#not enough coffee to be coherent but like

[barbaricjester]

There's something sooooo intriguing about how the first time we see Stan, he's wearing a mask. Yes it's a monster mask and he's doing it to spook Dipper but hmmm. He's wearing a mask and it's a mask he's had since he was young and it was a mask he shared with his brother and HMMM

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʟᴜᴛ | J. WY

» PAIRING : Wooyoung x f! Reader

» SYNOPSIS : The times when your aged-up husband fucked you dumb

» TROPE : Established relationship

» GENRE : Filthy smut

» WORD COUNT : 2k

» CONTENT/WARNINGS : Aged up! Wooyoung, Mob boss! Wooyoung, Age gap (10 years), dom/sub themes, face slapping, spanking, rough sex, degradation, dumbification, slut shaming, dacryphilia, voyeurism, Consensual filming, daddy kink, use of nicknames, possessiveness, public sex, breeding kink.

Despite what everyone assumed about your relationship with your ten-years older mob boss husband, you’d say the assumption of him being too old to fuck your pussy right was the most offensive one of all. To say Wooyoung had the bigger sex drive in your relationship, was more precise, for he fucked you in various different places, positions and times. And he managed to leave you practically broken every time, leaving himself to pick up the pieces and fix you up again just to fuck you into oblivion.

There is not a thing about you that is not hot for your mob boss husband, and he made sure to show you off just enough.

But no matter how blissfully Wooyoung fucked you into submission every time, you had to have some of the favourite times. Times when Wooyoung did nasty things to you, to satisfy his own lust.

Despite being oh so possessive over you, always making sure to leave his marks on you, Wooyoung surely loved showing you off to his mob members. Often taking pictures and videos that showed how he fucked you dumb into nothing but dumb puppy at his use.

So when he had your arms weakly wrapped around his shoulders, looking like you were minutes away from breaking in his hold as your pussy stretched to the maximum by his cock. He just had to take a video of his pretty wife. His left hand rested on your shoulder, pointing to the mirror for which you had your back facing. His other hand caressed your hair, ever so gently, before sliding down to your ass. You knew you had it coming when his hand squeezed your ass tightly, before pulling away to land a slap on your skin. “You think they are going to love your little whimpers, kitten?”

You barely realised you had turned into a whimpering mess when Wooyoung landed a continuous series of harsh spanks on your now red bottom. Wooyoung moved his hand back to your neck, pulling you away from the crook of his neck. He cursed at the way your face had turned red, little tears at the end of your eyes, clearly showing how much Wooyoung had teased you for the night.

Finally giving into your plea which had turned into a mantra for the night, he finally jerked his hips up, causing you to jump up in shock. “Seems like fingering my slut till her cum ran down my hands wasn’t enough, was it?” You finally break into a puddle of loud moans and whimpers. Leaving series of babbles at how good it felt and pathetic begs to fuck you hard.

Wooyoung sets his phone on the coffee table next to your couch, placing it as though to give it a perfect view of his dick hammering into you. “So much for training you into a good little slut, can’t even fucking handle being cockwarmed.” your face controls to protest back, “Was a good slut, daddy” but it barely makes it out coherently. Wooyoung leans down to press his lips against yours, gently kissing you, while his hips slapped against your ass. Only for him to pull away the next moment to land slaps across your face. “Let’s see what they will think about that, princess.”

The next morning, while you had your head rested against the thousand dollar pillows, Wooyoung slowly caressed his semi-hard cock, reading the messages San and Mingi sent.

Debating whether or not to fuck you awake, as his jealousy clawed at him despite a voice in the back of his head telling him to let you rest. In the end, he had you on your stomach, fucking you slow and deep as he snapped another picture.

Wooyoung

All mine to fuck. <3

If Wooyoung did not send anything to them, he would have them watch the both of you live. So for some odd reason whenever he took you to one of his club meetings, to ‘drink and have fun’, it mostly ended up with you on all fours to take him or his cock shoved down your throat while everyone either just watched or had their dicks out shamelessly masturbating to the sight.

And it was certainly odd that Wooyoung made you drink something before you go. But it was too much to care when your cunt dripped so wet, almost making a stain through your jean skirts. Knowing it was not a new thing for any of them to find you cock drunk, you decide to mount his thigh, not caring that a waiter was staring wide-eyed at you.

Your pussy rubbed against the friction of his jeans, your hips shamelessly bouncing you up and down on his thigh all while the room went silent. It is not a surprise when Wooyoung reaches up to your face to slap you, hard. The sound resonated throughout the room, but it did nothing to stop your hips from grinding down onto his thigh. “Fucking shameless. You look so pathetic right now, brat.”

There was barely any true malice evident in his tone, but oh the degrading words did not help your condition. “Don’t care, daddy. Want you to fuck me right now, please.” You draw out your plea, taking his hand to move it to your pussy. Wooyoung surprisingly leaned back as he let you continue your pathetic little stunt. You slide your wet folds over his thick fingers, messily trying to ride them.

Oh was the expression of utter disbelief looking good on his members as they try to wrap their minds around the current situation. Wooyoung’s eyes wander over to theirs, over your shoulder before your whine pulls his attention back to you. “Please daddy, pussy’s so wet for you, just want you to fuck me. Gonna be a good slut, please.” It wasn’t just Wooyoung who knew exactly how to break you, a pathetic series of begging and pouty whines from you was enough to make him have you on your back with your thighs pressed to your chest.

I mean, how could he ever deny his good little slut when she’s begging at his mercy? But he would be lying if he said he didn’t like overstimulating you in front of them either, to the point your hands almost come down to caress your pussy from the amount of abuse. Only for him to grab your arms and make you hold them up again as he leans down to lap at your swollen lips.

When you first started dating Wooyoung, he knew you were extremely inexperienced, for he was the first one to teach you how to suck a dick. So it was not a surprise for him to find out you were a pillow princess through and through despite years into your relationship. As much as it was supposed to bother him, Wooyoung liked the idea of you completely relying on him for pleasure.

And he for sure loved proving his theory. So when he found in deep slumber, all while your skirt rode up leaving your white panties on display for him. He just had to rub little circles on your clit to make it nice and wet for him, but applying minimal pressure so as to not wake you. But oh shoot! He had to leave to meet dealers at his house office minutes ago. Wooyoung felt so ‘guilty’ about leaving his princess all wet and ready, leaning down to kiss your thighs gently, “Be a good girl for daddy, okay?”

And thanks to the camera Wooyoung had set up in your bedroom, he could stalk your every movement when you woke up. Funny how he thought he would focus on anything that the dealers would say when the sight of desperately holding the vibrator against your pussy to find the spot, or your fingers trying to reach deep only for your attempts to go to vain.

Frustration was bubbling in your blood, your slick covered hands searching for your phone, hitting the top contact. As if on cue, Wooyoung heard his phone go off, and as soon as he picked it up, he was met with your frustrated pants. “Daddy! Where are you?” you didn’t mean the sentence to come out so bratty, but could you help it when you itched for a relief, down desperately. Wooyoung almost contemplated coming to you in an instant or leaving you hanging for a little longer. “Watch your tone, brat.” Wooyoung involuntarily raised his eyebrows, surprised at your outburst. There was an immediate whine on your end, almost sounding like a wail. “‘M so fucking wet daddy, really tried helping myself.” Wooyoung could hear the sobs coming up to your throat, and gosh did it make his cock harden in his briefs. Your fingers found their way back to your womanhood, grinning cause he loved watching you suffer a little too much.

“Maybe continue humping your little fingers just like that. And you’ll get to have daddy’s cock deep inside you again.” To say Wooyoung was shameless was an understatement. He absolutely had no hint of embarrassment in his tone for talking like that in front of everyone. Before you could let out another whine, he hung up on you, a subtle smirk hanging on his face as he set his phone down.

Wooyoung’s dick ached to be buried inside you, his eyes almost never leaving the screen except to answer some questions. So when Wooyoung finally walked past your bedroom door to find you only minutes later, to find you laying pliant on the bed. The sound of Wooyoung’s footsteps immediately had you on your knees, waiting for him like an obedient kitten. Knowing there was a plea in the tip of your tongue, his one hand moved down to wrap around your waist, while the other found home in between your thighs. The fluttering touch of his long fingers against your dripping folds had you moaning into the kiss.

“Such a tempting pussy.” Pulling away from your lips, he pushed you down on your back, hoisting your legs up and apart. His middle and ring finger slamming inside you without a warning, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasp. Your face contorts into a fucked out expression that has Wooyoung grasping your neck tightly.

“So patient for daddy, weren’t you princess?” Your mouth formed an ‘o’, your eyes rolling back when his fingers penetrated the sweet spot over and over again. Moving his hand from your neck to push away hair gently, before tugging hard on it. “Dumb little mutt, your slutty pussy of yours can never get enough.”

Wooyoung pulled out his fingers just when a trail of liquid spurted out of you, causing your hips to twitch in place. “So fucking messy, you’re just a dumb little pet at my mercy.”

One thing about the way Wooyoung treated you while fucking you was he was unpredictable. His soft gentle touch on your body could turn into a harsh slap, hard enough to leave his hand imprint. But why did he do this? It was to simply see the way you would let out a little gasp, or the way tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to hold it in. but it was mostly for the latter. There was nothing Wooyoung wouldn’t do to see tears running down his pretty slut’s face, stinging your cheeks thanks to his harsh slaps.

But there was nothing unpredictable about Wooyoung when he caught sight of a rather younger guy, around your age, standing next to you at an absolute close proximity, his hand on your lower back which was exposed thanks to the deep cut in your dress. Anger was un understatement, to say the least. His hand grasped the back of your neck tightly to tug you back into his arms, his figure towering over you from behind. “As much as I hate to interrupt conversations, I believe my wife belongs with me.”

There were red marks of spanks and slaps, dark purple hickeys adorning your neck, and your abdomen almost bulged out thanks to being filled up by loads of cum twice in a row. It was safe to say you look the epitome of dishevelled mess. “Think that little fucker could fuck you this good? Think he can wear your pussy out like I do? Huh?“ his hand squeezed around your throat barely allowing you to respond, “No daddy, j-just you. O-only you can fuck m-me this hard.” Despite being pleased with your answer, his hand came down to swat at your bottom again. “My slut is so pleasing, maybe I should let you cum again.”

[vifilms]

firefighter!abby who comes in every sunday morning to your floral shop, tucked in a tiny corner downtown. you’re usually tucked away in the back, doing floral arrangements, calculating your inventory, organizing new shipments, or just avoiding others in general. an introverted nature is ingrained into your bones. so, dina takes over the front counter. she’s sweet, kind enough to engage in conversation. big brown eyes and welcoming smile always seeming to put the customer’s at ease, assessing their needs as they step foot in the door. 

firefighter!abby who comes in on the dot, half-past nine, right before her shift. her build, incredibly toned, clad in black cargos and her seattle fire department t-shirt tucked in. she greets dina with her blinding, pearly white smile. warming her up to the core as dina grabs the assortment that’s ordered every week. yellow roses, white lillies, and peach carnations make their way into the abby’s hands. she thanks dina, with the same somber look in her eyes before she exits with the same bouquet she always does. 

firefighter!abby who is out for the day, cup of coffee in her hand, ellie to her right telling her about the black-haired beauty she met at the local pub. swearing up and down there was a cute friend, supposedly, but it really just sounds like this is her only way in which her friend needs to enlist help from the hunky-blonde for assistance. 

“So, let me get this straight. You met this girl—” 

“Dina.” Abby pauses, blonde eyebrows quirk upwards. “Wait, does she work at a floral shop?” 

“Yes—” Ellie pauses, envy swirling in her emerald eyes immediately, “Fuck, Anderson, do not tell me you’ve fucked her!” 

Abby smirks, wanting to tease her spunky friend. “C’mon, are you fucking serious? No. Shit. Did you really fuck her?” Abby winks as she takes a sip of her black coffee, bicep flexing in the process. 

“Dude. How the hell am I supposed to compete with your greek god  fucking biceps?” Ellie lifts up the sleeve of her shirt, comparing her much smaller arms to Abby’s very toned and thick muscle. Even Abby’s veins are more prominent than hers. 

Abby giggles, “First off, you can’t but you don’t have to…this time. I just buy flowers from there and everyone kinda knows everyone. It’s Jackson.” 

“Oh, thank god. You had me worried there for a second. Jesus.” Ellie nudges her shoulder, picking at her naibeds anxiously. “So, will you come so you can meet her friend?” 

Abby thinks for a moment. How bad could it be? It’s just one night, right? 

firefighter!abby who comes to the flower shop on a saturday this time. the doorbell rings signaling her entrance, but she doesn’t find dina working the counter like she normally does. you’re someone new, someone she hasn’t seen before, someone beautiful. so much so, she feels as if her feet have been glued to the hardwood floors. dear god, she looks like a goddamn idiot. she’s thankful you’re helping someone as abby tries to break from her caulking spell. 

firefighter!abby who takes note of how attentive you are with the customers even if your body fidgets as you help them but then you smile, it makes her melt. anderson, get yourself together, you have a date tonight. it’s just one, incredibly beautiful girl. you’re fine. she’s fine. before her brain can make one more stupid thought, you’re walking up to her. 

You smell of lavender, it coats Abby’s senses as you make a beeline for her. It could be the shop or it could be you. She believes it’s you. 

“Afternoon, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, Abby reads the name tag on your chest and musters up somewhat of a coherent sentence. You start making the arrangement for her, it’s then she notices how familiar it is. 

It isn’t the flowers she typically chooses, the one she orders through the website of the shop, but the craftsmanship is identical. Down to the yellow ribbon to wrap it neatly, keeping the specially made bouquet in place. 

Abby’s blue eyes must light up with wonder because you smile, it's soft as it slips out of you, too quick for you to hide behind the wall you usually keep yourself within. 

“Um, you make all the arrangements here, right?” Anxiously, you dust your hands on the maroon apron tied around your waist. 

“Yeah, I would hope so. It’s my shop.” You’re not boastful about it, or snarky, it’s sweet. As if you’re proud and you should be. 

“Oh, sorry! I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. I just, um—” Speak blondie, you’re making a fool of yourself. “ I come here every week and have just never seen you before s’all. It’s nice to match the wonderful shop to the even prettier owner.” 

Abby wonders why she doesn’t ask for your number or even try to. She’s not exactly a stranger to beautiful women. When she knows what she wants, she’s like a dog with a bone. Never has she ever halted, or had someone stop her dead in her tracks without even trying. 

In her mind, she’s finding excuses. It’s the sun’s fault for letting the light hit your eyes perfectly, saturating the color even further. Or the way she obsesses over your curves, or the joy seeming to radiate every time you smile. 

It can’t be any of those little things. 

Abby fishes for the wallet in her jacket pocket, before handing you her card, you finalize the transaction before handing the silver card back to her. Calloused fingertips press against yours, much softer than Abby’s, but it excites the two of you. 

Not that either of you spoke a word of it. 

“You’re girlfriend’s a lucky girl. It’s a thoughtful gesture—” but your eyes build a fright in them, a horror that you can’t take back. “I’m sorry! Oh my god. I didn’t mean to just, fuck, assume you had a girlfriend or that you’re into girls. Jesus, I don’t know what came over me. God.” 

Abby bites down a smirk as you anxiously beat your nail on the countertop as if you ruined the interaction. Impatiently needing this to be over. 

“S’okay, really, you didn’t assume wrong.” Mischievous pools of blue look you up and down, pointed canines kissing her pink lips as they bite at the flesh. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend. Well—” Abby leans over placing her palm against yours, her fingertips linger on your skin, setting it ablaze. Releasing your grip of the bouquet and palming the wrapped flowers in her firm grasp.

“Not yet.” 

lmk what you think! hope you enjoyed it! ♡

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Stars In My Eyes

(a part two to this fic!)

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: fluff, so fluffy, first dates, first kisses, some anxiety/stress, a little dash of coach!steve harrington, suggestiveness

author's note: i feel like this took me ages to write! so sorry for the wait...i do sort of love how this turned out :) writing a first kiss scene is hard!!!

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 7.7k

Eddie Munson couldn’t believe his luck.

Like, sure he’s gotten lucky a few times before.  There was that one time an officer let him off with a warning after he rolled through a stop sign, he’d played the “I’m a teacher during finals week” card and it had seemed to work out pretty well for him.  There were also a few times when a stranger in front of him at the Starbucks drive thru had paid for his morning coffee, only for him to turn around and see there was no one behind him to pay it forward to.  

And then, there was that time back during his final senior year where Stacy Cowell was going through a “rebel phase” and decided to give Eddie a string of random blowjobs over the course of a week and a half to make herself feel like she was living on “the wild side.”  She quickly transitioned out of that phase when Eddie had asked her out on a date, he figured they should probably make an effort to learn a little about each other if she was going to be deepthroating him in the back of his van every other day after school.  She turned him down with a disgusted sneer, leaving Eddie a little heartbroken by the fact that a girl could be so offended at the idea of a date with him.  

But none of that even mattered to Eddie anymore.  All of those situations touched by a bit of luck have been reduced down to mere coincidences now that he has you in his life.  Even though it was only one IKEA date trip that the two of you went on last weekend, Eddie couldn’t stop himself from imagining a long, happy future with you because of how fucking perfect it all went.

- 

You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervously giddy over anything in your entire life.  There had never really been any boys that you were crazy for when you were younger.  Sure, you’d been in love a couple times before, but nothing was ever…”wow.” 

 You’d never felt any real sparks, never met anyone truly special enough to change your life like all of the women you’d seen in movies or read about in books.  

But Eddie…he was very much wow.

After you’d worked out the details for your IKEA trip that afternoon in your classroom, you found it hard to stop blushing for the remainder of the week.  The both of you decided that you’d go on Saturday morning, and Eddie had insisted on picking you up and driving there together.  He bowed his head and lightly pressed his lips to your hand in a dramatic and silly fashion before leaving your classroom.  Your knees felt weak and a bright red blush bloomed on your face as Eddie stood back up to his full height to face you. 

“You know,” he started, still holding your hand, "you're really cute when you blush like that.”

A tiny squeak is all that comes out of your mouth when you open it to respond.  

You struggle to put together a coherent sentence and settle for the smile and girlish giggle that bubbled its way out of your chest.  

“I’ll see you later.”

Eddie started to walk backwards, keeping your hand in his grasp until he was too far away and then turning around to exit your classroom.  There wasn’t much else you could do except stare at the hand that had just been held by him, while holding your other over your mouth in shock.  

Eddie waited the appropriate five seconds after being out of your line of sight before erupting into a silent “fist-punching-head-banging-fuck yeah!” celebration in the hallway.  He couldn’t believe he kissed your hand.  The thought to kiss your hand had barely graced his mind before his body had made the decision to go through with it.  Eddie was terrified that his nerdy qualities would cause you to run for the hills, or that you’d think he was weird or stupid.

But instead, you’d blushed bright red and blessed his ears with a giggle, and all of Eddie’s worries and fears were banished from his mind at the sound of it.  

Eddie decided he was going to really enjoy taking every opportunity to make you blush.  

-

There were only two days until your IKEA trip with Eddie, and somehow you kept missing each other in the hallways at school.  On the rare occasion that Eddie had a spare moment, you were at some kind of art teacher workshop.  Whenever you could pull yourself away from decorating your classroom and lesson-planning, Eddie was leaving early for the day to go look at different types of Tubano drums for his classroom.  

There were a couple of staff meetings that everyone had to attend, but the two of you never ended up sitting next to each other.  Instead, you would indulge in a game of eye tag, making yourself feel like you were in high school all over again with a big fat crush.  

While you were really looking forward to your day out with Eddie, a tiny part of you was glad that you weren’t running into him constantly.  You found yourself overpouring your coffee in the morning because of the way the deep brown shade of the coffee matched the color of Eddie’s eyes.  You accidentally took a sip out of your paint water cup instead of your drinking cup because you were staring off at the lamps in your room, wondering which one had been Eddie’s favorite.  Two days was just what you needed to collect yourself enough to act like a normal human being before you saw Eddie again.  You weren’t even allowing yourself the time to think about being in a car with him for the hour that it took to get to IKEA.  All of the workshops, lesson plans and other preparation for the start of school kept you calm and collected.

Eddie, on the other hand, was reduced to a pile of chunky silver rings and nerves.  He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had to get done before your trip…date?  Was it a date?  Did you say the word date when you asked him?  Is it even a date when the girl asks the guy-

Eddie’s frantic pacing is interrupted by a shark knock on his propped open classroom door.

“Yo, Munson.  How’s the…” Steve trailed off as he took in Eddie’s disheveled state.  “Dude.”

“I know, I know, man.” Eddie responds, plopping down in a chair that was meant for one of his students.  He puts his head in his hands, tugging on the roots to try and get a grip.

“What’s goin’ on, Ed?  I haven’t seen you this distraught since One Direction broke up.”  Steve sits on top of a desk next to Eddie, jabbing him softly in the shoulder after his lame attempt at getting a smile out of Eddie.  

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at the stupid joke.  He looks up at Steve with a deep sigh, then stands up and grabs him by the shoulders.

“If I tell you, it stays between us.”  Eddie fixes Steve with a hard look and raised eyebrows, not any different from the look he gives his students when they’re getting up to no good.  “I’m so dead serious.”

Steve’s eyes widen at the sudden seriousness, making a cross over his chest with his finger.  “Yeah man, cross my heart and all that.”

Eddie lets go of Steve, slumping back into the chair with a huff.  

“How do you know that a date is a date, and not just a friend thing?”

Steve smiles cockily and leans forward, always interested in Eddie’s love life…or lack thereof.

“Well, I don’t know…I think I might have to hear a little more about this special lady in order for me to provide some of my good ol’ Harrington Love Advice.”  Steve wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, throwing in a wink for the sake of being annoying.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he knew it was a mistake to bring up girls around this guy.  Steve was always giving Eddie pointers on how to get chicks the way he did, but Eddie was in no way similar to Steve when it came to relationships.  Steve never had nothing to do on the weekends, always with a new girl, sometimes even the single moms at school.  He’d meet them out at a bar, woo them, take them to dinner and then even sometimes back to his place.  Despite his fuck-boy tendencies, Eddie knows it’s never that meaningful for either party.  Steve’s been pining after one of the English teachers for years, and these flings are only serving as a way to satiate his intensely flirtatious side.  

As annoying as he may be, it would be nice to rant about all of his pent up loverboy feelings for you to Steve.  Eddie knows he’s just giving him a hard time, it’s one of the many love languages they share as best friends.

“I-it’s just…she’s so beautiful man, like…holy fuck.”  Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, looking off into the distance as he rambles on about you.  “I mean just…she looks like some kind of Elven princess-angel-goddess-fairy–”

“Dude, Ed.  None of that nerd shit please, say it to me in English.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head with a sigh.  

“Okay.  I really like her.  I haven’t felt this way in years, maybe ever.  We met officially yesterday and just…clicked.”

Steve smiles at Eddie as he talks about you, happy to see his friend so excited about someone.

“We made plans to go to IKEA this weekend, but I don’t know what to make of it?  Is it a date?  Should I bring her flowers?  What if I do bring her flowers and she gets weirded out because it was actually never a date at all?”

Steve holds his hands up like he’s trying to calm down an animal.  

“Woah there, buddy.  No need to get all freaked out about it.”  Steve can’t help but to laugh a little at the helpless look on his friend’s face.  “Let’s just start with the details, okay?  Who asked who?”

“She asked me.  I said I liked her lamps and then she said she got them at IKEA and then I said that I needed some for my room and then she said that we should go to IKEAandshopforsometogether-”

“Okay, okay man.  Take a deep breath.”  Steve motions for Eddie to inhale for a couple seconds.  

“Then let it all out.”  Eddie expels the breath from his lips in a hard huff, looking a little calmer.  “Alright.  So, she asked you?”

