recent weird vibes between you and Tim, the boy in your humanities course you sat near who was also in your social work course. You’d exchanged numbers early in the semester and at this point you’d met up for study sessions more than once. He’d always been a little flirtatious but you thought he was joking until he had leaned in the other day, hand finding purchase on your thigh as he murmured, “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

It was so generic you would have chuckled or rolled your eyes but the way he said it made goosebumps raise on your skin instead. His eyes were locked on yours and the sober intensity in them was not something you had prepared for, leaning away from him in sudden awkwardness even when you felt your cheeks burning.

Still, the thought of how he looked at you made you shudder when your finger brushed against your clit and your mind raced on.

Then there was your next-door neighbor, Jason. Tall and broad-shouldered, there's a casual confidence in the way he moves. His piercing blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement whenever you shyly chat with him, like he's in on some secret joke. The black cat always at his heels chirps happily on his little patio table when you two chat, purring loudly and head-butting Jason at any given opportunity. Always, Jason makes his appearance shirtless, his eyes laughing louder at you every time you feel your face flush when he says something questionably flirtatious towards you. It's one thing to playfully flirt, but to do so while ripped and shirtless? How was your ability to articulate yourself around him supposed to have a chance?

You try not to look and act unflustered every time, but once your eyes lingered and you noticed scar tissue all over his torso, unable to tear yourself away from the sight. You'd apologized when he jokingly said you'd better take a picture, since you didn't want to seem rude checking out his scars and felt silly for getting caught staring.

"They come with a price, always," Jason remarked cryptically, suddenly making intense eye contact.

"Your scars?" You asked, afraid to say the wrong thing due to your social anxieties but leaning towards him from your bannister.

"No, my pictures" he replied with a smirk, his eyes twinkling mischievously while Alfred the cat chirped at his ankles again. Jason leaned across his bannister too, "But I've always believed in getting to know my neighbors. I think you and I could take that to a whole new level, don't you?"

"I-I think... that could be...nice," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Getting to know you better, I mean." You had looked away while trying to choke out these words, gathering your courage before meeting his gaze again. "I'm curious about you.. So maybe we could... explore each other sometime."

His eyes widened, his expression betraying a hint of genuine disbelief. A faint blush quickly dusted his cheeks, mirroring the warmth you felt spreading through you at his suggestion.

"Wow," he said, his voice laced with surprise and breathier than normal, "I wasn't expecting that, but... I like where you're going with this." The tone of admiration had given you chills at the time, praise kink activating at the new way he was regarding you. "I’m curious about you too, you know. Let's see just how close we can really get."

His reaction left you feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, but you couldn't help but smile at his response. You hadn't seen him since then, a couple days ago, and you hoped your conversation would amount to something delicious one day if it was meant to be.

As you reminisced about Tim's intense words and Jason's forward suggestions, your fingers gravitated towards your clit, applying firm pressure as they glided up and down your labia before slowly easing into your pussy. You opted for two fingers, relishing the sensation of fullness they provided compared to just one. They pressed deeply inside you, and you squeezed around them exploratively, reveling in the feeling.

After relishing the fullness of your fingers, you pumped them a few times, a low moan escaping your lips at the intense sensation. Your eyes scrunched shut tightly as you imagined Tim's hand from the other day—how it had come to rest on your thigh, the way it had firmly gripped at you, igniting a desire to jump at the touch.

You visualized him inching closer to the point of no return, sliding his hand into your underwear, and letting his fingers work their magic right there as you both sat with your homework in front of you. Just moments ago, you would have been innocently reviewing new terms together, but then the thought of his touch would be obscenely irresistible. You pictured yourself moving your hips, eagerly responding to his touch and allowing yourself to make all the noises you had always been too nervous to make with others. You imagined he'd get antsy to fuck you after hearing the squelching of your pussy on his fingers. In your mind's eye, he would just barely find the self-control to pull his cock out from his pants before burying his length desperately as far deep as it could go in you.

As you finally reached for the vibrators kept next to the bed, the abrupt sound of knocking at the door shattered your session. Startled, you jumped up, hastily yanking your shorts back up and rushing to wash your hands.

With no peephole on your apartment door, you felt a twinge of unease as you hurried to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the sight of Tim standing there caught you off guard.

"Hey... uh, sorry to just show up unannounced like this," Tim begins, his voice slightly breathless. "I, uh, I needed to talk to you about something important."

He shifts uncomfortably, trying to suppress the nervous energy coursing through him. "I know it's kind of out of the blue, but... can I come in? It won't take long, I promise."

Tim's words come out rushed, his cheeks flushed with a mix of urgency and embarrassment, as he struggles to maintain his composure despite the powerful effects of the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins.

Without hesitating, you step aside, allowing Tim to enter. His presence saturates the room, bringing with it an air of tension and anticipation.

"Tim, what's going on? Are you okay?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern and uncertainty as you closed and locked the door behind him.

His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your heart beat just a little faster, unsure of what he was going to tell you.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what I said the other day," Tim began, his words coming out in a rush. "About how you drive me crazy. I... I don't know how to explain it but I felt like I had to come see you."

His confession hung in the air, heavy with emotion and unspoken arousal.

As he stood before you, his usually composed demeanor was replaced by an air of dishevelment. His hair was messier, and his clothes weren't neat like usual. There was a manic energy in his expression, a hint of desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tim, you seem... different tonight," you remarked cautiously, noting the wild look in his eyes.

"I couldn't wait any longer," he confessed, his voice emotional, "I needed to see you. I needed to be with you tonight more than anything."

The intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing, a sense of unease creeping over you as you began to comprehend the depth of his interest. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of something akin to surrender. You longed for him to desire you so intensely that he couldn't wait for a more appropriate time, practically begging you to spend a night with him like a lost puppy.

As Tim stood before you, his agitation evident in every movement, you couldn't ignore the tension in the air. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to the now noticeable bulge in his pants and you're captivated by it, unwilling to look away. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the undeniable evidence of his desire.

"Can you... touch me?" Tim's voice trembled with urgency as he made the request, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the underlying intensity. "You can set the pace, do anything you want, just... please, do something," he added, his words carrying a fervent plea while leaving the decision entirely in your hands.

The tension was thick but you couldn't say you were really surprised at this admission of interest. Regarding the boy in front of you, you pondered the consequences this could lead to. As far as you knew, Tim wasn't a frat boy or someone who could make your life annoying with spreading rumors about the type of girl you were at school. He'd only ever been considerate, kind, and genuine. No girlfriend that you knew of, and he'd definitely be the kind of guy who gushed about his partner if he had one, so you wouldn't be any sort of homewrecker. He always helped you with your homework, to a point where you barely needed to do anything but the minimum whenever he got involved in any of your projects or assignments. This in mind, you decided he deserved a reward.

Leaning in towards him, you place your hands against his cheeks to cup his face. His eyes are wide, the pupils dilated. You thought you heard somewhere that meant someone was in love. Staring into those blown pupils with a mixture of curiosity and arousal, you drew closer.

"Can I kiss you?" You whisper and he nods before you can even get the question out. You kiss him, noticing he seems to freeze up for a moment before kissing you back, pressing against your mouth harder. His tongue swipes against you, but before you let yourselves go any further, you pull away.

"Before things escalate, can we agree to keep it casual, keep us casual? I like what we have."

He seems so antsy, almost breathless, "Absolutely, yeah. I'm all in. No pressure."

Doubting his sincerity since he seems so gone off of whatever is happening to him, you hesitate, "Tim, I'm serious. I don't want you to agree just because of the moment or you're high."

You're staring into those dilated eyes of his in the beat of silence that follows, hoping he's really listening to you.

He looks back into your eyes, the frenzied look a little more under control. "I hear you, I'm on the same page. Friends-with-benefits, I'd love that." Notably, he doesn't deny the speculation of being high.

Nodding at the more clear communication, you went back in for the kiss, now letting his tongue enter and explore your mouth. After getting more clarity from him, you feel less tense and relax into his kiss, feeling his hand come up to touch at your hair as he takes more control of it.

Dropping to your knees when the kiss breathlessly ends, you kiss at his clothed bulge, pawing at it with a hand. Your eyes are fixated on the stricken Tim Drake above you, and he watches in awe as you deeply inhale. You can smell him through his pants and nuzzle your cheek against the bump in them.

Slowly pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants, your fingers hook on the band and you pull them down till they're bunched at his ankles, hardly taking a breather from your kisses.

"Oh, god," he moans in a strangled voice, "You're so pretty down there."

His praise makes your cheeks begin to burn and your movements get a little more self-conscious, feeling marveled at. Moving your mouth against his bulge in his boxers, you find where the tip should be and roughly suck at it through his underwear. His body shudders, one of his hands fingering through your hair and grabbing it firmly and he hisses, "Play nice."

Feeling good about this now, you moan into his bulge at the choked tone you caused him, pulling his boxers down and kissing on his penis directly now. Lifting it, you craned underneath and kissed at his balls, licking a long strip up from them to the tip and swirling your tongue around his hole at the top. A loud moan tore through Tim and you felt him push his pelvis towards you more, the tip of his penis in your mouth beginning to inch further.

Graciously, you accept his bid, widening your mouth to swallow him completely when he pushes in. He's not terribly big but it's still a little hard to fit him in, the longer length causing it to bump into the back of your throat. He doesn't taste bad considering your previous experiences with oral. It was musty and damp like he'd just worked out, but the faint scent of soap and the neat pubes your nose was buried in told you his hygiene wasn't terrible.

Swirling your tongue with the movement, you experimentally go down on him to gauge his reaction. He moans loudly again and the sound is beautiful to you, doing it again in the hopes he moans nicely again. He does and you fixate your gaze up at him as you take his cock deeply again and his face betrayed how flustered he was, with his cheeks flushed and the look of a madman about him.

He's watching you like he adores you and when you make eye contact, his hips buck into your mouth and he whines, "I knew you'd be gorgeous swallowing my cock, you're taking it so well."

You look up at him in curiosity, so he thought about you like that? He'd pictured this?

"Fuck, I knew it. I knew you'd look beautiful on your knees."

You sense his thighs trembling and your hands come up to press against them, mouth obediently swallowing his cock.

"Oh," he chokes and roughly thrusts deeply, "I'm cumming- it's coming, swallow it all!"

He looks back down at you and then it comes as he moans loudly and crouches to push his cock as far as it will go down your throat, the overwhelming cumshot from the throbbing penis in between your lips threatening to spill out of your mouth. You always hated swallowing cum, and the hot orgasm spurting into your mouth is no exception. You feel your gag reflex threatening to make this night nightmarish but then it ebbs away as you focus on the fact the flow of cum is slowing down, on the fact this particular sensation will go away soon.

You can't lie he sounds and looks delicious otherwise, your eyes focusing on his flustered face that looks almost entirely delirious now. He's sweaty but the handsome face almost glows with liveliness, cheeks flushed and jawline trembling with emotion.

Gently, you slide his penis out of your mouth, sucking any remaining cum or spit off until you get to the tip, lightly swirling your tongue against his hole. When you finally pop off, his hand cups your cheek and he promptly drops to his knees, passionately grabbing your face and kissing you. His tongue wriggles into your mouth and you're surprised he's tongue-kissing you with the flavor of his cum fresh in your mouth still. One of his hands hungrily comes up to knead at your tit and you whimper as he harshly pinches on the end of it. Then he's pulled away from the kiss but his body is beginning to overwhelm you, crawling on top of you as you fall back onto your butt with your legs in front.

"Let me have you," he pleads, and you feel his penis is hard again and prodding against your thigh, "Please let me have you right now."

You wouldn't have preferred doing it mere feet away from your front door, especially since the crack under the door was a couple centimeters wide and anyone in the hall could probably hear you without effort, but the wild look in his eyes and the famished way he pulled at both your tits now made you want to indulge in such an animalistic fucking. Something was hot about the desperate way he looked, something enticing about the frenzied approach. You'd never seen this side of him, and the consequences of indulging with him in such a degrading way was far from your mind when his head dipped down and he tugged at the hem of your shirt. Helping him take off your shirt by lifting your arms, he wasted no time in shoving his face in your cleavage, nipping at the top of your breasts with his teeth.

Yelping at the surprising and slightly painful sensation, your hands come up to grip at his hair and he lays large wet kisses against your breasts, sucking at the skin there. You know he's gunning for hickeys and you whimper when he alternates between open-mouthed kisses and biting, arching and pressing your breasts further towards him.

His mouth pops off of them and he leans in, head over your shoulder as he fidgets with your bra clasp behind you. You turn your head as he fiddles with it and bury your face into his neck, inhaling deeply before kissing at it. He smells faintly of laundry detergent, but there's sweat and a slightly sweeter smell lingering on him, the sweeter smell hanging heavily in your nostrils and seemingly dripping at the back of your throat. It makes your head buzz a little and you pull away in a daze when he fails to unclasp your bra, your tits popping out of the thing when he pulls it down in frustration.

"What cologne do you wear?" You ask without really wanting to know right now, feeling your head spin after smelling at his neck.

"I'm not," he gasps, squeezing and pinching at your nipples freely now, and you throw your head back with a moan when he attaches at them with his mouth. He uses his tongue and teeth to alternate between nibbling and flicking at them with his tongue, paying attention to each side as he can. His penis is excitedly bumping against your thigh in his boxers and you kick your shorts off, groping at his bulge.

"Please," he says with need when he takes a break from your tits, and his hand now fumbles at his boxers. You see him pull his cock out from the hole in them and understand what he wants when he slides your panties aside, not bothering to remove them. His dick prods at you and his hips slowly move around, trying to find your entrance. Aroused and excited to feel him enter, you reach down to guide him in.

Then, you remember.

Groaning in annoyance, you gently begin pushing him off of you, "Tim, we have to use a condom. They're in my room."

He finally pulls off your tits with enough of your pushing, and he looks at you like he doesn't understand, a rabid look glinting in his eyes.

You smile, trying to make the best of it, "C'mon, it'll be more comfortable for us on the bed anyways."

Standing and realizing you feel uncharacteristically light-headed, you unsteadily make your way to your bedroom, feeling him grip at your hips while he follows. You apologize for the pornography still loudly streaming from your TV as you make your way to your dresser to get a condom, and his eyes quickly become glued to the visual stimulation, mouth opened slightly as he stared.

"Keep it on," he instructs when he notices you reach for the TV remote, "Keep it on and get over here."

You approach the bed where he sits on the end, and he opens the wrapper and pulls his boxers down to reveal his penis, hastily rolling the condom onto his length. The sensation of doing so seems to be much more stimulating to him than you thought it would, and he moans and whimpers as he pulls it all the way down. Once it's on, he grabs forward at your waist and yanks you down onto him, your breasts smashing against his face as you fall onto him. He's strong and you're letting him pull you around, straddling his lap and looking down at the needy man.

"Here," you say, reaching past him to grab your pillow and tuck it under his head, "There you go."

You smile down at him sweetly and he smiles back, kneading at your ass as you sit atop him. Leaning down to kiss him, you use a hand to reach down and guide his penis against your entry, pulling it to rub it up and down against you. His tip collects your aroused wetness and the movement become slippery as it slides with your lubrication. Just when you can tell he's getting antsy and about to whine, you guide it until you feel it at the tip of your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto it and his grip on your ass tightens until it's almost painful.

"Oh," He moans, deeply affected. His hips are still as you let him slowly penetrate you until you're full with him and there's no more room in you to sink down further, "Oh, god, you feel so good."

"How do I feel?" You ask in curiosity, looking at him as he seems dazed with the sensation of your pussy. A sudden thrust upwards into you makes you yelp, his hard penis harshly bumping against your cervix. His eyes are closed as he collects his words.

"You're so warm and fluttering around me," he says, and it's true. You feel yourself squeezing at him at the sight of him, his relief evident, "I've never felt so good; it's like you were meant to have me buried in you."

His words are spoken with conviction, and you're processing it all when he thrusts again. It still hurts, but less now. Your head is spinning, but you catch onto his new rhythm and begin lifting your hips up, forcefully pushing them down on him in time with his thrusts.

Pained but aroused moans spilling from your lips in time with each thrust, you realize your tits are bouncing around in his face with your fucking, swinging around wildly. His grip on your hips tightens impossibly and you see his biceps flex madly when his muscles take over, overriding your own rhythm and violently making you meet his thrusts. The moans from his own mouth gets louder until they're louder than yours, his pace quickening at the sight of your expression above him. You look fucked out and in pain and he relishes in it, knowing the sound of skin slapping against skin is his own doing. He grits his teeth and pulls you all the way down on his length like you were when you got on top at first, shooting his orgasm into the condom but envisioning it shooting straight into your womb.

You hiss in some pain at this large and painful thrust, moaning at the distant feeling of his dick twitching in you. The base of his cock is nestled at your entrance and you feel the entire length of it throbbing in your hot pussy as he takes his time to finish.

"You haven't cum," he says through heavy breaths as he comes down and you know he isn't asking but stating his observation.

"It's still really hot," you admit, "I like how it feels when you cum in me."

Staring up at you, he brings his hands up to your ass again and lifts his hips to inch the both of you towards the head of the bed, reaching towards the bedside dresser and grabbing one of your vibrators, handing it to you. You're still impaled on him and gasp at the sensation of him jerking you forward with him on his dick. Now kneading rhythmically at your tits, he pulls at them like he was milking you, "Cum on my cock."

Wide-eyed, you realize he's perceptive and has noticed your vibrators when you came in.

His gaze is drinking you in, eyes less wild as he stares. When you hesitate, he takes the vibrator from your fingers and turns it on, placing it against your clit as you sit on him. You're impressed he knows where the clit is and you jump at the sensation of the vibrator bumping against it, feeling him thrust up with an overstimulated whimper when you jump.

"Tim," you gasp, "doesn't that hurt?"

"Don't worry about it," he hisses through gritted teeth, "I need to feel you cum on my cock."

So you focus on finding your orgasm, hyperaware of the hard rod resting in your secret place, tracing the sex toy along places near your clitoris and moaning in pleasure as you play with yourself. He whimpers every time you squeeze on him and you squeeze on him any time you find pleasure near your clit. His hands return to milking your tits and you remember that his condom is full of his cum, sloshing around deep inside you and pressing against your cervix. The fear of the condom breaking suddenly rushes you to your first orgasm and you gasp his name, feeling him twitch deep inside you as you repeat his name helplessly in your climax. He strains upwards and his lips catch a nipple, sucking harshly as you begin to come down.

"Keep it there," he growls when you begin to pull your vibrator away, "We're not going anywhere until you cum again."

"Tim," you whimper, "I can't."

"I know you can," he says, thrusting upwards experimentally. The movement makes the vibrator bump against your clit and you squeeze down on him at your own overstimulation, making him groan. He slowly and determinedly begins thrusting into you again, small tears forming in his eyes at the overstimuation.

His stubborn insistence on chasing your second high even though you're both beyond the edge only makes you more aroused and you rut against him. He's not thrusting fully, but more so bumping against your cervix in small movements and you're fraught with a visual of the full condom sloshing around. You wonder if he will cum again into it, if it will become so full with his semen it bursts inside you. This thought along with his steady breast kneading causes the knot to quickly build up in your cunt until it comes undone again, and your second orgasm hits in a fray of overstimulation and whimpering.

"There you go," he coos, legs underneath you twitching at your pulsing movements, "There you go, you did so well. You did so good for me, baby...you were meant for it."

You shudder at the sweet tone, being pulled down for a long kiss. His chest is sweaty, the space in between the bottom of your thighs and the tops of his is slick, and you're gasping against his neck when he holds you. The two of you spend a while in that embrace, regaining your breaths and recovering from the intense session. Your head rests against his collarbone until you stir, slowly lifting yourself off him and breathing through the feeling of his cock sliding out of you. When it's fully out, you collapse next to him on the bed, bringing a leg up to wrap around his as you both take a breather.

