#sac protests

[heyyyimnatalieee]

Stupid society doesn’t care about me

[deen-djarin]

Suds n’ Trunks

Summary: Joel ordered a car washing service…bikini car washing service.

Tags: 18+, No Outbreak!Joel, Cheeky Flirty!Reader, Porn with a sprinkle of plot, Daddy kink, Choking, Joel is a menace and so is reader, Oral (m & f receiving), Unprotected P-in-V, Consensual Creampie

—

The sun shone on the perfect suburban streets of Austin, Texas. So hot you could fry an egg if you wanted to. You rolled your windows down, driving down a neighborhood you’re not familiar with, and pulled up at the house that sits in the cul de sac, a dirty- no filthy ford pickup truck parked on its driveway.

This must be the place.

A sigh fell from your lips as you hopped off your car with your supplies in hand; a bucket, sponge, microfiber rag, and various soaps for different parts of the car. The heat was even worse after you’ve left the comfort of your air conditioned car, but the thought of being out of your clothes and soaked in suds and the cool water excites you.

Once you’ve discovered this lucrative market of bored, horny, lonely middle aged suburban guys— eager to see a show, and maybe get their car cleaned as well, you start to do this gig every summer. The money is good plus these guys tip generously.

Your service by its core is nothing but a mobile car wash, but the carwash is being done by you, clad in a skimpy bikini. c’mon, who wouldn’t want that right?

When you scored your first customer, you became a spectacle for the neighborhood. Your client shamelessly pulls out a lawn chair, having a grand ol’ time “enjoying the sun” as you wash their car. Neighbors walking out their houses mowing their already perfectly trimmed lawn, walking their dogs, cats, and some approached your client for a neighborly talk they probably haven’t had in months.

You’ve gotten the whole neighborhood out of their house basically, then your client list doubles with those people coming over to you and asking to do theirs next. Some cars don't even need washing, but you do them anyway with a smile knowing you’re gonna eat good that night.

Ever since then you decided to do this gig every summer, cheekily naming your little business “Suds ‘n Trunks”.

—

You ring the doorbell of the Miller’s residence and step back. You could hear a soft grumble from behind the door before it opened and reveal a scruffy, middle aged, handsome man. your eyes scans him quickly, his hair tousled, his shoulders broad, big arms, big hands, Jesus Christ you want to just-

“Can I help you?”

His gruff, deep, Texan drawl snaps you out of your trance and brings you back to reality.

“Uhm yes, Mr. Miller? you called for a car wash?” You asked him with a sweet voice you come to learn that older men love, it always works like a charm, making them tip you a fat wad of cash— these men just craved attention from a pretty girl, and you’re happy to give that to them.

“Oh..yeah you could uh, it's that one right there,” he motioned to the dirty pickup truck. You give him a smile and nodded, “okay, i’ll go on and get started then.” Joel nodded and shut the door immediately.

—

A red Ford bronco sat on his driveway, absolutely covered in filth. You usually don't deal with this much grime, dust, and mud. Granted, most cars you’ve washed barely need a wash, the clients just wanted to see you wet and covered in suds, which you couldn’t really blame them.

You took a breath and started to step out of your tanktop and shorts, revealing the red matching bikini you’re wearing underneath and started to go to work.

—

Joel was exhausted after doing several construction projects back to back yesterday, from dawn to the ungodly hours of the night resulting in his beloved truck — Shirley— looking like it had been dragged in the mud…literally.

Joel likes to take care of his things, Shirley is no exception. His free time on the weekends is often spent on his truck in the garage, polishing her to perfection. But after all the hard work he did, just the thought of washing her made his back groan in protest.

So he got the number of your services from his coworkers after they commented on the state of Shirley, a smirk planted on their faces and they kept snickering which Joel found odd, but he was too fed up and exhausted to think twice on booking your services.

Joel grunts as he settles on his couch, his cold bottle of beer in one hand, the tv remote on the other. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the TV.

It's finally his time for him to take his hard-earned relaxation time. which should be easy, but he could hear the annoying sputtering sound of his neighbor’s lawnmower.

That thing needs more oil. He thought to himself as he took a sip of his beer.

Then another sound of a lawnmower sounded from the other side of the house, even more annoying than the first.

What the fuck? Why are they all mowin’ the lawn at the same time? at this hour? he thought.

Then comes the obnoxious yapping of Mr. Thompson's french bulldog and chihuahua.

What the hell is goin’ on? it's a whole ruckus out there.

He groaned, frustrated that the whole neighborhood seems to be against his well deserved relaxing time. He grumbled as he strides towards his window, drawing up the blinds to see what the fuck is going on out there.

His eyes nearly bulged out, blush quickly crept up his neck to his cheeks, and his cock twitching in his pants instantly at the sight.

You, bend over in the hood of his car, wet, covered in suds, in a fucking bikini. He tried to look away, he really did, but the way your hips sways, your ass jiggled, as you scrubbed hard with the caked on mud on his truck— it was hypnotizing.

—

“What the hell are ya doin’?”

The sight of Joel's furrowed brow as he stared at you in your revealing outfit was a mix of disapproval and desire. Your sweet smile remained as you answered his question, "Mr. Miller! I'm just washing your car."

His gaze roamed over you, making you shiver with anticipation. "In that?" He grunted, clearly torn between his disgust and arousal. "Well, yes… It's part of my service."

The man stood silent for a moment, his confusion palpable. "Part of your service?"

"Uhm, yeah... It's a bikini car wash service… You didn't know?" you tilted your head, confused.

Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How the hell was I supposed to know?"

"The name is Suds 'n' Trunks," you reminded him softly.

"I know what it's called!" he huffed, clearly frustrated.

Unsure of how to proceed, you hesitated. "So, uhm, you want me to just dress up and go or—"

"No, finish your job," he grumbled, still irritated. Your eyes trailed down to the growing tent in his jeans, confirming the source of his conflicting emotions.

You hid your smirk and purred, "Yes, sir," before returning to your task. The knowledge that you had such a potent effect on him only fueled your desire to please him.

—

Your back is even more curved now, ass sticking up more than they should as you washed the side of his truck, knowing Joel is looking– watching you like a hawk while he sits on the porch, a beer in his hand and a cigarette on the other. you turned your head over your shoulder just to give him a small smile, which he returned with his jaw clenching.

You bask under his gaze, your body tingling, giving him the best show you’ve ever given. you squatted as you started to clean the lower part of the truck, your ass jiggle with every hard scrub you give.

The tension between the two of you is palpable, leaving Joel frustrated, he knows damn well you’re taunting him. He’s torn between wanting to yell at you for acting so unprofessional and embarrassing him in front of the watchful eyes of his nosy neighbors— or fucking you against the truck for payback.

He sits there watching you, contemplating on what to do. You gave him another cheeky look over your shoulder and that was it, his last resolve snapped, fuck it.

—

“Careful with her,” he said lowly as he approached you.

You turned your head, batting your eyelashes, “Hm?”

“You’re goin’ too hard on her, just painted that part,” he murmured as he got closer, just right behind you.

“But the mud is really caked on this part,” you told him and went back to scrubbing.

“A-ah, hey,” he tutted and leaned down behind you, his large palms sitting atop of yours “Gentle…easy does it,” he murmured, his hot breath fanned against your ear.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan as you felt his hardness pressed against your thigh. Your hand following his movements, “There we go…there we go, good girl,” he murmured and you swore every part of your body shivered.

“This is gonna take longer to finish, sir,” you murmured, your voice a mere whisper as you turned your head to him.

“I know…but you’re gonna get a bigger reward out of it, how’s that sound hm?” he muttered to your ear before abruptly pulling away from you and sitting back on the porch.

your breath hitched, heartbeat skipping, and the heat between your legs grew hotter. You turned your head towards him to see him sitting back at his porch, his head nodded at you to continue your work, a small smirk curved his lips.

—

You’re halfway done with the truck when his neighbor starts to approach you, a middle aged guy you came to learn named Michael. He’s been clearly hitting on you, and trying to get a closer look on what you’re doing. which usually doesn’t bother you but you could practically feel Joel's watchful eyes boring into your back.

“So you do this for a living?” he asked as he stood a few feet away from you, “It's just a summer gig i do,” you replied with a small smile, keeping the response light.

"Sweet, it's nice seeing a young, beautiful, hard-working woman," he chuckled. Your jaw tensed for a moment before you forced a tight-lipped smile.

"Can you do my car next? It's pretty dirty too," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. You felt a flush of annoyance, but your eyes met Joel's, who glared disapprovingly from his porch.

"Well, uh..." you hesitated, glancing back at Joel. He shook his head, a clear indication that he didn't want you to entertain Michael's advances. "Sorry, Michael. I'm booked for today... I gotta go somewhere after this."

Michael sighed, "Aw, just my luck," he lamented. "I'll ask Joel for your number, huh? I'll book you as soon as you're free." You chuckled, "Yeah, you go do that."

Michael made his way over to Joel, asking for your number. Joel nodded, but with a grunt, he gave Michael the wrong number. A smirk played on your lips as you returned to your work.

—

After what feels like forever you finally finished with the last drag of your microfiber rag. You let out a sigh and turned around to Joel sauntering his way. “All done Mr. Miller,” you purred.

He looked at his truck, all clean and shiny. A satisfied smirk graced his face, “you did a good job” he praised. “Good enough to get that reward?” you murmured with your head tilted innocently. Joel let out a small chuckle “Mmhm... come on inside and i’ll get it sorted for you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes gleamed with lust and you bit your lip in anticipation as he led you inside his house. The wind hits your wet body, the coolness leaves your nipples even harder, your body tingling with need.

By the time the two of you were inside, Joel’s body was taut, like a spring ready to burst. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, his large palms grab a hold of your wet body and pinned you against his door, you let out a surprised whimper at his sudden actions.

“Been a good girl for me huh? Takin’ care of my truck,” he murmured as he leaned down and his lips grazed your jaw to the skin under your ear. “Been naughty too haven’t you? Tauntin’ me with this sweet ass of yours,” he grabbed your ass and gave it a hard squeeze making you let out a small moan, he pulled you closer, his hard cock pressing against your wet bikini bottoms.