Eddie nods.

“That’s good, it means she’s interested!  Not a lot of women are making the first move these days, it means that she definitely wants a slice of Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve, but still waits for him to go on.

“Are you picking her up for the trip to IKEA?”

“Yeah, I offered to pick her up and drive us both there since it’s about an hour away.”

Steve scratches his five o’clock stubble.

“Hmm…okay.  Did she like…jump at the chance for you to drive her or was there some hesitation before she agreed?”

Eddie thinks back to that moment.  How the two of you were standing slightly too close for new friends, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle as you looked up at him, how he was surprised you couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.  

He remembers offering to drive the both of you to the store, surprising himself by saying it way calmer than he was feeling.  Your face lit up a little, like you were shocked that he’d even offer to pick you up and drive you there.  You smiled and nodded your head sweetly before agreeing out loud.

Eddie feels himself smiling at the tiny memory.

“It wasn’t like she immediately answered…but she definitely was smiling when she agreed.  She didn’t seem nervous about it or anything, it was more like she was excited or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up as a smirk emerges on his face.

“So let me see if I’m getting this straight.  She asked you to go to IKEA, probably knowing it was a long drive, and then she happily agreed to let you pick her up and drive the two of you there?  For a whole two hours there and back?”

Eddie nods, anxiously awaiting Steve’s opinion on all of this.

“I mean, it’ll probably be a good four or five hours that you spend together driving and shopping.”

Steve fixes Eddie with a look that says ‘c’mon man, it’s obvious.’

Eddie’s had enough of his edging.  “Will you just get to the fucking point please for the love of god?”

Steve sighs and claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder. 

“Ed, it’s a date.”

Eddie barks out a triumphant laugh and Steve does the same.  The two men high five and Steve wraps a beefy arm around Eddie’s shoulder to pat him on the chest.  Eddie can’t help but to let out a big sigh of relief now that he can stop worrying about how to act on this trip date.

-

On Friday, you could’ve sworn you went slightly neurotic.  

Since Tuesday you’d been considering your day with Eddie as a date, but it suddenly hit you that maybe he didn’t feel the same way.  What if you’d been doing all this worrying and freaking out for no reason?  What if he ends up calling you ‘dude’ the entire day?  What if he has a girlfriend already, and he just agreed to take you to IKEA so that you wouldn’t get your feelings hurt?

You’d been running circles in your head trying to prepare yourself for any and all possible outcomes that Saturday could hold for you, but none of it seemed to be doing you any good.

So, you did what you always did whenever you found yourself flipping out over something new.

You made a to-do list. 

Pick out an outfit.  Dress! too fancy…jeans?  Dress, definitely dress. not too fancy though…

Drink wine 

Watch movie

Clean house…again

Drink more wine

Possibly reconsider outfit…

After all was said and done, you plopped down on your worn-in couch, sufficiently drunk with a clean house and an outfit neatly hung up outside of your closet.  You decide to pour your third and final glass of wine for the evening, and to surrender your anxiety to the gods of love.  You hope and pray that they like you enough to let you have this one. 

-

It was finally Saturday.  Eddie stands in front of his closet furiously, wondering why in the fuck he can’t find a single thing to wear for his date with you today.  He’s got enough clothes to fill his entire closet, dresser, and a $20 clothing rack he picked up at Target years ago.  Steve said to just go with what felt the most like ‘Eddie’, but he’s suddenly unable to remember what his style even looks like.  

He wants to punch himself in the nuts for not taking the time last night to plan this all out like a normal person.  

He ends up settling for a fitted white tee, a pair of trusty black jeans, and black boots.  On a FaceTime call with Steve (so he could approve Eddie’s choice), Steve mentioned that the outfit was casual, but still fairly nice, and that the white shirt showed off his tattoos and muscles.

“Chicks dig the muscles and white tee combo, man.  Trust.”

Eddie chuckles at his friend’s ‘frat boy’ lingo, but the comment makes him feel better about his appearance anyways.  Last year, Steve had managed to convince Eddie to start going to the gym with him after school during the week, and it pains him to admit that he sort of really likes it now.  He likes how much stronger he feels, he likes sweating out all of his frustrations, and most of all he likes the way he fills out his t-shirts now.

After hanging up the call with Steve, Eddie flexes a little in his mirror before leaving to go pick you up.  He decides to do a few last minute push ups and to moisturize the tattoos on his arms so that he looks extra good for you.

-

Perhaps being slightly neurotic about this date was a good idea.

Thanks to all of your meticulous planning, you managed to get completely ready with a half hour to spare.  You decided against sitting on your couch until Eddie arrived since the nervous butterflies in your stomach made you want to throw up, so you opted to wander around your house for the remainder of the time.

You pass by your mirror, doing a final check and making sure your outfit and makeup are up to par.  You’d decided on a simple white dress, with a denim button up thrown over it and your pair of black chelsea boots that had yet to let you down.  You smile at your reflection, happy that you’d managed to choose a comfy and cute outfit that felt like you.

There’d been too many dates before this one where you’d gone out and spent insane amounts of money on brand new outfits that you weren’t even sure you really liked, all in the name of impressing your date and hoping he likes you enough to ask you out on a second one.  When prepping for those dates, you spent hours upon hours running around like a mad woman.  Shaving, plucking, tweezing, waxing.  Making sure your hair curled just right and that your eyeliner was sexy, but not slutty.

You couldn’t figure out why Eddie felt so different to you.  Even though the nerves of a first date had really freaked you out the night before, this morning was fairly calm.  Sure, you took plenty of time in the shower and doing your hair and makeup, but it didn’t feel like you were trying to morph into a different version of yourself to please a man. 

It felt more like you were trying your best to look like your favorite version of yourself. 

You want Eddie to know who you are inside and outside of work, and you really hope that he likes what he finds. 

-

Eddie stays parked outside of your house for a minute or two to try and settle his nerves.  

You lived in a small, red brick house in a family neighborhood.  There were flowers planted in the beds under your windows, and your front door was painted a deep turquoise color.  Eddie sucks in a breath when he sees your figure moving around through the gauzy white curtains covering your windows.  

How can a hazy silhouette still be so beautiful?

Looking into his rearview mirror, Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You got this man.  Be cool.”

He turns his car off and makes his way to your front door, knocking three times and then taking a step back to wait for you.

It takes all of two seconds for your front door to swing open, revealing you on the other side.

Eddie immediately feels weak in the knees.  You looked so cute in your little boots, and he couldn’t help but to let his eyes trail up the smooth skin of your legs.  He gulped a bit at the short hem of your dress, and then realized he should probably say something.

“Hey you.”

“Hi,” You smile up at him bashfully as he looks you up and down.  You take the opportunity to look him over as well, and damn.  You already knew he was sexy, but his tight tee shirt and pulled back hair made you want to drag him into your house and do things to him…

You only notice that he’s been holding a hand behind his back when he brings it out in front of him, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  

“These are for you.  I didn’t know which was your favorite, so I just asked the lady to throw together a bunch of different kinds and to make it look pretty.”  Eddie holds the colorful bouquet out to you and smiles sheepishly.  

Your mouth hangs open as you reach out to take them, being so careful for no real reason.  You look up at Eddie with those big, sparkling eyes.

“Thank you so much, Eddie.  These are so incredibly beautiful,” he watches you looking down at the flowers, gently brushing your fingers against their petals.  “Let me run inside and find a vase for them real quick.  Come on in!”

You wave him in behind you and hurry inside.

Eddie tries to suppress the excitement he feels at being invited into your home.  He felt like he already got a good glimpse at who you are and how you express yourself when he was inside your classroom, but he’s now getting to see where you spend the majority of your time, where you live.  As he steps over the threshold and into your house, he readies his brain to take mental pictures of everything he sets his eyes on, just in case he never sees it again.

Instantly, he’s hit with a sense of “home.”  The inside of your house is the perfect temperature and it smells so good and womanly, like your perfume and also like you’ve been baking something but somehow also like flowers…Eddie loves it already.

You scurry off into the kitchen, trying not to think about the fact that Eddie Munson is looking around your house right now.

Where in the hell have all of your vases run off to?

Eddie walks around cooly with his hands clasped behind his back, taking in everything about your space.  Much like your classroom, Eddie is able to spot at least four different sized lamps and light fixtures placed around your entryway and living room.  There were warm white Christmas lights hung up along the ceiling, multiple green-leaved plants in different corners, and Eddie even thinks he spotted a black cat sprinting under your soft looking white sectional.

Overall, he’d give your interior design skills an 11/10. 

He’s just starting to miss you a little when you come out from your kitchen holding your flowers in a sparkly glass vase.  

It’s an odd feeling, seeing Eddie in your house.  His ‘edgier’ look seems like it wouldn’t fit with your overall aesthetic, but to your surprise he looks like he belongs here.  You walk up to him almost in a daze, admiring the silver hoop earrings he’s wearing, the smile on his lips, and the way some of his hair has made its way out of his low bun to frame his face.  

The two of you stand there for a moment looking at each other, with you holding your flowers in between your bodies.  You engage in a staring match for almost a second too long before you break the silence.

“No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you sheepishly admit, looking down at them instead of at him.  Eddie grins at the blush that blooms onto your cheeks after your prolonged eye contact.

Eddie scoffs before he can stop himself.

“Seriously?  That’s a damn shame, sweetheart.”

You look up at him again and try not to faint at how easily the word fell from his perfect lips.  Unable to take another second of his eyes on yours, you retreat into your living room to find the perfect place for your new flowers.  You decide to put them on your coffee table, then turn around to find that Eddie had followed you in.  

He offers his arm out to you, “Shall we?”

This time, you can’t fight the smile.

You take his arm and swipe your purse from the coat hanger next to your front door on your way out.

-

Eddie was the perfect gentleman for the entire duration of the car ride to IKEA.  He had opened the car door for you, he let you pick the music, and he definitely did not sneak a glimpse at your bare, voluminous thighs when your dress shifted as you sat down.  The sweet smell of your perfume spread throughout the interior of his truck, he hopes that smell never fades away.

He couldn’t help glancing over at you every other minute, looking so beautiful in his passenger seat while you bobbed your head to whatever song you had queued up on his phone. 

“Would it be a total invasion of privacy if I played your On Repeat playlist?  I’m dying to know what the music teacher’s favorite music is right now.”  Eddie turned to see that you were smiling pleadingly at him, and how could he say no to that face?

“I suppose,” Eddie sighs dramatically.  “But, you are not allowed to judge me for whatever pops up.”  He playfully points a finger at you while keeping his eyes on the road.  You giggle girlishly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You hit ‘shuffle’ on Eddie’s playlist and aren’t surprised when the first song that plays through the speakers is ‘The Unforgiven ll’ by Metallica.  You already knew Eddie was a fan of the band thanks to the music he always has playing a tad too loudly whenever you pass by his classroom.

“Oh, I know this song!”

Eddie’s face whips towards you sporting a shocked ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ expression.  He was definitely expecting you to be the ‘indie music’ type.  Your eyebrows furrow adorably angrily at the look on his face.  

“What?  A girl can’t like Metallica?” You fix him with a look that tells Eddie he should think twice about his response.

“W-well…I just didn’t expect you to be into them…that’s all.”  You roll your eyes playfully at him and cross your arms.  “But!  I’m very pleasantly surprised that you are!  Girls rule, alright?  Men like…totally suck and stuff.”

You chuckle at his frantic attempt at avoiding a lecture on gender inequality and feminism while settling back into your seat.  And because you actually do know and love this song, you start mouthing the words, which eventually evolves into singing them under your breath.

When Eddie thought he spotted you mouthing the words out of the corner of his eye, he was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him.  But just barely hearing you singing the words to his favorite Metallica song just further confirmed a fact that he already knew.

Eddie Munson was totally going to fall in love with you.

The rest of the car ride consisted of sharing music, talking about work and life, childhood memories, and other random topics.  Eddie discovered that you love thunderstorms, your cat’s name is Pascal (after the chameleon from Tangled), and that you moved here at the beginning of summer from Chicago.

Eddie swears there’s never been a conversation in history that flowed as well as yours and his.  He felt like he’s known you for years, and he hopes you’re feeling the same way.

You totally are.

-

Once the two of you made it to IKEA and inside the giant store, Eddie quickly realized that he never really put any thought into what he actually wanted to buy for his classroom.  You swiftly came to his rescue and pulled out your phone to open up Pinterest.

Together, you found a couple pictures that matched the general vibe of Eddie’s classroom.  He grabbed a map of the store and a cart, and set off into the maze of furniture.  

You were back to being shy again, now that you were out in the wild with Eddie.  He found that making jokes about all of the funny names got you giggling, and so he didn’t miss an opportunity.

He made you laugh the hardest next to the Koppang drawers.

You bumped your shoulder into his around the Baggebo bookcases.

His hand brushed yours next to a Tornviken kitchen island. 

And Eddie finally worked up the courage to hold your hand next to a Klippan loveseat.

You gasped a little when you felt his warm hand slide into yours, interlocking your fingers together.  A red hot blush worked its way up your neck as you snuck a glance over at him, only to find that he was already looking at you with a smirk.  He knows exactly what this hand holding is doing to you.

He chuckles smugly as the two of you arrive at the lights section of the store.  As he pushes the cart through the aisles, you’re enamored by the twinkling lights that are draped overhead.  You’re lucky he’s holding your hand, or else you probably would’ve fallen flat on your face.  Eddie can’t help but to stare at you as you stare up at all the different light fixtures.  The different colors and hues of light shine beautifully onto your face, and the soft smile on your lips makes Eddie wish he could just grab you and kiss you right here in the aisle.  But, he figures that would cause you to explode after your reaction to his hand-holding.

He watches as you look further down the aisle at the lamps that are on display there, your face lighting up in recognition.

“Oh!  That’s one that I’ve got in my room!”  You point at an orange, donut shaped light called a Varmblixt.  Eddie recognizes it, you do indeed have one hanging on the wall behind your desk.

“I must have it,” Eddie says with a flourish ,”Never have I seen a more extraordinary donut lamp.”

You giggle and go to grab one to place in the cart, but the box proves to be way heavier than you remember.  Eddie notices as soon as you inhale to exert more effort, and he steps in immediately. 

 No fair maiden such as you should be forced to exert any effort whatsoever in his presence.

“I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

You try not to let the name affect you but once again, you fail.  You’re left blushing and biting your lip, speechless.  You stare unashamed at Eddie as he picks up the heavy box and goes to place it in the cart with ease.  The overhead lights were really doing him favors, every ridge and contour of his body was lit to perfection.  You could see the delicious bulge of his biceps, the ripple of his forearm muscles, and the outline of his chest in his shirt….why is your mouth watering?

Eddie easily places the box in the cart, turning to face you again.  He finds you blushing up at him with wide eyes, and is unable to contain the smug smirk on his face.  The sudden lack of distance between the two of you did not go unnoticed by him, he hoped you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

The ‘normal you’ would’ve noticed that you were obviously in Eddie’s personal bubble, and you would’ve taken a step back like the respectable adult that you are.  But the ‘normal you’ was long gone in Eddie’s presence.  This version of you was not unlike the version that existed when you were an awkward teenager who was on the brink of passing out anytime a boy even breathed in your direction. 

While you were busy ogling Eddie’s physique, you’d failed to notice the close proximity between the two of you, which led you to your current situation.  

You and him were so close together, you could feel the warm puffs of air from between his parted lips gently hitting your face.  His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your lips, but you wouldn’t have noticed anyways because you were one step ahead of him.

His lips looked so pillowy and soft, you wondered how they’d feel pressed against yours.  Would he kiss you slowly, gently holding your face in his big hands and brushing his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks?  Or would he be rougher than that, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you into him, kissing you with fire and passion?

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you suck your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it.  You’re so goddamn beautiful, and you looked like an angel in this aisle of lights.  A lamp from behind you lights up the silhouette of your hair like a halo, and he can see the lights above his head reflected in your eyes like stars.  

Eddie knows he shouldn’t kiss you right now, not in the middle of IKEA where he can hear kids whining to their parents and couples arguing over which shade of beige would match their living room better.  He knows this, but he can’t stop himself from reaching his hand up to gently grasp your jaw.  His thumb slides from your chin to your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth.

His hand snakes down to the side of your neck, and you can feel the slight tremor in his hand.  You’re glad that the situation is affecting him too, because you are freaking out.  

Is he going to kiss you right now?  

In IKEA?

On your first date? 

Is this even a date?  

Do you even want him to kiss you?  Idiot, of course you want him to.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift slightly, almost questioning you.  Asking you, ‘Do you want this? Is this okay?’

You answer him with a soft smile, and you feel his hand move behind your neck to pull you in.

It is at this moment that a baby starts to wail one aisle over, effectively ruining any sort of moment you and Eddie had been sharing.

He lets out a frustrated huff, and touches his forehead to yours with closed eyes.  

“Of course,” he groans.

You’re secretly giddy at the fact that he so obviously wanted to kiss you badly.  You bring your hand up to his arm that’s still resting on your neck to give it a reassuring squeeze, and in a surprising burst of confidence, you rise up on your toes to peck him on the cheek.

Eddie’s eyes shoot open at the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek.  He pulls back to stare down at you as his face turns red.

You giggle at him, then turn around to walk down the aisle.

“C’mon, I think I saw another one of my lamps down this way!”

Eddie snaps himself out of his daze with a shake of his head, he’s sure that he’s got hearts in his eyes as he watches you walk away from him.  Grabbing the cart with one hand, he holds his other gently to his cheek, touching the spot that’s still warm from your lips.

-

Eddie ends up purchasing five lamps from IKEA after an hour and a half of wandering through the aisles with you.  

He can’t help but to act like the loverboy he is when he’s looking at furniture with you.  He fantasizes about a life with you, imagining that the two of you are actually here to pick out items to furnish your shared house.  

He wonders which kind of wood floors you’d pick out and which backsplash you’d want in the kitchen.  You’d probably want to decorate with colorful rugs and throw pillows, and Eddie wouldn’t complain.  Not as long as you’re happy.   He’d live in a pink house decorated with bows and lace trim as long as he was living in it with you.  

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, it’s only your first date together right?

If only he knew you were having similar thoughts as you strolled up and down the aisles, hand in hand.  You thought about what kind of decorating he did in his house, you figured it was styled in some way considering the amount of effort he puts into making his classroom look as cool as it does.  Does he have shelves full of records or different posters framed and hung up on his wall?  Which side of the bed does he sleep on?  You hope he likes plants, there’s no way you could part with your beloved greenery if the two of you were to live together.

You’re quick to silence the random thoughts buzzing around in your head, it’s silly to think about these things on your very first date…you don’t even know his middle name yet!

You and Eddie both seem to snap out of your stupors at the same time, sighing simultaneously.  You both turn to look at each other and then begin to laugh, unsure on whether or not the ‘jinx’ rules apply in a sighing situation.  

-

Eddie pays for the lights, and soon enough you’re both back in his truck.  

It dawns on you that your date is almost over, but you’re quickly redirected when you hear the starting notes to the next song that starts playing when Eddie’s phone connects to his radio.

Is that…Taylor Swift?

You turn to him slowly, confused at why a Taylor Swift song is on his ‘On Repeat’ Spotify playlist.

Eddie’s already staring at you mortified.  He holds a hand up, pausing any words that might’ve come out of your mouth.

“Before you say anything,” he begins ,”I really admire her lyricism.  Girl’s a wizard with words.”

The two of you sit in a charged silence for a moment before you can’t hold in your reaction any longer.  A laugh breaks free from your chest, and Eddie can’t  help but to laugh along with you.

You’re wiping tears from your eyes as your laughter dies down, and Eddie just grins at you.

“I can’t believe it.  The rock and roll music teacher listens to enough Taylor Swift for it to end up on his ‘On Repeat’ playlist.”  You shake your head at him with a wide smile on your face that Eddie wants to take a picture of and frame.  

“Yeah, yeah…laugh it up.  As a music teacher, it’s my duty to appreciate all types of music.”

You nod along to his explanation, “Yes, of course.  How else are you supposed to connect with the teenage girls these days?”

“Right! Yes!”  Eddie exclaims.  “I do this lesson on lyrics and Taylor’s music is a great example of what storytelling in music can look like.  I respect her, hard.”

You stifle another laugh at his emotional Taylor Swift themed outburst.

“This stays between you and I alright?” Eddie points a finger at you playfully.  “If Harrington gets word of this I’ll never live it down.”

“Of course, my lips are sealed.”  You mime zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key.

Eddie settles back into his seat with a huff, boyishly smiling over at you.

“I have a very important question for you Eddie.”

He leans in, intrigued by your seriousness. 

“Which era are you in right now?”

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back with a groan.  This sends you into another laughing fit, Eddie can’t help but to join in again.  He’s coming to find out that your joy is such an infectious thing.

“Hmm let’s see…,” he muses.  He turns to look at you with one hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face as he puts his keys in the ignition.  

“Right now…I’d have to go with ‘Lover,’” he says with a wink.

Your laughter is cut off abruptly as you gasp and bite your lip, attempting to subdue the cheesy grin that’s surely made its way onto your face by now.  

You stare unashamed as Eddie puts his right hand over the back of your seat to turn around and look through the rear window as he reverses the car out of its parking spot.  You can smell the cologne he must’ve sprayed on this morning, which immediately awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

As soon as Eddie is set on the route back to your house, he holds out his hand expectantly over his center console.  You look at it, then at him, then back at his hand before shyly placing your hand in his.  He’s quick to lace his fingers through yours, holding on tight and running his thumb back and forth.

You’re both thinking that you could get used to this.

-

Eddie (reluctantly) only lets go of your hand in order to rush around the front of his truck to open your car door for you after he’s pulled into your driveway.  He’s quiet as he walks you to your front door, wondering which way is the best way to ask you out on another date.  

You stop when you reach your door, looking down at your hand in his.  The silence begins to feel just a tad awkward as you both search for something to fill it.

“Thank you,” you start quietly ,”for today.  I had a wonderful time.”

Eddie lets out a relieved breath and grins widely down at you.

“I did too,” he begins, readying himself for his next question.  “Would you…I mean–would you like to…uh…shit, would you want to maybe do it again sometime?”

You know what he means, but it’s still so tempting to tease him when he’s blushing like this.

“Would I want to go to IKEA with you again?”

“N-no!  I mean, if you wanted to we could I guess…b-but I was thinking something more along the lines of dinner?”

You find it adorable how nervous he is to ask you out on a second date, as if you wouldn’t agree to go out to dinner with him tonight.

“I’d love that.”

Eddie’s face lights up with a triumphant smile as he lets out the anxious breath he’d been holding in.  

“Good, that’s really good.”  The way you’re smiling up at him right now is causing him to lose his train of thought.  “Um…how’s tomorrow night?  Around 7?”

“Tomorrow night is perfect.”

“Awesome.  Great, yeah I’ll just…I’ll pick you up, okay?”

You’re beaming as you nod your head, much too ecstatic at the idea of going out with Eddie again to form a coherent sentence.

Eddie finds himself smiling and nodding with you, you’re just too adorable. 

“Hey could I uh…c-could I get your number?” Eddie stammers the question out like he’s a prepubescent teenager, mentally face palming the whole time.

He’s relieved when you chuckle and hold your hand out for him to place his phone in.  He fumbles around trying to give you his phone as quickly as possible, he can’t believe how nervous he feels right now. 

He finally somehow manages to pass over his phone with a new contact page pulled up and ready for you.  You type in your number and name, making sure to add the artist’s palette emoji afterwards.  Eddie laughs through his nose when he sees it, then pockets his phone again.  

There’s a weird tension in the air that can only be brought upon by two people who so obviously want to kiss each other, but are too nervous to make the first move.  Eddie wracks his brain for a way to ask you if it’d be okay for him to kiss you without looking like a total idiot.  It’s really unfortunate that the way you bite your lip causes his mind to completely shut off and switch to autopilot.  