You know you told him it was no commitment, no feelings, no drama, but you can't deny yourself a cuddle session after sex regardless. He doesn't speak, but the silence is comfortable as you rest your head against the crook of his chest and side. The atmosphere in the room shifts subtly as the distant sounds of the television fade into the background, replaced by the incessant chirping of Tim's phone.

You can't help but notice the growing urgency in Tim's demeanor as he glances at his device, a furrow forming on his brow. Despite your reluctance, he rises from the bed, his movements hesitant yet determined.

Sitting up despite your whines of protest, Tim looks at his device in concern and reluctance, "I have to take this."

Your initial protest dies on your lips as you watch him leave the room, a knot of unease forming in the pit of your stomach. What could possibly be so pressing at this hour? The uncertainty gnaws at you, feeding into the growing sense of unease.

As you strain to make out the muffled voices from the other room, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. The once familiar sounds of Tim's voice now carry an edge of tension, each word laced with frustration and urgency. It's a stark contrast to the comfortable silence you shared moments ago.

Your heart sinks further as Tim returns, his expression weighed down by an unspoken burden. The air between you feels heavy with anticipation, as if bracing for the inevitable.

"What's wrong?" you venture cautiously, already dreading the answer.

Tim's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he meets your eyes, his voice heavy with apology, "I'm really sorry, but something came up. I have to go."

Your mind races, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in the atmosphere. What could possibly be so urgent? Despite your efforts to remain composed, a wave of insecurity washes over you. Did this mean you weren't important enough to prioritize?

"...Really?" you finally utter, your voice trembling slightly.

"Yes," he reluctantly confirms, a guilty expression on his face, "I'm very sorry, but I need to attend to this."

Wanting to protest but knowing it would be more frustration than it was worth, you nodded slowly at the news, "...Okay."

He starts for the door, ""I wish I could stay, but I really need to go. I'll make this up to you, I swear."

As Tim heads towards the front of your apartment to gather his belongings and dress, you follow behind, hastily pulling on your shirt as you move. Despite the turmoil swirling within, you're determined to maintain a façade of composure, refusing to let the tears welling up inside spill over. The uncertainty gnaws at you as you watch him prepare to leave, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. You desperately cling to the hope that something truly urgent has come up, unable to bear the thought of him simply walking away after the intimacy you shared. You wonder if you'll be able to face him at school after this, but the thought is so overwhelming to you that you just try to focus on the present moment.

You swallow hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you bid him farewell, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions. As the door clicks shut behind him, you're left standing alone in the hallway, grappling with the aftermath of his abrupt departure.

After a long moment, you decide that freshening up will probably help you feel better and you turn on heel to head towards the bathroom, the goal of brushing your teeth and washing your face the only thing you're ready to focus on in your sudden loneliness.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

@dakota-rain666 @tyga-stripes @obsessedwithromance

[beenbaanbuun]

the bed w/ jongho

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/friends to lovers

warnings - pure fluff, nothing else

“why are you in my bed,” jongho grumbles as he storms through his bedroom door

he kicks his shoes off, not paying any attention to where they land before crawling onto the bed himself

you’d spread yourself out in the centre of it, leaving very little space for your friend in his own bed

he makes do, though, throwing himself over your stomach and pinning you to the bed

you groan as he knocks the wind out of you, but all does is chuckle

“actually, scratch that,” he says as he tries his hardest to got comfortable, “what are you doing in my apartment? you don’t have a key.”

he finds it hard to find a good spot to lay since there’s a literal body beneath him, so instead he sits up and tries his hardest to shove you to the side

you resist, but eventually roll over when his finger pokes a particularly ticklish spot in your side

he goes to get comfy, making sure to pull one of his pillows free from beneath your head and put it beneath his own

you punch his arm as payment; it doesn’t hurt him, he just laughs

“found your spare key under your doormat,” you say as if it’s as simple as that, “you need to find a better place to hide that, by the way.”

he repeats your words in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner

“sure, but why are you in my bed?”

“it’s comfier than mine,” you shrug, laughing at the exasperated sigh he gives you, “besides, it’s not like you were using it while you were at work.”

“and maybe if you had a job you wouldn’t feel the need to come to my apartment and nap in my bed when you could be at work,” he teases

now it’s your turn to roll your eyes

you shove him slightly, in response to the poor taste joke, but he knows you’re not really mad

you never are when it comes to him…

something about the way he taunts you makes you light up inside

maybe it’s the way he giggles at you when you get annoyed, face lighting up in glee, or perhaps you just like it when he pays you attention

either way, you hope it never stops

“i’m trying to get a job,” you reply, seriousness lacing itself in your voice, “i had an interview this morning actually.”

he turns to look at you with surprise on his face

“you never told me,” he says with a minuscule pout, and you realise the shock on his face is more to do with the fact it was hidden from him than anything else

you look away, not wanting to force yourself into seeing the hurt that’s swimming in his eyes

all this over a job interview? weird, you think to yourself

“i wanted it to be a surprise if i got the job,” you mumble, “but i kind of fumbled so i don’t think i did.”

you’d never tell him, but it’s actually your disappointment at your own failure that led you to your best friend’s bed

the comfort it brought you to slide one of his hoodies over your head and surround yourself in the familiar scent of his bedding was better than the comfort you gained from anything else

the knowledge that jongho would be there soon to comfort you, unknowingly picking up the pieces of your shattered ego, was nice

his presence was your safe place, even when that presence was just the smell of him ingrained in his sheets

“you fumbled?” he clarifies, “how so?”

he opens his arms to invite you closer; it’s an opportunity you jump at, shuffling until you’re close enough for his arms to circle your body

“i kept answering their questions weirdly,” you say as you press your face into his chest, “but in my defence, their questions were dumb.”

he chuckles, and the sound rumbles through him

“you don’t need to defend yourself to me,” his voice sounds deeper when you hear it through his chest, “i know you’re trying your hardest.”

a hand comes into contact with the back of your head, gently patting at it as if he’s trying to soothe you

you almost tell him that you don’t need soothing, but the sensation is nice so you let him continue

“i am trying hard,” you sigh, “and i wish they could see that rather than just seeing all the stupid answers i give them! they probably think i have negative braincells…”

jongho can’t help but heartily laugh at that

he clutches onto you as the sound rings through the air, effectively pinning you to his body

you can’t help but be happy that he’s not one of those people that slap things when they laugh…

“i also think you have negative braincells,” he says through his giggles, “but that doesn’t stop me from thinking you’re a great person that’s worthy of employment.”

for what seems like the hundredth time, you hit his arm

“i got higher than you in school, dickwad!”

you only scored higher by a margin, but you still did better than him and therefore have eternal bragging - or in this case defending - rights

the playful arguing doesn’t go much further than that

in fact the two of you fall into a peaceful silence pretty quickly, the only sound that fills your brain is jongho’s heartbeat; strong and stable, just like he is

just likes he’s always been, actually, ever since the two of you were just kids playing in each other’s back yards

he tried to teach you football when you were both young, but ended up kicking the ball too hard and bruising your shin

even at the age of 7 he was so willing to comfort you in your time of need

you still see so much of that pudgy-faced boy in the man you know today

and then when he was a teenager you specifically remember him trying to teach you basketball

he had his arms wrapped around you as he positioned your hands correctly

when you shot your first basket without his help, he celebrated it like he’d just scored the winning basket for the team he played on

you still think about the way he picked you up and spun you around sometimes; it feels like such a special memory

you can’t help but smile as you let it play in your mind one more time

“what are you thinking about?” jongho asks

you shift your head so you can see his face, his big brown eyes meeting yours immediately

perhaps it’s the dimness of his bedside lamp, but you can’t help but appreciate how nice he looks right now

you’ve always known him to be attractive, but surely his lips haven’t always looked that soft, right?

“why do you want to know?” you respond quietly as you try and make sense of this new feeling that settles over you

well, perhaps it’s not new, but it’s certainly stronger

“i want to know everything about you,” he replies, no evidence of a joke on his face, “like what you’re thinking, or when you have a job interview.”

well, that’s targeted, you think to yourself

“i told you it was supposed to be a surprise if i passed!” you whine

he smiles slightly

“it would’ve been a great surprise,” he admits, “but i still can’t help but wish you’d told me! i would’ve gone with you for support.”

and he would’ve

one word from you and he’d have taken a day off work just to do anything in his power to help you

hell, you’re sure he would’ve gone into the interview with you if he could

you can’t help but giggle at the idea of him standing behind you like a bouncer, arms folded threateningly as the interviewers fumble through their dumb questions

“your support would’ve been greatly appreciated,” you say

he hums an agreement

“this is why you tell your jongho things, okay?” he teases

you pause

“my jongho?”

“who else’s would i be?”

you shrug

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i just thought such a title would go to a girlfriend or something…”

you feel your face heat up at your own words

perhaps it’s the connotations that come with it; a title that should’ve gone to his future girlfriend has gone to you instead

why is that thought making your heart beat so fast?

“i mean maybe one day it will,” he says, “but only if you say yes.”

your mind goes blank

what does he mean by that?

“because if you don’t then my plans will be kind of fucked, you know?” you don’t know. you don’t know anything at all, “like what’s going to happen if you say no and things get awkward? who will i take on my family’s spring vacation then?”

“huh?”

that’s all you can say

because his words make sense in your mind, but none of it makes sense in concept, except it also kind of does

but then the notion of it all is making butterflies erupt in your stomach, which also doesn’t make sense because why?

“do i have to spell it out for you, my little dummy?” he smiles, a familiar fondness in his eyes, “i’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

and that’s when it all dawns on you

the reason you feel closer to him than anyone else

the reason you want him to be the first to know everything

the reason why you always try so hard to impress him

you’re in love with him, and you have been for quite a long time, it seems

perhaps it was the basketball incident that set this proverbial train in motion; you distinctly remember feeling butterflies then

although at the time you had put it down to just feeling nervous about impressing jongho, even that excuse points in the direction of love

holy fuck

“hello?” he waves a hand in front of your face, “anyone in there? or am i just going to have to assume it’s a no-”

“no!” you cut him off, eyes going wide, “i mean yes. no to saying no, yes to your question… the girlfriend question.”

a wide toothy grin forms on his face, one of the ones that shows his gums and makes his nose scrunch up in the cutest way

oh god, have you always been down this horrifically bad for him?

“god you’re cute,” he says with happiness evident in his voice

it’s funny; you were about to tell him the same thing

[boredsupergirl]

Rick making you a pair of portal panties and fucking you at any point whenever he wants 😘 in a store, on the couch watching tv, in the kitchen making fod, ect. And he leaves you shaking everytime 😍😍

It was a little torturous for you. Whether it was feeling his fingers in your core, stretching you pleasurably as you stood on your kitchen counter finishing off whatever you were doing at the moment. In reality, the portal was always meant to embarrass you, since a remote-controlled vibrator wasn't enough, he wanted to be responsible for your moans wherever you were. So when you feel a desperate feeling in your stomach that wants to be released, followed by the brush of Rick's hand over your sex, you know it's because he's playing with you. When in public you have to bite your lip to keep from letting out an involuntary moan as you feel the pain and pleasure mixed inside you, you feel the sensation is tremendously overwhelming, so much so that when you stand up from your seat you can experience your legs shaking and you pretend that nothing is happening while people look at you strangely. For him, it's not enough to just show up wherever you are and fuck you, it's actually too basic for him, I mean, he's the smartest man, he has to take risks and he needs to let you know that you're him to use at any time, so taking you off guard was the best way to teach you. The way you're always willing to him made him prefer you over any alien or at least that's what he told you once he came to your house and you looked at him with those judging eyes while breathing heavily after having the best orgasm of your life. But when you feel his cock penetrating you deeply at any random time of the day, you decided to keep believing his nice words that he keeps especially for you in those situations when you acted so desperate for him. The way you covered your mouth in a random public bathroom to avoid the person outside finding out what you're doing and getting into trouble, was something you could never stop. It was addictive, the days you wore those panties you were always constantly overstimulated, wanting physical sexual contact with him at any stimulus or thought you could have. Not even your fingers could compare to his fucking you while you were shopping at a store, he could use you however he wanted, wherever he wanted, and whenever he chose appropriate. Maybe the times you felt his tongue moistening you perfectly were the hardest times to fake, but you didn’t care anymore. It was the best gift he had ever given you.

[k-hotchoisan]

In honour of you getting 500 followers(congratulations🥳🥳🥳🥳),

Can you no.20 from your masterlist, pretty please?

20. Send dirty videos to Yeosang or Receive audio porn from Mingi?

You KNOW I have a voice thing, let alone for mf SONG mINGI. Just thinking about what kind of sounds he makes…. hMMMM OKAY. 😔✊🏻

Where you’re wondering why your bestie is replying you at erratic intervals, until a voice message pops up that pretty much changes the trajectory of the night.

Genre/Content warnings: smut, audio porn mingi, masturbation, orgasms, dirty talk, mingi that’s enough moans mingi please

Tag list: @bro-atz, @diamond-3

You don’t know why Mingi has this whack ass habit of spamming you messages and replying at once and then, suddenly he just stops.

And then his replies just becomes erratic, sometimes it’s just full of typos, as if he’s in a rush. You could never figure it out. But you never bothered to dig deeper into it, deciding to leave it as it is.

That is, until that one audio message he sends you that one night when you and your friend group were on vacation. The worst part is that he never even addressed it after that.

That night when he was back with his strange texting habits again even though your rooms weren’t even far apart in the vacay house, you were about to just ignore his message and head to sleep, until the status under his contact name changes to “…is recording a voice message”. You furrow your eyebrows, maybe he was tired of filling his texts with funny typos.

The only problem was that the audio message took a little over seven minutes to record and you’re wondering what the hell does he have to say that’s seven minutes long.

Then it sends.

You absentmindedly tap play.

The audio starts off silent, then a few seconds later, you hear what it sounds like is squelching. You lower the volume slightly, and fit the speaker at your ear to try to get what’s even going on.

“Fuck. Oh god. Oh my fucking god”.

It doesn’t take more than a second for you to realise what it was.

And then he fucking moans. One that sounds so desperate and then jumps up in octave, accompanied by more wet sounds.

“God, fuck”, he whines. “Ugnf- god I wanna fuck your fucking pussy so bad, y/n.”

You blink. Wait, what?

“A-ah…” and it sounds like he fucked his hand to a sensitive sensation. Then another whine. “Ughh… so good. Fuck me.”

You feel your face flush. It’s as if he’s right at your fucking ear, in a moaning mess just fucking his hand as his cock leaks more precum to lube up his dick.

It goes on for another couple of minutes, a ton of pussy leaking sounding moans, as he tries to reach his orgasm, and a lot of your name being moaned in between.

“Y/n, fuck. Let me beg for your pussy. Ngh, please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I wanna fit my whole cock into her pussy so fucking bad. Wanna make sure she feels just as good as I do, oh fuck.”

He gasps when he feels the knot tightening in his stomach, and you hear it loud and clear.

“Feels amazing. Shit, I think I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum so much…”

“Fuck! I’m cumming. fuckkkkkkkk!”

And his cries as his orgasm drags on, and you never would have thought he sounded so fucking sexy when he cries. His cock only sounds even wetter and wetter. You’re imagining it now being just full of his cum—thick and all lubed up.

“Oh my god, fuck it’s so much. So much cum. Fuck, imagine it’s all in you”, he whimpers.

You rise from your bed, doing your best to ignore how fucking soaked your cunt and underwear was. You storm over to his room, rapping on the door. It takes him a couple of seconds to answer, and when he does, he’s shirtless, and only in his underwear.

You don’t even greet him, pulling up your phone and point to the audio message he sends you. Mingi raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

Until you play the audio recording and his eyes blow wide open, and he snatches your phone from your hands. You still have your arms crossed.

“Shit, it got recorded?!” Mingi exclaims even though he’s staring right at the recording he sent. Damn, looks like his little crush on you has been exposed in the wildest way he could ever imagine.

“Fucking take responsibility”, you mumble, pushing him further into his room before shutting the door behind you.

And now, Mingi’s eyes are staring at you in awe when you push him onto his bed and straddle his lap. That night, Mingi’s voice isn’t the only thing that bounces off the walls.

Well at least now you know why he can’t seem to type for shit.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Shinichiro X Fem Reader

That is another fan request I had written for a patreon member! I've never watched Tokyo Revengers but I hope I did the character justice. Enjoyy

Summary: Shinichiro was terrible with women and the people around him knew it to. So, naturally, they hired him a stripper

“I know your nervous, but you can relax a bit. I’ll take very good care of you~”

Shinichiro gulped, his heart somehow pounding even louder as you- the stripper that was hired by his friends as they were tired of seeing him get rejected by so many women- leaned closer to him, gripping onto his thigh tighter. He flinched at the contact, trying to remember the last time he got so close to a woman as stunning as you.

Fuck. Was he going to survive this?

He was nervous. So so so so nervous. He once again considered calling his gang and asking them to cancel the plan they made for him but he once again stopped himself. He must have looked really pathetic to his men if they resorted to…well…this. He knew he wasn’t the best with girls, but he wasn’t that bad, right?

…moving on.

Turns out his friends knew him better than he expected as you were exactly his type and he didn’t know what to do with himself when he looked at you. Your beautiful body, your gorgeous skin and hair, those mesmerising eyes… Maybe he was trying too hard to not look down at your chest.

With the way you were leaning against him, your bra clad tits were swinging in front of him, your voluptuous and sinful body making him go red in the face even if he was fixing his eyes against your face. You had walked into the shop confidently, the only people in there for the day being the two of you and had requested him to set up the lights and music as you got ready. Ten minutes later, you walked back into the room wearing a sinfully sexy piece of lingerie in his favourite colour. The bra and panties were hugging your curves wonderfully, a tad bit tight so it pressed against your flesh and made your breasts and butt pop out all the more.

He gasped as you suddenly crawled onto his lap, his mind barely processing the mood music and lights that all enhanced your act. His hands instinctively went to your waist and that alone got his cock to jump in his pants. Shinichiro swore he almost had a heart attack as you straddled him, your legs on either side of him.

“Is this your first time?” you asked him, a cheeky smile on your face.

“Y-Yeah…” he responded, his face flushing now in embarrassment, “Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry.” You said sweetly, bringing your hand up to caress his cheek, “In my line of business, half of my customers are virgins. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just try to relax and enjoy.”

With a teasing grin, you grabbed his hands before gently pulling them forward and placing his palms on your butt.

Shinichiro’s cock immediately hardened.

You giggled as you felt his erection against you, placing your hands on his shoulders before you started to move your hips. The man gasped as he felt the sensation of your clothes cunt pushing against his cock, the sensation feeling heavenly even through his pants. If this was enough to get his balls throbbing- he could only imagine how much better your…your…

His fingers tightened on your ass as his body tensed from his imagination getting the better of him. He swore as his fingers sunk into your ample flesh, his brain finally processing that he was grabbing and groping a beautiful woman’s butt. You had a smile on your face, your giggles like music to his ears. It must be a huge ego boost to turn him into the blubbering mess he is. He threw his head back as you ground against him more incessantly, your body moving in time with the music playing in the background. But he quickly snapped his head back down, reminding himself that he shouldn’t miss a single thing. His dreams were finally coming true!

The panties were pressed wonderfully against your pussy, the lace so snug between you lower lips that his mouth watered with need, wanting nothing more but to slide the fabric aside and see you bare but he held himself back. He needed to enjoy himself to the fullest.

The lighting that was set up gradually started to change colours, shifting from red to pink to orange- all of which you looked absolutely divine in. He grasped your butt tighter, heart pounding as you continued to grind against him and he was able to feel your muscles move underneath his touch. It was an amazing feeling to grasp and hold somebody else without murderous intent.

“Fuck yeah~” he moaned, his cock completely hard and straining against his pants, “You got such a nice fucking ass.”