You couldn’t help but grind your hips against him, needy and desperate for friction, eliciting a small moan from you and a groan from him. “What do you have to say about that huh? Pretty girl?,” he muttered and nibbled on your earlobe, “I’m sorry sir” you panted softly.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be that sorry,” he chuckled lowly, his voice gravely and his accent was thicker than before “Think I would have to punish you… you thought it was funny huh? Makin’ me hard as a rock with those fucking neighbors watchin’?” he growled to your ear and slapped your ass, you whimpered and jolted forwards.

“I’m sorry sir..please don't punish me,” you whined and bit your lip. “You’re sorry huh? Go on, pretty thing, show me how sorry you are,” he murmured. You didn't need to be told twice, you fell to your knees, eyes wide as you looked up to his face, hands deftly undoing his belt and jeans and pulling it down along with his boxers.

Your mouth salivated just from the sight of his cock springing free, thick, veiny, and throbbing, just how you thought it would be. He gave you a nod to tell you ‘go on’, you leaned down and darted your tongue out, tasting the heady taste of his precum. He groaned and tossed his head back, hand tangling in your hair and pulled you in, you hummed and finally wrapped your mouth around his girth with a small whimper. Your jaw straining to accommodate him, tongue moving with practiced ease as you sink down deeper, taking in more of him.

“Fuck yeah..good fuckin’ girl…thats it,” he muttered and started to guide your head the way he wanted, you thrive with his praises, taking in him as deep as you could. Gagging and sputtering here and there but you didn't stop at all in search of his approval and satisfaction, you didn’t want to stop. The room was filled with the sound of his grunts and heavy breaths, along with the obscene sounds from you and your muffled whimpers.

Joel nearly came when he saw you starting to snake your hand between your legs, “Naughty fuckin’ slut, touchin’ yourself huh?” he groaned and started to thrust into your mouth, holding your head in place. “You want me to take care of that? Hm?” he growled and you whined as an answer. Suddenly he abruptly pulled you away from his cock, “get on the fuckin’ couch,” he muttered, you scrambled off the floor and quickly gotten on the nearby couch, “on your hands and knees, sweetheart,” he commanded and you did as he said, bending over, facing the backrest of the couch.

He stood behind you and pushed you legs wider, your head craned over your shoulder to look at him with your needy expression, bottom lip between your teeth. He gripped your chin and he leaned down, finally crashing his lips to yours. He was rough, didn’t even hesitate on pushing his tongue into your mouth, tongue dominating yours, making you whine and push your hips back, desperate, begging for him.

His kiss left you panting as he pulled away, he trailed kisses down your back, biting on the knot that holds your bikini top together and pulling on it and letting it unravel, his hand started to grope your tits, playing, pinching, pulling on your sensitive nipples. “Mr. Miller,” you panted “please..”

“Use your word, Baby, what do you need?” he murmured to the crook of your neck. You whimpered and kept moving your hips, “anything- please- your finger, mouth- anything, i need you,” you rambled desperately. Joel chuckled darkly, his large fingers playing with the knots of your bikini bottoms, “needy little thing,” he murmured before pulling on the knots and unraveling the red wet fabric, making it fall to the couch.

Joel practically growled at the sight before him, you, bent over with your ass high in the air, naked, your pussy dripping and ready for him. “Look at you..” he murmured and leaned down, groping your ass and pushing it apart to reveal more of you. “Mmh..” he grumbles before leaning down and placing a broad lick on your cunt. “Oh- god- Mr- mmhngh! Mr. Miller” you whined and pushed your hips more to his face. Joel groaned and started to really eat you out, his large palms splayed on your ass, face completely buried in your drooling pussy. “It's Joel, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he pulled away from your cunt for a second, “I wanna hear ya moan my name.”

“Joel..” you breathed, getting used to the feel of his name on your lips. Joel started to flick his tongue rapidly on your clit, making your eyes roll back and moan out his name, “fuck- ahh! Joel!” He grunted in response, “yeah that’s it, moan my name…mmhhh good fuckin’ girl.”

You were falling apart already at the hands of his tongue, moving on your pussy with practiced ease. Joel relished the sounds of your moans, and the sweet and tangy taste of your cunt. He groaned and started to push his thick fingers to your entrance, “Joel! Ahnghh! F-fuck! mmhngh!!” you cried out, he grunted and pulled away from your pussy for a second, “That’s it baby, you’re gonna cum hm? Gonna be a good girl an cum on my face?” he muttered and curled his digits to hit that heavenly spot within you, you whined in response, barely able to come up with words but nodded with your eyes closed in pleasure. “Good girl, c’mon, come on my face” he panted and started double his efforts, his tongue flicking on your sensitive clit, slurping all your juices, whilst his fingers kept hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, you back arched and your eyes rolled back, you swore you saw stars. His name kept falling from your lips in between moans and whimpers which he responded with praises.

“good girl, that’s it”

“you’re so pretty when you cum for me”

“tastes so good baby, there you go..”

He peppered kisses across your shoulders and back as he waited for you to come down from your high. “joel..” you panted and kept pushing your hips back to grind against his throbbing cock, eliciting a groan from his lips, “yeah? you want my cock, pretty girl?” he muttered and rutted his hips against you, his cock sliding against your cunt. “yes- please joel- please-“ you let out a loud moan when he suddenly pushed his cock into your core.

“fuuuck” he groaned as he pushed himself in “fuck- shit, baby you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he panted and gripped your hips tight. “joel! oh- f-fuck hhngh!” you whimpered and gripped the back of the couch. Joel pulled back until his cock is almost fully slipped back, you whined at the loss of his stretch, then he slammed back in. “Fuck! Oh- f-fuuckk! Joeel!!” you cried out, “Yeah baby that’s it- shit- yeah take it baby, take it” he growled to your ear and wrapped your hair on his hand and yanked it back. Your head tilted back at the force and he crashed his lips to yours again, swalowing all your moans and whimpers as he fucked you with a relentless pace.

“J-joel” you warned between pants, “Yeah i know baby- fuck- yeah i can feel it,” he groaned and panted “c’mon baby give it to me, cum on my cock, c’mon” he murmured and went faster. The sound of his skin smacking against yours gets louder and louder, the couch groaned and creaked in protest. You could barely utter any coherent words at this point, just slurring his name and how good it feels between moans and pants.

Your back arched and trembles as you cry out his name like a prayer. Joel slowed down for a second, letting you ride out the orgasm, “there you go…hmm there you go” he muttered soothingly, his hips rocking deliberately, slowly. “You can take more, sweetheart?” he murmured to your ear, you couldn’t help but nod. ”Good girl,” he praised to your ear and kissed your jaw before his arm wrapped around your waist, the other around your chest and pulled you up until his chest pressed against your back. He resumed his hard relentless thrusts, his hand on your chest groping and playing with your hard nipples. you felt like floating at this point, just taking everything he gave you like a good girl.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growled to your ear, you could barely talk just letting out sounds of pleasure, he spanked your ass hard and you gasped out a moan, “Yours! Hahngh! All yours!” you whined, Joel gripped your neck and pulled you closer to him “Who?” he demanded, you panted and choked out, “Yours daddy!” bingo.

He growled and bent you over again, his hand still tight on your neck, choking you just right. “Yeah that’s right, such a good girl for daddy,” he muttered and pounded into you. You kept choking out moans, calling him daddy over and over. He shifted his position, propping one leg on the couch to get a different angle, deeper, and it allowed him to reach that spot within you. “Oh my g- aahhngh!! daddy!! right there, oh fuck- fuck me right there!!” you cried out. He grunted and let out a dark chuckle, “there sweetheart?” he taunted as he thrusted extra hard aiming at that spot again. “yes!! yes- yes please- please i- daddy please” you rambled, begging for him, his cock has reduced you to nothing but desperate and needy. “well since you asked so nicely,” he said coyly before hitting that spot over and over again.

You felt you’re gonna shatter yet again in any second, a ticking time bomb set on your lower belly. “D-daddy i’m- hah- i’m-” you could barely finish your choked out sentence. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for daddy?” he panted to your ear, all you could do was nodded and give a whimper of confirmation. He chuckled darkly and his hand snaked down to rub your clit with fervor while his hips kept pounding to your ass, “Go on then, come for me, come for daddy,” he muttered to your ear.

Your vision blurred and you saw white. It feels like you’re barely conscious, your third orgasm hits you even harder than the last. You didn’t noticed whats happening until joel groaned, “Fuck yeah you’re squirtin’ on me baby- good girl- hhnngh good fuckin’ girl.” Your thighs trembled, wet with your release, red from his thrusts.

He finally let go of your neck and you gasped out for much needed air, his thrusts started to stutter. “Where do you want it?” he panted to your ear, “Inside, inside daddy, please,” you begged and started to move your hips to meet his. Joel couldn’t hold back any longer, 1, 2, 3 hard thrusts later and he came completely undone inside you. “Fuuuckk!! Fuck yeah- oh shit baby” he moaned, “fuck! makin’ me cum so much, pretty girl…oh yeah good fuckin’ girl,” he panted to your ear.

After his hips stilled, he pulled out of you, making you whine and clench around nothing, pushing his hot sticky seed out of you.

He chuckled and whispered to your ear, “look at you…all messy n’ dirty,” he cooed. “You cleaned my truck now it's time for me to clean you,” he murmured before peppering kisses down your spine yet again.

—

author’s note: THIS WAS MY FIRST FIC EVER AHSHSHEH so forgive me if its shitty or the grammar is horrible bc english is my 2nd language:3 ALSO i have never written smut before heheheh, your feedback is greatly appreciated!! thank you for reading this horny piece of literature!!

[honestsycrets]

playing house | single parent au: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader

❛ pairing | mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader; single parents au

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love.