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he blurts out.

You look up at him, shocked at his bluntness.  Eddie’s even more shocked than you are.

“Y-you probably should then,” you bashfully admit.

Eddie can’t believe that worked.

He steps towards you and softly places one hand on your cheek, the other going to gently grasp the side of your neck similarly to the way he had in IKEA during your almost-kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel his lips graze yours for the first time.  The feeling is electrifying, and you can’t help but to venture forward for more.  

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than Eddie imagined. 

You plunge forward to press your lips against his, instantly deepening the kiss.  Eddie found himself instantly addicted to the feel of your lips and the way you sigh into the kiss.  It’s a shy kiss at first, where the two of you slowly begin to figure out your shared rhythm.  But it wasn’t long before you sank into a synchronized dance, mirroring each other’s movements in a way that crafted the most perfect, earth shattering first kiss.  

You let Eddie Munson kiss you at your front door in a way that you had longed to be kissed for your entire life.  This was how the women you saw in movies or read about in books were kissed.  You’d read about magic and sparks flying, and you think you’re finally starting to believe in all of it.  

Eddie moves his hand from your cheek to your waist, gripping it and pulling you closer to him.  The gasp you let out gave him the sweet opportunity to run his tongue against your bottom lip, asking, pleading for an entrance which you of course granted.  You tasted like autumn and felt like home, he decided he could kiss you for hours on end.

You both stood there for a good five minutes at your front door, making out like giddy teenagers and feeling like them too.  Eddie finally pulls away from your lips, pleased to find you subtly chasing his mouth with your own.  You open your eyes and come out of your kiss-induced haze to find him smiling adoringly down at you with both hands now circling your waist.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you once more. 

“Actually, I’m gonna call you tonight.”  He kisses you again.  “Is that okay?”  Another peck.

You're giggling as he places a final kiss on your forehead, “Yes, please.”

“Good.”

Eddie steps back, grabbing your hand to kiss it like he did on Tuesday.  He pulls you back in with that same hand to plant one last kiss on your lips, then jogs back to his truck.  He waves and quickly honks his horn twice as he pulls away.  

You’re left standing at your front door, watching his truck disappear down your street and reliving every moment of your first kiss with Eddie Munson.

When you finally make your way inside, you make sure to smell your brand new beautiful flowers before scurrying off to your bedroom to pick out an outfit for your second date with Eddie tomorrow night.  

TAGLIST:

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics @lokis-army-77 @loserboysandlithium @strangerstilinski @mystra-midnight @lesservillain @queenimmadolla @luveline @munson-blurbs @fairyysoup @urhoneycombwitch @oneforthemunny @rebelfell @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @eiightysixbaby @bettyfrommars @loveshotzz @lovebugism @carolmunson @rustedhearts @lonelysatellites

[hazelfoureyes]

Luck (Alastor x Reader smut)

Tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, creampie, attempted kidnapping, justified homicide, mention of the the history of women stabbing men with hat pins, biting, breeding kink if you squint, blood, Luci left on read :(, protective Alastor, cervix bullying, possessive Alastor, outside sex, rough sex, fem reader

minors DNI

This was a two part story, this being part two. But part one just isn’t good enough and I’m tired of waiting lol so here’s the standalone smut, written in a way it can be enjoyed solo

Vox’s ever present eyes noticed a reoccurring face around Alastor, and decided you were an easy way to get under his skin. Alastor manages to find you during the kidnapping but how he finds you sends his gentlemanly resolve unraveling. He had wanted to be gentle, he really had. C’est la vie, hm?

It took nearly 2 months of regular run-ins around Cannibal Town, chats over black coffee and deviled eggs, and some behind the scenes magic by Rosie but you finally enjoyed a dinner with the Radio Demon.

He’d never tell you how he awoke nightly in a panicked sweat, dreams of your soft skin under his nails tormenting him. He had done his absolute best to be just a charming southerner, tiptoeing between flirtatious and polite. Something about asking someone out during the night seemed scandalous and … loaded with implications. But ever since his hands felt your body thrumming beside him during a dance at Rosie’s Birthday Bash in the town square, he felt starved for the opportunity to see you again. You were beautiful in the daylight, yes. But something about the night, the way the shadows seemed to blanket the two of you together, it made him feel wild. He could remember the nights on the prowl during his time on earth, and the rush of being so close to you with so few people around felt so similar.

Rarely did he get a rush of adrenaline anymore, but when you’d shoot a witty retort back at him his heart would balloon against his ribs. The way you looked at him while he spoke, like you were drunk on the sound of his voice, made his fingers tremble. He never wanted anyone to know this, and hoped in some way he’d never have to tell. But then he considered, what face would you make if you ever reached over for his hand across the table? What if you rested your delicate head against this chest and heard the frantic beating? How sweetly would you smile? Smile at him, only?

“Alastor?” You broke him from his trance, noticing the ever so subtle way his smile seemed to loosen around the edges when he was lost in thought.

Dinner was long done, and you’d both managed to stall for a bit as he walked you toward the gates to Cannibal Town. He had insisted he escort you, though he was irked you wouldn’t allow him to wait until your ride had arrived.

If he knew you were staying with Lucifer Morningstar, he’d see you differently somehow. You didn’t want Alastor to think you were chasing powerful men, or to know you slept so close to the King of Hell. Something in your gut said he would find it unattractive.

“Yes, dear?”

You gestured to the gates a couple blocks in front of you, “This is good. You should get home.” Before Luci arrives to take me back to his.

“I intended to take you to the gates.” He looked past you, then back to you. You were so … small in front of him. Not your body or form, just, your existence. So delicate compared to his own strength. The way you looked up at him with your large doe eyes, it practically pained him. You looked so innocent, pure— how he wanted to make your eyes roll as your head lost any semblance of coherent thought. He wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

“It’s just a couple of blocks.” He lifted his hand to begin to argue, but you cut him off at the head. “Alastor” you said it so softly now, your tone startling him with its gentleness. Had anyone, ever, said his name so sweetly? Since his mother, atleast?

“May I?” You tapped your cheek. His eyebrows rose before knitting together in understanding.

He leaned down and turned his cheek to you. You hummed happily and placed a chaste kiss there. Alastor turned his face toward yours, “In the future, You don’t have to ask for permission, darling.” You tried your best to keep your heart in your chest, and nodded. It was well known he wasn’t fond of physical touch, let alone unexpected touch. Is this how it felt to be an overlord? To claim a piece of someone else, a slice of territory not originally yours? “Two blocks is quite a deal of distance in hell.” He didn’t take his eyes off yours. Your attempt to distract him failed. Of course it did, he was nothing if not persistent.

“I have my weapon.” You lifted the hem of your dress to show a small angelic dagger holstered to your thigh.

“Ah, yes. Ha ha! Some kind of hat pin, I see” His eyes rolled, amused, “Who would dare bother you with such a frightening needle?”

With a glare, you mocked him, “Ha, Ha.” But as you turned to leave you stopped yourself. Every encounter with Alastor felt like it could be your last, as if he’d just disappear entirely. “May I see you tomorrow? I was going to get coffee at Hallowed Grounds around 10.”

“My dear, you couldn’t stop me.” He cooed, “Needle and all.”

“Good night, Alastor”

“Good night.” He didn’t move at first, but after you had made it half way to the gates of what he felt was assured safety, he let himself turn and leave.

His grin touched his ears as he hummed to himself. His cheek felt heavier where you’d kissed him. A part of you lingering with him. How he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and -

An appliance store window filled with various sized TVs flickered as he walked past. Alastor stopped, ears turned down as he turned on the heels of his feet to face Vox’s cocky stare plastered on every screen.

“Oh, it’s you. Don’t you have a curfew? No TV after 9pm, they say. Rots the brain.” Alastor lifted his hand to inspect his nails. Vox had a witty intro planned, and launched straight into it. He only stopped when Alastor looked back up, “I’m sorry, were you speaking?”

The screens glitched and filled with static before Vox’s face stretched out across them all.

“It’s not my bed time you should be worried about.” Vox crooned. He couldn’t resist the urge to prod Alastor, “Perhaps your new friend should have gone home earlier.”

Just before you reached the gates, you stopped to see if Lucifer had replied about his ETA. Your phone slipped out of your hands as someone pulled you backwards into the narrow alley behind you.

A hand covered your mouth while the other arm was lifting you up by your waist. You kicked your feet uselessly trying to make contact with any thing that would slow your progress into the shadows.

Another man entered now in front of you, “You’ve got a meeting at Vee Tower, babe.”

The sound of an idling car in the back of the alley came into focus. You grabbed your knife and plunged it into the right thigh of the man holding you. He dropped you and you barely managed to scramble to your feet before his hand grabbed you by the hair and threw you against the wall. The force of the impact stunned you but you’d managed to keep the knife in your grip.

You’d been waiting for this. You had let men get the best of you before on earth, too scared of dying if you failed to defend yourself. You weren’t scared now. When you looked back at the man, he was shouting at his partner but you couldn’t understand a word. Your ears were ringing, a combined effect of hitting the wall and your skyrocketing blood pressure.

Your shoes slipped off easily and you pushed yourself from the wall and back into the attempted kidnapper, shoulder first.

Seeing you launch yourself onto his accomplice, the other man booked it out of the alley. It wasn’t worth it. This was supposed to be easier than this.

If he had maybe turned left, he would have made it to safety. But luck was with Alastor when the brute ran straight into him.

Your phone lay on the ground behind the man, who was already backing up when Alastor set his eyes on him.

“I’m going to enjoy this”, Alastor’s voice cracked with a static sting, eyes flickered to red dials against midnight black eyes as his back and neck broke and stretched. The man tripped over himself, but Alastor’s hands tore the man’s upper torso from his body before his ass had time to hit the sidewalk.

There was no time to savor the death, he tossed the man’s head and shoulders into the street before bounding with unnaturally wide strides into the entry of the side street.

Never had he known fear like this. Not when alive, not even close. Not even when Adam nearly bested him. There was a rock in his stomach threatening to drag his heart into the gutter of the Pride Ring as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the alley. Were you still there? Were you still whole?

You hadn’t noticed him at first, not until his massive, looming shadow shrunk across your body. Even then, you hadn’t stopped to realize it wasn’t the other attacker. You continued stabbing the dagger into the man’s throat with both hands until Alastor’s shoe crushed a piece of wayward glass under his step, breaking your concentration. Wild eyes finally tore themselves from the grey flesh of the demon on the floor up to Alastor, still expecting a fight with the man who’d fled.

“Alastor” was all you could squeak out. You were straddling the man by the chest, his throat so thoroughly decimated his head held on by just a few loosened tendons. The white dress you’d worn specially for your dinner was soaked through with blood. Your hands red to the wrists. Your lips and cheeks splattered. Your feet dirty and bare.

You yelped as you were yanked off of the dead man by your chin, Alastor’s large hand holding you off the ground. You were finally eye to eye with your dinner date. For the second time that night you were thrown against the cold brick wall. Alastor’s free hand grabbed yours that still held the knife and repeatedly bashed your fisted hand against the wall until the knife fell from your grip to the street below you. You hadn’t meant to keep it, never meant to brandish it at Alastor. Your survival instinct had overridden your sense.

Perhaps it would have stayed in control, but when Alastor’s hand slipped to your throat and his lips crashed into yours your mind went blank.

He kissed you clumsily, this wasn’t a man in love, or even a man in lust. This wasn’t a man at all. A demon in need was bruising your lips against his teeth. When you didn’t immediately open to receive him, he used his free hand to push at your cheeks and press inward where your bottom jaw naturally met your top. Your mouth was wrenched open, allowing his long and wide tongue to bully your own.

Alastor felt frenzied, the sight of you manically stabbing the already dead attacker momentarily broke him. His sweet little doe, his innocent and gentle darling brutally murdered a man and he got to witness it with his own eyes. He never believed God ever noticed his existence, but the moment he saw you straddling that corpse he felt sure some higher power delivered you to him. Just for him.

Only for him.

Pretense and facade be damned, you were made for him in such a specifically demented way.

He lifted you up, pressing your body against the wall with his own as your legs wrapped around his hips. He didn’t know where to start, he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling as he smeared the blood over your cheek between hurried kisses. His eyes were aglow, keeping your focus on him and only him as they darted around your face taking in every detail, every errant drop of your attacker’s blood.

Alastor buried his head into your collarbone, sucking bruises and nipping cuts into your exposed skin. You could feel the strained erection in his pants, it helped keep you balanced against him and the wall. He seemed to be mindlessly grinding his clothed cock against your core. Your dress had naturally found its way up and over your hips as he let one of his hands cradle your ass.

He had half a mind to rip the dress off of you but as he took a second to look down at your body he knew he wanted to keep it. The dress his love first killed in. Love— before a word that fell weightless from his tongue now sat heavy in his thoughts. He wanted your blood stained dress stuffed in his mouth as his last meal. An ode to your corruption. Maybe you'd understand him now, better than most. Did you enjoy it when you stabbed that man?

Breathing ragged and uneven, he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes were glowing red, pupils dark black pins.

Did it scare you, when you killed him?

Were you scared now?

He lurched you upward again, hands coming to either side of your head as he pulled back to look at your face properly.

“If you don’t want this, now is your only opportunity to stop me.” He closed his eyes to try and regain an ounce of composure. Perhaps a small human piece of him not wanting to see your face if you denied him this.

With every breath he seemed to be taking in your scent, his hips still gently pushing into you. Your eyes darted to the well lit street just beyond the dark of the alley. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his undercut. He violently shuddered at the touch.

You shook your head imperceivably to most, “You don’t have to ask me for permission, darling.”

With that, Alastor came completely undone. As his teeth marked your neck with shallow tears, his hand tore the crotch of your panties entirely off, leaving just the lace waistband to slip up your stomach. With the speed of a starving man to his first meal, his cock was free of his pants and rutting against your exposed slit.

The head of his member was pushing against your clit in unpracticed thrusts, slipping between your lips and pressing at your entrance. With a growl he lifted you up more and angled your hips to him. He didn't wait to feel if he was lined up and he sunk into your heat with a single thrust. You winced, clutching onto his shoulders. His eyes saw the pained expression and for a second, just barely, the southern gentleman who tried to walk you home slipped back to the surface. But as quickly as he came, he was lost again as Alastor saw the way your mouth hung open, tongue hanging over your swollen lip.

A static shock nipped at your wrists where they met his neck, "Such a debauched look, mon cher. I haven't even begun to ruin you yet."

A moan slipped past your lips as he brought his mouth to your ear, tugging with his teeth as he thrust back into you. You could feel he hadn't bottomed out yet, but already he was crushing your stomach into your diaphragm. Your chest began to feel hot, a warmth trickling down to your stomach and pooling beneath your belly button.

Ad his breath ghosted along your neck, you could hear it sharply spike with every slam of his hips against yours. Something about seeing him losing composure, hearing him so vulnerable, spurred you to roll your hips against his cock.

"Mmmm," Alastor groaned, "Don't push your luck, dear. Do you know how precarious of a sit-"

You did it again.

He pulled out of you with one motion and flipped you around. Your hands were yanked behind you, the long fingers of one of his own hands intertwined with your wrists. His other hand lifted your knee up and out as he pushed back into you. The new position allowed him to reach deeper than before, and with a burning stretch you felt him finally bottom out. With each thrust, the head of his dick dragged inside of you. The new angle allowed him to smash into your g-spot with every slam into your heat, his balls tightly slapping against your wet cunt.

"I wanted to be gentler with you", He leaned his head against your shoulder, pace quickening. It felt as if your back would snap in half, "But you looked absolutely sinful covered in his blood." His lips grazed your ear as he let go of your wrists, his antlers now large enough to be scraping against the bricks above your head. The loss of him holding you made you lose you balance. Alastor took the opportunity to find your clit with his middle finger.

Biting down on your lip you broke the skin, trying to suppress the moan rising out of you. His hips kept a bruising pace, your ass smacking against his lower stomach with every thrust. You didn't want anyone, anyone to find you getting railed against a wall just outside of cannibal town.

His fingers forced past your lips, you hadn't noticed he was using a shadow tendril to now lift your knee to nearly touch your elbow. Two fingers pressed down on your tongue as his pace impossibly quickened.

You wanted to lick or suck at his digits, do anything to participate in this alleyway fucking, but it became clear Alastor didn't want you to do anything at all. He was lost in the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him, pushing back against him with every intrusion. He just needed you to exist there around him. He needed you to take him, for your body to welcome the gentle abuse.

The pressure began to build as the reality set in that the Radio Demon was fucking you raw against a wall. You felt your orgasm winding up. The infamous Alastor, the mighty overlord, balls deep in you. So entranced by your cunt he could only groan and hiss against your ear. You could feel every centimeter of him pulling and pushing inside of you, his head smashing your cervix and uterus into your guts.

Your hands began to slip down the wall as your mind started to go fuzzy around the edges. His middle finger strumming at your sensitive clit with a new fervor, his thrusts becoming shallower. The radio in the assailants idling car roared to life, flitting through stations and static wildly as Alastor spoke to you.

"When you orgasm,” His voice crackled against the nape of your neck, "and your cervix lowers to receive my seed,” your knee was dropped as he fucked you flush against the wall, trapping your body there, "I will drown your needy cunt in my cum, darling." His words echoed through the car's radio and off the walls of the alley, volume peaking with a pop as the speakers blew out.

The tickle of his lips along your spine made you shudder, and you went limp as you let your mind go and allowed your body to spasm around him. As your orgasm hit, your stomach muscles cramped and your body tightened around Alastor's cock. He hissed, his hips losing their rhythm for a second as you almost painfully clamped onto him, cunt trying desperately to pull him deeper into you. He needed to slow down or else he’d be pushed into his own release sooner than he planned. As your orgasm waned and your pussy squeezed softly against him again, he renewed the rhythm. Your body had gone entirely slack, your limbs no longer able to receive messages from your brain.

Within seconds, Alastor thrust against you so forcefully you felt the air pressed out of your lungs. He buried himself in you, holding your hips flush against his as you instinctively tried to squirm away. The way you moved against him, tried to flee from his release, only seemed to make his cock jump more inside you. You thought you heard a pained “mine" against your shoulder as his promised seed jerked into your now pliant womb.

He finally stilled, his dick softening in you. You felt your body slide down the wall, feet touching the ground before giving out entirely. You sat, slumped back, and looked to the scene in front of you. Dead demon behind Alastor, your shoes bloodied and tossed around, and your little knife just within reach.

Alastor quickly composed himself, cock returned to his pants and his suit adjusted precisely. You looked up at him, eyes glazed and tear stained. Your dress was wet and ruined, thighs slick with a mix of fluids. Yet he stood there, clean and pretty. Perhaps some of you had soaked into the front of his pants, but you couldn’t be sure.

"I apologize for underestimating you", He took the dagger, lifting your dress to slide it back into its holster. "And for allowing you to leave my sight." He gathered your shoes and wiped the dirt from them against the leg of his pants before gently slipping them back onto your feet. With two large hands under your arms he pulled you up to your feet, legs trembling still. "I promise you it won't happen again. Can you walk, my doe?"

The new name made your cheeks feel hot, funny given the more embarrassing part of this situation was his cum now sliding down your thighs. You nodded weakly, adding, "But-" and glanced to your lap. You squeezed your knees together and looked back at him.

"I fail to see the problem." His head tilted to the side as he lifted your dress with one of his long fingers and watched the milky white liquid slowly inch down your inner leg. "But, I'll find us a taxi. You won't be going home." He guided you by your hands to step over the corpse and into the light of the street.

You clarified, "I won't be going home tonight?"

He summoned his microphone and brought it down with a crack onto your phone, still discarded on the sidewalk. "INCOMING CALL: LUCI" flashing on the screen before it was shattered. He lifted his hand and waved for a passing taxi, turning to you with a soft grin, "Any night, darling."

༻Masterlist༺

[jujutsukatsuki]

Katsuki knew from a young age that he wanted to be the best. He would sacrifice what he had to go get there. Even if that meant losing the people closest to him.

You knew from a young age that you wanted to be Katsuki’s. That you’d stand by his side and love him forever. You’d sacrifice whatever you could to be his.

It worked for a while. You pined after him. He shoved you away.

“Oi! Get off!” He barked and tried to shove you off of him. Katsuki had just won the UA festival and you met up with him after.

“No! You won! You did so good!” You squeal and squeeze the blonde tightly.

Katsuki knew that you and him could never happen. You were the annoying girl who lived across the street. The girl he was forced to play with when your moms would have coffee together on Saturday mornings.

You knew that you’d have to chip away at the icy exterior to make room for yourself in his heart. He wasn’t just Dynamite. He was Katsuki. The boy who lived across that street. The boy you’d spend Friday nights roasting marshmallows with in the winter time with the use of his quirk.

His time at UA came and went. With lots of bumps in the road, he always seemingly found himself at your doorstep. Disheveled. Bleeding. Nearing exhaustion.

“Sit still.” You whisper softly as you stitch him up. You went on to become a doctor, thanks to Katsuki. You saw the difference he was making in the world and you wanted to do it too.

“I am.” He said gruffly and took another swig of vodka. He looked down at your concentrated face. The way your brows furrowed as you carefully threaded the needle. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but every time you were finished healing him up, he craved the hug you’d give. Like you were holding him together.

As Katsuki moved up in the world, did you. He was the number two hero. You were a top doctor at your hospital. There was a day that seemed to be like any other. Some petty robberies, a few check ups. The day was normal for you both.

Until a huge explosion shook the hospital and sent everyone in a panic. Three villains came in and started causing destruction, and chaos. You quickly started to help patients that were laying in the rubble, you didn’t care that the villains were close by you. You put other people before yourself.

That was the last thing you remember before waking up in someone’s arms. Soft water droplets we’re hitting your face. You scrunched your brows together, your eyes felt heavy as you slowly opened them. Your vision slowly focused as you saw the spiky blonde holding you. Tears mixed with remnants of black from his eyeliner slowly ran down his cheeks and onto your face.

“Come on. Wake up. Please.” His voice was hoarse. You wanted to laugh, to tell him you were right that someday all the yelling would get to him.

“Y/n please. If you wake up right now, I’ll marry you. Just please get up. I can’t do this without you!” You’ve never heard katsuki this upset before. When you’ve finally become coherent enough to slowly move, you gently wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“I’d never leave you Suki.” You whisper to him. For the first ever, he hugs you back. His hand grip the tattered up doctors jacket like you’d fade from existence. He buried his face in your neck as you both hold each other.

Katsuki takes you to his apartment that night, he says it’s for your safety just incase. You can tell he’s lying. Which is why when he shows you the guest room to let you lay down and rest, you turn and lay in his bed instead. The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile before he lays with you.

You know that katsuki will never love you like you love him.

Katsuki knows that you will never understand his love for you. That his love isn’t something he can put in words. He doesn’t know how to translate his love into something you can understand. But he’ll work at it. Because he loves you.

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

part of the ‘if fwb’ spinoff // simon riley x f!reader

johnny’s been… doubting, you see, about the validity of simon’s dating life.

like, for example, if he really was dating anyone.

simon looks content in a way that he never was before—intense eyes turned down towards his phone, unapproachable aura less angry but more settled, like he’s warding off people not because of his dislike but more so because he’s not available anymore.

not like he ever made himself available before, but it’s fundamentally different this time around; self-imposed walls brought down to make room for unbridled fulfillment.

he looks like he’s won the damn cup.

and that’s what makes johnny twitch—someone out there was just as, if not more, valued as the championship cup to simon, but he’s never introduced anyone to them.

not a picture nor an update nor even a PSA that they need to commission another WAG jacket for his partner because simon is tight-lipped about whoever it was he’s seeing. it’s not like he’s even dancing around the fact, it’s just that whoever it was he’s dating was never free.

not for a game nor a night-out nor a party. in simon’s house.

this level of secrecy was just unheard of. even the other men in the league who have a tight leash on their private lives still have living proof of their partners unlike simon who leaves it at, “she’s busy,” like that covers anything.

which is why johnny would like to go on record and say: he is totally valid for choosing to crash at simon’s place without letting him know.

he remembers getting wasted with the others, then refusing to be driven home, only to take a cab to simon’s place. he must have been coherent enough to remember the code for simon’s house, and was shockingly coordinated enough to even punch it in, but his memories begin to splinter there.

next thing johnny knows, he’s waking up, feeling like he’s been hit by a freight train. his tongue is heavy inside his mouth, the pungent taste of last night’s alcohol rising from the back of his throat like bile. he groans, blinking blurry eyes as he tries to remember where he’s at or what he’s done, only for nausea to wash over him so intensely he flops back down onto the bed—

he pats at the cushioning.