“You like it?” you asked like that was a question that needed answering, “You can be rougher~ Go on, give me a spank~”

Gritting his teeth to prevent himself from panting like a dog and completely acting like a fool, he took your advice and lifted his palm up. Taking a deep breath, he swung it down and gave you a sharp spank. His hand collided with your perky butt, the crack quite soft as he was holding himself back, not wanting to hurt you with his strength accidentally.

But apparently, that was what you wanted.

“Mmmph- harder~” you moaned out, tossing your head back as you started to pop your hip, twerking against him, “Spank me harder! I can take it.”

“A-Are you- ah- sure?”

“Positive~”

So he did it again, this time with considerably more force and the squeal you let out from the contact almost made him cum in his pants. Without realising it himself, he started spanking you in time with the beat, the song being considerably slow, so each time he smacked your beautiful behind and copped a feel, it also helped you along with moving with the music.

You eventually surged forward a bit, teasingly shaking your breasts right in front of his face as your hips moved side to side, clothed pussy still griding on him. His nose pressed against your soft chest, his warm breath fanning against you as his eyes trailed to your deep cleavage and the oily glean shining off of you. You gradually pushed forward even more and he happily pushed his face in between your tits. He could feel your groan through your breasts, the man in heaven as his face was squished between your soft, beautiful globes. He shook his head from side to side, having always wanted to motorboat a beautiful babe after seeing it happen so many times in pornography- and he was happy to conclude that it felt as amazing as it looked.

But just as quickly as he received the pleasure, it was taken away from him in a flash. He gasped, mouth open and wanting as you suddenly got up from his lap. He saw the way your eyes trailed down to his crotch, licking your lips as you gazed at his obvious erection. But without saying anything and your body still swaying in time with the music, you rolled your hips and turned away from him, giving him a view of your back.

Shinichiro took deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself as he watched you dance, his eyes homed in on you and he needed to remind himself to blink. His breath got caught in his throat as he watched your arms go towards your back, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder as you swiftly unbuckled your bra. Mouth-watering, he watched as you slowly and sensually started pulling the bra off of you, straps sliding down the soft skin of your arms before it dropped to the ground.

You still faced away from him, your bare back glistening under the changing lights. It drove him crazy to know that your bare breasts were out but you were teasing him, not allowing him to look at you just yet.

“Want more?” you asked, a tilt in your tone.

“Please.” He begged and he couldn’t help but chuckle. There were a lot of people out there who’d never imagine him to be someone to beg.

“Well, since you asked so nicely~”

You slid your hands over your body, gliding it over your waist and hips before you paused at the waistband of your panties. He watched with bated breath as you slipped your thumb into your underwear, still shaking your hips in time with the music which had turned a little bit slower. Shinichiro bit his lower lip as you slowly, slowly started pulling it down. He gripped the armrest of his sofa tightly, fingers digging into the fabric as peeks of your ass was revealed to him. You were being a tease, occasionally pulling it back up before pushing it down again, delaying the reward of your beautiful ass.

But finally, finally, you pushed your panties off, your butt having a slight jiggle once you slid it down. Shinichiro put his closed fist against his mouth, biting down on his skin to prevent himself from making noises that were unsightly for a man of his reputation. You bent down to push the panties down your leg but to torture him even more, you slipped a hand between your legs to cup your pussy, covering yourself up so he couldn’t see your cunt as you bent over in front of him. But, he did see your pretty asshole wink at him before you stood up and he needed a few seconds to process what you were saying to him after seeing a brief glimpse into heaven.

“For you~” you said, still facing away from him as you tossed your panties onto his lap, Shinichiro blinking a few times before he picked up the soft fabric and swiftly pocketed it, his brain working slower from overload. You were naked. Completely naked. There was a sexy naked woman in the middle of his shop. Your tits were out. Your pussy was out. Your sweet, spankable ass that was a light shade of red due to his spanking was staring right at him and he was afraid to blink lest he missed something.

“I always love seeing that expression~” you said, bringing your hands to the part where your thighs meet your butt, cupping your cheeks from below before you started jumping it up and down, your flesh jiggled lewdly, your butt large enough to hide your privates but he knew he was only minutes away from seeing all of you.

…Hopefully.

“Slack jawed and so, so horny for me. It’s the best!” You continued, shaking your legs so your ass cheeks clapped together, Shinichiro groaning from the sight and sound.

“Fuck me-“ he gasped, finally, remembering how words worked, “you’re driving me crazy!”

“Good~” you responded, smacking your own ass with one sharp hit, “Ready to see more?”

“Please-“ Shinichiro begged, “I need it- I need you.”

“Wonderful.”

Finally, your hips rolling with the sound of the music, you turned around to face him and Shinichiro had to remember how to breathe. Your tits were perfect- the perfect size and shape with pretty nipples that had already hardened. He knew your breasts were amazing from the brief motorboating he did but this- this was beyond imagination. His mouth watered as he stared at your nipples, wanting nothing more but to take them in between his lips and suckle. He wondered if he could get you to lactate…

His eyes slowly but surely wandered down more, his heart pounding so loud in his chest and his cock so hard it was starting to hurt him. Oh. Oh yes.

A pussy.

The first ever pussy he’d seen in real life.

And she was perfect.

He leaned forward to get a better look, his mouth open and panting as he stared at your cunt. So cute and pretty with puffy pussy lips- oh- he could see your wetness from here and he was glad he got you turned on just from his presence. His hands reached up instinctively and grasped your hips, grateful that you allowed him to touch you as he pulled you closer…and closer…

Oh, he was eye to eye with your cunt, so close that he could feel your body heat fan his face. He took in every nook and cranny of your beautiful cunt before he leaned forward, ready to give her a sweet kiss-

When you suddenly fisted locks of his hair before pulling it harshly, making his head snap back (he may or may not have moaned from the pain). “Fuck- you-“ he cursed, practically foaming at the mouth as you once again teased him, feeling his patience crumble. He was so close! So close to feeling that sweet kitty against his lips and you- “Well, since I showed you mine, I think it’s only fair that you show me yours, no?” you asked, tugging on his hair tighter, “Isn’t your poor cock hurting?” “…Fuck. Get him out then.” Shinichiro demanded, feeling a bit more confident as his horny brain took over. He spread his legs wider, lifting his shirt up a bit to show off his erection while also giving you a peek at his toned body.

“Somebody’s feeling it, hmm?” you asked, letting go of his hair so you could sit on his lap again, keeping a bit of distance so your hands could comfortably slide between your bodies to reach his cock, “But I like it. Here, have a treat for being such a good, patient boy for me~”

Shinichiro groaned in happiness as you pushed your chest against his face again but this time, he was waiting with a wide, open mouth. He moaned against you as he felt your nipple against his tongue, taking in as much boob as he could, gently pressing his lips against your soft skin. He closed his eyes and enjoyed himself as he got to suckle on your breast, sucking you in like he was trying to eat you. His other hand came up and grabbed your other tit, eyes rolling to the back of his head at how soft and wonderful you felt against his palm. He’d always dreamed of this moment but he could never fathom just how incredible tits felt.

You bit down a moan as the man mouthed at your breast like a horny beast, slobbering over you like you were his last meal. He had little technique but his enthusiasm made up for it, the harsh suckles he was giving your nipples, making your back arc. While you were a stripper by profession, his friend paid you a lot, lot more to take Shinichiro’s virginity which was why you were allowing him to touch you in ways your regular clients wouldn’t be able to.

Speaking of which, your hands finally undid the straps of his sweatpants and you grabbed it, along with the waistband of his underwear and pulled down. His hard, aching cock sprung out in full force and you couldn’t help but gasp. How is this man, which a cock so big and looks so handsome, a virgin? How were women not begging to be fucked by him on the daily? His dick stood at attention, his angry red tip leaking out so much precum it was dripping down his thick shaft. His balls were big and full, throbbing with need, ready to unload.

You tried to pull away a bit but Shinichiro followed your body, refusing to separate his mouth from your breast. You allowed him to suckle a bit more before you once again grabbed him by the hair, pulling him away from you. The man was a mess, his face red and his pink, a string of saliva breaking between the two of you.

“Why’d you stop me?” he growled, a hungry look in his eyes, “I want more!”

“I’m sure you do,” you said, trailing a finger from your other hand across his jaw and gasping as you felt his whole-body shiver underneath you, “But wouldn’t you want to play with…something else?”

Hand still in his hair, you used the grip to move his head down, making him look at his own lap. The man’s eyes widened before clouding over in desire and you swore, you could pin-point the moment he was lost to his lust. His dick was out and throbbing and right against it, so tantalisingly close- was your pussy. Seeing her while you were standing up was nothing in comparison to your flower being spread wide open for him to gaze at every nook and cranny. You pushed your knees apart wider so he could get a better look at the beautiful colour of your cunt, your pulsing hole just begging to be filled, your slick, wet walls and of course, your adorable clit at the top.

 His hands trembled as he slid them down your body, over your waist, your hips, landing on your thighs before one of them moved to your cunt. He took a deep breath in, eyes widening as his fingers gently touched your pussy before greedily sliding between your lower lips. The moan you let out was heavenly, Shinichiro using two fingers to spread your lips apart even more to give him a better view. Oh. You were so perfect.

He couldn’t help but slip a finger inside of you and he gasped at how easy it was, his digit pushing in with no resistance thanks to how much your hole was leaking for him. His other hand joined him at your cunt, his thumb gently pressing against your clit. You twitched underneath him, feeling so hot at how eagerly he was toying with you, studying your pussy like he was preparing for an exam. He pushed up the hood of your clit gently, his mouth watering as your sensitive bud peeked out even more.

He could barely process your hand on his cock, little gasps escaping his lips, his mind overstimulated as his body twitched from the pleasure. You stroked him perfectly, the touch of a hand that wasn’t his own feeling incredible. You licked your lips as you jerked him off, paying special attention to the head where he seemed to be especially sensitive.

“Wanna become a man?” you asked hungrily, moving in closer to him. You pressed your chest against his, spreading your legs even wider as your faces almost touched, your nose gently rubbing against his, “Wanna fuck my pussy?”

“Y-Your- oh God-“ Shinichiro gasped, mind getting pushed into overstimulation. It was all so much he didn’t know how to handle it. Your body- your voice- to touch you- to lick you- to- to feel your pussy press against his cock! He could feel your wetness against his sensitive member- your warmth- the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance- he couldn’t take it anymore!”

“Fuck!!” With a loud cry, tossing his head back against the sofa, Shinichiro experienced the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had in his life. His balls clenched as he basically came untouched, his tip spurting out ropes of cum that all splashed against your opening. His toes curled and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, the pleasure hitting him like a truck.

“Oh my.” you said once he started to calm down, giggling at the sticky sensation of his seed staining your bottom half.

“S-Sorry- oh fuck-“ Shinichiro cursed, still cumming, little spurts leaving his tip, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t be sorry.” You consoled before he got down on himself, giving him a sweet kiss to the cheek, “It’s perfectly fine. Would you like to stop or continue?”

“Continue!” he said quickly, his dick still hard even though he just came. There was no way in hell he was stopping here.

“That’s my boy~”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Want a chance for me to write your prompt or just read many other stories i've written? Consider checking out my Patreon! (Link in bio)

[orcasoul]

Din Djarin Headcanons:

Touch Starved Din

Warnings: None, just fluff

A/N: Our poor tin can man is so deprived of human touch it breaks my heart. He deserves some love and affection xxx

Word Count: 900

It started so unexpectedly. The odd, accidental brush of an arm or leg while passing each other in the confined areas of the Razor Crest, the delicate meeting of fingertips when passing Grogu back and forth, the playful shove you would give him when he accidentally startles you as he quietly approaches from behind. He'd spent most of his life honing his skills as a Mandalorian, and after years of stealthily hunting people down, approaching quietly is second nature to Din.

He doesn't do it on purpose, but if it means more personal contact with you, then it's definitely worth it. Din can't remember the last time someone had touched him - not counting the physical altercations with bounties or enemies - until you came along. He hadn't realised just how much he needed the soothing tenderness of your touch, something warm and natural.

It had awakened a deep and dormant longing within him, and he'd noticed that the more comfortable you became around him, the more intimate those moments became. Weather it be his hand finding the small of your back in crowded places, or your hand, gently squeezing his shoulder when you bid him goodnight. Din had come to yearn for your touch.

Even through the worn leather of his gloves and the thickness of his flight suit, the warmth of your being would find it's way into his pores, spreading throughout his limbs and filling him with a sense of serenity he rarely experienced. You are like a drug to him. The more he has, the more he wants, needs, craves!

That's why when the faulty wires he was fiddling with zapped him and burned through his glove, he made no attempt to stop you as you removed his glove to inspect the burn. Din's breath gets stuck in his chest as his brain registers the feel of your skin against his for the first time.

Your hands are soft, so soft, skin like velvet, holding his much larger and calloused hand so delicately while applying a bacta patch over the charred area. Thank the maker for his helmet, lest you see how his eyes slowly close in contentment at your attentive ministrations. How can just a simple touch have such an affect on him?

But then again, it's not just a simple touch, it's your touch. Something sacred to him, something that is uniquely you in every way. It grounds him, unsettles him, calms him, frightens him all at once. He can't make any sense of it. Din's eyes open at the sensation of your fingers slipping inside his open palm and your thumb, slowly and ever so lightly caressing the back of his hand, a 'There all better,' whispered lovingly.

That's when he sees it. The longing in your eyes, the small smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth while you maintain a gentle grip of his hand. Maybe you need to feel him too? There's very little Din knows about your past, never pushing for more information than you're willing to divulge. But from what he's been able to piece together, it hasn't been a happy one, and maybe all this time you've been longing for human contact as much as he has.

Din's heart thumps against his rib cage, uncertainty taking root in the pit of his stomach. This is new territory for you both. There is an undeniable shift in the air, thrumming with anticipation. Your other hand reaches for his still gloved one, bringing it to rest next to the other already in your lap, eyes asking a silent 'can I?'

Din swallows thickly, answering with a slow nod. With a reassuring smile, you pull off the remaining glove and place it by your feet. He tries his best to control his nerves as your soft palms and slender fingers continue to explore his hands, tracing over scars that stand out slightly paler against the rich tan of his skin.

Without even realising it, his hands have begun to stroke yours. He marvels at how much smaller they are than his, so delicate looking, fitting so perfectly inside his own. He languidly slides his hands along your wrists and up to your elbows, his entire body alive with electricity and want. Your closed eyes and faint sigh is enough of an indicator for him to continue.

His fingers tremble, slightly as he works his way up to your forearms, then to your shoulders, stopping at the base of your neck. Your next move almost causes Din's heart to stop, as you calmly take a hold of both of his hands and bring them to cup your cheeks, leaning your face to the side so your lips are brushing against his fingers. He could die right now and he'd be a happy man!

He wants you to know how much you've come to mean to him, but words were never his strong point, so he'll show you instead. With a feather light hold on your face he gingerly pulls you to met him halfway as he lowers his helmet, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

Din had once explained what this gesture means in Mandalorian culture, and the fact that you are now returning that gesture confirms what he had begun to hope; That you want him as much as he wants you. Foreheads still joined together, Din whispers "My Cyare."

[dollwrites]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, noncon ( and eventual dubcon ), virgin!reiner, gagging, size kink, noncon oral sex ( f! ), lots of manhandling, overstimulation ( him ), noncon creampie and dubcon breeding mention, tension between marleyan & eldian obviously, spoilers for late s3 / early s4, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.01.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ unholy by hey violet

he was watching you again.

it seemed like he always was. quietly ogling from the corner. you knew, of course, and every now and then, you would cut him a glare that seemed to burn right through him. the furrow in your brows brought forth the memory of a soreness in his jaw, that he discreetly reached up to rub with the back of his hand— the sensation of your fist making direct contact with it wrenched to the forefront of his mind. you’d decked him, hard enough to dislocate it, because you’d woken up to find one hand inching up under your shirt. he hadn’t been able to control the urge to touch you any longer, and although his fingers had not made it far above your belly button, he’d paid for their misdeeds severely: first the punch from you, and then a savage beating dealt from the hands of your peers— Marleyan soldiers.

but maybe he was lucky.

had he been any other Eldian, anyone of lower ranking, he would’ve been beaten to death for touching you. but did that stop him from wanting you so bad it tortured him? did that stop him from thinking about you late at night, from gripping the sheets of his bed so tight in one hand and himself in the other, whispering your name under his breath and trying his best to imagine it was you wrapped around his hard and desperate cock instead of his fist?

not even for a second.

“Going home,” Zeke announced his presence as he approached, the cherry of a cigarette burning and a dull, gray trail of smoke following him, “are you excited?”

“Yeah.” a pathetic excuse for a reply, actually, but Zeke hadn’t seemed to expect any less. he didn’t bother following Reiner’s eyeline, he already knew where it would lead, and that you were on the end of it. Reiner hadn’t even looked away when Zeke approached, so the War Chief was aware he was deep in his hapless abyss of desire for you.

Zeke sucks on the cigarette, and the end singes furious red as he draws in a deep breath and contemplates the silence between them.

but Reiner wasn’t. he was lost in his thoughts of you. the shape of your body, how effortlessly enticing you were just sitting there with your comrades. that damned unreadable expression you always wore— and that fiery hatred in your eyes when he caught them. did you loathe the weight of his gaze so much? did you feel every ounce of lust he poured into it, tracing each curve of your figure, wishing he could kiss every inch of you? you never held his gaze long, just enough to grimace in disapproval, stare down your nose at him.

it should’ve turned him off completely.

it didn’t.

because Reiner was convinced that, if he could just get you alone, if he could just get his hands on you, he could make you like him. he could rip away that hatred, and replace it with affection.

or, maybe it was just wishful thinking, and he didn’t care to talk himself out of the lie he fed himself because his time was running out and he needed to feel you ( even just once ) before he passed his Titan down.

as if fate was winking her eye at him, you said farewell to your peers and got up from your seat, disappearing behind a closed door. it wasn’t to go to the bunker, he knew that. behind that door was a small room where you spent most of your time— a broad desk in the middle of the room and maps spread out. you were in charge of reading them, marking attack points, rendezvous, and escape points.

and, more often than not, you were alone in there.

Reiner’s hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Zeke glanced at him, eyebrow quirked, and murmured, “What if I ordered you against it?” Reiner didn’t have to tell Zeke what he planned to do, it was painfully obvious already.

“I would tell you to have me punished for insubordination after we reach home.” Reiner didn’t mince words or intentions, and pushed himself off the wall. this was, quite possibly, the only opportunity he’d have to catch you alone, as he watched the other Marleyans filtering towards their bunks, leaving your little office completely unguarded.

Zeke pondered his response.

Reiner seemed decided already, and he knew that he couldn’t be swayed. so, the chief sighs. “Then, I’ll order you not to get caught this time.” Zeke said, instead. he knew he shouldn’t allow Reiner out of his sight, and especially not to disappear behind that door, but Reiner also wasn’t a child anymore. he wasn’t so easy to control. “I need my Vice Chief alive.”

Reiner blinked, expecting more resistance, but when it wasn’t pressed, he didn’t look at Zeke. he nodded, and crept off, slinking through the shadowy corners until he reached the door.

Reiner slipped inside, but made no real efforts to hide his arrival, staring at your back. you were standing at the desk, both hands on the maps, and you don’t say anything to the intruder. his eyes don’t leave you, hand drifting to the push the lock on the door into place.

“The war’s over.” he mutters, and he watches your shoulders stiffen. you hadn’t expected it to be him, it seems. “You can stop staring at those maps.”

you don’t look back at him, and he uses the opportunity of stealth to reach up and grasp his armband, his marker as an Eldian, and snatch it from his bicep as he approached.

“As long as Eldians exist, there will be other wars.” you spit in return, but your eyes widen only slightly when you hear how close his footsteps have gotten. your heart skips a beat, and you stare at your own fist on the table. “Get out of here.”

“No.”

a lump forms in your throat— he was right behind you. when he whispered it, his breath shifted the hair that rested against your ear, and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. did he… did he say ‘no’? to a direct order from a Marleyan?