❛ tags | explicit, mechanic!miguel, first grade teacher!reader, some mention of hurt, heavy themes of voyeurism (both ways), single parents, unhygienic sxconditions, Spanish not translated, very domestic fic, f!reader, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❛ request fulfilled | Miguel is a single dad, Reader is his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and he is both very obviously crushing on her and very reluctant to say it. Fortunately, his daughter isn't! "Did you know my papi likes you?" Cue flustered Miguel. + BROOOO mechanic!miguel is hot please tell

❛ sy's notes | flashback to that one time a car fell on my tio. 😅

The job was a simple part replacement. A fizzled-out chunk of metal that would cost any single mother more in labor and puff costs at any mechanic shop. But not with Miguel, who was known around the barrio for his begrudging care. He’d do any job Lyla brought to him for any madre around who needed him.

He wrung his hands out on his stained top and lifted his head out of the hood of an old but faithful car. After a click and a lock, he turned his eyes toward the dusty cover. Syncopated beats trill from a radio ring background static that he’s long since zoned out to focus on his work. He wiped his forehead and looked at the trampled grass underneath a cheap plastic pool.

“Gabriella, bring me the manguera,” he called out to his little girl, who looked at the hose in her little pool bobbing with poppy bright toys. The older she got, the worse her loneliness became. Not due to any ill-doing of Miguel who always tried his best to be present. For some reason, Miguel couldn’t bring himself to date in anything but short bursts.

“Papi, look across the street. New neighbors!” Gabriella cooed delightfully. She splashed out of the pool with the long emerald green hose in hand, bobbing over on her long skinny legs. “It’s a girl. A pretty girl! And she’s looking right at you!”

Like that was a new occurrence. Miguel turned his hand over his sun-bright daughter’s short, sodden braids that whipped just over her shoulder. She stood in place, bouncing delightfully over newcomers. There were many viejitos in the cul-de-sac, but not enough kids.

“¿Y qué, mi vida?” he asked her. His hand shipped free from her hair. “She’s probably taking in the barrio.”

“I think she is! You!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder only to find your prying eyes eating him up from across the street. You speak to a pair of movers-- but your eyes slipped away from theirs, where he stood with his little girl. The hose dumped water onto the street. Water that he’d usually be extra concerned about wasting. Today, he was more interested in a game.

His dirty white t-shirt is matted to his back, soaked in the sweat of the day. He gripped the bottom of his t-shirt on either side and tugged it over his head. It pulls on his well-corded arms, protesting its release from his body. Miguel slipped it over his shoulder and proceeded to release bits of sweat from his thick hair. An adorable gasp fell free from your lips, replaced by your hand over your lush lips, snapping back to attention.

“You’re right, Gabi.”

He took the sputtering hose from her and cracked a begrudging smile. Gabriella waved eagerly-- and to his surprise, you waved back. If it wasn’t the hot sun beating down your face, it was the embarrassment on your face. You settled the sunglasses on the cute crook of your nose. With that, Gabriella helps him wash the car until her most hated part, drying it with old towels and bits of Miguel’s ripped old shirts.

“Hola!”

“Coño,” Miguel cursed in surprise, turning around to face you. In your hand was a clear plastic bag stuffed full of the filled corn husks, warmth steamed its sides. Miguel glanced down at the bag in your comparatively soft hands, drawing his sweaty shirt over his cut muscles to wipe away the sweat that slicked his dusky skin.

“I brought you and your lindita tamales.”

“Tamales!” Gabriella cooed, her hands cradling a limonada. They made it together, like clockwork every Sunday. “I love tamales!”

“Don’t old neighbors bring new one’s food?” Miguel bit out, a bit annoyed. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate food, it would save him countless bright-ass early meals dragging himself out of bed to make Gabriella something with school right around the corner. He’s annoyed at that star-bright smile you have whipped across your face. It stirred excitement he thought he killed a long time ago. “Or are you just a show-off?”

“I teach first grade at the school across the street,” you ignored his snark and looked none the more bothered by it. There’s some magic in a woman that didn’t feed into his shit. You provided Miguel with a name that felt familiar to all the orientation packets he received just this week. “Ya tú sabes, umm, at Carillo’s.”

Of course.

“That’s where I go!” Gabriella beams. “I’m Gabriella O’Hara and I’m going to be in first grade, right papi? This is my papi. His name is Miguel.”

Damn it all. Miguel slaps his sweaty shirt on the top of the car. You kneel down, offering her up the tamales instead of Miguel. He blinks through his sudden irritation, realizing that he’s fucked now. Gabriella grabs the plastic bag, giggling delightfully over them.

“Then maybe you’ll be in my class, Miss O’Hara.”

When he checks her orientation paperwork-- there it is. He suddenly felt the pressure of the ordeal, of the pretty next-door neighbor who wore flowy dresses and apparently, loved muscles. His eye darted out to the window, the movers zipping off in a whir of color, leaving you just there, spinning around in the driveway of your new home, nearly too sun-bright.

Maybe it’s tied to being a father, but Miguel notices little things you do. Some are ineffectual. Others are dangerous. You leave your bedroom window wide open as you change. Miguel sat outside on Gabriella’s swing on his second cup of coffee for the day when he noticed it for the first time.

You come in from your shower and scurry about your room nearly naked. Then, cupping your breasts between your hands, you whirled around for a set of underwear. From this far, he can’t quite make out the color. It might be red. Not a poppy red, but a deep, soothing red he recognizes from his dead wife’s wardrobe.

He wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t just change in the bathroom, but in any case, it was… dangerous. Any freak walking by could see you changing. Mimi’s room had very well-used blinds and yours did not. He turns his attention back to the newspaper on his lap. Nueva York stalker confesses to stabbing murder in five-year-old cold case. He scrunched his nose at the news and drank a coffee that had long since gone cold.

Sometime later, your front door swung open. Mimi busted through, a little girl with long black twists and black eyes that held a similar excitement for the weekend. It was her papi time. Gabriella doesn’t have that luxury, two homes full of warmth. Just one, with a papi who loved her more than life itself. Miguel hopes it’s enough. He left his newspaper on the bench as you settled her in the car, making his jog across the street.

“You should buy blinds,” Miguel said the second you shut the door. You jumped, your hand on the locket on your chest.

“Ay dios, it’s just you. You shouldn’t walk up on a woman like that, Miguel,” you laughed. “Especially not a single mother.”

“You’re painfully oblivious. Buy some blinds for your room. It isn’t safe.”

Dry as his tone was, it was laced with concern. If there was no one in your life to tell you what he thought was obvious, he would. “You saw me? How much did you... see?”

He responds with a dull stare, his gaze falling to the red strap of your bra that set slightly off-kilter along your slight shoulders. You sucked in a breath to calm yourself, your heart beating at a rapid pace behind your modest shirt. You reached up to hide the strap. A frown marred his contrite features.

“You look beautiful in red,” he found himself muttering, pushing off of the back of the car without another word. He beat himself up for that-- stupid, stupid response. Because of course you know you look gorgeous. He didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Gracias, papi,” you called after him.

He hoped he was not flung into the creep category after that winning display.

You bought blinds for your window and a swing for Mimi’s new, sturdy tree. Its long arms offer some reprieve from the heat, casting a shadow on the small house. It wasn't long before you spent days on heaps of homework from the kids and a glitter-bright pen to grade spelling tests.

It's nice to have a little bit of company as he works on cars and yard work, even if you watch him like a voyeur, blushing if he notices, gasping if he plays into this new little game. At some point, he voided his shirts altogether. It’s not long before Gabriella has a game of her own to play.

“Psst, Lyla. Vente, Lyla.”

Gabriella sits boredly in the shop after school. Sometimes in his office, other times in the shop during breaks. One of his technicians, Lyla, sat on an upside-down bucket by Miguel’s side as he worked on a car. This time, it was a stupid simple fix. The idiot ripped off their bumper parking too far on a curb. Lyla sat in gold coveralls, undoubtedly grinning behind that black mask slapped across her face. He didn’t need to look away from the clips he was applying to know they were both up to shit.

“Yeah?”

“Papi has a crush on my teacher. I think she could be my new mami. If--”

“Miguel has a crush?” His other tech, Peter chirped up with a hunk of sandwich in his fingertips. How was he always slacking off and eating? Miguel didn't know, but he was. “I can't believe it. He hasn’t had a crush since Tem--”

“I don’t have a crush,” Miguel responded. “Less scheming, more homework, kid. She told me you’re behind on schoolwork.”

She does so well on spelling tests, Miguel, you told him at parent-teacher conferences. But she never turns in homework.

Gabriella was not behind because she was stupid. She was behind because she was a stubborn little child who, Miguel knew, was trying to set him up. Lyla abandoned the bucket to walk over near Gabriella’s unicorn table, pulling out a microsized table and looking down at the stupid simple homework. Single-digit numbers were a painful waste of time to a kid who loved math.

“She’s single?”

“Yup,” Gabi chirped, scratching away at her coloring page with a fat purple crayon. “Mimi told me.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. I double-checked. And get this, she said she would come help me with homework.”

“Lyla.” Miguel shoved the opposite end of the bumper in place, securing it carefully. Lyla was bent down by Gabriella. So Papi has more time to see her! Gabriella whispered. He may not know what you’re saying, but he knows it’s bad by the way she looks at him. As though she were a cat might with a glass it was about to shatter on the floor. “You can go home now.”

His daughter doesn’t need any more of her devilish attributes.

“You fucked it alright, mujer. What did you hit?”

Miguel twisted a bit of the sidewall between his fingers to gauge the depth of the hole. Never mind that the back passenger wheel whistled away until it ran flat. It wasn’t the first time someone brought him a car that was fucked. It was the first time you had.

You never asked him for anything, not at the price of your pride. You simply… made it work. Just like Miguel made childcare work by leaving his shop to pick Gabriella up and leaving her bored as fuck every weekday until he could close up shop.