—onto the sofa then.

by the devil, what did he do last night? got him drinking like he’s got a new liver to replace this one he fucked with.

christ. he needs water, or a whole bottle of mouthwash, honestly.

“mactavish?”

johnny jumps, twisting his head to the side at the call of his name. it’s simon, of course it is, but he looks dishevelled, unkempt in a way that looks criminal because—johnny roves his eyes over his friend—who the hell looks that good when they’ve just woken up?

simon looks like he can be the next cover of inside fitness; give tyler fucking seguin a run for his own money.

“wha’,” is all johnny gets to say because he starts sputtering, dizziness hitting him intensely again. he gags, and only has enough mind to cover his mouth with his fist.

“jesus– down the hall. go,” simon barks and johnny warbles his thanks before locking himself in the guest bathroom.

.

johnny comes back out to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and melted butter wafting through. simon did say he had a problem with his kitchen vents which made cooking a problem, but johnny sure isn’t complaining right now. although, he supposes that it is a whole different problem when it’s steak or some ribs that simon’s firing up.

oh well, johnny thinks, scratching his side as he ambles to the island, pointedly quiet because simon might kick him out before breakfast is even done.

simon eyes him with a muted approval and johnny grins because, hey, he just secured free breakfast.

he’s about to break the silence, to apologize once more he guesses, when the sounds of padded feet descending from the stairs leading up to simon’s lavishly decorated—sarcasm intended—second floor pierces through the silence.

johnny’s back straightens, his exhausted mind clicking awake.

he turns to his friend but simon’s already angled towards the kitchen door, facing away from johnny. he looks relaxed, previous half-bareness now covered up with a thin white shirt, and johnny doesn’t know why he missed it but simon looks like a perfect picture of a boyfriend fixing up breakfast post-coitus.

“jesus–” johnny begins to say, the pieces linking because yeah, simon’s never denied that he’s been doing some dating around and it’s just johnny’s drunken whim to assume that the most talented ice hockey player of this decade was lying about his relationship status and—good lord, that’s a fucking person diving in simon’s arms, alright.

johnny watches, with his mouth agape, as simon and the mystery woman talk to each other in hushed whispers, his friend having to bend forward to make up for the height difference.

johnny watches, like the third-wheel he is, as simon laughs, actual quiet chuckles and not that children-crying-in-terror-inducing cackle, before nuzzling his nose over your own, and breathing you in.

johnny watches the quiet kiss, just lips pecking each other, and it’s all so soft and tender and johnny feels really, really bad that he didn’t get to give simon and his girl the privacy you two surely deserve and—

your eyes open, flitting to him because johnny is sure that he’s standing out amidst what must be a normally empty kitchen. he doesn’t even get to count three seconds before you’re screaming, lurching out of simon’s hold and hiding behind his bulk in your terror.

simon, screw him, seems to not have cared that johnny was privy to such an intimate moment and just turns enough to catch your attention again before murmuring reassurances. he says things like, “mactavish? the punk ass who got his hair shaved for the new season only to realize no one’s actually gon’ see it because of the helmet? remember?”

“what,” johnny chokes out, embarrassed that that’s what simon told you about and not, like, his player number or something.

“oh,” you gasp out anyway, clearly having heard of the shaved-sides and using it as a marker for johnny. “oh!”

you dance away from behind simon to make your way to johnny, your previous embarrassment gone from your gait. he’s so sure, though, that he’s seen you from somewhere, but the thought’s dashed out of his mind when you chirp, “you’re my best friend’s favourite player!”

“yeah?” johnny replies, gaining his confidence back.

“yeah! she won’t stop showing me the highlights of your guys’ game against that big german fella an’ his team!”

johnny laughs, his own giddiness ramping up. he remembers that game, alright. he remembers the miracle play during the final period when price was able to score an empty-netter. he remembers how, in his adrenaline-induced ecstasy, johnny turned to the player to his side, konig, and laughed in his face.

johnny made headlines then, and he’s saved every single one. his fiancee even printed a copy of her favourite shot and stuck it in her wallet.

(“for good luck,” she said with a wink, like johnny doesn’t have his prick twitching in her fist.)

“well, y’got anything for me to sign for her?”

“uhh…”

“guess you can use that one group photo our marketing team gave to us,” simon finally pipes up, and johnny turns, surprise lining his face at seeing the rich spread of breakfast.

he didn’t even notice simon setting up the table, too engrossed in the high that came from reliving the memory of laughing at konig’s face which resulted to him being pushed into the glass protector by a protective horangi.

not even that had dampened johnny’s elation then and now.

“oh yeah. thanks!” you say to simon before you run out.

you’re barely out of their eyesights when johnny turns to simon with a grin.

“what.”

“oh, you fucken’ sap!” johnny sings because he’s still too hungover to come up to simon and playfully punch him. “and why were ye hidin’ lassie?”

simon grumbles something as he turns, pretending to busy himself with the now-empty coffee pot.

“wha’s’at?”

“i said,” simon begins, heaving out a sigh. “that we jus’ became official last week.”

“oh, shit,” johnny whispers sagely. he blinks. “so, uh, who’s the one you’ve been callin’ yer girl?”

“oh fuck off johnny,” simon hisses, sputtering, before throwing the tea towel at him.

“what now!?” johnny yelps, ducking away from the soaring towel. “what’d i do now–” he gasps, realization dawning on him. “you didn’t.”

simon looked like he was going to say something but by then you were running back with the photo and a marker pen, telling him your friend’s name—alessandra, “or sandy!”—for johnny to sign.

while johnny’s busy practicing his signature on a scrap of newspaper that simon gave to him, he pretends not to hear the giggly whispers between his friend and his friend’s new but longtime-pining-for girlfriend.

“and me? why aren’t you asking f’r my signature?”

“oh ‘cuz y’r mine.”

johnny dutifully ignores the lips smacking sounds as he finally signs the picture, making sure to add devil horns on simon’s head.

serves him right.

i just. love fluff and hockey au sm 😞

[semisasseater]

I'll give you my lo lo lo love

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿. ✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

flirty!bestfriend se-mi x fem!reader

Summary: still half asleep you just pick up whatever you could wear, so what happens when you walk out your room and go to your shared dorm kitchen where your best friend se-mi is just for her to say “is that my shirt?”

Tw: fluff, wuh luh wuh, flirty se-mi, reader just being a flustered embarrassed mess, light romance, slight suggestive themes, lmk if i missed anything!

authors note: RAGHH i feel better now and better enough to write this but its lowkey ass, also yall i miss my wife </3 (gabby) literally im gonna crash out i need to text her 24/7 (¬`‸´¬)

Not proofread!

Word count: 527

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The sun streamed through the thin curtains of the small dorm room you shared with Se-Mi, your best friend since high school. You were curled up in bed under a mountain of pink blankets, the subtle scent of strawberries lingering in the air thanks to your diffuser. In the room across from yours, Se-mi’s bed was neatly made, her black and white bedding perfectly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos on your side.

It was an average morning—at least, you thought it was. Half-asleep, you shuffled to the closet to grab a shirt, not paying much attention as you slipped into one that was lying on the back of a chair. It felt a little loose, but comfort was all that mattered at the moment.

You yawned, stumbling into the kitchenette to grab some water. Se-Mi was already there, dressed in her usual black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, her short black hair perfectly in place. She looked up from her coffee mug, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“Is that my shirt?” she asked, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

You froze mid-step, looking down at yourself. Your cheeks instantly flushed as you realized you’d put on her oversized black t-shirt—the one with a minimalist design you often teased her for being so “edgy” or something.

“Oh my god!” you squeaked, your face heating up. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize—I thought it was mine!” You scrambled to tug at the hem as if to cover your mistake, avoiding her gaze. “I’ll go take it off right now!”

Se-Mi leaned back against the counter, sipping her coffee calmly, her smirk growing into a teasing grin. “No don’t” she said, her voice softer now, almost playful. “It’s cute seeing you wear my things.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting at her words. Before you could even form a coherent response, she set her mug down and stepped closer. Her fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, and then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Your face went up in red flames. “S-Se-mi!!!” you stammered, completely flustered.

“What?” she said, her tone casual, though the corner of her lips twitched upward. “You’re adorable when your like this”

You buried your face in your hands, unable to handle the intensity of her gaze or the warmth spreading through you. “Y-You’re impossible!”

Se-Mi chuckled. “And you’re the one walking around in my shirt.” She said with cocky grin.

You peeked at her through your fingers, still red-faced but unable to hold back a small, shy smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t have your clothes in my room” you muttered.

“Or” she said, tilting her head, “maybe you should just wear them.”

The dynamic between you two—her effortlessly confident, you hopelessly flustered—wasn’t new, but somehow, this moment felt different. More charged. Maybe the people who always assumed you were a couple weren’t so far off, after all.

You were too shy to say anything more, so you just stood there, feeling your heart race as she grabbed her coffee and walked back to her room, leaving you in her shirt and your thoughts.

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@semisasseater

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 28: Cockbulge - Lee Bodecker

Summary: Being the new secretary at the Police Station had been quite the adjustment, but now, you're left alone with the handsome Sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content (slightly), injury/blood (cut to knee), clumsy!reader, size difference, cock bulge, dry humping, innocence, protective, authority/power play, praise kink, sir kink, rough sex, creampie, sucking fingers

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

It had been a long first week at your new job as a secretary at the police station in Knockemstiff. Everyone had been pleasant and welcoming, which had calmed your nerves as you were completely new to the area, deciding to move across the country to have a fresh start.

Tonight, you decided to stay late to finish the remaining paperwork stacked up throughout the day. As you were so new, it was taking you some time to get used to filing and completing the documentation; therefore, you decided that if you stayed behind after everyone had left, you could complete it at a leisurely pace without making any mistakes.

What you hadn’t anticipated was the Sheriff had also decided to stay and sit in his office, the only light illuminating the building except for the lamp on your desk and in the kitchen. Everywhere else had a dark shadow that had your eyes flicking to check that there wasn’t something hiding in the darkness and still trying to get used to being in a new environment.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you saw it nearing midnight and yet; there was still a sizeable stack of papers next to you on the desk. Deciding you needed a freshen-up, you stretched your arms high above your head, moaning quietly as different areas of your body popped and clicked.

You were planning to go and make yourself a coffee, but the light illuminating the edge of the room caught your eye. It was polite to ask if the Sheriff would like a coffee as well, but that included talking to him, which so far had been an unsuccessful feat as he always made you nervous enough to fumble your words. Not only was he in a position of great power, but Sherriff Lee Bodecker was incredibly handsome, from his tall stature, piercing blue eyes, buzzed hair and soft belly that was beginning to strain against his belt. Every single part of him had your insides fluttering and your mouth unable to form coherent words.

You seemed to chastise yourself constantly for being so foolish around him, knowing that he was your boss and you’d have to speak to him multiple times a day, so it was about time you got ahold of yourself. However, this was easier said than done.

Baby steps, you reminded yourself. You didn’t need to go in and ask about his childhood. All you needed to do was knock on his door and ask if he’d like a coffee.

Taking a deep breath and straightening the material of your knee-length floral dress, you moved towards his office. The door lay open as if he was waiting for you, but quickly shaking your head, you knew your mind was playing fantasy tricks. The Sheriff sat behind his desk, a tall lamp over his shoulder, the only light fixture turned on as his eyes darted around the file in his hands.

Knocking three times gently on his door, you tried not to flinch as he looked up, the crease between his eyebrows smoothing as he smiled at your presence. “Would you like a coffee,  Sheriff?”

“Yes, please, Sugar” he smiled appreciatively, and you gave him a kind one in response, turning towards the kitchen area. As you switched on the coffee machine and waited for the water to warm, you arranged two cups on the countertop, and the anxious little voice in your head began to overthink the entire interaction. Sugar? Was he calling you a cute nickname, or was he asking for sugar in his coffee? How could you not know how the Sheriff likes to have his coffee already? You’ve been working for him for seven days already; this should have been the top three things you should know as the secretary.

So lost without your thoughts, you hadn’t heard his footsteps following behind you until he asked you a question, but your squeal in fear drowned out what he was asking as you quickly spun on the spot. In doing so, your elbow caught one of the coffee cups that fell off the side and smashed on the floor.

Your eyes widened in fear as you instantly were on your knees, reaching for the tiny shards that once created a cup. “I’m so sorry, Sheriff! I’ll pay for this, I promise. I wasn’t looking where I was going with my clumsy arms and-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Darlin’, it’s only a cheap coffee cup, there’s no need to fret. Here, let me pick that up; I don’t want you accidentally cutting yourself now”.

Lee tried to take the shards of the cup from your palm, but you shook your head, “No, Sir. I’ll clean it. It’s my mess; I’m really sorry. I’m never usually this clumsy, I promise.”

“Sweetheart, it’s fine! But I must insist you give me those pieces before you hurt yourself”.

He was so close to you that you could feel his warmth as his fingers wrapped beneath yours and tilted what you had collected into his hand. Looking at him through your lashes with shame, embarrassment, and guilt, you were about to thank him when a sharp pain cut through your knee as you moved positions. “Thank you, Sheriff, I- ow!”

Both of your eyes lowered to your knee as you sat back onto the balls of your feet, lifting your dress and knee to see a portion of the broken cup had lodged into your skin, partially sticking out, and blood already leaking down your shin.

“Careful! Let’s get you in the light better. I’ve got you, put your arms around my shoulders”. The pain was increasing, which only meant you were half paying attention. All you knew was that you didn’t want to move your leg, but the Sheriff was in front of you, moving your hands for you until they rested on his uniform-covered shoulders.

As he stood, his arms wrapped around your waist, helping you to stand on one leg and then hop over to the table in the centre of the kitchen area. When your arse was brushing against the solid wood, his hands once more lowered to your hips, where he was able to lift you until you were sitting on the surface.

Even with your pain, your cheeks were aflame with embarrassment at his touches. Having him so close, you could smell the reminisce of his aftershave that he’d put on in the morning hour. It had an underlying spice scent while also remaining sweet, like vanilla. Then there was the searing heat remaining on your waist and hips from where his hands had touched; it was as if his hands had burned through your clothes altogether with the lasting impression that they had left.

The Sheriff had rushed to find the first aid box beneath the kitchen sink and was standing before you a second later; his eyebrows furrowed like they had been before you interrupted his reading. The table was positioned directly beneath the kitchen light so the two of you could see the extent of the damage. The shard wasn’t as deeply embedded as you’d first thought, but enough blood had flowed that a streak of red now pathed down your leg and pooled in your sock.

The sight instantly made you feel as if you were on a boat. Nauseous and dizzy as you swayed slightly. “Woah, ok, so you aren’t a fan of blood. Just look at me, Sweet, or better yet, lean on my shoulder and look in the other direction. That’s good; now, take some deep breaths. I don’t want you passing out on me, alright?”

You weren’t able to respond with the fear that you might vomit on your new boss, so you just followed his instructions. First, by looking up into his handsome, welcoming face and then leaning your cheek onto his shoulder, looking away from the mess running down your leg. As you continued to feel light-headed, Lee held his arms around your waist, his thumb stroking in gentle circles that helped to ground you at the moment, his touches once again causing warmth to bloom wherever he was, from the hands-on your body to the shoulder against your cheek.

Long minutes go past as you breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, trying to regain any sort of control over your traitorous body. Feeling strong enough to have some composure, you realised, to your horror, that you’d been gripping onto his biceps like your life depended on it.

Releasing him with a gasp, your face tilted to look up at him. “I’m so sorry!”

“Why are you apologising? You’ve not done anything wrong” he tried to calm you with a soft stroke of your cheek with the back of his fingers, and it felt as if all air seemed to be sucked from your lungs. Lee smiled down at you before turning serious, “Why don’t you continue to lean on my shoulder, and I’ll clean your leg up?”.

Nodding your head as words seemed to fail from your mind at all the intimate touches that had passed between you and the Sheriff, you leaned your face against his cheek, looking away from the direction of your pained knee that had now turned into a deep throb of pain.

“You’re shaking, Darlin’. Just hold onto me; everything’s going to be just fine. You won’t need stitches from the looks of it. I’m just going to clean you first, then I’ll take out the shard”. Once more, you nodded your head in response and mentally screamed at the fact that you weren’t shaking because of the injury or the light-headed sensation but because you were nervous about being close to him.

Lee rummaged through the first aid box next to you and then began to clean the blood off of your leg. “How are you finding it here in Knockemstiff?” the Sheriff asked casually, trying to make small talk and distract you.

“I’m really enjoying it, sir; everyone’s been so welcoming and friendly”, you responded after a shaky breath, hands moving to grip the edge of the table so you refrained from grabbing onto him.

“Good. Do you live alone, or did your family move with you?”

Your entire body felt as if it was floating with the overwhelming emotions going through your body with having the Sheriff’s hand running up and down your leg; occasionally, his fingertip would brush against the skin directly, and you had to bite your lip to stop an embarrassing squeak from coming out of your mouth. “I live alone. My family live on the other side of the country. It’s just me”.

The hand on your leg paused momentarily before continuing towards your knee. “Pretty girl like you all by yourself? I don’t like the sound of that”, he mutters, almost so faintly that you weren’t sure if he had intended for you to hear it or not, but it had the desired effect anyway as your body involuntarily shivers.

Your tongue suddenly felt like it was made of lead as you responded, “It can be a little scary, but at least I know I’ve got a protector like you looking after the town, Sheriff”.

The shoulder you were leaning on shifted backwards as Lee tilted his body so that he could look down at you. You couldn’t understand the expression he was portraying; his eyes were unfathomably dark in the bright, overhanging light, and they seemed to be tracking every little movement of your face. “Of course, Sweet. I’ll always be here to protect you”.

“Ow!”

“There, the worst is over with now”. You had been so distracted with mesmerising his face this close, particularly the shape of his lips, that you hadn’t noticed that he had gripped the object in your knee, pulled it out and then quickly covered the cut in his wipe. “Sorry, I’m just going to move a little close to look at the damage”, he explains whilst shifting forward. In doing so, he pushed between your legs, causing them to spread further and him to be flush against your body.

Your mouth dried, fingernails digging into the wood. You’d only ever had one man this close to you before, and that was your ex-boyfriend, who you’d thought was the love of your life, allowing intimacy to occur because you were meant to be together forever. Then, one day, he decided he wanted that with the neighbour instead. This was the main reason for you moving across the country, but now, having the Sheriff this close felt both scandalous and yet safe, trusting your new boss as he was only helping you.

Deciding to believe this, you leaned further against him, but in doing so, your thigh pressed against something in his pocket. Assuming it was his gun, you didn’t see the need to move away from him and remained close, savouring the warmth he was providing you.

Maybe you were tired and somewhat delirious still from the current events, but it took you much longer than it should have to realise that the Sheriff’s hips were moving against your thigh, causing the sensitive skin to chaff. Your eyes had been closed but soon snapped open as your posture straightened.

Your mouth opened and then closed as you struggled to decide what to say. The hardness that was stroking against your thigh was definitely not his gun, which you realised should have poured fear through your soul, but your traitorous body reacted in another way as warmth bloomed in your panties and core.

Before you could react further, the Sheriff was moving away, “All done. You’re as good as new, Darlin’”. 

The warmth of his body stepped back as he moved to dispose of the bloody wipes and wrappers from the bandaid that now lay across the small cut on your knee. You inspected the area, mainly as a distraction so you didn’t have to look up at the Sheriff, worried that he’d see the glassy-eyed expression etched across your face or that you would see the bulge that had just been pressing against you.

“I think it’s about time we called it a night. How about I drive you home?” he suggested from across the room.

“Ye-yeah. You don’t have to drive me home, though, Sheriff. I only live down the road; I can just walk”.

As you were about to jump down from the table, he was in front of you again, that crease returning between his eyebrows as he looked at you disapprovingly. His hands rested next to yours on the table's edge as he leaned his weight on them, lowering himself so the two of you were now at eye level. “Now I won’t be having that. I’m not letting such an innocent-looking girl walk around in the middle of the night. You don’t know who is watching in the shadows. Go and get your coat; I’ll wait by the door”.

You gave him a thankful smile and embarrassingly squealed as his hands returned to your hip, and he pulled you off the table and back onto your feet. With the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you ran to your desk, trying to tidy it quickly before grabbing your coat.

Ever the gentleman, Lee held the station's door open, as well as his cruiser's passenger door open for you to get into his car. It felt odd for you to be in the front of the police car but also thrilling in a strange sort of way, and some naughty part of your brain couldn’t wait to get home so you could get the frustrations out of your body with the head of the shower between your legs.

Giving the Sheriff directions to your home, you both drove in a comfortable silence. However, being so close to him, in the contained metal box of his car, your wandering eyes kept slipping back towards him. Not only were you staring at his face, but your eyes dipped to his crotch. You would internally use the excuse it was to see if it was his gun, but this was strapped to the side of his hip, and yet, the bulge was still very evidently there.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked innocently, rubbing his chin as your face scorched with heat; having been caught, you couldn’t find the courage to talk, so you shook your head and kept your eyes out the window.

Thankfully, the ride home didn’t take long, and he was pulling into your drive. The Sheriff looked intently at your house and the surrounding area that didn’t have many street lights as it was a private area. The trees loomed high, causing the space to look even more intimidating with shadows and darkness.

“Thank you so much for the ride home, Sheriff and for helping me with my knee. I promise I’ll buy the station a new cup. Anyway, you get home safe”. One hand on the door handle, your other was quickly gripped by Sheriff, halting your movements to leave his car as your head snapped to look at him with a confused frown.

“I don’t like you being out here by yourself. Just for my own sanity, do you mind if I do a quick check of the property? I don’t think I’d be able to sleep once I’m home to know I’ve not properly checked that you were safe”.

A gentle smile replaced your confusion as you nodded your head for him to do so, appreciating the help to make you feel safe. The two of you approached the front door, with the Sheriff helping to illuminate the way with his flashlight.

Once inside, you were quick to turn on the lights, thanking your past self for having decided to clean yesterday so it wasn’t in an embarrassing state for when your boss entered and searched the property. You waited patiently in the living area, listening to him walk throughout the house and checking behind doors that the windows and locks were secure.

“Sheriff, would you like a drink?” you shouted up the stairs.

“A coffee if you’d be so kind”, he responded quickly, and you were quick to move into the kitchen and place the pot on the stove, heating the water to a boil. You were still fresh to moving in and had already forgotten where you’d left the cups, and to your dismay, for some ungodly reason, you’d placed the nicer ones at the very top of the cupboard.

Straining onto your tip toes, you cursed yourself to hell for leaving the fancy cups so far away and the stepping stool in the other room as you tried your best to try and reach them. Just as they were a fingertip away, a solid, warm body entirely pressed against your back, and a giant hand collected the two cups and placed them on the counter in front of you.

“Than-Thank you, Sheriff”. You couldn’t help the stammer with having him practically on top of you, pushing firmly against your back so that your stomach ached from being forced into the kitchen side.