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” he added, and you felt the sturdiness of his body against your back; his head dips low, so he can breathe your scent in deep.

your fist flew back towards him as you started to turn to face off with him, but he must’ve been ready for it, because he caught your arm at the wrist and bent it up behind your back until you cry out, “Son of a —!”

your expletive is muffled, and you gag on the taste of cotton. for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s shoved in your mouth, until he cinches it in a tight knot behind your head, pressing his weight on you, and you realize it’s his armband. rage fills your stifled obscenities as you writhe, desperate to get free, and stomp your feet, hoping to catch his toes under your boots. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he growled in your ear, bringing his knees up into the back of yours, bending you over the tabletop with a rough shove. one, massive fist secures both of your wrists together at the small of your back, “but, I’m almost outta time. And I can’t wait on you to come around, anymore.” the more you wiggle, the harder he squeezes your arms, and you bite down hard on the gag. you were no match for his strength, and you knew that, but your pride wouldn’t be easily broken.

you kicked and flailed as wildly as you could, blindly, screaming slurred and incoherent about all the gruesome, bloody ways you would make him pay for this if he didn’t get off of you, but even that didn’t stop him.

his free hand grasped your belt and the hem of your trousers at once, jerking them down your thighs. leather screamed until it pools with your pants at your ankles, restricting them, and Reiner sucks in a breath behind you. “I really wanted to take my time with you,” he husks, placing his powerful palm on your ass and digging his fingers in, groping rough handfuls. you bite down to push a moan back into your throat, brows furrowed. both of your fists uncurl, and you hook your digits into the waistband of your panties, instead, in a vain attempt to keep him from tearing them off of you. it doesn’t matter; Reiner’s calloused fingers seemed to rip right through the cotton and shred them until they sagged in threads against your thighs. and then, he lets out a low, awed moan, squatting down to stare at your core, inches from it.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Imagined how sweet your pussy must taste?” you shook your head, gurgling in defiance— demanding he not even dare, but it was too late. your fingers push at his forehead, hoping to pry him away, but his mouth was already sealing against your netherlips, suckling on them. you pushed your tongue against the gag to keep yourself from moaning; you couldn’t admit to him how good it felt, especially when his tongue slipped between his lips and flicked your clit to life. the throbbing nerve swells against his tastebuds and he snorts like a beast in rut, lapping at you. his mouth then travels over one ass cheek, sinking his teeth in deep, sucking on the skin to leave his signature on you. you squeak, clenching your legs together, but it hid nothing from his devious mouth. “I’ve never felt a cunt tremble in my mouth before, soak my tongue…” he admitted, panting already as he gets to his feet, “how does it feel having the first and last pussy I’ll ever kiss?” and, then you felt the firmness of a solid cock through the trousers he was working down against your thighs, his mouth finding the back of your neck. “The first and last pussy I’ll ever fuck?”

you squirm underneath his weight, muffled screams of protest hoping to reach outside the door dying in the room you’re trapped in, and before long he grabs hold of the base of his massive cock at its thick base, worming it between your folds until they stretch and slot around the swollen head. you could tell his hands were shaking, his breath ragged and excited against your neck. “You’re wet,” he breathes in awe, and you shake your head, crying out the word ‘no!’ as loud as you could, but it was ultimately a lie. you were dripping, coating the tip of his cock as he rubbed it back and forth against your sex. “Wet enough to take me right now.” the way he said it, with his voice uneven, you knew it wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t been.

he wasn’t giving you a choice, and any preparation was better than none at all.

your palms press flat against his clothed abdomen and you squeal in fervent protest when he jabs his way inside of you— it’s none too gentle and his size is enough to have you coming out of your skin. your walls flutter and scramble to stretch wide enough to allow for the intruder’s rough entry.

it isn’t long before Reiner, grunting and groaning, has fallen into a brutal, greedy rhythm.

crying out, drool soaking the armband digging into the corners of your mouth, you push with your hands, blindly, as hard as you can, to try and push him out, and you squirm atop the table, hoping to wriggle free, but once he’s fully nestled inside, Reiner takes your wrists in each hand. your hands ball into fists again as he uses your arms like levers, pulling your body back to meet the mighty snapping of his hips. each thrust fills you entirely, hard and fast. he’s not saving any energy, or trying to make the sensation last— deprivation has clearly sank into him, and he couldn’t control himself.

“So— so tight,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “so warm.. so… fucking… good!” your vice tightens around him when he hits your limit, and his hips stutter; Reiner elicits a broken, gurgling moan that churns your stomach, “Oh, fuck, right there? That’s— that’s what I want— tighten up—!“ shifting with all of his weight bearing down on you, his palms pin your arms to the table, and he pounds that same, sensitive spot relentlessly. his brutality encourages your body to clamp down harder around him, shudder and spasm. you scream and beg him to slow down, but your resolve is weakening, and the screaming is starting to shift into moaning.

no, you didn’t want this.

you didn’t like it.

was he simply breaking your body into submission, and in turn, your mind?

“Close,” he stammered through grinding teeth, “so fucking close.”

for a moment, you mewled; the prominent vein massaging a delicate knot of nerves inside you as he plows against your hips. your eyelids fluttered, and you didn’t hear his warning. his rhythm didn’t change; it remained as cruel as one could be, battering your insides, but that nerve bundle was screaming each time he rammed it. your toes curled in your boots, and you moaned out loud.

and that was when Reiner lost it.

you hadn’t had time to react before he buried himself as deep as he could go, pumping you full of warmth, and you snap out of the pleasure trance too late to utter a disdainful but weak, “Shtp…“ amongst his huffing and puffing. your feet stomp against the floor, but sluggish.

your thighs quaked. your head was spinning. your stomach was tied up in knots. and your walls were trembling and sore from being stretched and abused. but Reiner was still rock hard inside of you. he’d cum, but he was still solid and bulging his shape against your belly.

“I need more.” Reiner grunted, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over. he did it with so much ease that you must’ve weighed nothing at all to the brute, and somehow managed to keep his cock deep inside of you. the breath is knocked from your lungs when your back makes contact with the desk, and your head rolls to one side, as if admitting your defeat. you didn’t want to look at him— you knew if you took one look at his red cheeks, or saw the sparkling sweat against his temple, or even caught a glimpse at his eyes, pupils blown out until they’re all black, you would want him. “Fucking you once was never going to be enough.” his hips were already rocking again, finding a deep, hard rhythm, and his own release frosts his length and dribbles out from your core when he retracts, then squelches when he drills his way back inside. both of his hands flee to his own body first, making short work of the buttons on his shirt before he peels it off of himself, and it flutters to puddle at his feet.

when his hands found you again, he started by pushing your legs open and down against the table, but when he saw that you weren’t going to fight him, he released them, and you kept them spread for him to violate you however he wanted. “Good… Good girl…” he panted, one hand reaching up to grab your face and turn it back to him. this time, you did make eye contact, and you moaned through the gag when you saw the pleasure you were giving him on his face, “Take it, just take it for me.” his fist wraps around the armband and he yanks it down, leaving you sputtering and puffing. “You want it, now, don’t you?”

for a moment, you just glare at him, or try to, but your eyes are becoming harder and harder to keep open. Reiner caresses your cheek, possibly tracing the irritation caused by how tight he’d tied the gag, but the gentleness of his touch was a startling juxtaposition to just how fervently he fucked into you. he was staring into your eyes, too, combatting the ferocity you tried to pour with pure adoration, the kind that must’ve even diluted his mind.

you didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to care either way, because his hand travels south over your heaving breasts and down to your cunt, strumming experimentally. you pant, your eyes averting from his when he finds your engorged clit and presses the rough pad of his thumb on it to rub it hard. you couldn’t stifle your moans anymore, no matter how hard you tried, and let them punctuate each, maddening slam of his body into yours. your eyes trained on the muscles in his arms, veins bulging, everything pulled taut like a rubber band ready to snap. you wanted to reach down and push his hand away from your bud, the sensations overwhelming you, but decided against it. he’d overpowered you in every aspect of the word so far, you might as well take the role of the weaker, helpless one. your hands lay up near your head, backs of them resting against the table, and your legs were splayed wide, cramping from the position, and you whimpered. your back arched when his thumb pushed in just the right way, and you knew he’d rip an orgasm out of you if he didn’t ease up.

and he didn’t.

when he felt you pulse, when he saw your back arch, he rubbed more furiously in the same spot, and pistoned his powerful hips until you were babbling and squirming and coming undone on his cock, and he was panting and gripping your hip with his free hand, murmuring about how beautiful you were and how much he’s always wanted this.

his second climax wasn’t far behind yours, and he traded his fingers pinching your clit for both hands gripping your hips and pulling them to meet his reckless fucking. “I love you,” he panted when he was right on the cusp. “I love you so fucking much.” and somehow, even though lust might’ve been puppeteering him, you believed it. Reiner was obsessed with you, infatuated, since before he left for Paradis Island, and now he was finally getting to force that obsession on to you. with no more resistance. no one there to stop him or beat him for laying his hands on you.

it was only after he’d pinned you to the table with his whole weight that he whispered in your ear, “I want to give you babies.” your eyes widened at that, “I want to see your belly swell, and I want to know that you’ll bear my children, it’ll make giving over my Titan easier…” a couple of deep, slow pumps and he’s filled you once more, this time the excess spurts out around his base and dribbles down his thighs, too, as he moans and pulls back, to smother your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.

you should’ve turned your head, pushed him off and told him that you would rather die than birth and Eldian bastard, but you didn’t do any of those things. because you weren’t entirely sure if that was true anymore.

[marsbutterfly]

A Field Of Sunflowers

a/n: yeah this is based on this post i saw a couple of years ago. anyway hehe enjoy

warnings: NSFW, canon setting, fem! reader, nb! Hanji Zoe, oral sex(f! receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, mentions of alcohol, not beta read (we die like men teehee)

The warm sun feels amazing on your skin. The bruised marks of your as a result of your ODM gear finally fade from your body the longer the areas are allowed to breathe freely.

Finally being able to take a day off and relax away from the prying eyes from the survey corps, you find yourself laying on a blanket atop the grass, a small flower placed behind your ear as you rest your head on your hands.

The sky above you is a shade of blue you have never seen. The clouds dance with each other, forming images and figures that bring giggles out of you. The silly idea that you could easily dip a brush into the color and paint an entire ocean out of you comes to your mind. Maybe the day is just so beautiful that you can't seem to stop smiling.

Or maybe it's the sheer amount of wine that travels through your veins, causing your cheeks to heat up and your breathing to get shaky. A couple of empty bottles sit beside you inside the picnic basket, a third one loosely in your hand as you gasp quietly.

The sunflowers in the field match your yellow dress, the fabric tickling your skin as it's pushed up by an eager hand. A pair of pillowy soft lips leave marks along the skin of your thighs as desperate fingers hook themselves on the edges of your underwear, pulling it down and tossing it on the grass.

The second Hanji's tongue comes in contact with your aching cunt, you can't help but allow a loud moan to escape your throat. The way the tip flickers against your clit, licking the area from top to bottom before slowly entering you causes your head to spin.

Your moans grow in volume, getting higher and louder with each hum that passes through Hanji's mouth. Though you try your best to avoid it, you can feel their gaze focused on your expression, fully taking in not only your juices but the just as delicious expressions you make.

"H-Hanji…" You whimper, crying out their name. The flowers brush against the bare skin on your left arm while the right arm comes down to the area in between your legs, your fingers digging at their head. You can feel the smile that forms on their face, you can tell how proud they are for making you whine and cry out like this.

Hanji wraps both of their arms around your thighs, carefully digging their digits into your skin while holding you perfectly in place. The placement of your hips perfectly aligned with their lips as they continue to feast on you, their cheeks a bright shade of red as the alcohol takes its toll on them.

The suckling sound they make while paying close attention to your folds is enough to draw a warm sensation to your face, your cheeks burning up in embarrassment like you have a fever while you try your best to decide what to do with your hands.

"Will you stay still for me?" They ask, mumbling against your clit. You pout in response to their abrupt interruption but quickly begin to nod, unable to form words as your brain turns to mush. They chuckle in response, knowing how you are getting increasingly desperate, "Good girl."

Without giving you much time to react, they readjust themselves, their nose brushing against your clit while their tongue begins working on your entrance once more. They let go of your left thigh and quickly bring their hand up, pulling down the upper part of your dress and ripping apart the straps that held it over your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the chilly breeze.

You can't contain the yelp that leaves your lips, especially when the palm of their hand perfectly encapsulates your nipple, tightly gripping the sensitive area for dear life. You don't have time to even process what is happening before they make their next move.

You try to keep your promise to remain still, but with their left hand, Hanji carefully inserts a finger inside of you. Your pelvis immediately rises, searching for more contact with their lips and you can feel a small giggle leaving their body.

"So tight, my love," they whisper. Their tongue begins to work on you once more, leaving no part of your pussy unattended: the tip of their nose brushing against your hardening clit, their tongue eagerly working its magic on the inner lips while their finger continuously pumps in and out of you.

Your throat begins to dry as you realize you can't keep your mouth closed for more than a millisecond, let alone swallow anything. Your hand rests on their head, nails fidgeting with the locks as you twist them into knots. With their left index and middle finger, they begin twirling your nipple around while still having the remaining digits squeeze your breast. You close your eyes tightly, the wave of pleasure that continues to wash over you becoming more and more overwhelming with each lap of their tongue.

"You wanna try two fingers?" They ask, a slightly smug tone to their voice. You look down at them, only to see the sun reflecting on those whiskey-brown eyes, your heart almost missing a beat at how angelic they look. A pathetic whimper exits your throat and you nod, feeling Hanji's middle finger tease your entrance, "I need you to ask for it, baby."

You groan and wiggle your hips forward, silently begging for more and hoping it would be enough but, deep down, you know it has never been that easy with Hanji. So you look deep inside yourself to gather any amount of strength you can muster to allow the words to leave your throat, "P-Please… Put two fingers… I-Inside of me."

They don't waste any time before complying with your request, your voice sounding like a beautiful symphony, filled with desire and need. A sound they could spend every second of the day listening to for the rest of their life and never get tired of.

With two fingers now inside, you cry out loudly. The idea that someone might hear you is making its way into your brain so you have to remind yourself of how far away from the city you are. But thinking about anything that isn't Hanji proves itself to be increasingly more difficult.

Hanji continuously swirls their tongue on your folds, their nose paying close attention to your clit and their two fingers continue to stretch you from the inside out, occasionally spreading themselves apart in a scissoring manner and it earns a jerk of your body. You can't help it anymore, the need to move your hips, to search for more contact is overwhelming.

When your walls begin to tighten around their fingers, Hanji realizes you are getting close. Though a part of them wants to tease you for it, to stop their movements and make you beg, their mind suddenly drops the facade once their eyes land on your face once more.

A couple of tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks, your grasp on the bottle of wine finally loosening as you cling to the grass close to your head, you chant their name like a prayer, a sacred word that could heal every wounded soldier in the world.

"Fuck… H-Hanji, I can't…" You cry out, your hips bucking against their face desperately, wanting nothing more than to be close to them. Their breath gets caught in their throat, their tongue beginning to pick up speed, working its magic against your pussy in the hopes of tipping you over the edge.

Their fingers pump in and out of you, down to the third knuckle as they fold inside of you, the tips perfectly brushing against your g-spot and making you see bright stars in the sunny sky. You cry out once more which causes their tongue to swirl around your cunt, taking in every last drop of your essence.

"Come for me, baby," They whisper against your cunt. Those four words are all your body needs to allow itself to fall over the edge. Your hips rise and buck against their face in a rhythm you aren't able to control, and the cry that leaves your chest is so loud, that you are sure anyone within all three walls was able to hear you.

"HANJI!!!!!" You scream, one hand desperately gripping their hair and guiding their face towards the area where it feels best while the other rests above theirs on your breast. You can feel the small chuckle they let out, gently using the tip of their tongue to help you ride out your orgasm for as long as they can.

"Oh, that's my good girl," they whisper, planting gentle kisses on your folds, on your clit and your thighs. They use the edges of your dress to wipe their mouth, a smile plastered on their face and you can tell just how proud they are. Slowly, they make their way up your body, planting kisses over any small piece of exposed skin they can find, their fingers finally making their way out of you.

In a drunken and pleasure-filled haze, you grab their wrist and bring it towards your lips, placing their digits in your mouth. Hanji gasps quietly, a moan escaping their chest as they feel your tongue swirling around their digits, licking away the essence you left behind.

Once you are done and your lips are free, they plant their face against yours, lips meeting in a hunger-filled kiss. The world melting around the both of you and you can swear the sunflowers are facing you, watching carefully over your act of true love.

"Your legs are shaking," Hanji whispers against your lips, their arm wrapping around your waist as they hold you close. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, not in annoyance, but as an aftershock due to the amount of pleasure your body has just experienced.

"I wonder whose fault that is," you manage to whisper and it earns a small giggle out of them. In a quiet voice, you say, "I wish we had more days off.."

"I do too," they whisper back, your arm wrapped around their shoulder as you nuzzle your cheek against the top of their head. After a long pause and a heavy sigh, they continue, "This spot always reminds me of you."

"Oh? And why's that?" You whisper, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth of their skin against you. A smile forms on their face.

"You are always calling me your sunshine," they whisper, lifting their head to take off their glasses, placing the pair on the grass beside them, "It would only make sense that you are my Sunflower."

You chuckle, "I thought I was your Moonlight."

"I dunno, then I just think you are pretty like a sunflower," they mumble, "Ask me again when I'm sober."

You laugh quietly, hugging them a little tighter. You throw one leg on top of theirs and completely tangle your bodies together, your hearts beating as one and, for the first time in forever, you allow yourself to relax in the arms of the one you love most.

[fictionalslvr]

Part one. Part three.

SYNOPSIS:"Ghost" is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.212k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:There we go, back to the crying season. I literally cried while writing this one, so i really hope you guys like as much as i did. Remembering, this is the part two of this mini serie. And i HIGHLY recommend to listen to 'happier than ever' by Billie Eilish while reading this.

PREVIOUS PART

It’s been almost a month. Almost a month since Simon appeared at your door, he drinked some coffee with you, had a long talk that showed little things about him. And after he left your door to work, it’s been days since you don’t hear footsteps on the apartment above yours. You can’t help but worry, he said his work was hard, tiring and had big choices. You pace around your house, feeling a weird knot on your stomach, a strange sensation of anxiety consuming you, not seeing his eyes, hot hearing his chuckles, not smelling his unique scent…all of this makes you feel strange, he’s just a neighbor…right? So why are you feeling this way? He’s used to doing this, staying out, working and coming back, he’s fine that’s right. Then why couldn't your heart understand this?

The only thing keeping you calm is your little cat, her fluffy fur on your legs as she brushes herself against you, looking for some caress. You sit down on the couch and sigh, trying to think better and your cat jumps on your lap, purring while your fingers brush her fur gently. It’s almost like she can sense you’re not well at the moment, and tries her best to distract you.

—”You’re a smart kitten, no?” A sad smile flows out, and you can only breathe deep for a moment. You don't know why you’re feeling like this, he’s only your neighbor who’s a bit mysterious, you shouldn’t be worried about him. And yet, your last talk with him made you think all those days about him. He seems like someone who suffered a lot, even if he didn’t tell you what exactly. You can see it, his baggy eyes carrying a sad sparkle on it, like he saw so many things you can’t even imagine. Somehow, you appreciate his bravery, without even telling, you supposed that he suffered, only from his eyes.

He’s always using a balaclava, so there must be a reason for this. Maybe he’s insecure about his face, maybe he just wants to protect his identity for someone, or he just doesn't want people to read his emotions. If the last one is the answer, he’s terribly wrong, because only from his eyes, you could sense how this man carries a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Since when he moved in, you’re caught about his whole figure, everything about him was a mystery, like he can’t really trust anyone. You look around for a while, looking at the pictures on your home, you remember how Simon was staring at them non stop the last time you saw him, his eyes were painful to see, his eyes narrow to the frames as his eyebrows furrowed as your voice called his attention back. Something about family pictures made him perplexed.