Today, Mimi and Gabriella were inside, playing with dolls after a warm dinner of arroz blanco and fatty pork chops. He wasn’t much a fan of your sickly sweet platano, but he tried it tonight after Gabriella hounded him. Don’t be rude, papi! He’s gotten used to coming home on Wednesday to dinner. It’s something that he realizes he’s missed: having someone to come home to.

“A pothole,” you murmured shyly. His forehead rippled into wrinkles, holding the chunk of broken-off rubber between his fingertips. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his dark eyes, minding the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

“A pothole,” he repeated after you. No matter how many times he considered it, it did not fit. His body was ripe with aggravated energy. He’s too tired for this. The shit he’d seen in his shop and you expected him to believe that you hit-- a pothole? “Qué mierda.”

Miguel set his hands on his hip, rolled on his heel, and stepped back to inspect his future work. His body thrummed, a tightness pulling with the sight of your shy smile. The truth tittered on your luscious little lips.

“I may or may not have hit those rocks by Doña Díaz’s casita.” One look around the street revealed the chunky, pointy rocks you referenced. Miguel flicked the bit of rubber onto the top of the car and looked at you. You were guilty as the day was long. “They weren’t that far off the curb before! I know that it’s bad. Do you think you could-- fix it?”

“You’re going to have to replace those two,” Miguel gestured. “What, did you not see the massive rocks on the side of the road? What were you doing? Eres una mama, you have to pay attention, por dios. You could have been hurt.”

Your eyes darted to the wheels. The nervousness was strong, nearly all-consuming, bidding you to shut up. Though it was a good question, the shame that flecked your eyes was enough to cause Miguel to move on. He knew you were likely inattentive, your mind hovering somewhere else than the quiet cul-de-sac.

“I… had a bad date, Miguel. I was upset and dizzy and… Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The pain of being a woman. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his large hand warm on your slight shoulder. A pulse of warmth rushed through his hand as you leaned in, your cheek plastered to his stained top. He smelled of oil and sweat, but somehow, you find it comforting. Your hands come over his back, tugging on the dark coveralls.

“It’s alright,” Miguel sighed. He'd tell you not to pick shit men-- but sometimes, as he knew, that didn't matter at all. “I’ll have it fixed.”

“I don’t have that much money, Miguel,” you began. “I have to take care of the kids, my house, Mimi. I…”

“No te preocupes. You can do something else for me.”

You drew in a small, choked breath. The type that settled in your chest and did not leave. Not until Miguel’s arms wound over your waist to soothe you through the pain and pressed a kiss that lasted entirely too long to the top of your head. It’s the first time he wants another.

“She is dating,” Peter said. “You know what that means? It means you’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one!”

"I'm not concerned about it."

The one, Miguel shook his head as he paced past the car he was propping up. He never heard anything more ludicrous. There was no such thing as the one. There was only a range of possibilities to pick from. At any point, life can happen. Then your one is gone-- and you’re left with only the memories and a body to bury. Still, as he clambered underneath the car, he found that he quite didn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else... especially not men who may or may not spike your drink.

“You should ask her to a date. Like, more than playing house with sticky kids and lasagna.”

“She’s never made me lasagna.”

Peter sloppily suckled on his fingers, the juice running down his thin wrists. “Then what was lunch?”

“Pastelón,” he answers bitterly. “It’s… plantain lasagna.”

“Okay, I thought you didn’t like--”

“I don't-- I eat it because she spends time on it.”

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He’s about to say something terribly unuseful, something like how Miguel has it bad. Miguel knows he does, half-formed images of what a family could be every day he went to pick Gabriella up, homework done, and happily fed. A feat in itself.

In place of that, though, were the car’s melded, mechanical squeals. He has but a moment and a half-formed plan that goes up in smoke the next second that it falls on his arm. He hears Peter’s half-formed, panicked shout to Lyla and recalls the flurry of steps and medical attention sometime later.

Admittedly, he did tell you to be careful.

When he wakes up, so does everyone else. Lyla chastizes him with her hands balled up on her hips, Peter sobs almost twice as much as Gabriella does until the two are dead asleep against his bed. Miguel’s eyes have rolled way too far.

“Is he finally asleep?” you peep into his heavy hospital door with a ginger knock of your knuckles. Miguel throws a look at Peter’s squishy face, half slumped over.

“Hermosa, I thought he’d never stop,” he grumbled.

“You scared him.”

Tch. Miguel watched you pick up Gabriella, settling her on the stiff pull-out bed. He foggily asked you what time it was, close to the end of visiting hours. He’d need to arrange something for Gabi with Lyla taking care of the shop. It itched at his throat.

“Gabi too. Should I…”

“Take her home for me,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just a broken arm.”

“You coughed up blood, Miggy. You could have died if Peter wasn’t there.”

Miggy. You finally used the nickname somewhere between Wednesday dinner dates and a car slumping on him. Miguel throws a growl to the side, using his non-fucked hand to pet the top of Peter’s head. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

“What happens if… something happens to you?”

“With Gabi?” he asks.

"Sí. With everything."

You nod, looking idly at his little daughter, still in her school clothes. You brought her as soon as school was over, soothed the panic in her voice, the thought of becoming an orphan just because the car had cracked his arm. She wouldn’t have remembered her mother’s death, it was far too long ago now.

“Lyla. Why the face? If you’re jealous, know that was the agreement with my wife before she was murdered.”

You hadn’t known you were making a face, but you were to the trained eye. Some small pout of your lip, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. Miguel shoves himself up on the bed, straining sore muscles. It was going to be a long night. A longer month or two until he was up and running again.

“I’m not making a face. It's just... You were reckless when you're usually so careful. I'm wondering why. I'm sorry.”

"It's fine," Miguel urged you to come closer. "Come here."

You slid into his chair, tentatively sneaking your hand on top of his. Miguel wanted to tell you more. There was not another friend nearly so close, one that would take care of everything and anything he needed. He's suddenly aware of his situation. It would be difficult to make a woman secure that he'd not tied down yet. You clearly care-- based on the insecurity in your eyes.

You’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one.

He doesn't want to miss his shot. He brought your hand to his lips, straining with a pained little grunt. You stood up to help him, allowing his lips to flutter over the back of your hand in a small kiss at his urging.

“Trust me. She’s not a threat,” he said. “You’ll take Gabi with you?”

“Of course, Miggy. Anything you need.”

Securing a relationship would just have to wait.

The first day back, Miguel sent Gabriella off with Lyla. Mimi is off with her papa, leaving you with nothing but time. He finally saw his projects through without Peter loitering over his shoulder, revitalizing cars with bad radiators and fizzled-out air compressors. As if Peter was the boss and he were the employee. The grease under his fingers feels more like Miguel than any squeaky clean shower you’ve helped him take. Yes, you’ve helped him take. He could have asked Lyla or Peter, but why over-extend their lives when you lived in his home for the past month to take care of Gabriella anyway?

He wonders what you thought, stripping him down to nothing, seeing his naked thighs, watching him clean sensitive bits that, as you lied, you were not looking at. He finds it cute, the way you tried to look away, but of course-- you always snuck a look. You’re nosy by nature. He’s never been ashamed of his body, though. For all the work you did, he thinks you deserve a look.

“Miggy,” you slipped through the side door, your heels clicking over a greased-up floor. He hopes you don’t fall, arms deep in the hood of a shiny dark blue convertible. It’s nearly perfect. “I got your message. You said we need to talk?”

“Don’t slip.”

Miguel whirled a wrench into its place, slammed the hood shut, and rubbed the grease on his hands together. Like it will come off his callouses. Miguel meets you half way, offering you his greased up hand. You look down at his hand, then up to Miguel again. He half thinks you won’t take it, but you do, allowing him to whirl you in a spin before lifting you on top od the hood of the car.

“Ay Miggy--” you cursed, looking down at the car. It shone bright, its smooth metal cold under your bare thighs. He pins you in place as you attempt to wiggle off, nearly jiggling your way onto his lap. “The owner will be mad--”

“It’s mine and I’m not.” He explains. “I know what I want.”

“You want…?”

“For the work on your car.” It’s cute how clueless you act, holding your breath as his fingers course past your bare thighs. You barely manage to choke the words out, your hands inching on his. He replaces himself between your thighs. You both know that you more than made up for the few hundred dollars in repairs with the work you’d done for him in a month. Holding your breath, you nod.

“Tell me.”

“I want a night with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, leaning your trembling fingers up to the bits of dark brown hair that accentuated the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. You met his eyes, trained on your own, challenging you to respond. Words formed in a mishmash of nonsense on your tongue. You take the chance to press your lips on his, your hand suddenly cradling the side of his face for some stability. You were hardly comfortable on his car, but Miguel didn’t seem to care, biding your lower lip to open and let him in. You relinquish, savoring the distant taste of roasted coffee on his tongue, his fingers teasing along your thighs.

“That’s not an answer,” Miguel pulled back from your lips for an instant. He graces your neck with soft kisses, leaving the occasional bite and tug just in case-- he doesn’t need another man thinking he has so much as a chance. Your big man pins you down onto the car like you were weightless, any willingness to inch away tempered by his mass.

“Depends,” you answered. “I want this to be an every night kind of thing.”

“Consider it a trade.” He chuckled against your neck, the heat from his lips traveled across the valley of your breasts. You complied with his desire and let him slip your breasts free from your romper. His mouth closed his mouth over your nipple. His greasy hands melded your breasts between his desperate hands, tongue prodding your nipple fat. Your legs met his hungry performance by pulling him forward, his scratchy belt against your clothed cunt.

“Careful,” he teased. His hand fell to his bulge, unbuttoning his stained pants. You watched him pull himself free, pulling panties and romper alike to the side of your lips. Your lips parted, much like that very first day you met him, sundered by the sight of his cock. This time, fully hard. He doesn’t enter your cunt-- no, he’s patient, slotting himself between your folds for a teasing grind. His dick twitched in response, eager to finally fuck you. “You’ll fall off.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked over dinner.” He greets your complaint with a nod, flicking your other breast. He envelops the other nipple between his mouth, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. You take a long breath, hips leaning up against his firm length.