“It’s my pleasure, Sweet”, he replied with a tone you’d never heard before, low but authoritative. Before you could contemplate it any further, he shifted, and the bulge that you had once been against your thigh was now pressing against your lower back. You weren’t even breathing with the thoughts spiralling through your mind, anticipation and arousal returning with such a blow that you visibly shivered. The warm breath of the Sheriff then caressed the skin of your neck as he lowered his face. “I saw you staring at me in the car, those pretty doe eyes looking at their Sheriff in such a naughty way”.

Your mouth opened, prepared to try and defend yourself in a way you weren’t actually sure how, but his arms resting on either side of you, further trapping you in place, had any words dying on the tip of your tongue. “It’s fine, Darlin’. I was looking too. You’re just so damn breathtaking; all I’ve wanted to do this week is eat you right up”.

A mewl slipped past your lips as your eyes fluttered close and his nose brushed against your jaw. Lee smiled, hearing the pathetic noise, his body rutting against yours in response, “I know you want it too. I could feel how warm your arousal was as I was cleaning your knee, all flushed between those legs of yours. You just need someone to look after you, don’t you, Sweetheart?”

You were losing your mind, more whimpers bubbling from your chest as your head rolled back onto his shoulder, head tilting away to expose more of your neck for him. The Sheriff chuckled darkly, his lips skimming over your cheek as the two of you slowly rocked into one another, swaying on the spot.

You knew you should stop this before it escalated any further. He was your boss. Your Sheriff and you were sure it was somewhere in your contract that this sort of relationship shouldn’t form, but he was just so breathtaking, and you felt needy and lonely.

“Tell me you want this. I want to hear you say it”, he whispered against your ear, rocking his hips into your body still.

You spoke with the most confidence you could muster at that moment, “I want you, Sheriff Bodecker, I want this - please give it to me!”

He didn’t respond verbally at first. The Sheriff simply removed the water from the stove, turning off the heat. The chest against your back vibrated as he hummed his approval, one of his hands moving to cup your jaw. “Good girl. Now open those legs for me. Is this your first time?”

You swallowed audibly, widening your stance and spreading your legs, still using Lee as a support to keep you upright as you shook your head. “No, me and my ex-boyfriend, we…” your words trailed off, not finding the courage to say what you were both referring to.

Lee laughed against your cheek as he began to fumble with the skirt of your dress, lifting it at the back and gathering it around your waist. “Fucked? That’s what you wanted to say, isn’t it? My sweet girl isn’t as innocent as she looks”, he taunts whilst pulling your panties down your legs until you’re stepping out of them.

A faint buzz began to pound in your ears as he continued to hold your jaw so that you couldn't look over your shoulder at what he was doing with his other hand. However, the zipper noise that creaked through the thick atmosphere informed you of his actions. You were breathing heavily through your gaped-open mouth, knuckles aching with how badly you were clutching onto the countertop.

This was really happening. Your boss was going to fuck you against the kitchen cupboards after only knowing you for a week. How did it even go from finishing paperwork to this? You weren’t able to contemplate anymore as Lee lewdly spat into his hand and moved in between your bodies, smothering the tip of his cock with his spit, and then he was pushing up against you once more.

You jolted at the presence of his cock between your legs, fumbling to find its home, pressing between your soaked folds as Lee sucked in a quick breath. “So wet for me already. Do you really like you Sheriff that much?”

“Yes, sir”, you answered, sounding downright pathetic and needy as you tried to move your hips to help him find where you wanted him most, but his hard body kept you firmly in place.

Finally, he nudged at your entrance and wasted no time pushing within. You cried out as his thickness began to stretch you open thoroughly and deeply. Inch and inch delved between your folds as you savoured the delectable burn that came with his cock. You should have anticipated his size, considering the bulge that you’d been feeling and staring at it, but you couldn’t help but rise onto the tips of your toes as he pushed in further until both of your hips slotted together.

“Lord, you’re tight”, he praised gruffly, holding you tight enough that it was sure to cause bruises, but you didn’t care as you were completely under his control. “Bet you taste good too”. Without any warning, he eased the pressure of his body back for a moment to allow space for his hand that wasn’t gripping your face to delve down the front of your body and press against your throbbing clit, gathering the slickness onto his fingers. You gasped frantically at the stimulation and then groaned at the loss as his hand moved to his mouth, and you were praised with the beautiful noise of him moaning as he licked your juices from his fingers. “Fuck, I was right, you taste so damn good I just know I’m going to be addicted to you. Why don’t you have a taste, Darlin’”.

Your clit was being pressed on by his wet fingers once more, and then he was shoving them into your already open more which he kept open with the hand around your jaw. With your need to please him, you sucked hungrily at the three fingers wedged between your teeth, tasting the saltness of your slick and the uniqueness of his saliva.

Both of his hands remained there as he finally began to pull out and then slammed back in, causing burning pleasure to burst between your legs. Lee rested his forehead against the side of your face as he began to roughly fuck into you, keeping you entirely still with the way he had you pinned to the cupboards.

You’d never felt pleasure like this before; each thrust of his cock was never-ending euphoria, tightening and wetting your cunt. You continued to suck his fingers, using them as some kind of crutch so that you didn’t lose control completely, even though you were moaning incessantly.

Your hands moved to grip his wrists, your nails now embedded into his skin and causing crescent-shaped marks. Lee growled at the spark of pain, using this to motivate his harsher fucking movements until his hips were a blur of in and out.

The moans you were producing increased in pitch and desperation as you could feel the coil in your abdomen tightening at an alarming pace. The Sheriff could feel you becoming tighter around him as he groaned, biting the lobe of your ear that sent hot pain down your throat.

“You gonna cum for me, Sweet? Why don’t you cum on my cock, and I’ll give you what you really want” his words were promising, and you were too far gone to understand the implications behind his words.

Somehow, Lee fucked you even harder until there was no holding back anymore, and you came with a gush of fluid seeping down your thighs and screams that were muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“That’s a good girl, feel so good trying to milk my cock. Let’s give you what you want, gonna fill you up so damn good”. As your eyes rolled back, the fingers disappeared from your mouth, causing a string of spit to drip onto your chin as Lee pressed his wet hand against the cupboard above your head, using it to hold onto so he could fuck you at a brutal pace until he was cursing, baritone grunts echoing around the kitchen as he came.

The extra fluid flooded out of your hole, joining the mess that already coated your thighs as Lee’s softening cock slipped out. Neither of you moved, though, taking these precious moments to try and catch your breath and come down from the incredible high.

Apprehension started to fill your consciousness as you feared what was to come after this, so tentatively, you asked gently, “Please don’t leave me tonight”.

You wanted him to stay; you needed to feel his warmth and know that you hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of your life. Lee kissed the underside of your jaw, “Don’t worry, Darlin’, I’m not going anywhere”.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Lee Know | Cuts and Bruises

Just a little drabble I found in my drafts (and technically my first actual post :0) Friends to Lovers Warnings: Slight suggestiveness at the end

“Minho!” You rushed to your friend’s side. “What-what…happened?!” You couldn’t help the tears that started to form in your eyes, and immediately Minho grasped your shoulders.

“Y/N…why are you crying? It's just a few cuts and bruises.”

You pound your fist against his chest in a weak attempt to scold him. “How could I not? It's cuts and bruises! On you!”

You turn your back to him to hide the large stream of tears falling down your face.

“Y/N, please don’t cry. You don’t have to worry about me. I was just boxing. It just…got a little rough this time. I was sparring with an amateur and he was a little reckless.”

You didn’t answer him, your lip still trembling too much to move in anyway that would form coherent words.

“Y/N…” Minho said softly as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you, and his chin landing softly into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His breath was soft and calming, enough so that you were able to still your bottom lip.

“Are you really that worried for me?” He asked quietly.

“Yes.” You nod. “I don't like seeing you hurt. Don’t you remember how I felt when you fell during your performance a few weeks ago?”

You could feel Minho’s cheek warm up as it was pressed against your neck. “You really do have such a nonchalant way of bringing up my past embarrassments, don’t you.” He said lightly, trying to get the smallest of smiles out of you. He chuckles and sighed, burying his nose into your neck. “You smell good.” He mumbled. “It makes it even harder for me to resist.”

That sent a spark up your spine, and the feel of his warm breath on any inch of your skin was enough to light your body on fire.

“Resist what?”

“You.” He said simply. You felt his soft, yet slightly sweat dampened hair tickle your face. Your heart raced in anticipation.

Did he really just say what you thought he said?

“Minho…?”

He ignored your questioning tone and held out his hand in front of the both of you. “The worst cut is here. I came over because I figured you could help me clean it and patch it up. I highly doubt Chan would be happy with me arriving home in this state.”

You quickly rushed to get your first aid kit and came back to Minho sitting back on your couch. He had taken off the sweatshirt he was wearing, and a black form fitting tank top showcased all the lines of muscle you had imagined would be on your friend’s body.

You worked in silence, but you could feel Minho’s brown eyes on you as you worked.

“I always loved how your tongue sticks out slightly when you're focused.” He comments. “It makes you even cuter than you naturally are.”

You look up and Minho has a sly smirk on his face, and soon enough you are looking at that smirk up close.

“Min…ho?”

He continues to come closer until you're pinned up against the edge of the coffee table. 

“Jisung told me something funny today…”

You felt a fire burn in your stomach. It must have been caused by how fast the butterflies were swarming in there.

“He said that a certain someone…loved me…” All the playfulness left his voice, and a strange sense of longing was becoming of his smile. “Is it true?”

You looked at him but was distracted by a small bruise by his mouth. It hurt to think he’d gotten hit so close to his lips.

Instinctively you reached out to trace the small purple mark tenderly, with such a feather light softness he had no doubts about what Jisung had told him.

Immediately he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“He was telling the truth.” His voice held no questions. Only answers.

His mouth tore at the seams into a beaming smile, and he rested his forehead against yours. “Say it.”

You look up. “Say what?” Your voice wavered slightly.

His eyes were closed and a peaceful smile was painted on his face. “Tell me you love me. I want to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Lee Minho.”

Although he thought he was prepared to hear you vocalize your feelings, the reality was that he wasn’t in any capacity.

The feeling that surged in his chest was something completely different than what he expected he would ever feel in this life.

The amount of joy and fear and excitement and love that hit him like a ton of bricks was too intense for him to put in words. 

So all he could manage to mutter was, “I love you, Y/N L/N. I’ve just been waiting for you to reciprocate my affections.”’

The smile mixed with surprise, shock, and a twinge of disbelief was humorous and adorable to Minho, and he couldn’t help but place a small kiss below your left eye.

You pouted. “Why not the lips?” You mumbled.

Lee Minho chuckled. “Trust me, Y/N…once this bruise heals, I’ll gladly allow you to replace it for me.”

[brairslair]

Hii! I hope you've had a great day so far, could i request a trafalger law × fem!reader who's like super horny all the time and just begs for law's attention and his cock all the time? Do what you want with the request, I just want this to be the basic premise, also i would like a friends with benenfits relationship kinda thing, but they do like eachother but just arent together yet!

Thank you, and have a great day! Please remember to take breaks, don't rush yourself and to take care of yourself!

@kyokikia thank you so much for this request ml! so sorry for the actual insane wait 🙏🏻

EVERYONE IS 18+ (minors gtfo)

a/n: idk why i struggled so much with this prompt, but i think i got something kind of coherent? definitely not my best work and a lil short, but hopefully you enjoy reading what i came up with!

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow to support my work! it always makes my day mwah

“made me wait enough”

Your mouth waters as you watch Law lean back in his seat, legs spread, head thrown back in a frustrated groan. His hands drag down his face and a sliver of skin peaks out from where his shirt rides up, and you almost moan. Your fingers buzz with the desire to touch him.

It’s been torture all week. Law’s been absolutely drowning in work, to the point where he’s been sleeping through the nights in his office chair instead of his bed.

Usually, you were admittedly pretty needy; something Law liked to tease you for. Constantly running your mouth, begging for him to give you a drop of his attention, to take care of you and ease the ache that seems to always be present when he’s around. It’s absolutely agonizing to give him space, but you’ve always respected his work ethic and ambition, and would never want to get in his way.

However, he’s been making it inexplicably difficult for you to keep to yourself. He’s barely said a word to you or the rest of the crew that wasn’t a captain’s order. You’re starting to feel actual physical pain from the distance.

You’re used to spending much more time with him, having been best friends for the better part of the last four years. If anyone has the right to be frustrated with his absence, it’s you.

You miss talking to him.

You miss his company.

You miss the way he looks at you when you cling to him.

You miss the way his hands feel when he touches you.

Your legs discreetly press together where you stand, hovering at the entrance to his office, mug of hot coffee in hand.

Coffee usually helps stoke the flames when his energy starts to dwindle, so you figured you would bring him the much needed pick-me-up before you make your way to bed. Alone.

You didn’t factor in how difficult it would be to keep yourself from jumping his bones.

Seemingly unaware of your ogling, you clear your throat to make yourself known before stepping in, setting the steaming mug on his desk.

“Thought you could use it.” You smile awkwardly, trying to conceal the filthy thoughts swirling in your head while he looks up at you through half lidded eyes. You could strangle him for making this so difficult.

He glances at the mug, then back at you, muttering a soft “Thank you.”

He looks mesmerizing when he’s tired. Hazy, far off, and soft around the edges. Your chest is aching and your throat burns with hidden desires clawing their way up your throat.

“Is there anything else you need, Captain? I’m heading to bed.” You mutter softly, praying he’ll take the hint and decide to join you.

His eyebrows twitch but he simply shakes his head, “This should do.”

His eyes burn through to your soul.

Usually you would have caved long ago, whining and begging for him to let you touch him, to take care of you the way he knew you needed it, but you wouldn't cave this time. You needed to remind yourself that he's an important man with important duties to attend to, and you would rather suffer than hold him back.

Instead, you force out a curt “Goodnight”, turning on your heels before the dam breaks and you start babbling nonsense.

Before you can take a step towards the door, you’re halted by a gentle hand around your wrist. The touch makes you shudder, biting back a whine. You missed his hands.

“You’ve been different.” Law states quietly, though you know it’s meant to be a question.

You can’t allow yourself to look at him yet. You know you’ll cave.

“You’ve been busy.”

Law hums in understanding and disappointment, gently tugging your arm to face him. Your legs feel like jelly under his gaze.

The longer he looks at you, the more aware you are of how dry your mouth is suddenly, how your stomach feels tight with restraint, and how he’s looking at you like he can read your every thought.

Law soothes his thumb along your pulse, stopping to feel your heart race beneath his fingertip. His sharp smile twists into your gut.

It fascinates you, the patience and temperment Law expresses so easily, things you’ve never been able to harness.

With a shaky sigh, you finally let go of your tongue, unable to hold back any longer.

“Please, Law? I need you.”

His hands are on you in an instant, smoothing over your curves like butter as he pulls you to straddle his hips. The second his lips touch yours, you can’t stop yourself from pulling and twisting at his shirt, seconds away from ripping it to shreds. Needy whines flow freely as you desperately rock your hips.

Law rubs a calming hand against your back, and you can feel the corners of his lips twitch with a smile against yours.

He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, and is pleased at the lewd noise it draws from your throat.

“There she is.” He grins, and you groan when he pulls away to trail down your neck. His fingers dance under your shirt, leaving goosebumps up your back as he makes work to unclasp your bra.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, melting into him like molten lava. Every touch sends your brain into overdrive, and you need to feel more.

“Please, Law, don’t tease me.” You whine, hips stuttering, struggling to keep up with your head, “I’ve been so patient. I didn’t wanna disturb your work, but I can’t help it.”

You ramble into his ear, already barely coherent and digging your nails into his shoulders to steel yourself.

You press yourself against his chest, kissing and licking at his jaw, “I’ve missed you.”

Law cradles your cheek to sweetly kiss the corner of your mouth, dotting a feather light trail across your cheek. It’s his way of saying “I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

Your hand trails down to the zipper of his pants, but he stops you, pulling your wrist to his lips before placing it back on his shoulder. You protest as tears start to dot at your lash line.

“Let me feel you. I need to feel you.” You’re begging now, trembling against him as your patience dwindles. “I need you so bad it hurts.”

Law kisses you softly, like an anchor pulling you back down to him, grounding you. He tugs at your shirt in a silent order, and you pull away only to throw it carelessly on the floor beside you, along with your bra.

His cold hands immediately trail your exposed skin, not leaving an inch untouched. You’re practically limp against him at this point, overwhelmed and sobbing into his chest.

“Just fuck me already, made me wait enough.” You plead, tugging at his hair as you whisper filth in his ear, “Need your cock, Law, so bad. Please.”

A groan rumbles in his chest at your words, twitching in his pants. His fingers press into the fat of your hips, slowing your rocking motion to a slow rumble, rolling your clothed core against the tent in his jeans at an agonizingly perfect pace. His eyes darken when you gasp and whimper, already crumbling in his hands.

“Cum for me like this and I’ll give you anything you want.”

asks are open!

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Press One for Love, Two for Regret

Chapter 2

Summary: Proper confessions should never happen over the phone. Viktor knows that. So how did he get here?

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Mature (mentions of explicit content, explicit in last chapter)

Notes: This was originally supposed to be a real quick one-shot. And yet, here I stand, offering you a three-chapter fic that is probably going to be a little under 10K total. Like a stray cat proudly bringing you a dead squirrel. I'm bozo the fool and I can't stop writing about Viktor.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4/End)

In theory, you’re pretty sure being a hitman should be fun.

There should be something thrilling about following someone around, tracking their every move in the shadows, finding the perfect opening to shoot them right between the eyes. The hunter and the prey. Riveting stuff.

Except you're not a hitman. And you're not tracking down someone to shoot them.

You're a dumb, stupid idiot. And you're just trying to talk to your dumb, stupid best friend who is doing everything in his power to not talk to you.

And he's quite good at it too; it's like he's vanished from the space-time continuum itself. No one has seen him, no one has talked to him, no one has even heard of where he might be hiding. It's almost annoying how good Viktor is at everything he does.

You hadn't managed to sleep the rest of the night of what you now refer to as ‘The Call’. You watched the minutes pass one by one on your alarm clock, eyes wide open, mind bustling with too many questions to go to bed.

At six am sharp, you deemed you had waited long enough to stomp your way to Jayce's and Viktor's apartment. You weren't even sure of what you were going to say; you just had to talk to him. You couldn't let that conversation end the way it did.

You knocked firmly five times before Jayce cracked the door open with an audible groan, hair tussled, eyes barely open. It seemed he, too, hadn't spent a very restful night.

It took a few seconds for him to even register who was standing at the door; when he did, he visibly straightened his back in an attempt to look awake and composed.

Unfortunately for him, it did not work very well.

“H-hey,” he stammered, leaning against the doorway in false non-chalence. His voice was still heavy with sleep, and he audibly cleared his throat. “It's a little early, isn't it? The ol’ operating system usually only boots up when the sun is out,” he added jokingly, pointing a finger toward his forehead.

A valiant attempt at breaking the obvious tension, but you refused to budge. You glared at him, decidedly looking into his eyes.

“I need to talk to Viktor.”

Jayce made a strangled sound, which he tried to hide with a theatrical coughing fit.

“You… just missed him?” he managed to choke out with uncertainty. He was visibly trying to convince himself just as much as you. “He left to go prepare the lab. You know him, always doing extra research.”

He flashed you a smile, a practiced grin with perfect teeth that might have seemed genuine in other circumstances. But his bottom lip was quivering, and you could see Viktor's daily use cane leaning against the coat rack right behind him. Jayce was not exactly a master manipulator.

“Jayce, the university doesn't even open until seven thirty.”

He deflated at that, his large shoulders comically lowering. You could see he was thinking desperately for anything to say, but coming up empty-handed. Chances were he hadn't had his coffee yet, which knowing him, considerably lowered his ability to formulate coherent thoughts.

You were starting to feel bad; the poor guy was stuck being the literal last defence to his roommate, and he was genuinely giving it his best. Jayce might not have a career in acting, but he was a good friend.

That was more than you could say about yourself.

“Ok. I get it,” you sighed. “He needs space. I can respect that. Just… tell him to call me later, alright? Even just a text would be fine.”

Jayce seemed profoundly relieved you had agreed to back down, something you almost always refused to do under any circumstance. Yes, technically, you could stay put in front of that door and progressively chip away at Jayce's still barely conscious mind until Viktor decided to show himself.

But you felt guilty. Guilty for not realizing how he felt, guilty for treating him like your personal diary over the phone, guilty for not saying how you felt sooner. The conversation should be on Viktor's terms rather than your own.

“Yeah, I'll tell him,” Jayce gave you a small smile, comforting and honest. The next words came out less encouraging than he likely intended: “I'll try.”

But now, it's been a week since ‘The Call’, and Viktor has still shown no sign of wanting to talk. Your phone is frustratingly devoid of unread texts or missed calls no matter how often you check it. Your world feels like it's been spiralling out of control a little more every day, the uncertainty of everything left unsaid weighing you down like a ton of bricks. It's torture, and you can't help but feel like you kind of deserve it.

You should have known better than to call Viktor when you were drunk, and yet, you still did. Because there's nothing more natural to you than talking to him. It's become second nature, as natural as breathing or blinking.

Viktor is always so smart, and so composed, and so understanding, and so helpful- and he's probably the only person who likes hearing you go on rants for hours on end. How could you ever want to talk to anybody else after a breakup?

But when you're drunk, you lose the already feeble control you have over your verbal on-and-off switch. Everything spews out of you without a filter, as if you're vomiting all the thoughts that go through your mind one after the other. It's cathartic, for sure, but then you end up saying things that should never be said to the best friend you've secretly been in love with for years now.

Things like how your ex never took time to finger you properly, or how he had this stupid obsession with men not going down on women because he was an ungrateful asshole.

And then, those two little words.

“I would.”

There was no hesitation in his tone, no uncertainty. It was like he had the sentence on the tip of his tongue for the last two hours you had been whining to him. Like he had been waiting to say it for too long to contain it anymore.

The irony was that you had spent the last four years trying everything in your power to not let those stupid little words out too.

—

You met Viktor at your first university's faculty Christmas party.

You hated work parties.

You had only gotten the position of academic advisor a few months prior, and in that time you hadn't managed to form a single bond with any other employee in your entire department. It was always the same; you talked too much. You were too intense. You were tiresome.

You were you. And that was something a lot of people didn't like.

Needless to say, you didn't want to go to that stupid party. Everyone would split up into groups of friends and previous acquaintances, and any attempt at joining the conversation would result in discreet sighs and rolling eyes. Yet you still went, partly out of obligation, but also in the hopes something that night might be different for you.

But it hadn't been, and you were alone.

So you did what any well-adjusted adult did when they were faced with the indisputable fact they were the party outcast; you drank.

After one glass of cheap white wine, you felt more relaxed, less stiff. Just a nice amount of mellowed out.

After two glasses, you started to forget the self-preserving instinct of not approaching others. ‘Maybe you could try talking to someone, after all. It could be worth a shot.’

After three glasses, you forgot why you were so apprehensive in the first place. You were great! You rocked. You had so many things to say there was absolutely no way someone wouldn't love to hear all about it.

…but maybe you could get a fourth glass, first.

You headed back towards the drinks table, a little less steady and a whole more lot confident. So confident, you didn't realize you bumped right into someone's chest until a hand grabbed your arm to keep you upright.

“Ah, are you alright?” came a heavily accented voice above you. ‘Eastern European,’ you thought absentmindedly. ‘Ukranian, maybe Czech. I wonder if he knows they created the sugar cube…’

You took an unsteady step back, peaking up at the man blocking your way to the wine bottles.

‘Wow, he's handsome’, was your first, immediate thought.

“Wow, you're handsome,” were your first, immediate words.

The man spluttered in surprise. In all fairness, he probably hadn't been expecting for a stranger at a faculty party to be so direct. If you were still at glass number two, you might have realized it wasn't a very appropriate thing to say in this specific context.