It’s weird to say, but damn, you missed him. His raspy voice, his tall figure towering over yours, his short words, his eyes never leaving your face as you talk, he’s a great listener, you could say. Even without knowing much about him, you wanted to see him again, hear his voice, feel his scent, make eye contact, feel this weird human connection you two created quickly. You groan and roll your head back to the couch, staring at the ceiling while your mind don’t stop not even for a second, your mind filled with Simon and everything you noticed about him, like how calloused his hands are, how he seems to be a terrible sleeper, how he looks to hold himself back while he talks, scared he will expose more about his life, how he has a habit of shakes his legs every time, how his eyes don’t stop still, they’re always looking around, as if he’s making sure he’s safe. Every little detail that you could think of, you paid attention to him, like you never did before, you never was this detailed about someone, neither that interested about someone. He has something special, something that curls you up in his hands.

As for Simon? Being on a long mission wasn't that easy. Staying hours awake, the reason why he’s a terrible sleeper, sleeping in uncomfortable tents, thinking only about his objectives all day. It was awful, but, the only thing that reminded him he’s still human, is his friends, his teammates, the only ones he can say some dad jokes sometimes, the only ones who remind him he’s only doing his job, and nothing else, and somehow, that made him feel better. Knowing he’s not alone in this, that he’s not the only one making his hands dirty with blood, the only ones who made him feel less guilty for the blood dripping on his mask. Besides that, sometimes he caught himself thinking of his neighbor, the only one who had the courage to talk to him, that looked him in the eyes, that listened to his short talk, his voice and saw his miserable life. And yet, you don’t even know the whole story, if he did tell you…would you still smile at him? Would you still look him in the eyes? Would you still not be afraid of him? Would you still think he deserves to be loved? Because, he, himself, doesn't think he does. After all he did, all he passed through and lost, he didn't have a chance to be happy and live an ordinary life, he always had to remind how useless he was at protecting his family once, how he was a cowardly kid, how he suffered in dirty hands, how he felt used. Nothing more than a war machine, a big, strong and scary man that everyone frightens, that’s what he is, in his mind. As for you, such a gentle, kind and delicate woman…why would you listen to someone like him? He thinks he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

For now, there he is, stepping back to his apartment, his heavy boots making some noise as he's not even looking at the way he’s doing. It’s always like this when he’s back from a long mission, he felt like he was on automatic. His mask, a bit dirty like his gear, and he had some wounds too. He made his way on the halls, going to the elevator, it’s late, like 4AM.

And a soft voice calls for him before the elevator comes, the creaky wooden door behind him making noise.

—”Simon…?” —It’s your voice, he’s already used to that sweet melody. He doesn’t turn to face you, not wanting to scare you with his actual state.

—”Hello.” —Without noticing, you left a sigh of relief.

—”You’re back. I was worried.” —Your words make him disbelief, he turns to face you, and you can see a mask on his usual balaclava, his eyes widened as his pupils shake.

—”You shouldn’t.”

—”If I could control that. But I couldn't, and I'm happy you’re back." —His eyes fall to your figure, rubbing your eyes as you’re still sleepy, your pajamas from that day, and your voice sounds like honey.

—”What happened to you, Simon?”

—”I was working.”

—’Not this, these wounds…” — Realization crawls up to his mind, you shouldn’t be able to see him like this.

—”Shit.” — He mumbles under his breath and looks away. Your figure walks closer to him, it’s dark to see properly.

—”Please, come in. Let me take care of this for you.”

—”No need, I'm fine, thanks.” —How could he say no to your cute little eyes, looking up and down on his body, looking for every wound. Your fingers go to his arms, gently touching and pulling him inside your apartment. Without a word, he just follows, he could easily get rid of your hands on him, and he didn’t.

You close the door and make him sit on your couch, picking up a med kit in your kitchen, sitting beside him.

—”You’re not going to ask why I'm like this?”

—”Only if you want to say why.” — Your eyes meet him, looking for his approval before you lift up the sleeves of his gear, finding a very bad wound on it, how he wasn’t feeling the pain? He just nods, and you lift his sleeves gently. He loved how caring you are, always searching his approval for everything, even simple things like this. He loves how gentle you were towards a man like him.

—”Then…can we not?”

—”Of course, Simon.”

He always enjoyed how his name would sound in your tongue, in your voice. It made his heart skip a beat everytime. With caution, you clean up his wound, and he doesn't hisses, doesn't frown or groan, he just watches in silence, looking into your eyes all the time. Nothing matters now, not the pain, not the blood, no. Only you, and your kindness.

—”What were you doing awake?”

—”I wasn’t. I heard your footsteps.”

—”How did you know it was mine?”

—”I guessed. You’re the only one who would walk around at this time.” —His dark brown eyes were staring at your face, you looked so concentrated now, even while sleepy like this, you managed to do this. To take care of him.

—”Why are you doing this?”

—”Because I care about you, Simon.”

Those words, it’s been years since he heard it, seem unreal. Why would you care about him? What did he do to deserve such kindness? Is God finally hearing his prays he did when he was young? No, you’re only his neighbor, this is normal…right?

—”Why?”

—"Do i need a reason?" —He only looks away, his head nodding at your words. You were right, you don’t need reasons to do what you’re doing. Though, he really wanted you to have one. He needed you to have a reason to help a man like him.

A comfortable silence creeps in between both, it’s a silence that yells inside, so many questions on both sides, but no one wants to ask it. Simon looks on your window, the curtain flowing and showing the moon bright in the sky, giving him a feeling he never felt before…love, in its truest form, just pure love. Being taken care of like this, he doesn’t even know why he accepted this, normally he would ignore it and go to bed, sleeping only two hours or less. But you, have your gentle fingers wrapping his wound now, gently patching it with a gauze, you had some talent for this, he wondered…have you ever taken care of someone else? Because you seem to be used to this.

—”Well done.” —You mumbles under your breath, your eyelids blink slowly, you’re so sleepy…it’s adorable.

—”Thanks.” —Oh really? Is everything he can mumble after this help? He can’t express anything more than this. Honestly, he didn’t need to, his eyes locked with yours, your body painted with the moonlight and the dark blue sky, and you can see how he feels grateful for you. You smile gently.

—”No need to, I was just worried when I saw you like this.”

Simon sighs, taking off the skull mask on his covered face, leaving only his balaclava as you’re used to.

—”It’s normal for me to get back like this.”

—”With wounds?”

—”Not only on my body.”

—”You know you can’t live like this forever, right?”

—”I always did.”

—”And this will hurt you eventually, Simon. You can’t hide emotions and think everything is okay. They will overflow.”

—”You don’t know me well for this.” —Simon gets up from your couch, his voice getting rougher, and looks at your door. You felt a twist in your guts, he’s worried you might figure him out, because you’re already doing.

—”If you’re being kind only to know my past, forget it. I’m not a storyteller.”

—”Who told you I wanted this? I’m pretty sure it was yourself.” —Now it’s your time to get up and meet his eyes, his eyes can’t lie to you.

—”You’re tricking yourself with this, Simon.”

He hated this, how pretty you look while your skin sparkled with the moonlight, how your eyes made him nowhere to run, how you would read him like a book, even if you two don’t know for a long time.

—”You don’t know me enough to say that.”

—”Being cold won’t keep me away, if that's what you’re trying to do.”

The only thing Simon does is curse under the black silk on his face. He didn’t like to look so predictable, so vulnerable like this. But at the same time, he just wants to be taken care of by you, and only you, no one else. He stays silent for what seems like an eternity, there's nothing else to say. What would he do now? Being cold wasn't going to keep you away, and he knows he will only hurt you, and lose someone like you would be dumb. All of his thoughts were making him dizzy, it was too much, he didn’t feel like this in years, and now it just makes him confused, he doesn't know how to deal with this anymore.

—”Look, Simon, it’s okay. You don’t have to agree with what I say. I just want you to know that even if I don't know you too well, you’re already someone I care about.” —You whispered to him, this tone was enough to bring him back to reality. His heart skips a beat at your words, he didn’t deserve you. At least he doesn’t think so.

—”Do you even realize what you’re saying? I’m a stranger at your house. Aren’t you scared?”

—”Not of you.” —A cute smile spreads on your face, and poor Simon, he feels his legs weaker, his heart melt at the same second.

—”You’re crazy. I can’t understand you.”

He’s being genuine on this, he can’t understand how optimistic you are, how cute, pretty, kind you are. And damn, that hairs of yours, the smell makes him insane, he always tries his best to stay away.

—”And I can't understand you as well, we’re even now.” —Simon can’t help but chuckle in disbelief with your words. Oh God, why couldn’t he have a normal life…by your side if that’s possible?

—”Look, [name], I appreciate the help. I should go now, I already messed up your sleep too much.”

—”Wait…can’t you stay just until i sleep? I can’t go back to sleep alone now.”

—”Uhm…sure.” —He looks away, and you giggle. Quickly, you make your way to the couch again and make yourself comfortable there, laying your body and closing your eyes. He watched every movement, not really wanting to look like a perv or something, he wouldn’t ever want to make you embarrassed.

—”Goodnight, Simon.”

—”Night.” —Simon clears his throat, looking while you find a good position to sleep, you look so peaceful. Maybe having him around makes you feel this way. His eyes are glued to your face, so delicate and calm while you breath slowly, it was an adorable sight, he thought to himself. His thick accent was the last thing you heard before falling asleep, quicker than he thought you would. Simon looks around and sees a blanket on another couch, he takes it and gently puts it above your body, making you nuzzle into it as the cold breeze was a problem your sleeping figure didn’t know it needed help. “How stupid” he thinks to himself, he’s a war criminal, why the hell does he have a soft stop for a person he doesn’t even know the age? His strong arms could rip you apart, since you’re so fragile like this. Correcting himself, he could, but he couldn’t even think of doing it, you’re so delicate, he just wants to protect you, not the contrary. He sighs, and notices he’s been looking at your sleeping figure for a long while now. He walks to your door and holds the handle, but something curls on his legs before he can walk outside, it’s your kitten. That lazy female cat who decided to greet the man on his second visit here, her white and orange fur on his gear.

—”Bloody hell.” — Simon caught himself watching his tone for you, not wanting to wake you up. The little kitten meows while twirling around Simon’s legs, he sighs and rolls his eyes up, one hand holds his mask, the other rubs the cat’s chin with his gloves on, so rough, and yet, bent down to caress your cat.

—”Now…let me leave, lil’one.” — His strong accent keeps there, while he…whispers with your cat. He gets up and opens your wood creaky door with caution, giving a head nod to your cat and closing the door when he steps away.

It’s so hard to leave, to leave that warm, cozy, happy place. To meet his dark and cold home, he can only sigh with the thought. Why is it so hard to leave? Why is his heart throbbing? That’s stupid, he’s not a teenager anymore, he’s a grown ass man that can deal with his feelings, he thinks so. He’s only trying to fool himself into that idea, because he knows when he steps his foot inside his apartment, he will crave for the sound of your voice, your warmth and your damn smile, and mostly, your words. So well chosen like you know exactly what to say to make him fall. You’re clever enough for his rudeness. He knows you will be just below, living your life peacefully and he will get back to his miserable life, alone, with his bad thoughts. If only he was open to his own feelings, he would see how fucked up he is now. Already missing you and wanting to stay by your side. His delusional mind wanders to a life together, you would say him goodbye when he’s out for missions, calls him, send letters, and he would keep a photo of you on his pocket, only so when he’s not motivated, he looked at it and remembers why he’s there, to make you safe. He would come back to your arms and stay beside each other, you would see his face behind that balaclava and smile, knowing the real Simon, while he leaves Ghost on the job.

That’s when he comes back to earth, being on his balcony, his balaclava lifted up a little bit as he smokes, taking a puff of his cigarette and sending it back into the sky with a blow. The breeze makes him shiver even with his gear still on, and the thoughts consume himself.

—"I'm fucked up."— Simon realizes when his thoughts wanders too much. He tosses the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it as his raspy voice talks to himself. Going to bed at 6AM, and not even being able to sleep, because his heart decided to throb about someone he doesn’t even know well, his brain decides to play with his sanity once more. He can’t take this feeling growing inside of him, it’s weird. Simon stares at the ceiling, laying at bed, his hands caressing his chest as he feels pain inside, right on his heart. Not even his patched wound would hurt like this.

What is this feeling...is he...falling in love? You leave him in tatters. And even while he's thinking you're perfect, you still have your problems as well, he's not the only one broken, and he will discover this soon.

[chaedomi]

Hi I just found your blog and you are so talented, your writing is so immersive you really have a gift, I was wondering if you could write for some yandere oshi no ko? Maybe with the mc being a very famous model, platonic or romantic is fine

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋 ✦ onk

fem!reader x aqua, ruby, kana, minami, frill, akane (yandere / separate), can be read as platonic or romantic, hints toward spoilers in manga (and anime for those who have reached a certain point), implied stalking, unhealthy relationships. ꨄ — masterlist

YOU WERE pretty and sensational. You had a diverse career that allowed you to explore different types of styling, keeping the job interesting. You were also a huge influence and an inspiration to many, encouraging them to pursue a career in modeling and to experience various brands of fashion and cosmetics.

However, what attracted people to you the most was not your career, but rather your unique personality and your unparalleled charisma. It was one-of-a-kind, something that would leave people aching for more… similar to a former starry-eyed idol. It's no surprise that you have a ton of admirers, and that includes the odd ones as well.

AQUAMARINE HOSHINO

Let's be real. Model or not, unless you were of use to him or acquainted with his sister, AQUAMARINE would see no necessary need to interact nor get to know you. Why should he care about someone who will eventually fall from stardom?

But, in this case, it was different. Very much so. It was as though time stopped for a split moment when you both passed each other in the school hallways. Faster than his mind could process, his hand was already reaching out to grasp your arm as if he were to let you go, you would disappear for an eternity. Unusual of him. After you overcame your brief surprise from the sudden contact, you offered him a polite smile, eyes twinkling with unspoken mischief… to which he gawked at like an idiot.

How was it possible for you to possess the same charm as 'she' did…? He’s so stunned and in disbelief that he’s incapable of constructing a coherent sentence for some time. No investigations were made to confirm his assumptions… he was THAT convinced. You best believe he made the effort to become associated with you. It wasn’t as though he was desperate to attach himself to you, you noticed, but somehow, he always found a way to be around you, and if on the correct setting, it was beyond unnerving. You shrugged your shoulders at his abnormal behavior, justifying it with a “you’ve handled worse.” By the time it is finally drilled through your thick skull that hey, ‘something is wrong,’ Aqua would have fully wedged himself into your life. Good luck trying to avoid him…

There is an annoying obstacle in the way… namely your career as a model. Not to mention, the large fanbase you have gained over the years. So much as it was very tempting to find shady methods to force you to void your career entirely, the problems that can arise afterward will be more than problematic.

As said, because you remind him of a certain individual, his extreme tendencies will begin to lay on you. Just because he cannot end your career does not mean he cannot become overbearing. The fear of seeing you injured or harmed in any way replays a very unpleasant memory in his head…

He constantly monitors what you do, and whom you choose to interact with, and makes decisions that seem appropriate for you. It's as though you’ve lost your right to free will…

He's aware of how wrong it is. But, to him, it feels like a second chance, to lift some of the burden that he has carried on his shoulders for a while, to rid of the guilt that was slowly destroying him mentally and emotionally. Well, at the very least, he didn't convince himself you were 'her'. Even though there were some strong resemblances in characteristics, it was still easy to nitpick many differences (to him).

RUBY HOSHINO

There's without a doubt, Aqua was only familiar with your existence due to RUBY. A walking and living example of a true stan and diehard fan; god, she was obsessed with you. Magazines, products, advertisements, brands, merch, anything that has your face plastered on it, she’s out to grab it all… what she can afford, by the way. Your hair! Your lips! Your EYES! How can someone be this attractive!? Forget Model… someone put you in a museum for you to be admired by millions, quick!

As you can tell, Ruby has quite an attachment to you. And this is her without the yandere tendencies included. It was terrifying and had the potential to creep out anyone unfortunate enough to listen to one of her passionate rants. Other than her fawning over you for your glorious visage, there was another reason as to why she acted the way she did. You were just like 'her', the way you spoke, the way you moved, everything was down to par. It filled her mind with memories of 'her' helping her cope through dark times, and you were too doing the same, distracting her from the negativity that threatened to cloud her mind. At some point… she fully believed that you were 'her' in another body. You just had to be! Explain the similarities! It took thorough reasoning for her to understand that the possibilities were low. You were around her age, so by the time 'she' passed away, it would have been too late for that to happen.

On the day of school, it came as a big shock to her seeing so many famous faces inside the premises. But the biggest one of them all was when you walked inside her classroom all smiles, apologizing to the teacher for your tardiness. Shit… was she actually inside a dream right now!? She pinched and twisted her skin for good measure. Nope! She was alive and conscious! There’s no room for argument, she most definitely did snap a couple of pictures from where she seated, behind you. Somehow, she mustered up the courage to converse with you after class, falling deeper into her admiration for you.

Unlike her brother who saw your career as a nuisance, she fully supports you to continue all the way! In addition to that, it's a massive stroke to the ego that she had the privilege to bask in your presence while the majority had limitations. Do you know how many people would kill just to breathe the same air as you, The Loveable Model?

Turns out, Ruby can make for a dangerous yandere. Once Ruby puts her mind into something, the results made afterward are so impressive that it’s scary… But, it’s not like she’ll ever need that to happen, as long as you vow to stay by her side, she’ll make no drastic attempts to prevent herself from losing something as she previously did.

KANA ARIMA

For KANA, at first, it was an in-between… Although it was not to the extent of Ruby, she was a fan of yours… you were just too entrancing! You’re the reason why she went through many style phases, buying useless shit she didn’t need, wearing expensive brand clothing that you featured in… you get the main idea. Sooner or later she had to stop as she noticed the money she made from her child career quickly diminishing the more she allowed herself to indulge in her fan side for you. Begrudgingly she put a halt to it, still buying your magazines every now and then.

The other half is completely sour when she sees how whipped Aqua is for you. (she totally doesn’t question if Aqua’s attachment to you was romantic or not…) She kind of gets it; your personality, your looks, and your status as a famous model, you were a ten. But, there was a difference between love and admiration, so you were some sort of rival to her.

Fear not, Kana gets past that, clinging onto you instead as she got to know you in person. It was bound to happen. Kana was already ‘under your charm’, so it was only a matter of time before that admiration morphed into an obsession. Kana can be very clingy and manipulative. Manipulative in the sense that she uses her sad-sob backstory to ground you by her side. The majority of her supporters are now her anti-fans, she doesn’t have her parents around, and now you, the idol she looks up to, want to leave her too!? You wouldn’t do that to your lovely supporter, right?

Kana wouldn’t care about your career too much, she understands what it’s like to really love your job, so she doesn’t complain a lot. As long as you treat her kindly and remember her, she is content. Please.

MINAMI KOTOBUKI

It's like, the calmer the individual is, the uglier their hidden side will be. And MINAMI will not be excluded from that logic. There is no doubt that Minami was affiliated with you due to her status as a pin-up model. On some weird, rare occasions, you would find yourself as her partner for a certain aesthetic for a photoshoot. So, yes… you knew each other to an extent.

What you couldn't wrap your head around was the fact you always felt a sense of unease around her. She out of all people. Why? She's an absolute sweetie, gentle and pure at heart. She always compliments you on how you look and praises you for the work you put in toward modeling. She goes on further to say she can see why people adore you so much.