“Like that would be anything new. We always have dinner,” Miguel murmured in protest. “A far better use of our time is soaking your pretty cunt with my cum on this car before dinner.”

He felt your cunt clench at nothing. His hips, thrusting against your mound, nudged over your wet little folds, knocked against your greedy clit. Before you could respond, Miguel popped off your nipple again, “You like that thought? Going to dinner leaking?”

“Miggy, por dios,” you complained. “Stop dry humping and give it to me.”

He huffed darkly, snatching one of your thighs and leaning back. He spreads your lips, inspecting his work. You were wet, but not just wet, soaking his car. Miguel brought his other palm to wipe your wetness away, jerking himself with the fluid. He tests your reaction by nudging the head of his cock against your unprepared hole.

“Miguel,” you bit out, this time a warning.

“Ya te oigo,” Miguel loomed over you, pinning your shoulder back to his glistening car. You don’t debate him on that, allowing him to say whatever he wants if it would just get him inside. Miguel relinquishes control, pushing inside of your tightness. He bit back a groan, pushing past your body’s resistance, throbbing against your core. Your hands fisted his dirty shirt, cunt split wide on his cock, and glad for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands securing themselves on your hips. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls nearly free, slamming forth just a moment later. Breath punched out of your throat, his cock rocking your cunt nice and full. You loved this-- looking beautiful and full just for him. He knew it too, “Hermosa.”

Miguel held his arm tight around your thigh, holding you flush against his rutting hips. His balls slapped your ass, pulling tight. You were distantly aware of his thumb at your clit, leaning your hips into his thrusts the best you could. You could only squirm to keep yourself upright on his car despite feeling your body sliding into his. His thumb worked in insistent, tight circles, forcing the pleasure to burrow in your low belly, tightening over him. It’s no marker of your performance, you think, hoping he’d give you another chance to be anything but a toy on his cock.

“No, no puedo--” you whined, your hands dipping under his shirt to scratch at his finely cut muscles, knowing you were about to gush.

“Do it,” Miguel grunts in response, his thumb more insistent. You’re not entirely proud of the way you came, creaming his cock desperately. He held strong, smothering his own groans if only for the pleasure of hearing your passionate cries. You come to moments after, Miguel’s thrusts now intent on his own pleasure.

“Come on, papi,” you worshipped. “Cum in me.”

“Fuck,” Miguel complied, his dirty nails causing sharp indentions on your thigh and hip. His sticky cum fills you in a few deep thrusts, each more forceful than the last, and he’s spent. If he was dirty before, he was filthy now. Miguel catches your lips in a lingering kiss, going soft in your body. He knew the second he pulled out your cum was soaking his now-dented car.

His eyes peeled open to find your gaze on him, tracing fresh superficial scratches on his belly. Of course, you are-- you’re a hungry addict. Miguel pulled himself free and looked for a cloth that wasn’t grease soaked to clean your cunt with. You piece yourself together and slide off his car.

“Let’s go.”

“¿Qué?” he zips himself back into his pants.

“You promised me dinner.”

He sighs-- just as long as it wasn’t lasagna.

There’s something attractive about your love of children.

He thinks it’s likely because he’s never had that himself. His mother was a beast of a woman. Never affectionate. At least, not with him. After his wife’s subsequent death, life proceeded in a vacuum. The years passed: first one. Then six. Then he was here, holding a bundle of jewel-bright roses against an uncharacteristically clean button-up, walking down the dull blue carpet of the beige hallway to the pod that usually held the kids. For all the days you tolerated him smeared and slathered, you deserved a good display.

They were usually alight with noise, rambling on about their latest toy or prattling on about a mommy that Gabriella just did not have. The more she grew, the more important it became to have that for her-- maybe it was more for himself. Today, that hall was dead of life.

“Gabi, I hear your papi,” you called from somewhere inside. He hears her subsequent pitter-patter of feet across the carpet, popping out with Mimi from the door before he can open it. Miguel cocked his head, a sigh working on his lips. They whirled the door shut. Gabi bolted to your would-be desk and slapped her tanned palms on the tabletop.

“Maestra, maestra!”

Ah, damn it all. Miguel’s hand hovers around the knob, chewing on the next thought. He couldn’t really blame the kid for what she was about to say, because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

“¿Mande?”

“I have something to tell you, it’s really important. Papi likes you, did you know my papi really, really likes you?”

There’s a pause. Then a slight, amused giggle from Mimi. It’s short-lived as he pulls open the door, loathing this dumb thing called Teacher’s Week that leaves him with a bundle of flowers and instant regret.

“Sí, Gabriella. I know he does. I like him too. He’s so cute.”

If he weren’t so dark, he’d worry about the flush in his face with the embarrassment of being outed by his little girl. He stares at your hands on Gabriella’s, then at the small sea of desks and colorful name tags to break some of the tension, hardening his face to shield it from the embarrassment. Was he really so obvious?

“Hola Miggy.”

You scoot out of your chair.

“Hola,” he sighs, remembering he was holding flowers. He slides them into your hands, hooking his hands on his slender hips. “This is… Gabi wanted to give you flowers.”

“I never said that,” she chirped, bouncing his way. “You said--”

“Gabriella.” Miguel hisses, his tone sharp at her interjection. She goes dead silent by Mimi's side, staring up at him with watery eyes. He jerks his head in the direction of the quartet of desks she sits at. “Go get your things.”

“I think Papi is embarrassed,” you whisper, crouching down to rub her little back, soothing down her milky white top. “I’ll talk to him and make it better, okay? Go with Mimi.”

“Okay.”

Mimi bounded off behind Gabi, stuffing her bag with her colorful work and chunky crayons. Miguel exhaled air, staring at her powdery blue backpack for something other than the complete and utter embarrassment that yet someone else had called him out. If it wasn't Peter, it was his daughter.

Had he been this obvious the whole time?

“Don’t be too hard on her tonight,” He peered down at you, small in the grand scheme of his height and musculature. You pecked a small kiss on his lips, stroking his week-old stubble, just enough to cool Miguel’s teetering nerves. “It’ll be better when she finds out.”

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Screenward Bound

Pairing: Twilight x Reader

Warning(s): Eventual smut and mild yandere behavior

Notes: Written for my 200 Follower Event!

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

You weren't quite sure what compelled you to visit the garage sale on the corner of 4th and Shirestone.

The lot was small and the yellow house inhabiting it was large, leaving very little space for the several tables of stuff in the miniscule front yard, meaning they spilled out onto the bordering sidewalk like an invasion of dusty books and even dustier boxes, which was probably what drew you to the sale in the first place.

"Do you have any Uncle Kracker?" You half-heartedly asked the old lady running the operation, idly thumbing through the CDs.

"Uncle who?" She raised a brow.

"Nevermind," you sighed, giving her a short once over before returning to your unenthusiastic perusal. You lived a few blocks away, tucked in the corner of a nearby cul-de-sac, but living alone was boring and your wallet had been crying to be drained after recovering from your car being in the shop for a few weeks. Besides, it wasn't like you couldn't drop a few dollars to pick up a half-decent CD for the radio, especially since people had a habit of dumping their unwanted shit on the side of the road.

With a huff, you flicked through the last row of CDs, all artists that you were either too old or too young to like. Sure, the Pat Benatar one was calling your name, but you already had a few of her songs on other CDs.

Just as you were about to go home and watch a couple hundred reruns of Family Feud while eating enough ice cream to make your doctor cringe, your eye caught another table, this one filled with an assortment of video games. You weren't the biggest gamer, but you had enough of a collection to put any normal ten-year-old to shame.

"You've got games?" You asked, moving past the one-armed mannequin to assess the selection.

"Do I ever," the old woman shook her head, sending a few snow-swept whisps of hair flying from the confines of her satin headband. "They belonged to my son, but the little rat couldn't keep it that way when he moved out."

You managed a sympathetic chuckle, pulling your coat a bit tighter around yourself. There was a chill in the air, despite it being sunny outside. Your fingers felt a bit numb as you flicked through the cases. Final Fantasy, Digimon, Mario Kart...

You paused as your gaze passed over a very familiar title.

"Woah, Twilight Princess?" You lifted the case, marveling at the find. It was a bit dusty, and the cover art looked like it had seen better, less faded days, but it was nonetheless a great discovery. You had always wanted to play it until school got in the way, but now...

"Oh, yeah," the old woman leaned in a bit too close for comfort, tapping a knobby finger on the plastic. You could smell her flowery perfume and the lingering scent of coffee grounds as she spoke. "This was one of my son's favorites... too bad he could never get it to cooperate."

"How so?" You asked, taking a step to the right to create a bit of distance.

She shrugged. "It worked great at first, but the controls were always a bit glitchy for his tastes. He said it was like something else was trying to take control," her tone turned conspiratorial, faded blue eyes glinting in the sunlight. "but I think he was just making excuses to get a new controller for Christmas."

This time, you laughed loudly. "Yeah, they'll do that," you glanced at the game and back at her. "How much? I've got a ten in my wallet, but I can get more if needed."

The old woman waved a hand, dismissing your words with a smile. "That won't be necessary, I should be paying you for taking this junk off my hands. Take it for free."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she sent you a stern glare and you didn't have the courage to square up with someone who didn't have any personal space awareness and looked like she could break your back over her knee. 'Thank you," you ducked your head respectfully, slipping the game into your bag and beginning the trek home. The sun was beginning to set, and you didn't want to get caught in the dark. You waved, calling over your shoulder: "Have a nice day. Stay warm!"

The woman waved back. "You too, dear! Don't let the bedbugs bite!"

You chuckled, boots crunching on the pavement as you set an easy pace, one hand slipping into your bag to feel over the faded plastic surface of your new game.

If there was any truth to the old lady's words about the game being glitchy, it didn't show.

After booting your ancient Wii-U up, you plugged the game in without hesitation, grinning when it started up with nary a twitch. The title screen looked exactly as it should have, a very familiar song emanating from your dusty speakers. It was perfect, and you almost felt bad taking it for free.