But you were at glass number three and unabashedly staring at the man's face, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose.

That was the moment you realized he wasn't a stranger.

You knew him. Not his name, or who he was, but you felt absolutely certain you had seen him before. You scanned your jumbled brain for the memory of his face. So beautifully sculpted, like he was made of stone. You knew him, you had it on the tip of your tongue-

“Miss?” the man asked, seemingly unsure whether to be perplexed or worried at your silent glaring. “Would you like me to help you sit-”

“Tuna sandwich!” you yelled with a huge grin. A few other partygoers turned towards you in confusion, but you were much too overjoyed at the epiphany you were experiencing to realize.

The man blinked slowly. Then once again, like he was trying to process whether or not he had understood correctly. His head cocked slightly to the side in bewilderment.

“… I'm sorry, what did you say ?”

You poked his chest with an insistent finger, beaming: “You're tuna sandwich! The tuna sandwich guy!”

The man looked to the side warily, mouth opening and closing, visibly searching for some kind of help. When he found none, his golden eyes fell back to you, catching the glow of the ceiling lights. The spark of an aurora through the night sky.

“I'm… afraid I truly have no idea what you're talking about,” he explained gently, the warmth of his hand leaving your arm. You deflated a little at that, the notion of embarrassment creeping back in you.

But he hadn't left. He was still here.

He was listening to you.

“My office is next to the cafeteria,” you started, straightening your dress and trying to appear more professional. “I see you, every day, at eleven forty-five, before morning classes end. I always thought that was smart, because you get to skip the lunch rush and there's still a lot of choices for meals.”

The man seemed bemused by the comment, but didn't show signs of wanting to take off. That made you regain some of your drunken confidence.

“But you always take a tuna sandwich,” you continued. ”That's it. Every day. You never buy anything else. It's always the tuna sandwich at eleven forty-five.”

He let out a confused chuckle, the ghost of a teasing smile on his lips.

“I didn't realize I had an audience.”

His presence had been so hypnotic you barely even realized what you had been saying.

‘Oh God, that sounded creepy, didn't it?’

“Don't flatter yourself,” you quickly added, embarrassed, looking away to stare at a particularly interesting stain on the floor. “I look at what everyone's doing. It's my job to.”

He hummed mirthfully, his golden gaze fully amused now:

“And what job would that be? Voyeur?”

You almost choked on your own spit.

“Guidance councillor, smart guy,” you countered, feeling your cheeks heat up. How was a stranger rattling you this much? You were usually the one whose words left others confused. “I look at people, and I figure out what they want in life. I help them find careers. I’ll have you know that's an extremely important task, mister-”

You squinted at the sticky nametag on his chest, trying to decipher the very slanted handwriting. You vaguely remembered the blue stickers were reserved for teachers.

“…Professor…?” you struggled weakly, hoping he would fill in the illegible part.

He thankfully seemed to find your attempt more endearing than insulting.

“Just call me Viktor,” he answered with a sincere smile. His lips were slightly crooked, the left dimple just barely more present on his left side than his right. There was a tiny little beauty spot next to his cupid bow; the thought that it would be nice to lick it just to confirm it wasn't a speck of the chocolate cake flashed in your mind.

‘Focus, focus!’

“Tell me, Viktor,” you cleared your throat. You had to get it together. This was the longest conversation you had been able to maintain with a fellow faculty member without them looking like they wanted to run away. “Why tuna? There's so many other sandwiches to choose from. You could take the egg salad, or the turkey sub, or the spicy chicken…”

You were definitely being too insistent on the tuna thing. If he didn't think you were weird before, he would now.

And yet Viktor still didn't leave. He considered your question seriously, taking a few thoughtful seconds to answer:

“It's the only one with multigrain bread. Very low fat for a good source of omega-3 and protein. And I don't dislike it, so it makes the most sense as a daily meal,” he mused, almost like it was the first time he had ever thought about it, too.

Huh.

“That's a sad way of looking at things,” you commented before thinking.

Before you could mentally swear at your debilitating lack of restraint, Viktor countered the statement with seemingly genuine curiosity:

“How so?”

You had a chance to say something cute and short, and leave the topic at that. It would be a major win for you; your first enjoyable talk with a coworker. Maybe you would even exchange email addresses by the end of the night.

Or…

You could be yourself. Let the floodgate of constant thoughts and observations pour out for a minute. Show this random handsome man who you were, really.

Had you not been drunk and sound of mind, you would have gone for the former. But as it happened, you were quite drunk, and you chose the latter. You took a deep breath before speaking:

“Means you only value food as something that's needed, like taste and flavour isn’t important. You deny yourself basic pleasures out of fear you'll get used to them and grow complacent. You're probably the type of guy who slaves away in his office for hours, not even realizing he's hungry, because it's lost all relevance to him.”

The silence that followed felt eerie. The expression on Viktor's face was blank, mouth barely agape, brows slightly furrowed. You had fucked it up, again.

“Sorry,” you muttered, feeling incredibly foolish. “That was overstepping.”

“No, actually,“ Viktor responded almost eagerly, the sparkle in his eyes bright, “Keep going. What else can you tell?”

There was palpable interest in his tone, in the way his body leaned slightly closer to yours. He wanted to know. He wanted to listen to you.

“The tuna sandwich is twenty-five cents cheaper than all the other ones,” you continued slowly, afraid of breaking the spell that was keeping him attentive to your words. “Usually a sign of a lower class upbringing, shows that you're used to thinking with a controlled budget, even if you don't need to anymore. You likely value hard work and commitment.”

You paused once more to gauge his reaction, but he didn't say anything, clearly waiting for you to continue. So, you did.

“It's always eleven forty-five sharp. You're precise, mechanical. Probably in the department of medicine, or some form of applied science. Am I right?”

“Biomechanical engineering,” he specified with a baffled smile. “Incredible. All that from a sandwich?”

You shrugged, feeling giddy under the weight of the compliment. It was so utterly rare that anyone would actually enjoy your rambling.

“I notice things about people, and I tell them. Couldn’t quite cut it as a detective or a psychologist, so it makes me an ok guidance counsellor,” you smiled, adding an audible wince. “But the person you really gotta avoid at parties.”

He laughed at that, a pretty, earnest sound, slightly low and nasal. The kind of laugh that would make the heart of a weaker person skip a beat.

You blamed the fact that yours did in fact skip a beat entirely on the alcohol.

“I-I'm sure what you do is a lot more impressive, though,” you quickly stammered out. Why were you stuttering?

He shrugged, bony shoulders visible through his button-up shirt. A few beauty marks decorated his neck where the collar didn't reach; you wondered how many more the fabric was hiding.

“Eh, I wouldn't bet on that. Gait analysis, prosthetic limb design. Much less creative than one might think,” he commented with a certain indifferent boredom; yet there was a certain light in his eyes that spoke otherwise. Maybe he was also the type of person people didn’t listen to much. “But it does feel rewarding to do something for others who might not have my luck.”

He pointed down with his chin, and for the first time since you began talking to him, you realized he was holding a cane.

You, whose only redeeming quality was having good observational skills, hadn't noticed the man you had been talking to for the last ten minutes was holding a cane. A refined-looking one at that, with a deep burgundy tainted wood for the shaft, and a sleek handle the colour of tarnished gold. ‘Maybe if you stopped looking at his face for a goddamn second you would have noticed’ you scolded yourself.

“Ah,” you blurted out pathetically. “That's… that's really cool.” You were looking at his fingers. You were looking at his long, slim fingers holding his cane, calloused yet delicate, and you were imagining them in places they should definitely not be in.

You had absolutely no idea what you had just said to him.

Yet Viktor only seemed more amused, his smirk growing ever so slightly.

“Yes, I also like to think of it as ‘cool’, from time to time.”

A drink. What you needed was another drink. Then perhaps you would reach a level of enlightenment where you would remember how to not look like a complete fool in front of attractive professors, who probably did quantum physics as a hobby.

As if he had read your mind, Viktor shifted in the direction of the drinks table, giving you a knowing smile. Were you so easy to read, or was he simply so good at reading you?

“I’d offer to bring you a glass of wine, but I believe that may have been your original intention before reading my palm,” he joked.

‘It's nothing like fortune telling, it's just logical analysis !’ part of you wanted to retort.

‘Give me your palm and I'll show you what my real fucking intentions are,’ purred the other one.

If you didn't get out of here now, you would say something that would definitely end your career before it had even taken off.

“I think I'll probably head home for the night. I've already had a little too much to drink,” you smiled hesitantly. Understatement of the century.

You could have sworn you saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Then again, you had probably imagined it. If anything, he was likely relieved he had finally managed to escape the babbling lunatic. Someone like him, so brilliant and accomplished, had no reason to willingly listen to the ramblings of a glorified high school school councillor.

But…

“But… maybe you could give me your number?” you asked hesitantly, taking one final, vulnerable leap of faith. “Just for work, of course!”, you added hastily.

Viktor did not seem angry or disgusted at the proposal; in fact, his smile widened, revealing a slightly uneven row of teeth. Cute. Everything about him was attractive.

“I would like that,” Viktor said softly, amber eyes warm. “I did enjoy hearing you talk.”

Your heart made a heavy, dull thud. With a small wave, he was gone, disappearing somewhere into the crowd like he had been nothing more than a hallucination conjured up by the cheap wine.

Your first work friend.

A potential real friend. Someone who genuinely didn't seem to hate the sound of your voice.

It was much too precious to lose over some passing, drunken attraction. You absolutely had to crush these emotions now to prevent them from becoming anything serious. After all, it wasn't like you had a shadow of chance with someone like him.

Perhaps for the first time in your life, you decided to stay silent about something, no matter what would happen in the future.

He couldn't know.

You would never let him know.

[rynwritesreid]

She’s electric| Spencer Reid

A/N: I may have gotten carried away with this one, I’m sorry :)

Summary: After trying to make Spencer jealous, he decides to teach you a lesson.

Content: Smut/18+/MDNI. Fem!reader. Sub!reader. Dom!spencer. Rough sex. Choking. Orgasm control/denial. Spanking. Mean Spencer. Use of pet names. Possessiveness. Creampie/PinV. Handjob(F!recieving)

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

It wasn’t really a secret that Spencer Reid liked to be dominant, and that he liked to be rough. However, you had truly underestimated him, and because of this, you were about to learn a valuable lesson.

*

“Spencer, baby, are you okay?” you asked with a faux innocence, you knew he wasn’t okay, he hated seeing other people flirt with you and he hated that you gave them the time of day. Spencer though, he didn’t speak a word and just firmly grabbed your thigh, which is his way of asking you to shut up. 

“Spencer, please? What’s wrong?” Spencer's gaze was intense as he pinned you with a steely look, his grip on your thigh tightening almost warningly.

“Okay, if you’re not going to speak, I’ll just explain myself.” You paused for a brief second, giving the chance to speak up, “you’re extremely hot when you are jealous, like extremely.”

Spencer's expression shifted from one of intense focus to a hint of amusement, a small smirk playing on his lips.  “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You couldn't help but laugh, because sure Spencer was rough, but rough enough to ruin you was laughable. 

*

Once both you and Spencer had gone back to his apartment, and you had shrugged off what he had previously said and settled onto his couch, flipping through the TV channels as if nothing had happened. Spencer, however, had other plans in mind. Without a word, he approached you and swiftly pulled you up from your seat, his grip strong but gentle.

“Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” Spencer whispered, his voice low and dangerous. 

Before you could even form a coherent response, Spencer's lips crashed down on yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body with purpose.

The intensity of the kiss left you dazed, as Spencer's dominant nature took control. His hands firmly gripped your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

Breaking the kiss, Spencer's eyes were filled with an unyielding determination that you had never seen before. "You crossed a line, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

With a smirk, Spencer reached behind you, grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and hit the power button on the TV. The screen went dark, and the room was plunged into silence, save for the sound of your quickening breath.

Spencer led you to the bedroom, his steps firm and purposeful. He pushed you onto the bed, and your eyes widened in surprise as you realized that he was going to make good on his promise.

Without a word, he began to undress you, his fingers deft and skilled. You tried to protest, but his silence was deafening, and you knew better than to fight him.

Once you were naked, he stepped back, taking in the sight of you lying on the bed, vulnerable and exposed. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Your stomach fluttered with a mix of fear and excitement as you hesitantly complied with his command, spreading your legs wider. Spencer's gaze was intense as he studied you, and you could almost feel the heat of his desire emanating from him.

Spencer stalked back towards the bed, his eyes dark with lust and dominance. You could see the cords in his neck stand out as he clenched his jaw, and you knew that he was trying to control himself.

“Touch yourself for me.” His voice was low and gravelly.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then you felt his hand on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Do it," he commanded, his voice low and hoarse.

Reluctantly, you reached down and touched yourself, feeling the wetness between your legs. Spencer watched you closely, his breath coming in short gasps. 

"That's it," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You're so wet for me."

You continued to touch yourself, your fingers exploring your own body as his eyes never left you. 

"Fuck, that's hot," Spencer groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Spencer, please, please touch me.” You gasped.

You felt his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch firm but gentle. He dragged his thumb across your lower lip. 

“You want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yes, please,” you whispered, your voice barely a whisper.

“Well, if I was to give into your commands, this wouldn’t be much of a punishment, would it?” his voice was somehow thick “and plus, I’m enjoying the show.”

You felt a twinge of frustration mixed with anticipation, you knew that Spencer wanted to push you to your limits, but you also knew that he couldn't resist you when you needed him the most.

"Spencer, please, I need you to touch me," you pleaded, your voice growing more insistent. 

Spencer smirked, his eyes never leaving your face. “If you insist, but this isn’t going to turn out how you want.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, a fleeting taste of what was to come. His fingers trailed down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He stopped at your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours.

You looked up at him, your breathing shallow, your heart pounding. "I need you, Spencer."

He chuckled darkly. "You'll get more than you bargained for, darling."

His fingers moved lower, dipping into the wetness between your legs. You gasped involuntarily, your eyes wide with shock and desire. He stroked you gently, moving in slow circles, building the tension between you.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside of you.” Spencer's fingers delved deeper, hitting a spot inside you that sent shivers throughout your body. You moaned softly, your body arching slightly against his touch.

"You're so tight, so wet, so perfect," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You let out a quiet moan, your body trembling with desire. "Spencer, please, don't tease me."

He smirked, his eyes never leaving your face. "I'm not teasing you; I'm making sure you remember why you shouldn't push me."

Without warning, he thrust two fingers deep inside you, his fingers curling to hit that spot that made you see stars. You cried out, your body trembling uncontrollably.

You moaned loudly, the sensations overwhelming you. He increased his pace, fucking you with his fingers, his thumb still rubbing your clit in circles.

"Spencer, I'm going to cum" you panted, your body on the edge.

“Have I given you permission to cum?” Spencer demanded, his voice low and authoritative.

You gasped, your body shaking with desire. "No, sir."

"You're close, aren't you?" he asked, his fingers never slowing down.

You nodded, your breathing quickening. "Yes, Spencer, I need. . . I need to cum!"

His hand flew to your throat, his grip firm but gentle. "You're not allowed to cum until I say so."

Your eyes widened, but you nodded obediently. "Yes, sir."

With that, he slowed his pace, his fingers moving in and out of you in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You moaned softly, your body still trembling with desire.

“I’m going to make you beg for it, to cum, he whispered, his voice filled with promise and threat. “But remember, you’re not allowed until I give you, my permission.”

You whimpered, your body begging for release, but you knew better than to disobey him. Your mind raced with the mix of fear and desire, fuelling the intensity of your arousal.

Spencer continued to tease you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a slow, torturous rhythm. Your breath hitched, your body straining against his touch. You felt like you were on the edge of a precipice, and any moment you might fall over.

"Please, Spencer," you begged, your voice hoarse with desire. "Let me cum."

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the desire burning in his gaze. "Not yet," he said, his voice firm.

“Please, Spencer, I need it so badly,” you pleaded, your voice shaking with need.

His eyes met yours, and he smirked, his eyes filled with lust. “You know the rules, darling. You can’t cum unless I say so.”

You moaned, your body trembling with need. “Please, Spencer, please, just let me cum.”

He slid his fingers out of you, leaving you shivering. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He laid you down on the bed, your legs still spread wide, your body still wet and aching. Your heart raced with anticipation, your breaths shallow as he stood above you, his eyes burning with desire.

“Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

"Yes, please, just fuck me already," you whimpered, your body begging for relief.

Spencer chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving yours. He grabs you by the throat, his fingers tightening around your neck, and you gasp for air, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Don't ever disobey me again," he growls, his eyes fierce.

You nod obediently, your eyes wide with fear and desire.

"You're mine, and I'll punish you any way I see fit," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I'm gonna make you remember this, darling," he growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "You crossed the line, and now you'll pay the price.

You whimpered, your body trembling with fear and arousal. "I'm sorry, Spencer," you breathed, promising never to disobey him again.

He released your throat, his fingers stroking your cheek gently, his eyes filled with desire and a hint of tenderness. "Good girl," he said, his voice still rough with emotion.

Without warning, he plunged inside of you, his cock hitting that spot that made you see stars. Your body arched beneath him, your moans mingling with his as he drove into you relentlessly. Your breaths came in short gasps, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled; his voice thick with lust. "To be punished by me?"

"Yes, Spencer, please don't stop," you moaned, your body shaking with need.

He slammed into you harder, his hips swinging rhythmically. "You're mine," he growled, his voice low and dark. "And you're going to take every Last. Inch. Of. My. Dick."

You moaned loudly, your body trembling uncontrollably. He continued his relentless assault, each thrust hitting your G-spot with perfect precision, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You felt like you were going to explode, so you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Spencer, let me cum," you begged, your voice quivering with desperation.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving yours, "You're going to learn not to push me, darling. And when you're ready, you'll ask me for permission."

You nodded, your body aching for release, but you knew better than to disobey him. Your mind raced with the mix of fear and desire, fuelling the intensity of your arousal.

"But I want to cum, Spencer," you whispered, your voice shaking with need.

He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath and shivering with need, leaving a void that only he could fill. Your eyes burned with desire, watching as he stood before you.

"Then you'll have to learn to be patient," he said, his voice low and seductive. "I'll teach you how to be a good girl, and only then will I allow you to cum."

You moaned softly, your body aching for his touch. "Please, Spencer, I need you."

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "You need to learn your place, and right now, you're not there yet."

He reached down, grabbing your throat, his fingers tightening around your neck. You gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes wide with fear and desire.

"Do you understand?" he growled; his eyes fierce.

You nodded obediently, your eyes pleading with him to release your neck and continue.

"Good," he muttered, releasing your throat and stroking your cheek gently. "Now, let's see if you can be a good girl."

He moved his fingers to your clit, circling it slowly, teasing it with each touch. Your breath hitched, your body arching beneath his touch. You moaned softly, your arousal growing with each passing second, your body trembling uncontrollably.

"Please, Spencer, please, touch me," you begged, your voice shaking with need.

"Soon, darling," he whispered, his voice filled with promise.

He continued teasing you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a slow, torturous rhythm, his fingers gently stroking your clit, causing waves of pleasure to course through your body.

You cried out, your body straining against his touch. You felt like you were going to explode, so you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Spencer, let me cum," you begged, your voice shaking with need.

“Go ahead princess, cum.”  His voice was like a switch in your mind, a sudden surge of power that made every muscle in your body clench. Your eyes widened as you felt your orgasm building, a fierce heat spreading through your body, making your skin tingle and your breath catch in your throat.

"Yes, cum for me," he growled, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine.

You let out a loud moan as your body convulsed, your muscles clenching around his fingers, your heart pounding in your chest as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Your body shook uncontrollably as the intense pleasure washed over you, your breaths shallow and ragged. You kept your eyes locked onto his, your heart pounding against your chest, your body still trembling with need.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're learning your place."

“Now, do you think you can get on all fours for me?” Spencer whispered; his eyes filled with lust.

You nod quickly, your body still shaking with pleasure, eager to continue. He guides you onto all fours, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing with anticipation. Your breaths are shallow, your skin tingling with desire.

"Look at you," he growls, stroking your back gently. "You're so wet and ready for me."

He spanks your ass hard, making you yelp and jump. "Remember, you're mine," he says, his voice low and possessive.

He thrusts into you from behind, your moans mingling with his as he drives into you relentlessly. Your breaths come in short gasps, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

You groan in pleasure as he continues to pound into you from behind, your body responding to his every move. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, your nipples hard and sensitive to the slightest touch.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all, take my cock."

His fingers dig into your hips, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more intense. You can feel his teeth sink into your shoulder, leaving a mark that will last for days.

"You're mine," he growls again, his voice hoarse with desire. "And I'm gonna make you remember that every time I fuck you."

You can't help but moan in agreement, your body arching back against him, eager to take everything he has to give. His thrusts become faster and harder, his breath hot against your ear.

"Please, Spencer," you whimper, your body aching for release. "I need you to cum inside me."

He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your skin. "You're a quick learner, aren't you, darling?"

"Please," you beg, your body trembling with desire. "Fill me up, make me yours."

With one final thrust, he thrusts deep inside of you, filling you completely. You feel him twitching inside of you, his release mingling with yours. Your body trembles uncontrollably, your breaths ragged and shallow.

"There you go, baby," he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're mine, now and forever."

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[janeyseymour]

I Hate You, I Love You- part 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Summary: Christmas Day, and then some...

WC: ~3.95k

You must end up falling asleep against the redhead again, because the next time you’re coherent of anything around you, Melissa isn’t there with you. You peel your eyes open, and she isn’t even in the room.

“What the hell?” you grumble to yourself. Your silent question of where the woman could possibly be is answered when she walks into the bedroom with two mugs filled with coffee.

“Hey,” Melissa smiles at you. Her eyes are soft and her smile is sweet. “Merry Christmas.” She makes her way to you and hands you the mug with your drink once you’ve sat up enough to drink the coffee.

“Merry Christmas,” you sigh quietly as you blow over the steaming mug. You take a sip and smile. You’re surprised she fixed your coffee perfectly to your liking. “You know how I like my coffee.”

“Well, we did go over it a few times,” the redhead chuckles as she sits on the mattress. “But I also do have a good memory, you know.”

“I know,” you smirk at her. “I just didn’t think you would-”

“Y/N.” Green eyes are rolled at you. “I’ve watched you make your coffee everyday for the past year and a half at school. Of course I know how you like it.”

You enjoy your first cup of coffee in bed with your ‘girlfriend’ before you sigh and throw the blankets off of your body. You shiver immediately. Before you know what’s happening, Melissa is pulling an old Abbott Elementary sweatshirt out of her bag and offering it to you.

“I- I can just wear my own,” you stammer out. God, why is she being so nice to you in private?

“Just put it on,” Melissa tells you. She holds it out more aggressively, and you can’t help the tired laugh that comes from your lips. You take it graciously, and your colleague just gives a victorious smirk.

“Thank you,” you mumble as you throw the hoodie over your head.

The redhead nods. “Alright, we should probably get down there. Your parents were asking if you were awake when I went down earlier for coffee.”

You groan. “But I’m comfortable.”

“And you can get comfortable on the couch while you eat the cinnamon buns your mom made.”

You’re out of bed in an instant, running for the door. Melissa can’t help the way that she laughs at your excitement. “Hun, they’ll still be down there when we get there.”

“You don’t understand!” you call back. You’re already halfway down the steps. “These things are my favorite things in the world!”

The redhead just rolls her eyes and grabs your discarded mug from the nightstand on your side of the bed before following in your direction. 

When she gets downstairs, you already have a plate of the sugary breakfast pastry in front of you. It’s a considerable stack, and green eyes just look at you, clearly amused.

“Did you forget something?” Melissa holds your mug up teasingly before making her way over to the coffee pot and making you another cup. When it’s finished, she comes over, and you practically pull her to sit in your lap. She makes a small noise in surprise before she smiles softly and wraps her arm around her shoulder to help balance herself.