There's nothing for you to worry about… except for the glaringly obvious issue that her eyes seem to follow whatever movement you make. It could be the twitch of a finger or any minority; glance to the side and there are pink doe eyes already staring holes into your face. Or when you're seated in the courtyard and just so happen to look at the corner nearby and see Minami there, who smoothly brushes it off with a friendly wave.

It was fine to you, till you began to see those pink doe eyes in the more uncanny places, namely restaurants you're in, or your job… you could swear you saw those pink eyes somewhere inside your house one time. But as you blinked, they vanished. As you take a peek at Minami who catches your gaze and laughs brightly, you can't help but wonder if it was just your imagination and you were overreacting…

FRILL SHIRANUI

Hmm… This one is a bit tricky. You see, FRILL doesn't tend to expose much of an expression or a reaction. You never know what's going through her head or how she feels about something till she bluntly puts it into words.

She's also affiliated with you because of your careers, (the magazines of hers and you are always trendy and are the most popular) so you weren't awkward or tense around her. It's just… Why is she looking at you like that? It's similar to Minami in the sense her eyes never leave you, but there is a layer of coldness in her gaze, in addition to the slight furrow of her eyebrows.

You thought she hated you. For what? You didn't know. It couldn't be career-wise, she had a great number of followers and need not be concerned about you overthrowing her. She didn't come across as the petty type either.

What did you choose to do about the matter? Simple. You approached her with a blinding smile, getting straight to the point. That day you got to witness a sight you'd never think you'd receive an opportunity to.

Embarrassment. She got embarrassed and the light blush that crept its way to her cheeks had you staring in astonishment. It was out of character for her, much more the difficulty she had to fumble out a proper sentence.

You just left for your next class as the bell rang because wow, that was unexpected. It was cute to watch, seeing Frill become so soft-spoken around you. Who knew that a high-ranked celeb like her looked up to and admired you too!?

You're so amused by her change of personality that you don't notice the icy glares she shoots toward people daring enough to take another step closer to you…

AKANE KUROKAWA

Another person who viewed you as a rival due to how whipped Aqua was for you. It didn’t matter whether Aqua’s attachment to you was platonic or romantic, the undivided attention Aqua gave you was something AKANE dreamed of having. So, when the chance arrived for her to develop a new character for the reality show she was featuring, she jumped at the opportunity to become what Aqua desired in a person. Spending hours studying your character, she aspired to impersonate you. Sadly, it didn’t work as well as she thought it would. Of course, she could never compare to you and your charisma. You were beautiful, very famous… there are just some things you cannot copy.

Initially, it was disappointment over Aqua’s lackluster reaction to her change, after all, she thought this a good way to pay him in return for what he did for her. Later, as she began to develop romantic feelings for him, the disappointment morphed into frustration. She felt like a loser all over again… No effort will make him adore her as she wants him to… So, she gave up.

Strangely enough, you managed to weasel your way into her heart in place of Aqua. She didn’t know what to make of it at first, frozen with a pale blush on her face when you praised her for her work. The way her heart thudded against her chest… she didn’t even react like that to the boy she so claimed to like. Perhaps he wasn’t the one she should waste her time on…

Even though Akane is considered one of the more ‘dangerous’ yanderes with her high intellect and analyzing skills, she’s pretty much harmless. In the nicest way I can say it, Akane is akin to a loyal devotee of some sort… As in whatever you desire, Akane will try her best to provide it, impersonation or not.

Akane is familiar with your works (god, BLESS the photographers for capturing your elegant essence in the most perfect angles), and is amazed, but she's not that into it??? Maybe if you were to branch out into her area of acting, the hype would be stronger… That doesn't mean you should stop in any way though! Continue to pose and look pretty while she appreciates (read as obsesses over) the sight. However, if your career were to ever… become an obstacle between you both, THAT will get her FULL attention.

BONUS: AI HOSHINO

In this scenario, let's pretend you were around the age when AI was still alive. Let's think about this. Suppose you had a terrible childhood without correct familial guidance, or experienced situations that resulted in you being unable to feel and express love properly.

Now, imagine you came across a person who made you feel the very emotions that you desperately sought out. Would you want to distance yourself from that person, especially when they granted you something you've been seeking for so long?

The answer is no, and that's exactly what Ai did. By far, the worst one out there. She isolates you, she breaks your bonds with other people, and when you try to voice your complaints about her actions, she has the audacity to play innocent, baffled by your accusations.

A master with her words too, you would point fingers at her, the bad guy, and somehow, the argument would end with you apologizing and her rubbing your back gently as a large smile spreads on her face.

Surprisingly, she was the one who encouraged you to pursue a career in the entertainment industry. You agreed, thinking she was being normal for a change, but then later found out it was for her to spend time with you without consequences… Who would complain about two famous celebs hanging out with each other!? Not that she had a problem maintaining a lie, she just wanted the easier route.

It was very shameful that you felt a sense of satisfaction over the announcement of her funeral. Too bothered by the things she did while she was alive to you, the news deserved a celebration instead.

You lived a few more years of your life in peace. However, the day both of her children arrived on your front doorstep, it made you realize that Ai had no intentions of leaving you alone, allowing her children to replace the role she owned in your life. Even in death she still found a way to trouble you…

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hiya! was hoping I could request smut of G!p Donna body worshipping a ready with body image/confidence issues. Just Donna being absolutely obsessed with every part of reader, even the parts reader doesn’t like

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Turn the light on

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, insecurities

Word count: 7,359

Summary: You think she never gonna like your body....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))))

The kisses were soft, every time her lips landed on your skin it was like the best of caresses, the best of sensations.

Your body trembled in a subtle way while your head tried to concentrate on her caresses, on her soft hands that wanted to travel everywhere, to places where they never had the privilege of touching.

The smile, the courage you had that night was disappearing little by little, like a tire that deflates without you even realizing it until it is too late. The hand on the brunette's chest became firm when your arm tensed so the lady would not continue, so those mischievous hands would not lift your nightgown.

“What's wrong, tesoro?” Donna asked with a sad eye that already anticipated another of your rejections.

That realization was really what made you meditate on the two parts of your body: the part that wanted to continue, that cried out for you to leave any fear of that hot night behind. But there was also another part, one that couldn't stop imagining what would happen when that piece of clothing disappeared, when her hands ran over that body you were so ashamed of.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, with a sigh that struggled to be understanding. Maybe it was a while ago, now it was much harder for you to see the patience on her face.

However, you knew that fear could distort things, could form absurd paranoia in your mind. Donna said she would always wait for you, no matter how much.

You shook your head, not making eye contact, without the blush and fear on your face being noticed by the doll maker.

Wanting, not wanting... Your mind traveled between those two worlds but, that night, making an effort, you decided to let one of them prevail or, at least, you wanted to try to do so.

“No...” you whispered with shame making your words tremble. “But, but...”

The lady looked at you expectantly, kneeling on the bed, waiting to hear another of your excuses.

“(Y/N), calm down, I'm not in a hurry,” she said, bringing the hand that was previously traveling over your clothes to your cheek, almost tickling your skin.

Your mouth had become accustomed to smiling with her caresses and your cheeks burned shyly. How could you continue rejecting her? She was perfect.

“I know but... I, I want to do it,” you whispered, biting your lip, trying not to transmit that horrible fear with your gaze. “Mm, could you turn off the light?”

“The light? Perché?” she asked confused, blinking rapidly upon hearing your words.

You sighed, shaking your head, squeezing your eyes tightly and shrugging.

“I, I would feel more comfortable with the light off...” you explained, looking away.

Donna didn't answer. Luckily, she didn't ask any more questions, she didn't want to know the reason for your terrible embarrassment, so she obeyed your request, stretching out her arm and leaving that old bedroom completely dark.

“Okay...” she murmured, getting back on top of you, kissing you slowly, not in that messy and deep way. It was a kiss of comfort, a reassuring one. “Better?”

“Y-Yes,” you said, following the rhythm of those slow and short kisses, of those caresses that returned to your body, to your clothes.

You soon realized the light wasn't the problem.

You wondered if Donna could map you with just her hands, with her slender fingers, with her ability to move them. Maybe that's what she was doing; imagining what you would be like under that cloak of darkness, imagining with her caresses what the shape of your body would be like.

It was a thought that made you open your eyes and sink into what you thought was the safety of darkness. You didn't return the kisses. You simply prayed to the Black Gods that your body wouldn't be deciphered.

But time kept passing. Donna's kisses kept trying to distract you until, finally, her pale hand rested on your thigh and, as she raised it, your nightgown stayed on her wrist.

With a nervous gasp you brought your own hand to that spot, stopping the upward movement that threatened to strip you. You couldn't even stand it in the dark, you knew you couldn't, you knew that if Donna noticed your body, she would stop.

“Mm?” she murmured, confused, probably looking at you with a frown, with the look of disappointment that you imagined.

“On second thought... I think, I think I can't, Donna,” you whispered, your chest rising and falling quickly, with the heat of passion protesting loudly at your reluctance.

Another night, another failure.

“Fine,” she said, pulling away from you after one last quick kiss and a tired sigh.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized sincerely as you turned on the light, checking that no part of your body had been uncovered. “I'm so sorry.”

“Tesoro, don't apologize. It's okay, nothing's wrong,” Donna said, with a smile that you thought was fake.

The lady kissed you again, moving away definitively and sitting next to you, helping you to cover yourself with the sheets.

“I know it's not okay, I know I've failed you,” you commented with your mouth almost closed, playing with the fabric in your hands.

“You haven't failed me,” she said with a slightly hoarser voice, one voice similar to the one she had when you met her. “I just...” she said later, with a cautious tone. “I just want, I want to know what...”

“It's nothing important, I just...” you said quickly, clouding any shadow of doubt that could have been in the ventriloquist. “I'm not ready.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, shaking her head, faking a smile.

“Donna,” you said, your voice sad, embarrassed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Will you hug me?”

She looked at you slowly, with a radiant smile as she nodded, gesturing for you to come closer, to lean on her chest while her arms calmed your demons, while her lips rested tenderly on your hair.

“I'm sure you're sick of me,” you commented with a distracted look, playing with the fabric of her nightgown, trying to relax. She looked at you sharply, frowning.

“No, no, no, how can you say that? I'll never get sick of you,” she said in an almost pleading tone, lifting your chin so you would look at her, something you did before shifting on her body. “You're the love of my life, (Y/N)… You're everything to me.”

“No, not everything… I can't make love to you,” you whispered, camouflaging your voice on her chest.

The lady sighed, hugging you tighter. Her breathing was still agitated. The excitement could still be noticed in her movements. That made you feel even worse, making you sit up.

“I can, I can touch you if you want…” you said with a blush on your cheeks, with a shy voice broken by nervousness.

Donna looked at you with a frown, shaking her head.

“No, it's not necessary,” she said softly, studying each of your micro-expressions, each of the movements of your body. “It's not fair to you. Just, just tell me what worries you.”

“I don't know,” you lied, avoiding the tears from running down your cheeks.

“Is it because of my penis?” Donna asked, with that same understanding tone, always worried about the change the Black Gods made in her body.

“No, Donna,” you said with a more serious voice, moving her own demons away from that conversation, letting them not settle next to yours. “It's not that.”

“Okay…” she sighed, lying down more comfortably on the bed, removing you from her chest so your gaze wouldn't escape hers again. “Are you afraid of something? Are you afraid of the pain?”

“No, no, I… Well, the pain scares me but… It's not that, darling,” you said nervously, intimidated by that sudden interrogation.

That revealed Lady Beneviento's loss of patience. She never asked. She simply accepted your decision, until that day.

“So what is it?” the doll maker asked again, that time with a brusque tone, not asking, but demanding an answer, something that could explain your behavior.

You stepped back, unable to explain your true reasons, your true fears. Her voice sounded stern, demanding, nervous… Because of you.

“I need to cle-clear myself,” you said, suppressing a sob and getting up from the bed, walking towards the door.

“(Y/N), wait, I, I'm sorry,” the lady said, reaching out a hand to grab your wrist. “Don't go, amore mio… Forgive me.”

“I'll be right back just… I just need a moment,” you said, painfully removing her hand from your skin, feeling the cold that the lack of contact left on your body.

You walked through the halls of that gloomy basement, running your hand along the cracked walls, with your mind thinking many things and at the same time thinking nothing. That wandering walk took you to the bathroom, where the mirror was waiting to laugh at you.

With a sob, you turned on the sink, wetting your face with that ice-cold water, hoping that this way your mind could clear up.

Your gaze slowly went up to the mirror as you moved away, letting the reflection reveal more and more parts of your body. Without saying anything, sighing, you pulled up the fabric of your nightgown, looking at your figure, the figure that embarrassed you.

“No... She can't see me like this... I’m, I’m horrible,” you sobbed as you ran your hand over the marks on your skin, over the curves you were born with.

You were always a self-conscious girl. Since you were a child you suffered mockery for the marks on your body, for your freckles, for your scars... It might seem that they were simply children's stuff, that everything would pass with time but... You were wrong.

Adolescence only made it worse. Your body changed, deforming in a way you considered horrible. You weren't tall, you weren't especially thin, your body was horrible.

That shadow of your complexes led your soul to chain itself, to put on a protective shield that kept it away from suffering. Always with your books, with your drawings... You became a hermit without the right to be one, at least in a place like that.

That sinister village wasn't to blame for your problems. No one was to blame. The masses, the sermons, the Black Gods... None of that mattered to you especially, not even the Lords.

Your problems and your self-pity were always above your faith, above those prophecies of Mother Miranda. To live in a place like that never helped you, but you knew that if you lived somewhere else, nothing would change.

You were born that way, with that body, with those marks. Sometimes you wondered what kind of horrible thing your parents did, why they offended the Black Gods to punish them with such a horrible daughter.

Without friends, without beauty, without charisma, you became an inhabitant that no one paid attention to, a stain in a place full of light eyes, blonde hair and beautiful women, groups to which you didn’t belong at all.

In the midst of all that darkness, of boring masses you masterfully avoided by placing yourself in remote places (what nonsense, no one would notice you anyway) you achieved something you found hard to believe.

You caught someone's attention, not a villager, not a mocking child. There was something different about the usual sermons, some eyes you couldn't see, but you knew they were watching you.

That black dress, that sinister doll, that stoic pose and an almost ghostly presence...

You didn't know why, Donna Beneviento, youngest Lord, dangerous woman, mentally ill, the personification of fear for the village, had set her sights on you day after day, sermon after sermon.

Curiosity or simply a misinterpretation on your part, that's what you thought it was. No one could notice you, not even her, unless her sick mind wanted to torture you simply because she felt like it. It wouldn't be the first time it happened, you had heard rumors.

But rumors were always based on conversations where words danced at the whim of fearful villagers. When at last that dark lady came towards you with the church empty, you knew she wouldn't hurt you.

A hoarse voice came out from that black veil, a voice that cried out for your attention, that asked you why you couldn't get out of her head. It seemed impossible.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one. For a long time you had also been looking for her figure, you wondered what kind of woman she was.

Everything led to an incredible point, to a lot of walks, embarrassing dates with the lady in black. The smile began to replace your sad face and before you knew it, you were madly in love with her.

Not everything was light in that mansion. Donna Beneviento had problems, she was sick. She had developed an obsession with you that was difficult to understand. However, her jealousy, her clingy and almost dominant attitude didn’t make a dent in your feelings.

Yes, she was obsessed with you, not a day went by when her hands didn't touch your skin, when her lips didn't devour yours in silence. To her, you weren't just another girl, a piece of meat to have fun with. No, to her, you were much more than that.

The love she felt for you transcended her own appearance, the fear she felt when the veil disappeared from her face, when she had no choice but to be honest with you about her body.

You stayed by her side, you didn't run away. Yes, surely that obsession, that jealousy, that kind of adoration the lady in black had for you had a much more romantic explanation than a stupid mental illness.

You were that miracle, that person who saw far beyond appearances, the only person in the world who told her she was beautiful.

Everything was going well, perfect, even. Your life was a sea of ​​kisses and caresses. Living with her in the mansion, well, and also with Angie, was the best decision of your life.

But your relationship was missing something that Donna wanted and that you were unable to give her.

Luckily, every day was a restart, a new opportunity to start from scratch, to forget that awkward moment that Donna never, ever remembered to you.

But the passage of time was capable of distorting things, even that kind and understanding attitude of the lady in black.

“You're not talkative today,” Donna commented during lunch.

The day had started well, but that was because the lady in black was spending time with her dolls, oblivious to your own worries.

“Yes, well...” you sighed, playing with your food and looking down.

“Have I done something wrong?” the lady asked, drinking some wine.

“No,” you said, sighing again, with a horribly fake smile. “It’s nothing.”

“It's nothing…” she murmured, half-closing her eye. You regretted your mistake, trying to improve that sad smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, well, thoughts, you know,” you said with an improved mood, trying by all means to erase that dark look of the lady.

“No, I don't know,” she said, with a serious, confused tone. “Tell me.”

You would have to invent something, and quickly.

“Well… I was, I was thinking about going to the village,” you said, with a sincere smile. She looked at you with that same intense gaze.

“What for?” she asked curiously, frowning. “Do you need something?”

“The truth is that I would like to buy some clothes,” you said calmer, relaxing your shoulders.

Her gaze didn’t change.

“Clothes…” Donna sighed, tilting her head. “I didn't know you were interested in clothes.”

“I'm not interested,” you said amused, pointing at your dress. “But I think that five years with the same dress are too many years, don't you think?”

“Mm, you want a dress,” she said, smiling tenderly to your relief, also noticing your used clothes. “What kind of dress?”

You shrugged, eating calmly, enjoying the dedication of the lady in black to please you with her recipes.

“Well… One, I guess,” you joked with a funny look. “One that suits me well…”

No, certainly talking about clothes wasn’t the best idea. Your complexes peeked into your mind, taking notice.

“Mm,” Donna said with a tender look, slowly getting up from the table and approaching you.

You lowered your head, blushing at that smile, at how lucky you were to always have her beauty by your side. She was so beautiful, so affectionate… So… Donna…

Her finger raised your chin while the lady studied your shy eyes. The smile didn’t leave her face.

“Everything suits well on a beautiful girl like you,” she murmured, leaning in to steal a sensual, tender kiss from you, one that tasted like wine.

You laughed shyly, moving away from her tender harassment while playing with her hands.

“Then wear a potato sack!” a shrill voice interrupted that romantic moment, that feeling in your mind of having freed yourself for a second from your fears. Angie.

“Angie…” Donna murmured, rolling her eye but with her hand still in yours. “Unlike (Y/N), you are better quiet.”

“That's a low blow, silly Donna,” the doll protested, approaching you, getting on the table and making an unpleasant noise when moving the plates and glasses.

“What did I tell you about getting on the table? Scendi!” the lady said, blinking furiously, pointing to the floor with her hand.

“I don't want to, I'm helping the fool to choose a dress,” Angie said, with a cocky voice, making you shake your head, rubbing your eyes.

“Cosa? Please leave her alone,” Donna said shaking her head as the doll played with your dress, pretending to study it thoroughly.

“Mm, yeah, a potato sack would be too fancy for a loser like you…” the puppet muttered, making you frown with an annoyed growl. “What do you say, Donna?”

“I say… Basta, Angie,” the lady hissed, crossing her arms. “Don’t make me control you.”

“You’re stupid and she’s stupid,” the doll protested, reluctantly obeying. “I just want to help…”

“Hey, I appreciate it,” you said amused, winking at her.

“You see, Donna? She appreciates my ideas,” Angie said, with a haughty pose, climbing onto your lap.

The lady snorted, shaking her head.

“Mm, let's see, let's see...” the puppet murmured, placing the dress on you under your amused gaze. “Oh, you could...” she said, lowering her voice, getting closer to your ear. “Oh, oh, oh, you could wear a ruffled dress.”

“Ruffles? No thanks, that's too cheesy,” you said amused, arching your eyebrows.

“Did you hear that, Donna? She says your dolls are cheesy…” Angie mocked, with an overly dramatic tone.