Until you tried to select 'new game' and the screen stalled, fizzling back to the menu as if you hadn't done anything at all. "What the hell?" you muttered, attempting the action once more, only to be booted back to the title screen for the second time. "Oh my god, are you serious?"

You weren't really mad, because your expectations hadn't been that high, but you hadn't expected problems before you even began playing. The 'start' button glimmered promisingly, and you reluctantly selected it.

The screen flashed, and the game started. You gaped, nearly dropping the controller in surprise. "Oh, hell yeah," you grinned, mood lifting slightly at the progress. You had already seen several gameplays, so starting later didn't bother you as much as it should have. "Now we're talking."

Link was distinctly aware of the moment his world inexplicably shifted, falling into the soft hands of another. It was as if they were meant to hold his life in their palms, smooth fingertips caressing the edges of his pixelated consciousness, shrouded by colors and numbers and a thin sheen of fantastical insanity.

There was a voice, lighter than the one of his previous guide: the gamer without sense. Link was forgiving, it was practically in his nature, but he could only take so many instances of the kind of crass, harsh language that man had employed, especially when he addressed the dreaded "chat"--whatever evil that was.

"Let's get classic," the voice spoke, tone heavy with excitement, and the world reformed before his very eyes, swirling with the familiar colors and textures that he remembered, though they seemed... brighter, somehow. It was a new start, Link realized. A new play at the game. A new life to destroy. To shape.

Ordon Spring was exactly as he remembered; a clear, rippling pool, fed by the gentle waterfall in the back of the spring, flanked by thick, verdant brush and preceded by a wonderful, sandy bank. Home, he thought.

"I hope the old lady wasn't right," said the voice, sounding a bit mournful as it caressed the tip of his pointed ear. "I'd hate to have to get rid of you... I've been looking for you for ages."

Link felt his body stiffen, the belts crisscrossing his chest feeling more suffocating that normal. You must have heard about his 'resistance' towards the previous owner, who quite deserved it after attempting to make him toss the village dogs off of various high places and herd the children into frankly dangerous areas. Hylia, he hoped you weren't like that. He didn't think he could handle that again.

"Alright, let's go save a princess," your cheer hung heavy in his mind, and Link allowed himself a small, pixelated smile.

He could work with this.

Dear lord I'm so glad this is finally out! It fought me tooth and nail, but I hope it's still up to standard <33

[buckyalpine]

Sensitive Bucky II

Back to sensitive beefy Bucky. Ball worship. The squirrel brain the squirrelling.

He’s so touch starved. He thought some innocent cuddling and spooning would be just fine but no. He freezes each time you squirm, your soft body pressing against him, making it more and more difficult to hide the hardness between his legs. He hopes you don’t feel the way the outline of his cock is settled right between your ass.

Poor baby has no idea what to do with himself when you gently push him onto his back despite his flustered protests. You just want to take care of him.

He feels so shy and exposed when you slip his briefs off, settling yourself between his thick thighs. His eyes grow wide when you avoid his leaking head and nudge your nose against his sac instead, humming at his perfect scent. You pepper soft kisses all over his balls, loving the whines that escape him, the skin warm and soft, pulsing each time you touch him.

“Hng-I-

“You what baby?” You softly coo at him while he fists the sheets, his thighs squirming when he feels your tongue lick him right up. He wants to touch himself so badly but he doesn’t dare because it feels so good and he’s way to sensitive.

“It feels good-

He lets out a broken whimper when you wrap your lips around one of his balls, swirling your tongue around, humming at his heady, salty taste.

No ones ever touched him there and definitely not like this. He maybe gotten head once, hardly memorable. But this? He’s never had anyone kiss, lick, suck him somewhere so intimate and private. No one’s ever been so gentle with him, softly worshipping his body. He wants to squeeze his thighs shut before he blows his load, your so sweet with him, moaning at the way he feels so heavy and full, telling him he tastes so good. He’s making an absolute mess all over his tummy, precum pooling over his tummy, sticky and creamy.

“You like that, angel?” You pull off for a moment, taking in his fucked out state,

“No one’s touched me there” he whispered shyly

“My poor baby, no one else has ever gotten to taste how good you are? Lick you up, suck on your perfect balls?”

He swallows thickly, holding his breath, practically chewing his lip raw when he feels your tongue lave down the middle of his seam, dipping right below before taking them both in your mouth. You suckle and nurse on his sack, loving the way his moans are getting louder, back arching off the bed.

“So heavy baby” you tease but it’s not funny, it almost hurts how fucking full his balls feel.

“So-m’so full-it hurts-s’too much cum” he’s whining at this point, using every fiber in his body to not grind right onto your face.

“Yeah Jamie? My poor baby, S’there too much?”

He nods, looking at your with glassy eyes, nearly sobbing when you lick a fat stripe from his balls to the head of his cock, cleaning up his precum before dipping your head down again, cupping him with a gentle squeeze

“I’ll make them all better baby, don’t worry” you press a promising kiss right in the middle while he trembles; it was going to be such a long night.

Anyway.

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 7. Quickly addicted

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, noncon, dom/sub, dom!Feyd, bondage, nipple play, cockwarming, overstimulation, choking, breathplay, inkpie

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu

Such people have a tendency to become drunk on violence, a condition to which they are quickly addicted.

— Missionara Protectiva

He could feel her breathing heavily, her taut and sweaty back sticking to his chest. He could feel her heartbeat too, thundering away. She was panicking in her own stilted Bene Gesserit way, and in a small amount of pain, and behind the soft veil of her hair a thousand plans of escape were brewing. But Feyd had never been more calm. He let his legs spread as wide as he could and held her weight atop his thighs as his cock sunk even deeper and his fingers toyed without any thought or meaning with her hardened buds. His face was buried in her hair. She couldn’t see him smiling but he purred and she just might’ve felt it.

“Just stay like that,” he whispered, his rough voice breaking at the edges. “You don’t need to do anything…”

She was still frightened. A reasonable enough reaction for a woman being forced against her will, he would admit, not that he cared very much — because he’d just gotten what he wanted. Having her play with him like he was her toy was sweet but there was a delight in having power over her that his concubines could never satisfy. They were after all genetically engineered to want him, just as they were made to hunger for human flesh. This one for better or worse had a mind of her own, and one that he had yet to conquer. He wondered if he ever could…

As he held her in his arms, her core flexing around him, Feyd kept playing with her nipples in an attempt to get her at least a little bit excited. Yes, he wanted her to be still, but he wanted her to not want it, to not be able to control herself around him — just as he hardly could whenever he was around her. There was still a conquest to be had there.

He moved the hair off of her neck to place his lips upon it while his other arm left her chest to circle around her waist. She winced in fear at the change. Feyd smiled and started kissing down her neck but not in an attempt to calm her. He liked her a bit scared. Moving gently, he shifted on the chair a little backwards and moved her with him, forcing her even lower on his cock. He felt her jolt when she realised what his purpose was.

“There you are… Good girl, sit still… Enjoy it…”

She whimpered as he moved her slightly, forcing her to rub her clit over his sac. He had to tilt her hips somewhat but she could feel it, and he could feel it too, that brushing of her hot hard point over his sensitive bulge. Her head tilted back over his shoulder.

“Pacified now, are you?” he chuckled as he brushed his lips across the column of her throat. “Is that all that little hole wants? To be filled and pleasured?”

She moved her head away in protestation and he knew he’d wounded her pride. It surprised him that she had any at all. She was so unlike most people he had ever met��� Most slaves, anyway. Arrogant and violent and cunning — she was more like a Harkonnen than she knew.

Feyd held his palm atop her tummy making sure she stayed there and sat mostly still, his cock filling her all the way up, her swollen lips around his root, her still-hot bottom at his lower stomach. He felt as full as she must’ve been… Sated for the first time he remembered. His other hand circled her nipple, pinching it gently every now and then, plucking it away from the softness of her breast before letting it bounce back only to be captured again between the rough tips of his fingers. She whined when it started hurting her and Feyd knew to move on to the other. It made her squirm atop his cock.

“I love you like this,” he whispered. “A little punishment and you’re so sweet for me…”

She grumbled behind the belt that cut into her mouth in an attempt to prove him wrong — or prove it to herself. Feyd chuckled and nibbled at her ear.

“It was a compliment…” he whispered.

His fingers plucked her nipple and teased her with a little slap right after he let it go, giving her a bit of pleasure in turn with every bit of pain. She groaned but no longer made any attempt to pull away. She’d figured out that it was hopeless. Below, his palm rubbed gentle circles on her tummy, keeping her warm and soft for him. All around his cock, her core leaked her sweet and sticky juices, cloying on his manhood and his balls, slathering his skin and hers. He could feel himself twitching inside her, could feel his tip brush against her cervix and her plump lips kiss his sac each time she rubbed herself against him.

Her warmth was all around him, going from her frantic heart through her body, around his shaft, and back up into him. The warmth that now flowed through his blood came from her own up and through the point where they were joined. From her heart, into his. Almost too intimate. He’d never felt more comfortable than in this moment… But perhaps the same couldn’t be said for her.

“Is that too much?” he asked. He was genuinely curious.

She moaned something he couldn’t quite make out, but he could guess. Feyd rested against the back of the chair and pulled her more firmly against him.

“Here,” he whispered. “Let yourself lay on me for a while.”

She only tensed up more which didn’t surprise him but it still made him somewhat angry. She was supposed to obey him, and she never did.

“I said lay down.”

He could tell the exact second when she relented. The tension in the muscles of her back gave way to a genuine softness and he could feel her weight blanket him in a way that was almost delicious.

“Good girl…”

His hand left her sore little nipples and went up to grab her throat. Her breath hitched as his fingers closed around the tender column and squeezed just enough to control her breathing.

“Shhh… Don’t be scared.”

She clenched around his cock, her channel holding onto it as if her whole body was afraid. He smiled at how cute that was… Her womanhood nursed on him, pulling him deeper, hugging him so tightly he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. Slowly, Feyd’s other hand went lower down her stomach, pressing gently to feel his cock on the other side. He thrust up into her a couple of times just to feel himself there and he couldn’t help but moan. Above him, she moaned too, and her head leaned over his shoulder.