“Open up,” you instruct as you cut off a piece of one of the cinnamon rolls. You hold it up to her mouth and wait for her to take the bite. When she does, you hear the soft moan she lets out, and- oh shit. That just lit a fire in you that you weren’t expecting. Holy shit, that was hot.

“Your mom made that?” Melissa asks through a mouthful. 

You cough lowly, trying to extinguish the flame that her moan did to you. “Uh, y-yeah. Every Christmas.”

“I can’t wait to have this every Christmas with you.” It’s a hushed whisper, so nobody else would be able to hear it, even with Aunt Jo now at the coffee maker. She says it with so much conviction you almost believe her. You’re not quite sure how to respond, so you just lean in and kiss her lips. Somehow, this kiss feels more natural than the rest of them. It’s warm and soft, filled with a sleepy morning haze despite the caffeine already rushing through your veins, and you can taste the cinnamon glaze on her lips. This kiss too, lasts longer than the other quick pecks that you’ve shared over the weekend- this is a real kiss.

When you pull away, your cheeks heat up, and you giggle slightly. Melissa just presses your foreheads together and smiles before pecking your lips again.

That’s when your Aunt Jo clears her throat as she enters the kitchen. “Girls, we’re all very happy that you’re in love, but please… not at the kitchen counter.”

The shade of red that your cheeks becomes is about the shade of your ‘girlfriend’s’ hair. “S- sorry Aunt Jo.”

She just shakes her head in good nature. “No you’re not.” She fixes her coffee quickly before giving the two of you a wink and exiting quickly.

You look to Melissa and take a deep breath, clearly getting ready to confront what is happening between the two of you- this is something different than what yesterday was. But she just gives you a look that tells you, not now. Your coworker believes that you’re going to tell her to tone it down, and selfishly, she doesn’t want to. She’s treating you the way she’s wanted to treat you for a long while now, and she’s seeing the sweet side of you that doesn’t hate her. She doesn’t want to let that go- not quite yet. 

And because you find yourself enjoying this little life that the two of you have right now, you agree with a soft nod of your head. You do pick up the plate in front of you and your coffee though and jerk your head in the direction of the living room. She picks up her own coffee mug and follows you in.

While you sit on the couch, Melissa goes for the blanket that you were using last night. She knows you were cold this morning, so grabbing the blanket while she’s still standing as opposed to sitting is a good choice in her opinion. She drapes it over your lap before pulling you in close as she settles in with you.

“Merry Christmas,” you greet your parents with a smile on your face. The redhead repeats your words, to which your parents give warm smiles.

“Did the two of you sleep well?” your father asks.

You nod. “Was just kinda cold. But Lis was there to help.”

“Finally found yourself a human furnace?” your mom chuckles. “Even in sweatpants, and your-” She catches a look at the Abbott sweatshirt with dates from before you were at the school. “your girlfriend’s sweatshirt?”

“How sweet,” Aunt Jo coos. “Sharing clothes. I remember always stealing my husband’s clothes… still wear them sometimes when I need a reminder he’s still here with me.”

Melissa just dots a few kisses to your hairline before stealing the fork from your hand and feeding herself a bite of your shared breakfast.

After breakfast, your parents bring out a few presents that they got for you despite the fact that you told them repeatedly you don’t need any Christmas presents anymore. They also managed to get Melissa a few little trinkets. Green eyes sparkle with appreciation for your family. You pull out the little gifts that you purchased for your parents and your Aunt Jo; they take them gratefully. And then they look to you and your coworker with expectant looks.

“We decided to do presents tomorrow,” Melissa explains the reason you don’t have gifts for each other.

The three older adults nod, and your dad has a smirk. “Don’t wanna get caught opening something ridiculous in front of us?”

You just put your head in your hands at what your father has just insinuated.

“Al!” your mother smacks his arm.

Christmas Day passes by in a blissful haze full of warm drinks, soft kisses, blankets piled high, and “A Christmas Story” on repeat. You allow yourself to fully relax in the presence of Melissa for the first time. It doesn’t feel like it’s for show- her kisses are longer, they’re sweeter, you feel like you crave them. If her arm isn’t around you or her hand isn’t somewhere on your body, you feel cold. But the second she’s back with you, you feel like you’re on top of the world. None of this feels like an act to you anymore, as much as you know it is. Because the second you leave your parents’ house and leave this fake life that you’ve created behind, Melissa Schemmenti will be back to the hard ass teacher that you love to hate.

After a day that passes by quickly, you and Melissa find yourself retiring to your bedroom for the night. And you that as much as you don’t want to let go of this, it’s all a fantasy- it isn’t real. At the core of you, you hate the redhead that you’ve spent the weekend with.

“Lis,” you sigh. “We need to-”

“Not tonight,” your grade level partner stops you from saying anymore. “Please.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” you counter.

She quirks her lips to one side. “I do. Can we please just… not tonight?”

You take pity on her and relent. “Okay.”

She gives you a grateful look, and then she’s crawling into bed. You climb in next to her, and you attempt to keep your distance despite the fact that you want nothing more than to curl into her hold and allow her to keep you safe in her arms for this last night.

Your dreams are quite similar to the ones you had the previous night, and you heart tells you unconsciously what you truly want in life. You want Melissa. You want all of the warmth that came with this weekend. You want to be the one who allows the rough and tough second grade teacher to let down her walls and show you a side of her very few people get to see- you want a life with her.

When you blink your eyes open, it’s four in the morning- at least that’s what the clock on the nightstand says. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the fact that both you and Melissa curled into each other while you were asleep. Once again, your two bodies have interlaced, and it’s hard to decipher where your figure ends and hers begins.

You press a soft kiss to her head, allowing yourself to stay in this sleepy stupor until your brain catches up to your body. But then it does and you slowly, as to make sure that she stays asleep, you untangle yourself from the redhead. You slip out of the bed and make your way over to the chair that faces the window. You lower yourself into it and take a deep breath before you begin to silently hash out your feelings.

You absolutely adore this sweet and warm side of Melissa that she’s shown you. You believe that even the side of her that is so hard and difficult to read wouldn’t even frustrate you as much as it used to because you feel like it’s a front at this point in your relationship with your colleague. To you, it seems as though her exterior protects the sweet side of her. Perhaps she’s been burned before, or maybe she was taught to keep that inside of her to protect herself. 

Regardless, Melissa Schemmenti is not nearly as tough as she plays, and you feel honored to know that she has a soft side, even if it was for show. But then your mind wanders to the fact that she did and said a few things to you in privacy, or so quietly in front of your family that you doubt they could hear her- she allowed her true colors to slip through the cracks.

You don’t notice that tears begin to trail down your face- you’re in love with this woman. But she hates you- she absolutely detests you and everything that you are, at least that’s what you think. So, despite it being the last thing that you want to do, you make the decision that you will go back to hating the redhead as soon as you are out of this house. You’ve always hated her. It’s what’s expected of you at this point. It’s what you have to do. You have to forget about the last two days full of warmth and kindness and what you’ve come to realize morphed into a real love for the redhead. And it breaks you heart to the point that you feel a physical ache in your chest.

In all of your heartache, you also don’t notice the way that Melissa blinks her eyes open. She doesn’t see you laying next to her, and she assumes that you’ve just gotten up to go to the bathroom. But then she hears your quiet sniffles from where you’re sitting a few feet away, facing the window and looking up at the moon. Silently, the redhead makes her way over to you sighs softly.

You jump just slightly once you’re made aware of the fact that your coworker is awake and standing with you. You don’t even turn- just wipe away the tears on your cheeks. Melissa’s soft hands are on your shoulders, and she can feel how tense you are. She quietly begins to attempt to work out some of the tension that you’re holding.

“You want to tell me what’s got you up and cryin’ at 4:30 in the mornin?” You feel a kiss being brushed against your hairline- once, twice, and then a third time.

You allow her to, somewhat melting at her touch. But then you can’t quite hold it in anymore, and you burst out of your seat. The redhead jumps at your sudden movement, but she allows you to get up. You rush your way over to your bag and pull out the three hundred dollars that you know you owe her.

“Take it,” you huff as you hold out the bills aggressively. “Take it, and then we can go back to hating each other like we always do.”

Melissa frowns and shakes her head. “I’m not taking your money, Y/N.”

“What?” you ask her incredulously. “What the hell do you mean you’re not taking it?” You throw the cash at her.

She squats down and picks it up with a few grunts. She holds it out for you to take, but you refuse. “I won’t take your money because I don’t want it.”

“You? Not wanting money? That’s rich. Isn’t that why you did this? Came to my parents’ house with me for Christmas- for the money?” you hiss out. “You hate me, I hate you, and this is all just an elaborate lie for me to get my parents off my-”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Melissa mutters as she folds her arms over her chest. “So fucking stupid.”

“I’m stupid? I’m stupid?” you ask her. “I’m not the one who agreed to come to a woman’s parents’ house when I hate her!”

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I don’t hate you?” the redhead asks you. “That I actually like you and enjoyed being here with you?”

You scoff. “You’ve always hated me- always hated new coworkers! We’ve never liked-” Your cut off because Melissa pulls you in for a kiss and stops your tirade. You’re frozen in your place for a few seconds before you kiss her back. Her hand finds its way to your cheek, and she cups it gently, a complete opposite of the way that she’s passionately kissing you. She pulls you closer by the waist with her other hand. 

When air becomes a necessity, you pull away with eyes as wide as saucers. “Wha-?”

“I don’t hate you,” Melissa whispers. “I mean… I wanted to. But the things that I told your family yesterday about me fallin’ for you? That wasn’t a lie- not in the slightest.” 

“What?”

Green eyes are soft as she looks into your own. “I never hated you, hun.”

“What?” you repeat.

“I wanted to,” she chuckles that soft warm laugh as her arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close. “I wanted to hate you more than I hated Janine at first- because I knew you were stunningly gorgeous, and if I at least hated your personality, you would be easier to avoid and not fall for.”

“You-”

“But then you hated me and weren’t afraid of me- wasn’t afraid to show it either,” Melissa chuckles. “And I liked that. Most newbies are terrified of me, but you weren’t. You had a fire in ya, and I liked that. So, to keep your attention, I pretended to hate you. The only way to get your attention was to be snarky and sarcastic- I’d rather have you hate me than not have you talk to me.”

“You’re-”

“Besides, it’s fucking hot when you’re all riled up and angry,” the redhead shrugs. “But I think I like the soft side of you more.”

“I- I-” you stammer out. “I thought you hated me this whole time….” you whisper, and then you lean over and kiss her again. “That’s why I hated you.”

“Like I said, I wanted to,” Melissa chuckles. “But I never did. You’re good at the job, the kids love you, the rest of the staff likes you. And you’re beautiful. What’s not to like?”

“So… you really never hated me this whole time?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. I like givin’ you a hard time though, don’t get me wrong. But it was kinda my way of flirting after a while.”

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh as you kiss her again.

“So are you,” she mutters against your lips.

You pull away again, and you smile as you press your foreheads together. “So…”

“If it wasn’t clear to you already, none of this weekend was acting for me,” the redhead tells you softly. “This is how I’ve wanted to be with you since you started.”

“I-” you hesitate. “How am I supposed to know it wasn’t acting though? I mean… I was dreading this weekend, and I- I fell for the sweet Melissa I got to see for the past few days, but if that’s not who I’m really going to-”

“Y/N,” your colleague sighs. She takes you gently by the hand and leads you back to the bed. The two of you lay down, and she holds you close. “I’m always goin’ t’be a South Philly girl, but I do have a heart and soul- wouldn’t be a teacher otherwise. I- I can’t promise that I’ll ever stop bein’ a sarcastic asshole, but I do have my moments of tenderness. That wasn’t acting. I’ve wanted to hold you and kiss you and stop having to pretend to hate you for some time now. I’ve loved this weekend- your family is something special, and I can see where you get all your spunk and sweetness from. I like it. I like you- love you, even.”

You bite your bottom lip and look at her in the darkness. “I- I like you too. And I think… I think there might be something between us that’s real.”

“I think so too,” Melissa mumbles against your head. “You wanna give it a shot? A real shot- me an’ you?”

A smile appears on your face. “I think I’d like that.”

Christmas the next year is a fun one. After beginning to officially date, you and Melissa fell head over heels in love with each other. This year, the two of you make your way up to your parents’ house as an actual couple, and not just as a fake couple. You’re fairly certain your parents are more excited to see Melissa than they are to see you; Aunt Jo too.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” your mother pulls the redhead into a tight hug. Your girlfriend hugs back with the same fervor, although she does roll her eyes.

“I saw you last week, Nora,” Melissa quips. “But it’s good to see you too.”

“Came back for more?” your dad chuckles as he too hugs your colleague.

She nods. “I wouldn’t want to spend our first year as a couple anywhere else.”

Your eyes widen. You had never told your parents that last year was not real. “Second,” you quickly amend.

But Aunt Jo is too fast to catch on. “No, no. She said first.”

The two of you share a quick glance, and your lips form into a tight line before you sigh. “So… I have something to confess.”

Years later, you’re officially Mrs. Schemmenti. You have a beautiful little girl, Sara. She’s just turned two, and she couldn’t be more of a light in your life. But you’ve also finally gotten her settled in bed and asleep. You and your wife are laying on the couch together as you usually do after a long day of teaching and then coming home to handle your own little tornado of a child (you often tell the redhead that that part of your little girl comes from her entirely). 

You’re admiring your engagement and wedding rings before you look to Melissa’s. You don’t get to look at hers for long though, because you hear your baby crying from just up the stairway, and you sigh.

The redhead just buries a kiss in your hair before promising that if Sara doesn’t settle, she’ll go up. And the crying doesn’t stop, so you feel yourself being shimmied off of Melissa five minutes later before she heads up the stairs. A few moments later, she returns with your baby girl in her arms.

“Oh honey,” you instinctively reach for your daughter.

“Baby girl just wanted Momma,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully as she hands over the little one. “Never Ma, always Momma. Ain’t that right, Sara?”

Your daughter just gives a toothy grin as she lays her head on your shoulder. 

Where you would normally lean into the couch cushions to attempt to soothe your little girl to sleep, you sit up straight, and your brows furrow.

“What’s wrong, mi amore?” your wife asks in concern. This is so unlike you.

You shake your head and smile. “I just got this… this feeling of deja vu. Like I’ve lived this moment before.”

“Maybe you dreamt it,” the redhead offers as she cozies up to you on the couch and begins to run her fingers through your little girl’s wispy hair.

You think for a few moments before you know why you know this moment. “I- I had a dream about this moment that first Christmas we spent together… it was this moment.”

“You mean the Christmas we pretended to be together?”

You nod. “I- wow. I should’ve known then and there that I was going to fall in love with you.”

“And instead, you denied your feelings like an idiota,” Your wife laughs before she presses a kiss to your head.

“You were an idiot too,” you fire out, but the glimmer in your eyes tells her that you have no ill-intention with those words.

She shrugs. “Hey, I still got the girl, didn’t I?"

You roll your eyes as you purse your lips for her to kiss you. Of course, she does. "I guess you did."

And just like that... this sweet little fic is over. I hope you enjoyed!

Xoxo -Janey

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch 

[matryosika]

Hyung Line: Love Languages and Sex

Wordcount: 5,467 words.

Genre: Smut, partly head canons and scenarios.

Includes: SKZ Hyung Line members, female reader, brief discussion about food in Minho's scenario, curse words and dirty dialogues. Smut warnings below.

Author's note: Long time no see! I just randomly thought about this yesterday, and I had a couple of scenario/drabbles I wanted to write about regarding this topic so here they are. I thought about uploading them individually, but I don't know. I'm currently working in the second part of this, so yeah. Thought I would just put this out there for now. I hope you guys like it! Please remember that english isn't my first language and this is not proof-read so I apologize for any mistake in advance.

If you like this, please consider supporting me by reblogging, leaving a comment or sending me an ask. If you wish to support my work further, please consider buying me a coffee! ☕

Smut warnings (varies from scenario to scenario): Masturbation (f. receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, praises, use of petnames, established relationship, foot massage (for Minho's part), public sex (for Changbin's scenario), body cumshot (for Hyunjin's scenario), vaginal penetrative sex, unprotected sex, implied creampie (for Changbin's scenario).

Chan: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation

“One more?”

When you told Chan you were feeling stressed, you didn't exactly expect him to try and cheer you up like this —face buried in your sweet, throbbing cunt, and hands intertwined with yours. You have been going at it for hours on end, with no signs of Chan ever wanting to stop —not even after your third orgasm.

“Channie…” You want to tell him it's his turn, that you also want to make him feel good. That you need to help him releasing the tension between his legs, make him come just as much as he has made you tonight.

But you can’t even begin to deliver a coherent sentence, or at least not when his nose is applying the perfect amount of pressure to your clit while his tongue laps messily on your slit, his spit and your own wetness creating a sticky, awkward sensation that reminds you of all the time Chan had spent working on your cunt in the past hour or two.

“Mhm?” He knows you’re too fucked out you can’t even speak, but the devilish grin plastered on his face tells you that he wants to listen to you. Or at least your babbles. “What is it, baby?”

“Chan,” you latch your hands onto his dark locks, pulling them harshly and earning a hiss from him. “Chan, please!”

You don't have to tell him exactly what you want for him to know. The way you grind your hips against his face sells you out —Chan knows you need more than just his mouth, and he is more than happy to comply.

If you ask for it, of course.

“Greedy,” he laughs under his breath, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your cunt. “Come one more time for me, and I’ll consider giving you what you want”.

A fair exchange, you think. But when the ravages of over-stimulation start hitting you painfully than before, you highly doubt you can fulfill his plea.

“I can’t,” you gasp with shortness of breath, hands leaving Chan’s to clinge at the bedsheets underneath you. “Chan, fuck, wait!”

The last thing you want is for Chan to stop, but the words fall from your lips faster than you can process them. So he withdraws from your pussy and stares at you with half-lidded eyes, swollen lips and chin glistening with your arousal.

“No! Don’t- don’t stop, I’m sorry”.

You’re not making any sense, and he loves it.

“Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head eagerly, swallowing hard while you take advantage of the break to take a breath. “No, it’s just- I’m- I want to please you”.

Chan smiles.

“I have to take care of you first,” he mumbles, lips attached to flesh of your inner thighs. “Want to make you come enough until your mind is completely empty”.

“But I-”

“Tonight isn’t about me, okay?” he drags his words lazily, humming and slightly whimpering them when he rubs his nose yet again against your clit. “I need to make sure you’re not feeling stressed anymore”.

You plop down onto the bed again, hands gripping his curls while unconsciously bringing him closer to your core.

“See, I know you can come one more time,” Chan whispers against your pussy, two of his fingers spreading your folds while he coats them with your previous arousal, “you’re always good to me like that”.

You buck your hips when he unexpectedly thrusts his middle and ring finger inside you, walls welcoming and clenching around them so tightly Chan almosts come right in his pants.

“3 orgasms are not enough for someone like you, hm?” he fucks you delicately, enjoying the wet sounds your cunt makes every time he sinks his fingers inside you, “you still want more”.

You cover your face in shyness, only letting out small whimpers and moans every time he curls his fingers.

“Don’t,” his available hand, which he has underneath your right thigh and the curve of your ass, reaches out to pull both your arms, causing you to uncover your face, “I want to see you when I’m talking to you”.

He grabs both your wrists with his available hand, while the other works wonders on your cunt. From where you lay, the sight is heavenly —you can catch a glimpse of his flexed shoulders and back, along with his bare face and messy, dark curls. You could reach your fourth orgasm just by that alone, but Chan has other plans in mind.

“You’re so sweet,” he’s practically groaning his words, licking remains of your orgasms from his lips, “I don’t ever want to go a day without tasting you, ever”.

You moan at his words, heart racing faster than it was before. He has always had a way with words —ever since you two met, he has always known exactly what to say to have you at his feet, mercilessly.

“Channie,” you cry out loud, head falling back as your back arches in pleasure. “Chan!”

“Come on,” he drags his swollen lips against your hip bone and the side of your tummy, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin while the room is filled with wet, lewd noises, “I can feel you’re close, I know you can take one more”.

There’s no point in trying to hold back, so you start letting yourself go.

“All day I’ve been thinking about your sweet cunt,” the more he talks, the rougher he fucks you with his fingers and the closer you get to your release, “you’re all I fucking need. I don’t want anything else but you”.

You melt with love, tears threating to spill from the corners of your eyes. There’s something enticing about the contrast between his words and his touch, how he can say the sweetest, purest and loving things while his fingers keep on fucking your pussy with no tenderness, exactly how you like it.

“I just want to show you off to everyone,” Chan continues, feeling the wetness around his fingers starting to increase, word by word. “Want to tell everyone how pretty you look like this, how proud I am to have you with me”.

“F-fuck,” you’re coming, he can tell. The way your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your hips spasm against his hand sells you out.

“That’s it,” he moans, the raspiness of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Give it to me, I know you can”.

He continues fucking your cunt through your orgasm, not daring to stop even when drops of your arousal wet his hand and bed.

“Stay still, baby,” with his available arm, he holds you down and pins you against the bed, preventing you from closing your legs or get away from his touch, “make a mess, I want to lick it clean”.

Minho: Acts of Service and Physical Touch

Minho is naturally a giver.

Sure, he does love being on the receiving end from time to time, but really nothing gratifies him more than taking care of you, in every way you should be taken care of.

Whether it’s taking a chore off your hands when you’re exhausted, running an errand to save you time on a busy day, or picking up take out and medicine when you’re feeling down, one of Minho’s ways to show you love it’s by performing acts of services.

Hence that, you’re not surprised to come home tonight with a full home-cooked dinner, with dessert and all.

“Hope you’re starving,” your boyfriend welcomes you, still wearing an apron on top of his work outfit. Black, formal pants and a white shirt with rolled sleeves, “It’s your favorite, by the way”. 

Earlier today, he called you to ask you for a quick grocery shopping list, in case you had some things missing from your fridge. Apparently, he was going to be released early from work, so he had some spare time before meeting you at your place and he could stop by for the things you needed..

“My head is all over the place,” you admitted, hands brushing through your hair in frustration, “I’m sorry Min, I completely forgot to leave the grocery list you told me. And I’m not even sure what’s missing- probably the whole fucking fridge is empty”.

He could tell how busy and exhausted you had been over the past few weeks, so he came up with a plan.

“I can come to your place and do the list myself,” he proposed by the phone. “Then I’ll go to the supermarket and pick the food and stuff you need, yeah? I’ll return to your place at night, and we can unwind together. Is that okay?”

You thanked him, probably a million times, before hanging up and going through with your day.

When he sits at the table with you, you finally get a taste of the dish. As expected, is more than just delicious. It’s a whole fucking experience, especially because it was made just for you.

You two eat together and help each other cleaning the kitchen afterwards. When you're done, with a comfy outfit and while having another glass of red wine, Minho suggests he does a massage on you because you look tense.

“What a nice, elegant sex proposal,” you laugh, extending your legs on top of his while you are sitting in the couch.

“I never said anything about sex,” Minho tiltes his head, the tip of his digits grazing against your skin. “So who’s proposing that to who?”

“You know, I could use a massage,” you leave the glass of wine on top of the coffee table, and let your body slowly slide into the couch. “I’m not sure about the sex part. I don’t know if I could ride you with how fucking sore my legs are, but I can make it up to you during the weekend”.

Minho laughs, a genuine, heart-warming laugh.

“We don’t have to fuck tonight,” his hands and digits trail an immaginary path from your feet, to your ankles, to your knees and inner thighs. The touch is enough to get you wet, and you curse him mentally for that, “but I still want to make you come, at least once”.   