“Hey, I didn't say that,” you protested.

Donna's patience ran out, picking up the doll in her arms and leaving her on the floor in an unpleasant way.

“That's enough, get out,” she said in a threatening voice, pointing her finger towards the hallway.

“You're too tense, silly Donna. Are you having too much testicular pressure?”

“Basta! Porca miseria, taci, taci! Get out, get out, get out!” the lady shrieked furiously, offended and humiliated by that insinuation, which, obviously, also involved you.

That abrupt attitude with her only companion made you squirm in your chair, guilt stalking you again. You were to blame for that tension. You were to blame for the desire to have you, to possess you, being extended more and more in time.

“I-I'm sorry,” you murmured nervously as the doll ran away, laughing loudly.

“No…” Donna said, turning around and shaking her head, resting her hands on your shoulders. “No, tesoro, you haven't done anything wrong.”

“I… I…” you stammered, biting your lip to suppress an embarrassed sob. “Donna, I…”

“Shh, don't worry, everything is fine. You know how she is like, don't pay attention to her,” the lady said softly, gesturing to you with her hand. “Get up, amore mio, I want to look at you.”

With the help of her hand, you stood up while Donna looked at your clothes, the fabric that covered your sleeves, the folds of your dress…

“Mm…” she murmured, relaxing that furious expression due to the doll's teasing. “Yes, okay…”

“What…? What are you doing?” you asked curiously, trying to forget that awkward moment.

She smiled, apparently calmer, putting a hand around your waist, sighing and hugging you from behind, placing her lips on your neck.

“I won't allow la mia ragazza to spend a single lei on a horrible dress…” she whispered affectionately, causing you to laugh due to the tickling of her lips. “I'll make you one.”

“Oh…” you gasped with a smile, closing your eyes to enjoy her hug, joining your hands to hers, trying, involuntarily, that they didn't dare to run around your body. “No, it's not necessary.”

“Mm, of course, bellisima…” she said, turning you around quickly and capturing your lips again. “My beautiful girl has to wear a beautiful dress…”

“Donna…” you said with a tender voice, mercilessly seduced by her continuous displays of affection, by her caresses, by her melodic voice.

Yes, she was definitely perfect. You felt stupid, stupid for not being able to give her what she wanted, to let her love you, to make you hers as she would like. You would have to leave your demons aside, remove sadness and fear from your life if you wanted to please her.

“I will make you a dress worthy of a true lady,” she whispered, swinging with you, with a seductive sparkle in her eye. ���No, no, worthy of a goddess.”

“I hope Mother Miranda didn't hear you,” you joked, causing that tender laugh from the lady in black again, causing her lips to rest on yours in a quick, but terribly romantic way.

“Let her hear me… She will never be as lucky as me. I have you, principessa…”she murmured, leaving you, pushing her tempting body away

You, slowly, reached out your hand to grab hers, so she wouldn't move away any further.

“Donna…”you whispered, your voice nervous but determined, even if it was just for a moment. “I want, I want to try again… Tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, running the back of her hand over your cheek as you nodded. “There's no hurry. Angie just talks nonsense, don't take it seriously, mm?”

“It's not because of Angie I… I want, I want to do it,” you said, unable to keep your gaze, something Donna prevented by lifting your chin again.

“Va bene… But first, tesoro, let's finish eating,” she said, kissing you quickly and finally moving away from you, pointing to your chair for you to sit down again.

No matter how little courage you had, it quickly vanished like on all those previous occasions. Not even the safe cover of darkness prevented your body from shaking when her hands ran over it.

Your mind wandered through horrible thoughts, through the fear you had that the lady would notice your body, that way you were born and that made you so self-conscious.

She didn't give it any importance. It was almost as if she had already assumed that making love to you was an impossible task.

You didn't want her to think that way, you didn't even want to think that way yourself, but you couldn't help it.

Day after day, your body asked you for love, but your mind prevented it. Not even your suggestion of keeping your clothes on was a good idea.

Donna didn't ask you, she stopped asking you. Simply, desperate, she accepted all your proposals without complaining but, with time, her attitude was increasingly tired, her sighs were increasingly louder.

You didn't know how long you could last like this, how long the lady in black could put up with you. The fear of losing you was no longer just hers, you also were afraid of Donna abandoning you, of Donna stopping loving you.

At that moment you understood her possessiveness, her jealousy. Just imagining a life without her was horrible and if it was that horrible for you, it was much worse for her.

You sighed during a quiet afternoon, finishing reading while the lady in black worked on something at her desk. Your gaze went to hers, which seemed concentrated. Your eyes shone with her distracted beauty, with each of her movements.

You simply couldn’t understand yourself.

You loved her more than anything but… Because of your stupid complexes, you would end up losing her.

As you thought about all those horrible possibilities, your eyes met and Donna did what she did best, giving you one of her radiant smiles, resting her head on her hand as if she were contemplating something beautiful, something you refused to be aware of.

“Do you see anything you like, tesoro?” she asked softly, with a look that expressed all your worries were absurd.

“Ugh, here we go again… Bye, sticky fools” Angie said, getting off the couch where she was reading with you and walking away from the living room.

“Yes,” you answered, ignoring the doll. “You.”

Donna laughed again, shaking her head and raising her hand towards you.

“Come here,” she whispered tenderly.

You smiled back, getting up from the couch and walking towards the desk, holding out your hand for the lady to take in an elegant way.

“Sit here with me, I want to show you something,” Donna whispered, kissing your shy hand and pulling you to sit on her lap, settling into her favorite position, with your body on hers in an innocent way.

The lady in black pulled out an old magazine, one that seemed to be about fashion, or dresses, or something similar. Little by little she turned each page, where really beautiful girls posed in all kinds of dresses.

You stirred at the sight of those models, at the sight of that beauty that you could never have. Donna kissed your cheek and placed your hair lovingly, pointing with her finger at one of those photographs.

“What do you think of this one, tesoro? Do you like it?” she asked in a whisper, attentive to your gestures.

You leaned down to pick up that magazine, letting Donna accommodate you better on her lap.

“Oh… You mean, you mean the dress, right?” you joked without wanting to do it, running your hand over that beautiful woman, over that perfect body.

The lady laughed amused, frowning.

“Of course,” she whispered unaware of your little joke, resting her head on your shoulder. “I think that color will suit you very much, see? These details match your eyes.”

“Um, yes, well…” you murmured unsure. “I don't think that one will fit me well, it's too tight.”

The doll maker nodded, turning the page without asking any more questions.

“Well, then… What do you say about this one? I can change the design so it doesn't have… Those, those ruffles you hate,” she joked in a calm voice. “I think that one makes a very pretty figure.”

You looked at that woman posing, a tall, blonde woman, who seemed to be made for that dress. You could never be her. You could never have the pretty figure Donna said. No dress would achieve that.

“I don't know, Donna...” you murmured, starting to get stressed for no reason, just for the simple fact that you didn't look anything like those models.

“Mm, okay, don't worry, I'm sure we'll find one you like,” she said, with a slightly more serious look, turning the page again.

Reject after refusal, you rejected each of her proposals, making her features harden little by little.

“Look, I think this one is perfect,” the lady said, pointing to the beautiful girl on the last page. “This neckline would look great on you.”

You shook your head, increasingly nervous.

“Mm, okay…” Donna sighed, running a hand through her hair, but without letting you go. “I'll ask the Duke for more magazines, there has to be a dress you like…”

“No,” you said nervously, looking away. “It's not necessary.”

“Well, I can, I can try to make one with my own design, but I'm not a dressmaker. It would be very difficult for me to not make you look like a porcelain doll,” Donna said, amused, moving you on her lap.

“I wish I was,” you murmured in a somber voice. Even those dolls had better bodies than you, or so you thought.

“Hey, come on, why you say that?” she asked, moving your face so you could look at her.

You shook your head, moving away from her caresses and getting off her lap.

“Stop pretending, Donna. I'm never going to be like one of those models, no dress you make could fit me well,” you said nervously, overwhelmed, about to explode.

“But, but, tesoro…” the lady said, frowning, with a look of surprise. “Di che cosa stai parlando?”

“I don't want a dress, I don't need one, I don't want…” you stammered running a hand over your forehead. “I don't want… For you to realize how horrible I am and…”

“(Y/N), tell me, tell me what's wrong, why do you say such a nonsense?” she asked again, getting up from her desk and reaching out her hands to take yours, a gesture you rejected with a furious gasp.

“Forget it! Okay? I'm not like them. I never will be, so you better stop trying to make me look like them with those stupid dresses. I'm horrible!” you screamed nervously, turning around to run away.

“(Y/N), please, come here, wait!” Donna shouted as you ran towards the elevator, cowardly fleeing.

You ignored her call, going down to the basement, running through its hallways, entering the bedroom and throwing yourself on the bed, crying inconsolably.

You couldn't stand it anymore, you couldn't stand the silent shame you felt for your body. Your mind had exploded. You were no longer able to accept it, to control your anger, to prevent the demons of your low self-esteem from overshadowing your rational thinking.

After a time that you couldn't determine, the sound of heels interrupted your moans and the weight of the brunette sank the bed while a warm hand rested on your back.

“Go away,” you sobbed. “Leave me alone.”

“I will never let you cry alone, tesoro, never,” Donna murmured, sighing. “I can't stand to see you cry, amore mio…”

“Well, leave then,” you said abruptly, moving so the contact would disappear.

“Please... Tell me, tell me what's wrong, I beg you, you’re breaking my heart, (Y/N)…” she whispered, moving your body to get up, grabbing you by the shoulders and wiping away your tears. “Don't cry, please…”

“I can't take it anymore, Donna…” you sobbed, fighting back your tears. “It's, it's too much…”

“What's too much? Please, I want to help you…” she sighed, keeping her hand on your cheek. “Day after day I see your eyes begging for help but I’m unable to read them… Grant me the grace of your words. Grant me the precious gift of those thoughts that are tormenting you…”

“You are always so poetic…” you said with a smile, shaking your head.

She smiled back, without taking her eye off yours, comforting you with her tender gaze.

“Poetry is the word of the Gods…” she whispered romantically. “You are my Goddess, (Y/N)…”

“Don't talk nonsense, I’m not a Goddess,” you said with a sadder tone, turning your face away from her caresses. “I’m nothing like that, I… You don't understand…”

“No, of course I don't understand, tesoro,” she said, getting a little closer to you. “Explain it to me, I’m begging you…”

“Fuck… Do you know… Do you know why I'm wearing this horrible dress? Why don't I let you see me naked? Why don't I want to…? Why can't I make love to you?” you asked embarrassed, correcting your words.

Donna simply shook her head.

“Because of this,” you said, getting up furiously, taking advantage of that furious outburst to untie the laces of your dress and let it fall at your feet.

The lady stood up nervously, looking at you dazed, looking in detail at your half-naked body with her mouth open, surprised.

“(Y/N)… You are…” she murmured, approaching slowly, as if she were hypnotized.

“Don't come closer, Donna,” you said, hissing, kicking the floor. “You see? You don't have to say it. I don't want to hear it. My body is horrible, it's, it's full of marks and freckles and... No, it's not pretty, it's not proportionate...”

The ventriloquist stopped dead, shaking her head, without taking her eye off your flawed body.

“It's... It's a burden I've had for too long... I'm not worthy of your love, of your desire... You'll never, ever be able to love a body like mine... Never...” you murmured, sobbing again, trembling with shame.

“Wait a minute...” she murmured, making a gesture with her hand, looking down with a frown, as if she had just remembered something important. “Oh, so... Were you turning off the light because you were ashamed of your body?” she asked in a different, harsher tone.

You, embarrassed, nodded, lowering your head and clenching your fists tightly.

“Really? Oh, wow, I…” Donna said, with a smile that stuck in your heart, laughing nervously but strangely relieved, something that made you groan.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” you shrieked furiously, taking the brunette’s laughter as a mockery.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said, sighing in relief, with that mocking smile decorating her face as she approached. “Oh, tesoro… I thought you turned off the light so you wouldn’t see my… My face,” she said, her smile disappearing little by little.

“What? No,” you said, shaking your head, with the same confused expression.

“It’s, it’s a relief,” she said, smiling again.

You shook your head in disbelief, bending down to pick up the dress, something Donna prevented with a hand on your wrist, slowly raising your body.

“Amore mio… You're so stupid…” she said with a tender smile, cupping your face in her hands. “Your body is beautiful…”

“Yeah, come on, now lie to me,” you said distrustfully, fleeing from her caresses again. “Have you seen me well? Look at that waist, at that horrible freckles…”

“Horrible?” she asked, running a hand over your marked collarbone, grabbing your waist with the other one. “I think they're cute…”

“Come on, don't pretend that…” you said nervously, letting the lady in black explore your flawed skin for the first time, letting her fingers sink into your scars. “Oh, no, don't touch me there, it's horrible.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, with a cold look, taking your hand and bringing it to her own scar. “Do you think this is horrible, (Y/N)?”

“No,” you said sincerely, strangely comfortable with her caresses. “But, but your body, your body is perfect and mine…”

“Yours isn't perfect,” the lady said, her voice low and whispering, pulling you a little closer to her, resting her warm hand on your back. “Because there's no word that describes something beyond perfection, tesoro… You're beautiful… Your body is beautiful…”

“Don't tell me that…” you whispered confused, blushing at her compliments. “I know, I know you say that to make me feel good.”

“Mm, and what happens when you tell me that I'm beautiful? Do you do it to make me feel good too?” she asked without raising her voice, without making you feel uncomfortable.

“N-No… I, I really think you're beautiful,” you murmured, looking away, trembling every time her fingers ran over your curves, those places you hated.

Donna smiled, leaning down to kiss you tenderly, to sigh on your lips while her hands continued their particular exploration, caressing your back, running a finger along your spine, causing you hundreds of shivers.

“Perfetta…” she whispered among her kisses, her lips too busy to care if you understood her.

You let yourself go, you let her skin brush against yours, her body embrace yours, her perfection and your imperfection to mix.

“Donna, wait,” you said, interrupting her deep kisses.

You moved away, still embarrassed by that eye that didn't want to leave your figure and you moved your ankle, taking a breath.

Your hands traveled nervously to the clasp of your bra, which gave way despite the trembling, falling next to that dress, the one that hid your greatest fear. The lady in black took a deep breath, trying to be kind, trying not to stare at your breasts in a shameless way.

She couldn't help it, her gaze fell on them, her breathing became more agitated as her hands reached out to you again, passing over your chest without touching those erotic parts, surrounding them in a respectful way while her lips slowly traveled down your neck.

“I'm not done,” you said, interrupting, moving away from those hot kisses again.

With less fear at seeing her gaze enraptured by your beauty, you bent down getting rid of the last piece of clothing you had left, exposing yourself to the woman you loved as you never thought you would dare.

“Every piece of clothing you take off is a gift for my gaze...” she whispered, with a voice taken by nerves, by the sincere love that you didn't believe she felt. “You are amazing, amore mio…”

“Come on…” you joked, feeling comfortable with her eye wandering over your imperfection, her hands brushing your hips, her fingers tickling your sensitive, uneven skin. “You are so tender, Donna… Too much for me to keep resisting…”

“Mm, don't resist then,” the lady said softly, pulling your waist, taking you back to the pleasure of her wet, warm kisses, passing that heat through every inch of your skin. “Wait, (Y/N),” she interrupted, moving away in the same way as you. “I think this is unfair.”

“Oh, well...” you said nervously, frustrated at having lost the burning contact that encouraged you to fulfill your lustful desires.

She smiled, but didn't say anything. Donna brought her hands to the buttons of her dress, undoing them little by little, also nervous. Your gaze remained fixed on the pale skin of her body as the top disappeared.

If you were a Goddess you didn't know what she was... Was there anything superior to a Goddess?

Her bra also fell under her trembling hands and her black skirt soon joined the pile of clothes. The lady in black hesitated before lowering her last garment, before letting you see that part of her body that also embarrassed her, but finally, she did it, looking away.

“Donna…” you sighed, involuntarily approaching her naked body, letting your hands travel to her skin, your eyes focusing on every detail of that, soft, pale, hot body… “You are so beautiful…”

“No, no… Not as much as you…” she said, visibly nervous, especially because her body betrayed her desire, something that, unfortunately for her, she could no longer hide. “Come, I want to kiss you.”

You obeyed, walking, floating towards her, letting your two bodies join naked, your skin delighting in the contact.

They were different kisses, deeper ones. Your hands also lost their fear. Hers dared to conquer your breasts, the lower part of your back. Her lips left yours, traveling down your neck, down your freckled collarbone.

“Donna…” you gasped again, surprised by that adoration, by that delicacy with which her fingers ran over your flaws, with which her lips kissed every part you hated, always carefully, as if the mere fact of touching your scars or your curves was something almost forbidden, a divine privilege.

Your hands also ran over her skin, enjoying the softness that yours didn’t have, that paleness, that shine that made you doubt if Donna Beneviento was human, if that beauty was possible in a place like that.

“Make love to me, please…” you whispered, with your voice broken by the growing lust, by the rubbing of your bodies, the subtle caresses of her erection on your belly.

Nothing mattered anymore, just her, just you, just two poor, self-conscious souls who blindly believed in a God that didn't exist, in a supernatural entity that said you were both beautiful.

“Please…” she whispered, walking slowly until you were lying on the bed, lowering her lips down your chest, kissing your belly, scratching the skin of your legs with her nails, claiming that as her territory, claiming you.

Your hips met with hers. Your waist was grabbed by those faithful hands. Your sides were adored by her caresses, by her kisses…

Everything you hated was ambrosia to her, it was addictive to her lips, to her fingers, to her own body that wanted to join yours, that moved to feel its burning skin on yours, so the heat between them would stop being unbearable.

Donna slowly pulled away, with her hand always on your body, not wanting to leave you, looking at you in such a tender way that it seemed impossible. Her sincere smile calmed your nerves. Nothing could make you back down, nothing.

“Ti amo…” she whispered, before going down to your lips again, positioning her body so her erection rubbed against your wetness, against that sensitive part of your body.

“Oh, Donna…” you whispered, hugging her gratefully, almost sobbing from the emotion of feeling desired. You were stupid, but you wouldn't be stupid anymore, never again. “Please… I need you…”

She nodded slowly, caressing your cheek before moving to guide the tip towards your entrance and moving slowly, entering you delicately.

You squirmed due to the sensation, an annoying, painful sensation, but one you couldn't avoid.

Your body stretched slowly, with time, without rushing while Donna entered you completely with a subtle moan, always relieving that discomfort with her caresses, with whispers that passion and nerves didn't allow you to understand.

“Amore mio…” she whispered, letting you get used to it gently, enduring the pleasure of your walls tightening around her. “Are you better? Can I move?”

You, impressed by the change in your body, by losing that pain and immediately turning it into an intense pleasure, nodded closing your eyes, running your hands along her legs.

Her hips began to move slowly but rhythmically, in a way in which you were able to feel her erection sliding along your walls, making its way, soaking in the moisture of your long-repressed desire.

Soft moans, sighs, glances… That joined the dance of your hips, of your bodies fused erotically. Kisses landed on your lips from time to time, your body began to move, to lose its shyness.

The pleasure was outrageously overwhelming. Your hands lost their composure, pulling on her hair, grabbing her breasts, wanting to add that contact, that rubbing to the pleasure of her thrusts.

The slow rhythm disappeared when her hands rested on either side of your head. The lust was already unbearable and her hips began to lose control little by little, as did yours.

“Donna, Donna, I think, I think…” you stammered, noticing that your body was beginning to tense, that your mind was completely free, that it was only able to process the pleasure you felt, one that was getting stronger and stronger.

“Ah!” you screamed when your back tensed, when your walls squeezed her shaft abruptly, trapping her inside of you, preventing her from coming out of your orgasm.

Those new, involuntary movements were enough for Donna to fight against your body, to allow her to maintain that increasingly furious rhythm until, shortly after your screams echoed off the walls of the room, she released herself with a tremendously seductive moan.