“Shhh… keep calm,” he whispered. “Try not to move…”

And then his fingers reached their aim — her pudgy little clit. Her thigh clenched nervously.

“What did I say? Be still now,” he murmured in a soothing tone with just a bit of a warning to it as he started to circle her with his middle finger. “That’s it… What a good girl.”

She whimpered but obeyed him, keeping her hips unmoving in spite of the pleasure he forced on her. The pad of his finger, rough from handling more dagger handles than soft flesh, touched just the very tip of her. Her clit peeked out, excited by the attention he gave it, as hard and erect as if it were a little cock. Feyd kissed the side of her neck next to where his fingers held her and squeezed it a bit harder — just on the edges, letting her breathe. He chuckled when he felt her getting wetter, her core clenching around him with unspoken frustration. He moved his hips ever so slightly, enough to let her feel his swollen sac beneath her, to feel the kiss of her soft lips again and feel her drooling on him.

“Good little girl,” he murmured right underneath her pulse.

Her breath hitched when he said that and he couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed she liked being praised just as much as he did… From teasing her with one finger he then moved on to two, dipping now and then a little lower to gather the slick she kept leaking and bringing it back to lather her clit. Every noise she made resounded in his hand, against his lips, and soon Feyd was moaning too along with her.

She breathed in deeper to offset his light strangling of her and he knew she should start feeling dizzy with less blood going to her head. He delighted in the feeling of her soft hair cascading over his shoulder. Her clit was feeling warmer too and started throbbing and all around his cock he felt the tight hugging of her puffy hole. It clenched around him as if she could swallow him whole and even her cervix was nipping at his tip. She trembled and started to whine and Feyd knew he’d brought her close.

“A bit more,” he whispered encouragingly. “Keep it in a bit longer…”

She whimpered and shook her head and her hips started thrusting, but he wouldn’t let her escape his touch. His fingers followed her, circling her clit, pinching it to punish her before soothing it again with gentle rubs against its rounded little head. He bit his lip but didn’t move his hips, didn’t thrust up into her no matter how much he wanted to, punishing himself as much as he punished her. It was a delightful sort of pain to feel his cock held and hugged by the hungry mouth of her cunt, tugged on and swallowed like her body wanted to suck the cum right out of him. To feel his tip covered in a pool of her own wetness and his own that kept on dripping with nowhere to go, and keep on staying still…

He breathed heavily against her jaw and closed his eyes, swallowing his moans and whimpers. She’d turned quiet in his arms while her heart started beating faster, and finally he let go of her throat. Her head rested heavily against his, cheeks wet with tears and drool, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. He held the back of her head tenderly as he brought her lips to his and gave her loving little pecks, then, with a look into her tired eyes, he relented. Feyd reached toward the table, grabbed the knife, and cut the belt off from around her mouth.

She flexed her jaw and licked her dry chapped lips but he kissed her before she could speak, his finger threading through her hair to hold her. She moaned into his mouth so plaintively as his fingers kept on rubbing her, now up and down along the column of her clit, and when she started following the motion he wasn’t even angry.

“Want to cum?” he asked her between kisses, his blue eyes gazing into hers.

She nodded tearfully. “Please,” she whispered, “I c-can’t take it.”

He kissed her again. “Beg some more.”

“Please,” she whispered as she closed her eyes, “please, na-Baron, let me cum…”

“Say my name when you beg me.”

“Feyd…”

He kissed her again, ravaging her tired and sore mouth that tasted sharp with tears and hints of blood and with trembling hands, he took hold of her hips. She gasped against his lips — she knew just what was going to happen.

Feyd held her still and started thrusting, driving his thick cock into her as if he could become one with her if he tried hard enough. His hips hardly left the seat but he thrust up into her so hard he had to hold her down to make her take it. She almost screamed, her moans loud enough to echo in the highest corners of the room. He wanted her to cum so badly, he knew he had to feel it…

Wrapping one arm around her waist to steady her, he brought the other back down to her nub. She winced at how sensitive she was. Feyd cupped his fingers underneath his balls and rested his thumb on her clit, and let each thrust nudge her against him. He rubbed down the column of her bud and down onto his swollen sac then up again, getting them both wet and filthy, their skin soft and sensitive together, and feverishly hot.

She started breathing heavily and rested her head back, hair falling all around her shoulders and his, sticking to their sweat. Between her panting breaths, she moaned in pleasure and in pain while Feyd kept driving into her, relentless and a little crazed.

“Please, please, please…” she muttered, and then she started shaking.

Her legs tensed up, her back arched forward getting unstuck from his skin. Their sweat dripped down between the bruised cheeks of her ass to pool around the root of his cock. It mingled with the juices that flowed out of her.

“Please, Feyd… Aaah! Feyd!”

“Shhh… I have you,” he whispered, his voice shot and breathless. “You can cum for me, can’t you? You can be good and do that…”

She bit her lip trying to keep quiet but couldn’t hold for long. She trembled in his arms as if the winds of Lankiveil were beating against her, but every part of her was hot. Feyd kept driving his cock into her and rubbing her clit against his sac, and held her tighter when she began to scream. Her core clenched so tightly around him he couldn’t move, he might’ve ripped her open if he did. Her body suckled on his cock as if begging for it, as if her womb was thirsty.

He settled deep inside her and gave in. With a groan, he shot his cum straight into her flexing cervix and let its hard, small mouth kiss his spewing tip. She gasped at the feeling and almost cried, falling limp against his once again. His orgasm seemed to have satisfied her own and, as he kept giving her his cum, she started calming down. Feyd buried his moans in her neck with kisses and felt her whimpers dying out. His fingers stopped teasing her clit but he still held her, supporting her sapless body with his own.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, his eyes closed, mouth panting open. “Fuck, that was good…”

She winced something in reply, but whatever she meant to say, he loved it. Every part of her was sweet to him right now. Their hearts beat frantically together, he could feel it right against his chest, and through their veins Feyd knew their blood flowed to the same rhythm, carrying on it the same intoxicating pleasure. He’d taken her, she was his now, no matter what happened next.

“You were perfect,” he whispered, his arm relaxing from around her waist to caress her body once again.

He gently pet her hips, her chest, her breasts, then gingerly turned her head to the side so he could kiss her. She seemed half-asleep and yet alert, her eyes on fire as they looked down into his. Feyd pressed loving pecks into her mouth and breathed her in, swallowing all of her in every way he could. He tilted her head back a little and began to kiss her neck, then lower to her chest as he let her lean back. The length of his arm supported her back. She winced at the position, or perhaps it was the stiffness in her arms still tied behind her back, but he would fix that soon. Now, he wanted to explore her.

His kisses travelled messily across her torso until he found the soft swell of a breast and captured her nipple in his mouth. It felt silkier and more messy than before, and when he opened his eyes he realised her hair was veiling her. Her skin peeked through, and somehow it looked even more arousing. Feyd moaned and covered her breast with his lips, tasting her sweet and sweaty skin among the texture of her locks.

She lay limp in his arms like a doll but she was still clenching on his cock. He only needed to flex his hips a little for a puddle of their mix of cum slipped out of her puffy hole. She whimpered and squirmed, ashamed and aroused all over again. Their juices pooled underneath his balls and from there started dripping down onto the floor. She gasped, and when Feyd opened his eyes to see he giggled — she was shocked at the sight.

“It’s… grey, nearly black,” she muttered, her voice so weak and rough he almost didn’t recognise it. She sounded deliciously exhausted.

“Mhmm…”

“Ah… mmm… My arms hurt…”

“Mhmm…”

With a parting kiss, he released her nipple from between his lips and straightened himself in his seat again.

“You’re really beautiful,” said Feyd, admitting it for the first time out loud. “Next time I fuck you, I want to look at you the whole while.”

She held his gaze — not without some difficulty — and swallowed the knot in her throat. However eager she looked to be finally free, she seemed not to relish the prospect of a repeat performance. Feyd tried not to let it bother him too much.

[katsukikitten]

Akaza goes crazy when your bra and panties match even when you don't mean too. Even when it's just a random black bra and thong that happened to be in the clean clothes that you put on to go to the store real quick and then you put his hoodie on and walk to the dryer to get your jeans.

How is he not supposed to fuck you like that?

Bent over and your ass looks so fucking good like that, pussy fat and peaking out from the too small fabric that has his inked digits pressing into the thing fabric. Gently keeping you bent like that as he lets his fingers roll over your clit through your underwear until you're whining for him to stop. But it's too late now, his cock is oh so hard and you have such a warm leaking cunt that he needs to stuff.

Pulling the black fabric to the side to watch silvery strings stick to it before they snap from how he pushes it away. Giving him access to your crying cunt that he stuffs his fingers in. Fucking you gently with them just so that when he does bully his cock in it won't be too much.

Just enough that there's a small chance you'll cum from the mix of pleasure and pain as the air rushes from your lungs. He'll sigh when he's fully in you as he always does. You feel like home how could he not.

It's fast, his cock sheathed in you, pouty face as you look over your shoulder while he props you up to lean over the dryer so you can take him without effort, so he can give you the princess treatment you deserve.

Thrusting into you once when you open your glossy lips to protest, that you should be shopping but this is also a punishment for trying to go without him. For trying to be too independent when you need your scary guard dog, even if he knows you don't.

Grinding into you slowly, harshly snapping the string of your thong against your ass.

"Yer tellin me ya didn't want me to fuck you baby?" He pushes up his hoodie on your gorgeous body so he can see the arch of your back. So he can press and force it more as you take him. Another harsh thrust and you're cumming again.

"'kaza!" You whine, desperately grabbing at anything for purchase but all that there is are clean and neatly folded blankets. Fucks into you so harshly the dryer moves, pulling your hips back so that it isn't so much lost contact. Letting your squelching cunt, wanton moans, and scrap or the dryer on the old tile of your shared home fill the room.