Sometimes, you really can't begin to comprehend how Minho is all that. Attractive, smart, hard-working and just… perfect in every aspect, including sex.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you admit, moaning softly when his hands start working on the soles of your feet. It’s certainly not a massage massage, but rather a compilation of soft and lustful touches, “I really want to make things up to you but I’m a mess right now, there’s a lot going on at work and-”

“Hey,” he interrupts you, caressing the sides of your feet while working on them. “I’m not complaining nor asking for anything in return, am I?”

He isn’t.

And he is also not the type to expect some sort of payment for a favor.

Minho loves like that¸ without expecting absolutely nothing in return except for your satisfacion.

“But-”

“Am I?”

“No,” you softly reply, more as a whimper than an actual response. He is still massaging your feet and ankles, slowly growing harder at the series of moans and hisses you’re letting out.

“Why don’t you tell me where you keep your vibrator?” You love how it’s a casual question, how you no longer grow timid when he asks stuff like that. You are a couple, and he knows way more about you and your private life than anyone else. “Let’s put it to use tonight, hm?”

“Nightstand, second drawer,” you immediately sigh, losing the warmth of his body when he stands up from the couch to go to said location —the nightstand, second drawer.

He comes back not even 2 minutes later, holding the hot pink item to his hand. He sits right next to you, inviting you to spread your legs for him while he pushes your underwear and pijama shorts to the side.

A proud smile peeps out of the corners of his lips, knowing he did absolutely nothing but you’re still dripping wet, underwear and clothes sticking to your folds.

“You weren’t sure about the sex part?” he hums in content, caressing your slit with the tip of the toy. “Honey, you’re body is begging for me to fuck it”.

You arch your back unexpectedly when he turns on the toy, digging it further against your clit. He motions for you to take care of the toy, guiding your wrist to it in order to have both of his hands free and available to caress you, grope you and kiss you as he pleases.

“It’s really good,” you moan, masturbating for him while his hands reach out to your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples. “It’s not as good as your cock, but it does the task. I should get a better toy”.

Minho laughs against your skin, tongue latched to one of your hardened buds. His right hand wanders along the side of your body, caressing your waist, hips and thighs as much as he wants.

“You know nothing compares to me,” Minho whimpers against your skin, his hips grinding ever so slightly against your spread thighs. “But it’s cute that you’re still willing to try and find something that could compete against me”.

You bury your right hand onto his dark hair, pulling him closer to you, if possible, while your left hand holds the wand against your cunt.

The more he touches you and kisses you, the closer you get to your orgasm. And pathetically close, at that, since you’ve only been doing this for roughly 3 minutes.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed your body these days,” Minho groans, peppering kisses on your chest and neck while his hand sneaks between your ass and the couch. He squeezes and gropes it harshly, making you move your hips a bit up to give him better access. “Just want to cover it all with my kisses, lick it and touch it how you like it”.

Minho buries his face on your neck, and starts kissing your skin sloppily while his right hand is still groping your body. He doesn’t care about being messy —in fact, that’s exactly what he is going for tonight.

“Don’t stop,” you babble, grinding your hips against the toy while Minho’s lips and hands are all over you. “Don’t stop, Min, please, don’t-”

When you’re just a second away from your arousal, Minho places his hand on top of yours and presses the vibrator against your clit more, forcing you to orgasm faster. “Don’t worry,” he groans near your ear, face still buried in the crook of your neck, “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied”.

Changbin: Words of Affirmation and Gifts

“What do you think?”

Changbin has to take a full minute in order to arrange his own thoughts. If he had to say what he actually thinks of that dress, he would earn a couple of disgusted faces from the rest of the people at the boutique.

“Good,” it’s all he manages to say, slyly leaning forward to hide his bulge, “let me pay for it and let’s go home”.

“I’m still not done, though,” there’s a bunch of clothes you wish to try, and you know that doesn’t impatient Changbin –he is a great shopping partner. But judged by his lustful gaze, you think he has changed his plans, “I’ll be quick, I promise”.

He isn’t mad, nor wants to rush you, but Changbin wonders how long it’s going to take for him to lose his sanity before he gets to fuck you in the very same dress you just tried on. It hugs your body just right, allowing you to show just the right amount of skin to drive him crazy.

“Shit, I don’t know about this one,” you murmur from inside, just a long curtain separating you from Changbin, who is currently sitting at a small couch placed strategically in front of the fitting rooms, “I don’t think this is my size”.

Before he could ponder the situation, the pros and cons of demanding a small, modeling catwalk from you, he asks you to show the dress to him.

“It’s too tight,” you complain, struggling to zip it up, “one wrong move and I- I’m going to flash everyone in here”.

“Let me see it,” he asks again, impatiently looking forward to watching the curtain slide back, revealing you.

“I don’t- I look weird,” the dress is not your style, nor it’s something you would wear out on any occasion. You thought it would be fun to try it on, see if you could get out of your comfort zone, but it escalated too quick. “It’s too much, it barely covers anything”.

It’s not intentional, but you’re practically edging Changbin with your words. The longer you drag it out, the whiner he gets.

“Alright, alright,” you finally exhale, your hand pushing the curtain separating you from his gaze out of the way, “but don’t fucking say anything”.

Even if he wanted to say something, he can’t even speak. His throat is dry, aching just as much as the throbbing pressure between his legs that demands for his whole attention.

After some excruciating, awkward moments in silence, you speak again.

“Okay, say something,” the lack of words from him is making you feel unsteady, because he is just staring right at you quietly. You can’t possibly now what’s going on in his mind. “I told you it doesn’t fit and it is too damn expensive, and the fabric is -”.

“Get that one too,” it’s not a question, nor an advice –it’s an order.

“It’s too exp-”

“I don’t care,” the pent up tension is making it seem as if he’s angry, but you know he isn’t –he is just too damn horny, and needy, and desperate to get home and fuck you in every position possible.

“Alright,” you nod, feeling your heart skipping a beat when Changbin’s intimidating gaze falls up on you, basically begging for you to be done. “I’ll just… take it off and we can- go home, yeah?”

You go back to the fitting room with a wet sensation between your legs, feeling your folds sticking to your underwear while you relentlessly try to take the dress off. It had been hard to put it on, but you underestimated how difficult it was going to be to take it off on your own.

“Bin?” you ask, “is someone there who… could help me?”

Changbin looks around, but there’s no one other than him. Not even the lady who manages the changing room and checks which clothes people are trying on is there.

“There’s no one here,” the dark-haired replies, standing from the couch with more confidence now that he knows no one can spot the bulge in his pants, “what do you need?”

You shyly push the curtains to the side yet again, revealing the now messy dress after your failed attempt to take it off. “Can you help me?”

You turn around, putting the back zipper on display for him. It’s rather an easy task, he just needs to pull it down.

But how easy can it be when all he can pay attention to is your ass, and how good it looks underneath that tight dress? The clothes are so tight he can catch a glimpse of the silhouette of your underwear, buried in the flesh of your arse.

“Please?”

He doesn’t helps you unziping it and, instead, pushes you inside the fitting room again, closing the curtain behind him as he is sure the area is completely empty, except for the two of you.

“I can’t,” he breathes, turning you around so that your hands lay on his chest. “I don’t want you to take it off”.

“I have to if you want to buy it for me, silly,” you’re teasing him, acting oblivious to his sudden reaction. “Quick, don’t want anyone to catch us together in here”.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing it,” he confesses, his lips so close to yours you can actually feel his breath caressing your chin. “I want to fuck you right here, so you can see how pretty you look”.

You would be lying if you said you’re not turned on, not even in the slightest. But your hardened nipples and wet underwear speak louder than you can.

“Please,” he begs, hands moving slowly from your waist to your ass, groping it while pulling you closer to him. “Please let me fuck you”.

The more he pulls you towards him, the more you can feel his throbbing, hard cock against your body. You are probably going to regret your decision, but you still give in.

You need him more than he does.

“If someone catches us…”

“They won’t,” Changbin groans, lifting your dress up with one hand while the other unbuckles his pants with a swift motion, “just keep your pretty mouth shut and I’ll take care of the rest, yeah?”

It seems like he isn't asking for a lot, but he is. How can you possibly keep your mouth shut when his raw cock is about to stretch your pussy?

He turns you around, your palms resting on the wall for support while his nimble hands place you in the perfect position for him: back arched, ass up and legs open. Really, how can you possibly keep your mouth shut when the tip of his thick cock slides against your slit?

He knows time is running out, so he doesn’t waste it –he sinks his hips against yours delicately, only to pick up the pace when he feels you getting used to his cock.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he groans against your shoulders, leaving wet, sloppy pecks that soon turn into love bites. “You’re just- too pretty- can’t keep my hands off of you”.

You moan at his words, sounds that are quickly muffled by one of his hands against your mouth.

“So- fucking beautiful,” his words come out choppy, but he manages to keep the volume of his voice down, unlike you. “You're just too good to be real and mine”.

The sound of your muffled whines, Changbin’s soft groans, skin hitting skin and the wetness of your cunt around his cock is what fills the whole fitting room. You’re wondering if someone can hear you two, but you really don’t care anymore.

 “You’re so tight,” he can’t get himself to stop. The urge to praise you and compliment you is the exactly the same as coming inside you, he is really desperate for both and judged by the way you squeeze his dick everytime he speaks, he knows you like it too. “Perfectly made for my cock”.

The rougher he pounds himself inside you, the more you lose balance and control of your own body. Your cheek is against the wall, your weak arms barely doing anything to support your body, but his grip around you is what keeps you stable.

“I’m going to fill you up, yeah?” he is not that far from his arousal, and neither are you. “I want to show you how much I love you”.

You nod eagerly against his palm, drooling all over it. One of your hands leave the wall to rub your clit, the new stimulation provided pushing you to the edge.

“Come with me, pretty,” he pants, barely speaking with shortness of breath. “Give it to me, let me know how much you love the way I fuck you”. 

His words have never failed to make you lose it. Not even once.

Hyunjin: Physical Touch and Gifts

You’re his muse.

You have been since the day he met you, since the very first time he laid his eyes on you.

Whether it’s for a poem, a drawing, a painting or a sculpture, you’re exactly where he finds his inspiration at. Hyunjin would rather die than looking at someone else, would rather stop making art before immortalizing another body that isn’t yours.

And besides being his muse, you’re also his lover. His partner, his accomplice, his everything. He trusts you more than he trusts himself, cares about you more than anything else. He wants to share all of himself with you, from his anger and sadness to the things he can’t say out loud, his filthy desires that he knows only you understand.

To be honest, you share a lot of the same. Especially your preferences, like and dislikes.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

A set of laced lingerie, your favorite color.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask him perplexed, carefully folding the wrap around it.

“Saw it on my way back to your apartment,” he is standing right in front of you, smiling softly at your excitement. “I thought you were going to like it, so I just couldn’t not buy it for you. It’s too pretty for you not to have it”.

Hyunjin is like that, always.

If he sees something he thinks you’d like, or if there’s something he wants you to have, he buys it and gives it to you as a gift. There doesn’t need to be a special occasion for Hyunjin to shower you with gifts —whether it’s a painting of yourself, a small hand-made bracelet, a new coffee mug or a whole expensive set of lingerie, Hyunjin always makes sure to get to your apartment with his hands full.

“I love it,” you reassure him, your fingertips tracing the lace of the underwear. “I’m going to try it on for you”.

He smiles widely, his eyes turning into crescent moons when his muse promises such a thing —he’ll get to see it on you, on your naked skin that always tempts him into touching it.

You come back faster than he expected you, only wearing the set of lingerie and nothing more.

“Oh,” it’s all he manages to say, his body freezing in its place.

“It looks good, hm?”

Hyunjin makes a mental note to go back to that place and buy all sets of lingerie available just to gift them to you, as soon as possible.

“You’re a fucking goddess”.

His compliment gets you shy, but you still walk towards him as he is sitting on the edge of your bed. Right next to him you spot some of his arts supplies –a sketch notebook and some other utensils.

“You want to draw me?” you ask him with a smile and the warmest tone of voice. Like pure honey and sugar.

“I wanted to,” Hyunjin murmured, looking up to you, “but I’ve changed my mind”.

“Why so?”

The position you two are at is perfect for Hyunjin to embrace your body –you’re standing right in front of him, between his spread legs. His mouth is at the level of your torso, and his hands can explore your whole body easily.

“I just want to admire you,” he sighed, leaving a single, quick kiss on your tummy. “Kiss you and touch you, remind myself that you’re all mine”.

You giggle softly while latching his fingers to his hair, something that earns you a subtle moan from him.

“You know I’m yours,” you sigh when his mouth and tongue becomes bold, licking and nibbling at your flesh while his hands caress the sides of your body, “don’t need to remind yourself something you already know”.

“Sometimes I can’t believe it,” Hyunjin whispers, grazing his plump lips against the lace fabric of your underwear, “that you belong to me”.

You arch your back slightly when his tongue licks a trail from your pubis towards your chest, the trace of his saliva looking better than any texture or color Hyunjin could paint, ever.

“I do,” every time it gets harder to hold your sighs and moans, his skilled mouth making you feel impatient for his touch, even when he is all over you. “I belong to you. I’ve been yours ever since the day I met you”.

He inhales deeply the scent of your skin, the way the tip of his nose brushes against you sending shivers down your spine.

“Let me mark you,” Hyunjin whispers, doe eyes staring up, right at you. “Don’t need that sketchbook when I have your body like this”.

He guides his lips to the side of your hips, nibbling at the skin and sucking somewhat harshly, only stopping to soothe the skin with soft kisses and kitten licks.

“You’re going to cover me all in love bites?”

“If you allow me to,” Hyunjin smiles, admiring the print of his teeth against your skin. “I want everyone to know you’re all mine, in every way possible”.

He guides his hands from your ass to your lower back as he stands up, pressing his body against yours.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper, hooking your arms against his neck. Your touch makes him shiver, but he conceals it well. “Please?”

You don’t have to tell him twice before he is already laying with you on his bed, taking his clothes off on the way.

“Can you leave this on?” he asks you when you’re about to unhook the top part of the underwear. The idea of getting to fuck you in something he gifted you is riling him up, so he prays for you to agree. “Want to come all over it, so everytime you wear it you can remember me”.

You just smile and nod, impatient to feel him deep inside you.

“You’re so warm,” Hyunjin hisses when his fingers push the lace underwear to the side, revealing how ruined they already are. “So fucking slippery”.

“I’m always like this when I’m with you,” you admit, “especially when you have your hands all over me. It drives me insane”.

You’re both more than ready for each other, as usual. It’s a magical thing, how it only takes you a few words, touches and gazes to receive each other’s body.

“Relax for me,” he whispers when the tip of his cock stretches your entrance, “like that”.

He holds your hand and you squeeze it hard as he enters you, sinking it into the mattress right next to your head.

“Shit,” a gasp escapes your lips when he bottoms out. And, slowly, he pulls away only to repeat the same movements of his hips against yours, “so- good”.

Hyunjin leans down to kiss your forehead, and then your cheek. He then finds your lips, and synchronizes the brushes of his tongue with the thrusts of his hips.

“Faster,” you plea when he releases your lips to let out a quiet whimper, pressing his forehead against yours while his body moves on their own. “Fuck me faster, Hyunjin”.

And so he does. All to satisfy you.

Every time he bottoms out, his pubis brushes against your clit and gives you the much needed stimulation to reach your climax, so you’re getting closer every time he slams himself inside you.

Hyunjin notices it, by the way your walls clench around him, so he continues steady with his movements. He hasn’t let go of your hand and he doesn’t plan to –he loves feeling you squeeze it, telling him with your touch what you can’t put into words.

“Hyune-”

“I know,” he groans quietly with shortness of breath, “let yourself go, I’m right here”.

Your orgasm hits you right when your gazes meet, and Hyunjin can feel it from how wet and slippery you’ve become, and how hard it is to maintain a steady pace when your hips are practically begging for his release.

“Come on,” he encourages you, not wanting to pull out before fucking you through your high, “give it to me”.

You arch your back and let go of his hand to hook both of your arms around his neck, violently trembling against his body while trying to get away from the stimulation he is providing you with.

But only after you’re done he does so, with a swift movement he pulls away from you and strokes his cock two or three times before coming all over your body, the set of lingerie getting paint with his orgasm.

And as he jerks of the remain of his high on top of you, Hyunjin realizes no painting he has ever gifted you has done you any justice.

[theturtlelovers]

"Cum for me baby" from Don with his girlfriend please?

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Pairing: Donnie/fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Contents: Donnie is strangely overcome with the need to have you right then and there. Warnings: 18+, mdni, mating season, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps) Wordcount: 1,594 Sentence Prompt: # 75

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤

Notes: Excuse my poor attempt of being more poetic in my writing! Hope you enjoy!

Your presence was like a living temptation to him, as if every cell in your body was crafted to make him lose control around you. Carnally irresistible, Donnie found it impossible to keep his hands off of you. Earlier, he had tried with great effort to keep his eyes on the TV, but your scent drifted into his nostrils—so sweet and enticing. Overcome, he leaned down to breathe deeply in the crook of your neck.

The look you gave him almost made him shudder visibly. You appeared concerned by his sudden change in behavior, yet there was an undeniable excitement in your eyes as he ran his tongue over your pulse point.

He wasn't sure if something was wrong with him, but he wasn't entirely focused on figuring it out, as your soft gasps were far more captivating than anything else. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his glasses had become an irritation, so he quickly removed them and tossed them onto the coffee table. He didn’t need them anyway; you were close enough that he could clearly see your beautiful expressions.

Donnie was a turtle steeped in science, his expertise evident in the gadgets he wielded both in the lab and on patrol. He had deciphered ancient codes to deactivate a timed toxic bomb threatening New York City and uncovered the mysteries of the purple ooze. Yet, in your presence, all logic seemed to evaporate, leaving him a slave to his emotions. His instincts urged him to keep you selfishly close and immerse himself in your natural scent. He desired to fill the very being he worshiped with his essence so intensely that no one else could occupy your thoughts but him.

But as time stretched on, it seemed like hours had passed, and he was certain you were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Your skin was flushed, adorned with a trail of red marks across your delicate skin—marks destined to deepen into purple.

It almost felt like your first time together, heated with a passion so intense that you couldn't stop trying to touch each other, yet tinged with nervousness due to a lack of familiarity with each other's physical needs. However, despite the similar rush of emotions, Donnie's hands never fumbled or shook with uncertainty. They moved with confidence and precision, driven by an eager desire to worship your very existence.

Just a tilt of your head was enough for him to capture your soft lips with his, sighing softly as he found a semblance of relief amidst his lustful haze. His large hands were intent on exploring the canvas of your body despite the fact he’s seen more times he can count, gently kneading your flesh, which was much softer than his own. 

"Donnie..." Your whine pierced through his haze of desire.

He shuddered this time at the sound, murmuring, "So pretty and all for me.” The turtle licked his lips, dried from his heavy pants for air.  

The space between your thighs glistened with a mixture of your juices and his essence—a beautiful concoction, Donnie might add. Despite the evidence that he had finished inside you several times, his attention remained laser-focused on your pleasure, his mind relentlessly urging him to give more and more. It would be remiss of him not to, especially when your lips parted so beautifully with each mewl that escaped them.

He pressed one hand firmly on your back to keep you pinned against the couch. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if a three-fingered imprint would remain, but it quickly dissipated as he became captivated by the way the sweat on your skin sparkle ethereally.

Seriously, were you a fallen angel hell-bent on cursing him to eternally crave your body? No matter how many times he made you cry out his name, no matter how tightly you clenched around him that is felt like you were pulling him deeper until he climaxed, he still wanted more. Or perhaps he needed more. Donnie couldn't tell anymore; his thoughts were so tangled that he couldn't distinguish desire from necessity. Either way, it seemed his body was surrendering to its own carnal instincts, relentlessly seeking release with you, in you.

Donnie muttered a curse under his breath as his free hand slipped beneath you, caressing the bundle of nerves that made your thighs begin to quiver. Your hands clutched weakly at the cushions, moaning with abandon.

He hissed through clenched teeth as he felt your inner walls tighten around him once more. "Come for me, baby. You can do it," he encouraged gently.

It was only a moment more before you released a stuttering squeal, your nectar coating him further as he continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. Donnie bit his lower lip as his torso lowered to brush against your back, emitting a groan and a deep, reverberating churr that would make Raph envious. He pushed himself as deep as he could inside you as he came. Your smaller hand clung to the wrist of the hand between your legs, panting loudly.

Finally, Donnie's mind began to clear, his intense sexual need appearing to wane and find satisfaction. He hoped he hadn't pushed you too far.

You seemed to recognize that it was over when Donnie didn’t immediately resume thrusting into you with his previous unrestrained vigor. Slumping beneath him, you felt his weight relax as he lazily placed kisses on the hickeys decorating your shoulders. Both of you appeared content to remain in your current position, with him still inside you, enjoying the quiet aftermath together.

"Holy shit..." you mumbled.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Too much?"

You shook your head. "No, no. It was amazing! I just don't know what came over you so suddenly.”

“I actually don’t know either,” Donnie hummed thoughtfully. Carefully, he pulled away and slipped out from the comfort of your warmth. He had to restrain himself and look away when he heard you release a small whine, feeling the emptiness and his essence dripping down your inner thigh.

Donnie quickly put his glasses back on and walked away to grab some water and a towel for you. While he was gone for that brief moment, you sat up, grimacing from the familiar soreness setting in. You hadn't felt this achy in over two years, back when you were both fresh adults, newly eager to explore the beginnings of your sexual life together.

Once your turtle lover returned, he insisted on helping you clean up despite your protests about him being just as messy. Nevertheless, he was determined, so you let him help subconsciously avoiding your inner folds to leave them coated with his essence. After ensuring you were comfortable, he took care of himself.

After redressing lightly, you headed into the kitchen, taking the water Donnie had provided with you. Following a session like that, you definitely needed some food. Donnie, meanwhile, simply pulled up his underwear and lingered in the kitchen, watching you closely. His instincts urged him to stay nearby.

His mind was still slightly clouded from the spontaneous moment, but not enough to impair his decision-making. He had a gut feeling that the intense desire might return. It was confusing, though, why such behavior was manifesting in the first place, especially since nothing specific seemed to trigger his sudden, overwhelming urge to take you right then and there on the couch.

And your poor couch. It was probably ruined from your activities now. You two had used it like dogs in heat. Huh. Like dogs in heat. In heat. Heat. Heat!

Donnie's eyes widened impossibly with realization. He and his brothers were now at a sexually mature age. Furthermore, it was that time of year—mating season for red-eared sliders, when they succumb to their need to breed.

Oh God, he was in heat and completely unprepared for it. He cringed at the thought of what his brothers must be enduring without a partner to satisfy their reproductive urges. He guessed it was wrong to assume they wouldn’t experience it just because they hadn't felt it immediately after reaching puberty. Casting a long glance in your direction as you prepared packaged ramen, Donnie walked into the living room to grab his phone and sent Leo a text. It was around this time that his family usually gathered for dinner.

Donnie: How’s things going at the lair?

The self-taught scientist received a swift reply from Leo, who was always prompt when responding to Donnie, knowing it wouldn’t be just another meme or silly pun. Unlike Raph and Mikey, who enjoyed sending Leo those sorts of messages just to tease him.

Leo: Everything fine

Leo: Why? Should there be something happening?

Donnie lifted a brow. Donnie: No, no! I was just checking in! See ya later He set his phone down on the coffee table, his lips pursing in confusion. Leo wasn’t one to mislead about the state of their close-knit family, so surely everything was fine with them. It seemed the issue was just with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only one among his brothers who had any sort of sexual experience.

Donnie turned at the sound of your feet pattering across the floor as you returned with two bowls of steaming ramen. He couldn't really complain. Not when you approached him, your body adorned with such beautiful marks, a testament to the intensity of their earlier moments together.

Since you were around, maybe this experience won’t be so bad.

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