Her seed coursed through your wetness, through your walls agitated by your own release. You were already her, you always were, but there was no doubt now.

“Oh, amore mio…” the lady sighed, kissing you erratically, letting her body fall on yours, her hands go crazy in your hair.

“Donna…” you sighed, laughing amused by her tender attitude. “Do… Do you really like my body?” you asked, with insecurity slightly peeking in your mind.

“I love everything about you…”

[mistress-violence]

Prompt: Journal from @into-the-jeggyverse (September 11)

Word count: 580 words

Pairing: Jegulus

⚠️ Warnings: death, loss, reference to a past sexual and emotional relationship, changed OG storyline

Since the day he heard the tragic news, James forgot how to breathe properly. The war took something from everyone, but still... James couldn't believe it will took Regulus from all of them. He always remembered that mesmerizing Slytherin boy, his black curls, his sharp greyish eyes, his sweet pale skin covered in tiny moles. Even after life break them apart, even after Regulus betrayed their thrust and joined the Death Eaters, even then James still kept the memories of their early years together.

He was the first one to find out about this. Dumbledore knew that James could make the information easier to swallow, it was his talent. His heartache was more powerful than he expected. The love he had for the Black boy never faded completely. Then, the pain grew stronger when Sirius broke down. Seeing his best friend crying so bad over the loss of his little brother was very hard.

He thought that time will heal all of his sorrows, but then it came. That bloody cursed journal. Sirius asked him to help with Regulus' belongings. His body will never be recovered, but Sirius still wanted a funeral, so he chose to bury some of his brother's clothes and dear objects. That's how James found the journal. He recognized it from their time in Hogwarts. Sometimes, after their lovemaking, Regulus would sit on his stomach and write in his journal. James knew the key charm that opens it, but he never read a single word. He respected Regulus' privacy.

Maybe it was the curiosity and nostalgia or James really believed that it will heal his pain faster, but he took the journal and read it. That's how he found out about everything, about all the secrets. Regulus never betrayed him or Sirius. Sensing the upcoming war, Dumbledore needed a trustworthy Slytherin, someone who would play the double agent role. Someone who could infiltrate along Death Eaters and extort valuable information. Regulus understood from the start how important this is, so he knew that he couldn't tell James anything. He made all of them believe he was just one of the pureblood supremacists and kept contact just with Dumbledore. He gave them informations for years, without anyone knowing.

Regulus loved James too much to put him in danger. He broke up with him so he could protect the most precious thing in his life. After Regulus left, the pages in the journal were filled with James' memory. All of his emotions that he couldn't tell anyone about, some pictures of James and his friends that Dumbledore will sometimes send to him, the loneliness. Regulus never stopped loving him. The last entry was written a few days before his death.

"I can't let Him win. I won't let Him find you. I will destroy Voldemort's soul, this is the only way to end this war. I will kill him, piece by piece, I will finish all of this. And then I will come back. I will come back and I will find you. I want to kiss you so bad, my light. If I knew that our last kiss will actually be the last, I would have made that moment ethernal. I don't know if you still remember me, if you still care. If I die trying to fight for us, I hope my death will be under the morning sun. That way, I could feel the sensation of our last kiss one more time. I didn't have the chance to tell you when we were together, but I love you and I will do so until my last breath. My beloved forever, James."

James can't breathe anymore.

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Pairing: Slasher! Steddie x reader

Genre: maybe a little angst, some fluff, and leading up to smut

Warnings: some creepy basketball players, Steddie beat the crap out of these creeps, implied mœrder, spiking of the drinks, kissing, a threesome

——

You were being followed.

You had to be.

Theres no other way to describe the crawling up your spine and the faux burning sensation you feel digging it’s way into the vertebrae of your neck.

You knew it was stupid to go outside. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. But you didn’t feel safe at home, not with you being home alone for two weeks now and hearing too many weird noises outside your house late at night. So you’re only option was to take your non-driving self and walk all the way to your friend, Steve Harrington’s, house a couple blocks away. But there seemed to be more blocks at night than there are during the day, and that was one of the other things that unnerved you that night.

A snap of a twig caused an animalistic, fight or flight response of whipping your body around. You flit your eyes around, seeing nothing in the distant dark past the streetlights lining the neighborhood. You turn around and bump into a body that wasn’t there before. Taking one step back, you’re eye meet a white and green letterman, a basketball player. By the name of the shiny green leather, Jake Turner was in front of you.

You step back two more, apologies building in your throat only for you to bump into another body. It’s Tanner Johnson, also on the basketball team.

“Oh I’m sorry,” You speak out around the dryness in your throat.

You step forward away from Tanner, but not too close to Jake. You look to the sides to see four more basketball players have joined the duo, Jason not among them. You remember the news from the day before that Jason had fallen victim to the flu, but that didn’t stop the basketball’s team reign of terror on the unpopular of the Hawkins High’s hallways.

You swallow, nervous. You’re already clammy hands grow clammier, and a nervous heat gathers in your palms and climbs up your arms.

“Where are you off too so late at night?” Jake asked, taking half a step forward.

“Umm- uh.. Steve’s..,” You tell him, glancing at the taller boys around you.

“Harrington’s?” He asks.

You nod.

He only hums, making eye contact with the boy behind you. You feel hands on your hips and the foreign feeling shoots painful jabs of shock from the area of contact out to the rest of your body, overloading your nervous system. You look around again, noting that you’d stopped just at the end of Steve’s block. But how are you going to get away from all the boys and get to safety, you’re greatly outnumbered and outmuscled.

“It’s cold out,” Jake mutters only loud enough for you and the other boys to hear. “No jacket. You wanna stop by and warm up?”

“No-no thank you,” You stutter. “Steve’s just a few houses up.”

“You sure, even with a killer stalking his way around Hawkins?” It sounds almost like the threat.

But the killer. Your stupid, afraid lizard brain completely forgot of a killer roaming Hawkins as you speak, killing a few non-important people of Hawkins that were on the news for three days max, only to be forgotten when that 72 hour timer was up. Only two of your classmates had been killed, but no one of note.

“I’m sure i’ll be fine. Steve’s is just a few houses up,” You say again, a little louder this time.

“C’mon,” Tanner purrs, pushing your hips forward causing you to stumble forward. “Let’s just get your warmed up.”

Jake falls in beside you, a hand coming up to grip the nape of your neck to push your forward.

“No-no!” You struggle, trying to elbow the body behind you. “I don’t wanna go! Let me go!!”

The boys only surge your body forward and you fall into the grass of a nearby yard, it’s cold and wet. You do your best to scramble away but your hands slip on the wet grass.

“This wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t struggle,” You feel a weight on your body and it only overloads your senses even more.

You decided to take a chance and take advantage of the quiet night and yell.

“STEVE!! STEVE!!”

“Shush,” One of the boys says, shoving you down and your face pressed against the grass. Tears, that’d flooded your eyes, spilled over your lash line.

You claw and kick, trying to dislodge whoever was holding you down.

It works, or so you think. You barely hear a hard kick, an “oof”, and the the weight is no longer there.

“Shit-“ You hear a voice.

Another hard thud against a body and a groan of pain.

“Guys, it’s-“

You turn around, sitting up. Your met with a tall, black clothed figure. No distinct features other than the knife in their hand and the paper white mask that features a sad scream.

“Oh shit-“ Tanner backs away, only to be shoved forward by another dark clothes figure, identical to the first one, but they hold a blood stained bat, nails dotted the fat part of the bat.

The first figure with the knife pulls Jake, who was laid on the ground, up by his hair. He’s placed in a sloppy downward dog position and his face is twisted in pain.

“There’s two of them??” One of the basketball guys mutters.

“C’mon man, we gotta go.”

Theres a shuffling of feet and you watch as the four unnamed basketball players sloppily panic sprint away, leaving behind Tanner and Jake.

The figure with the bat swings and you advert your eyes as a sickening thud and a yell of pain is ripped from Tanner’s body.

“I’m only gonna hurt you a little bit,” The ghost with the knife mutters. “Not enough to kill you, but enough for you to remember.”

You’re to scared to back away, but you want to think the knife ghost is mindful. They’re positioned in a way of blocking your view of both his victim and the bat ghost’s victim.

It’s a painful few minutes of whatever happens to both the basketball players, your eyes screwed shut and hands over your ears. And it’s a hand that shocks you out of the barely safe haven. It’s gentle, and you scramble back when you make eye contact with the white mask. You can’t tell which one it is, but whichever one it is, they make no move to hurt you.

They stand to their full height, there’s a knife in their hand. It’s bloody. But they reach their opposite hand towards you.

“C’mon,” The ghost speaks. “Up.”

Despite your mind saying no, you take their hand and the ghost hoists you up. They’re tall, intimidating.

“Let’s get you home.”

The ghost blocks your view of the basketball boys, walking you to the sidewalk and up towards Steve’s house.

The other ghost, the one with the bat, joins on your other side. Both lead you up the way to Steve’s house. It’s silent until you speak up.

“Did you kill them?” You don’t look at either of them.

The ghost on your left, the one with the bat, speaks up, “Only the one that touched you.”

Tanner. Tanner touched you.

And now he’s dead. Because he touched you.

It’s silent again. And they walk you all the way up to Steve’s lit up porch. But you grow confused when the ghost with the bat opens the door, waits for you and the other ghost to walk in, which you do cautiously. But it’s Steve’s house, nothing bad ever happens in Steve’s house.

You watch as the bat ghost shuts the front door, locks both locks, and set the bloodied bat against the wall. They bring their hands up to the mask, pull it up, and they reveal their face.

You can barely believe it. It’s..

It’s Steve.

Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington just murdered a classmate, all because he harassed you and touched you.

You turn around and the other ghost is shaking his hair out, black curls flying about. And then you catch his face. It’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.

Steve and Eddie are the ghosts that have been terrorizing your town for a few weeks now. Murdering town folk and classmates, and they’ve just added another to their list. And these ghosts are also your best friends.

“But why?” You asks, not caring which one answers.

“Why?” Steve starts, pulling the dirtied robe from his body. “Why do we kill or why did we kill Tanner?”

You pause, “Why do you kill?”

“For you,” Steve answers, he pulls the long sleeved shirt that he had on under the robe off, blood had soaked through and gotten it messy as well.

You blinked, mind blank with shock. For you? But why?? Why would someone kill for you? What reasoning could they possibly have?

"Why?" You ask.

"Because, we care about you," Eddie's come up behind you, his mask and robe tossed aside but he still has on a tight fitting long, black sleeved shirt, the sleeved are pushed up to just above his elbows. "Anyone that cares about you enough would kill for you."

"You care about me?" You pause. "That much?"

"Of course," Steve answers.

Eddie gently turns you around with his hands on your shoulders, and you see the same, dark chocolate eyes you've always seen. They look at you with adoration. These don't look like the eyes of a killer, they're just the eyes of one of your closest friends.

"You remember Cody Durrington?" Eddie asks.

Cody Durrington. You'd met him at a party you went to with Steve, Robin, and Eddie. You don't remember much, only that you'd separated from the group and Cody Durrington had been nice and offered you a drink. The next thing you remember is drinking a bottle of blue gatorade through a straw in Steve's bathroom. Robin stood in the doorway and Steve was holding your drink. The next morning, the news had reported Durrington dead, just a block away from the house where the party was at.

"You came crying to me cause you didn't feel good. I figured you drank too much until a little bird told me that Cody Durrington had spiked that drink that he gave you," Eddie told you, still holding you by the shoulders and making strong eye contact. "Apparently he had planned on bringing you home with him that night, but couldn't after you came wobbling over to Steve and I. Obviously, I just couldn't let all that slide, not when it came to you. So I had Steve and Robin bring you home to sober you up and I dragged Cody away and killed him."

"That was you?"

"Of course," Eddie seemed to have a bit of pride swimming in his eyes at his declaration. "I tell you all the time, sweetheart, I won't let anything happen to you."

"It's cause we care about you, baby. But you know that, right?" Steve is still behind you. He's so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. Though you're sure that the thin shirt you threw on before you left your house isn't much of a barrier anyway.

You nod. Words aren't forming in your brain because of the close proximity of the taller men, and also probably because of the shock of the current situation. But it's most definitely because of your two very tall, very handsome best friends that are sandwiching you in the living room right now.

You'd always found your two best friends attractive, ever since you met them. But now? That you know that they'd do anything for you? You can't help but see your boys even more attractive. They always told you that they wouldn't let anything happen to you and that you're always safe with them, but now you know positively mean it. You know that they'd do anything for you, and more.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, his hands are on your upper arms, rubbing up and down in a small motion.

"I uh- Yeah," You stutter, smiling. It's not a confident smile, but you're very nervous all of the sudden.

"You sure?"

You move your hands up to grip onto Eddie's arms and nod, "Yeah."

It's almost like a staring contest between you and Eddie. You breathe, barely, but it fully stops when Eddie's hands move to your face. They're warm against your cheeks, and big. His palms hold pretty much the entirety of your cheeks and his fingers place themselves comfortably around your ears, his pointer resting above your ear while the rest slot themselves underneath your lobe. You blush and Eddie can feel it cause you see the small smile grow on his face. You've never been this close with Eddie, and you're extremely nervous. You can feel your heartbeat pick up and the hint of sweat glossing your cheeks.

Then, Eddie starts leaning in. For what? Is he going to kiss you? Oh you so dearly hoping that the hands on your cheeks and him leaning in are strong telltale signs of a kiss from Eddie Munson. And he only leans closer and closer until your lips meet, and he's kissing you! Eddie fucking Munson is kissing you!! The only thing you can do is kiss him back. Your heart feels like it's beating 100 miles per minutes and you pray to whatever higher power there is in this moment that you don't go into cardiac arrest cause that would be super embarrassing.

Eddie kisses you and kisses you, holding your face so gently in his hands. He keeps pulling back, but you push forward in eagerness. Eddie's happy to be just as eagered as he starts kissing you a little more harshly. But before you get too eagered into kissing, Steve speaks up.

"Hey, can I have a turn now?"

You and Eddie separate, and you turn. Your vision is blurry and your legs feel like jello. You blink a few times and smile up at the older man.

"Of course," You tell him and grab his cheeks to pull him down to your height.

Steve places his hands on the junction where your neck and jaw meet and your lips meet his. You feel the same feeling as you felt when you were kissing Eddie, nervous and like you were about to pass out but oh so excited. Steve is softer, he's eagered to meet your lips but you can tell he likes to take things slow. He places one last, slightly wet kiss to your lips before fully pulling back. You take a moment to realize that you little kissing session with Steve has ended, hopefully temporarily.

"Eagered, are we?" Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You nod.

"Words, baby. You know I like hearing you talk," Steve gently orders, rubbing your jaw with his thumb.

"Yeah," You breathed out.

Steve nodded, satisfied with your answer.

Your concentration on Steve is interrupted by a pair of hands on your upper waist. You jump, not expecting the touch.

"Sorry," You hear Eddie mutter as he noses your neck, pressing his body into yours from behind.

Both of these boys are so warm, and oh so tall. It makes you extremely flustered and nervous for whatever is going to come out of the current situation.

“You wanna lock up and I’ll bring our pretty girl upstairs? Get her started?” Steve suggests, looking past you at Eddie.

“Sure. I’ll bring up a water or two as well,” Eddie presses a soft kiss to your neck and pulls away.

The action spreads head throughout your body, but it’s centered at the area between your legs. Your legs are a little wobbly as you follow Steve up the stairs, your hand in his. You can’t help but admire his back. It’s muscly and you like how his shoulder blade has adjusted to the way his arm his pulled back to keep contact with you. Your eyes glide down the dip where his spine is located and along the symmetrical lines that located the tops of his hip bones that disappear under Steve’s denim jeans.

You barely register the blank walls of the hallway and the semi-empty room that Steve calls his bedroom. You sit obediently on the soft unmade bed. It smells like Steve; woody, a little bit of expensive cologne, a hint of hairspray, and an underlying smell of musk. There’s also a lingering smell of weed and cigarettes, and you make a mental note that Eddie must frequent here as well.

“Arm’s up,” Steve tells you, standing in front of you.

You do as your told and Steve pulls your t-shirt up over your head and drops it onto the floor beside you. Steve brings his hands to your face and leans down to kiss you again, letting his hands roam down your neck, over your shoulders, and down to the middle of your back to unhook the clasps of your bra. He pulls the straps of the material down your shoulders and you help him get your arms out of the loops so Steve can drop your bra on the ground with your shirt.

Steve pulls away from you. You watch as Steve stalks around the bed and goes to settle on the left side of the bed. He adjusts so he’s sitting up against a couple pillows on the headboard, his legs parted and only a few strands of hair falling over his forehead.

“C’mere, baby. You wanna come sit on my lap?” He asks, watching you.

You nod, getting up from your spot and making your way to the man. You’re hesitant as you swing your legs up over Steve and you hover, not sure where to sit.

Steve puts his hands on your hips and pulls you forward and down. As he pulls you down, the boy pushes his hips upwards. He groans a little at the feeling. He slides his hands up your abdomen to your cheeks, cradling them.

“Kiss me?” Steve asks, still holding your face.

You nod.

Steve pulls you down gently. Your hair gets in your face a little and Steve adjusts his hands so your hair stays out of both of your ways. You kiss and kiss, using only a little tongue. You’re letting Steve guide you and it’s obvious he doesn’t want to push you too much, which you’re thankful for.

You’re interrupted by a knock on the doorframe of the bedroom.

“Knock knock, lovebirds,” It’s Eddie. “Water delivery.”

You sit up from kissing Steve, shyly brushing some hair behind your ear. You watch as Eddie sets the two glasses of water on the bedside table. He plops down on the bed, still in his black long sleeve shirt.

“Dude,” Steve deadpans, looking at his male companion.

“What?” Eddie looks back him.

“Your shirt,” Steve points out.

“These sheets need washed anyway,” Eddie waves him off. “You’ll be fine.”

Steve scoffs and turns his head to you. He give you a “this guy” look.

You only smile.

“Sooo…,” Eddie trails. “My turn?”

He looks at you, awaiting your answer.

“Sure,” You shrug, still smiling.

You carefully make your way over to Eddie, being mindful of your knees. You settle on Eddie’s lap just like you did Steve’s but you actually sit down this time.

Eddie pulls you down. He’s a little more aggressive than Steve, you note, but still caring. Eddie dives right into the kiss, using tongue and only a hint of teeth.

After what feels like forever and seconds at the same time, you’re pulled away from Eddie by your hair. You groan, not really in pain but not in too much pleasure either. Steve gently maneuvers you between them, laying you on your back on the bed.

“Off?” Steve asks, sitting up on his haunches beside you. He gently pulls on the pj shorts you have on.

“Uhmm..,” You hesitate for a moment, nervous. “Sure.”

“You sure?” Steve senses your nervousness.

You nod, “No time like the present.”

Steve nods, checking one more time before he pulls your shorts off.

You’re left there in your thin pj shirt and panties. The cold air of the room makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.

In light of exposed skin, Eddie pulls off his own shirt. He shakes out his hair, fluffing it up. You’d only seen Eddie shirt a handful of times, but now was the only time you were only really paying attention. He had a slightly toned chest and a soft tummy. Below his belly button, you followed his thatch of hair that disappeared into his black jeans. Back up to his chest, there was the demon head and the black widow. On the right forearm were his bat tattoos. On his bicep, was the puppet master and on his left bicep was the serpent.

“You like what you see?” Eddie asked, a smug expression on his face.

You averted your gaze in embarrassment.

“There’s no need to get embarrassed,” Eddie told you, turning your head back towards him. “Now let’s get this party started.”

———

A/N: Hello! This has been in my drafts for forever and it’s been getting a little long so I decided to end it where it was. If yall want more eye-pœrn then please please please beg for it cause I honestly have no motivation to write smut for Eddie anymore. But if yall beg for a part 2, I will give yall a part 2