Grunting loudly, praising how well you take him and how you cream his cock so nicely. The midnight ring of ink around the base covered in rings of your pleasure and the sight makes him insane. Makes him fuck you harder and faster until his abdomen starts to clench, until his sac tightens and he leans over you. Gently tilting your chin to face him as he slips his tongue into your mouth, both of you hold eye contact with half mast eyes as you cum. He fills your cunt with sticky hot white and you greedily milk him for more. The two of you stay like that a long moment, until he's softening in your cunt.

Pulling out reluctantly but not with out a kiss. Taking a clean rag to wipe you off before he gently guides your thong back into place. Messily cleaning his cock, taking the clean boxers of his that you fisted for purchase before slapping your ass hard enough to leave a welt.

"Princess, knows better than to leave the house without me."

To anyone else it would sound possessive, borderline abusive but that isn't what he means at all. You always have a choice to go alone, to see your friends whenever you like and to cancel any plans you may have had with him. What he means is he doesn't like when you try to fall back on your hyper independence, when you refuse to let him help you in an attempt to distance yourself from him, your loving husband , because you think you're relying on him too much.

That's his job and he'll tell you and show you as many times as it takes your bratty ass to get that you're his to spoil and his alone.

He softens his features, rubs the hand print on your ass gently and kisses your slowing pulse. His ringed hand over yours, squeezing as his free hand slips to straighten you. To help you into your jeans even though you have to jump a bit and he fixes any hair that's been misplaced.

"Just give me five minutes and I'll be ready sweetheart."

[fuctacles]

*puts mouth on microphone* I would like to ask about single dad steve for WIP title game please

hahah, can you believe i wrote this over a year ago, then promptly went 5k deep into the continuation and immediately forgot about it? bonkers. hahah. Here's a part of it. And here's the next part.

Just as Steve expected, his neighbors started giving him the stink eye as soon as they got wind of what was happening in his garage. Eddie even offered to close it up not to make a scene but Steve protested the idea. Said he’s not going to let himself be terrorized in his own home and more so won’t let his guests suffocate in a closed garage.

Every Tuesday Steve was preparing dinner to the sound of metal vibrating through the walls. When he got a free moment, waiting for the water to boil or the oven to heat up, he would step into the little rehearsal space.

Corroded Coffin was just an arm’s reach away whenever he felt like listening in. He just had to open the door and could sit on one of the steps leading into the garage. The guys played many original songs but just as many covers, some of which Steve recognized. He has always been a pop guy himself, but both Billy and Max liked some harsher music. It grew on him regardless if he liked it or not.

And watching them play felt amazing. Sometimes, between being a single parent and owning a hair salon, he felt older than he actually was. But right outside his door, in his space, there were four guys his age, jumping around the garage with contagious energy and playing songs from simpler times. He found himself tapping his foot to a cover of Queen. To think that at first, he was hesitant to let them practice here. Now it was a highlight of his week.

Max’s teacher, Eddie, was jumping around like it was a real stage, not a cramped square of stone flooring. He was the lead guitarist, which Steve knew thanks to his kid’s lengthy ramblings about her teacher. The guy also did most of the singing, but all of them joined in, depending on the song. It was clear though who was the frontman of their band.

They were playing an especially energetic song tonight, one that left Steve bopping his head happily. The members of Corroded Coffin shared the sentiment, jumping around and swooshing their fairly impressive manes of hair.

Eddie noticed him halfway through the song and grinned like he always did. Steve grinned back, genuinely happy for being able to have his own little show in the cookie-cutter cul-de-sac in the middle of the day.

But the music teacher didn’t stop there. He approached the steps Steve was sitting on and motioned him to join them. Steve looked at him with confusion and Eddie used the seconds-long break in his part of the song to pull him up. He fumbled for a second but the overall energy and Munson’s feral grin loosened him enough that he let himself be crash-coursed into headbanging.

He hasn’t felt more alive in years.

Eddie played his guitar, jumping around Steve and throwing his hair around. Most of the singing in this song was done by Jeff so besides playing the guitar he could do as much of a show as he wanted. When the track came to an end, they were both panting, leaning into each other and grinning. Steve couldn’t stop the breathy laugh that escaped him.

“Have I told you guys how great you are yet?”

“Only every Tuesday!” Gareth piped up from behind his drums, grinning. Eddie laughed as well.

“Didn’t know it was your scene, Harrington,” Eddie teased with a glint in his eye. Steve shrugged.

“Picked up some stuff from my ex,” he explained shortly.

Eddie quirked up his eyebrow with interest, strumming his guitar softly.

“Was she a metalhead or something?”

Steve observed him for a second, considering if he should correct him. It’s been already a month since they first met and the initial interest he had in the musician was only growing. Maybe it was a good idea to come out and test the waters. Worst case scenario he would have enough of a reason to drop this feeling before it turned into something more.

“He had a thing for classic rock.”

A look of surprise passed through the man’s face. He quickly schooled it into something friendly, but Steve could tell there were a million questions buzzing beneath.

“I see. Well, great to see some of the Hawkins folks educated,” he grinned, and it was genuine enough that Steve knew he didn’t have to worry about any kind of prejudice. He did a cursory glance around the other band members but they either weren’t listening or didn’t care about his impromptu coming out. Some of the tension seeped out of his bones. He motioned to the steps he just abandoned.

“I have some coke if you’re interested.”

Eddie’s features softened.

“Dude, you’re letting us use the garage, we should be treating you.”

Steve scoffed.

“Either you drink it or Max and you don’t want to see her on this amount of caffeine.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, and it warmed Steve all over knowing he caused it.

“Okay, fair. Thank you, then,” he smiled genuinely, disarming Steve.

They had the sodas while Steve came back to the kitchen to cook the pasta. He was still waiting for Max to come back from school too. She had basketball practice that day, which she picked up in honor of her brother, after bullying the teachers long enough to put together a small team of girls to play. The dead brother spiel worked in her favor of course. 

When the dinner was mostly ready, he stepped back into the garage, expecting another song he didn’t recognize, but instead, Eddie looked up at him, barely breaking out of their idle jamming.

“Do you know the words to Should I Stay or Should I Go?”

Steve frowned, taken aback by the abrupt question.

“I think so?” he answered hesitantly.

“Sweet,” Eddie grinned back at him. “Wanna sing for us?”

“Uh,” he hesitated, taken aback.

“C’mon, we’ll sing together,” Eddie offered and Steve hesitantly nodded. Eddie didn’t waste time and pulled him to the mic standing in the middle. It was the only one they had, rotating between Eddie and Jeff.

The familiar notes played around him and nudged with the metalhead's arm right against his, he joined him in singing.

Eddie’s voice was breathy from exertion, from playing for the past hour and jumping around. But here was a gleam in his eye, a delight from playing and maybe, maybe, from Steve agreeing to join them.

When the chorus came on, Steve felt confident enough to hip-check him out of the way and hoard the microphone for himself, He could hear Eddie cackling next to him, but he was now focused on singing and enjoying himself.

The song ended with cheers and a distant clapping. Someone whistled and Steve noticed Max applauding from the top of the stairs.

“Hey, if you’d want to sing for us sometimes, hit us up,” Jeff threw his arm around him. “You’re good,” he praised and Steve grinned his thanks.

Before he could say anything else though, someone was punching him in the ribs. He winced, knowing full well who it might be.

“You’re supposed to be my father, not a cool dude.”

Steve frowned.

“I don’t see how I can’t be both.”

“It’s a well-known natural order,” Eddie chimed in unprompted. “Parents can’t be cool.”

“Huh. Then I guess I should give you up,” he said, mock-seriously, making Max roll her eyes.

“Suuure, after all the legal shit we’ve been through,” she scoffed, looking at him in that way only teenagers could.

“Well, I think all the natural rules of a normal family are above us anyway, don’t you think?’ he raised his eyebrows, making Max smirk devilishly.

“Hell yeah. Fuck the rules.”

Steve pressed his lips not to scold her for language, but he looked to the side where, as he expected, Eddie was donning his proud teacher look. It warmed him up inside.

“Fuck the rules indeed, Red,” he grinned, holding his hand out for a high five,

Steve shook his head before gathering Max towards the kitchen.

“You guys keep it up, Max and I are gonna have dinner. Yell if you need anything.”

“Actually,” Eddie started, making both Harringtons turn in interest. “We have a show on Saturday if you guys wanna come.”

“Can I?” Max asked immediately, eyes darting between her teacher and Steve.

“We don’t usually have an audience this young, but with a guardian, it’s not gonna be a problem,” said Eddie, turning his gaze to Steve. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I usually work on the weekends, but I guess we could drop by.”

Max whooped happily and Steve couldn’t help but smile himself. He actually really wanted to see Eddie on stage, if he was anything like he saw today it would be a treat to witness.

“See you at the Hideout at 8 PM then,” Eddie grinned at them before they retreated to the kitchen.

At the table, Max eyed Steve with curiosity, pushing the broccoli on her plate out of the way. He was chewing with a distant look on his face, a foot tapping to the beat coming faintly from the closed door.

“The Hideout is a kinda shady place, don’t you think?”

Steve made a noncommittal grunt and shrugged before finally focusing his gaze on her. He frowned, cocking his head.

“Do you not wanna go?”

She scoffed, getting angry for something Steve couldn’t grasp.

“Do you want me to go?”

His frown deepened as he straightened up.

“Okay, wait. Do I want you to go to a concert with me? A concert we were invited to by your music teacher?” He raised his eyebrows, trying to find a hole in the idea.

“A metal concert. In a bar,” she pointed out, squinting at him. He squinted right back.

“So? You’ll be with me. I can get a leash if you’re insinuating you’re gonna cause problems.”

She puffed her cheeks, raising her hands.

“No insinuating here,” she assured. “Just, it’s not very,” she waved her hand. “Responsible parent of you.”

“No, but a very cool parent, I hope.”

“In your dreams”, she scoffed.

He smiled at her. She didn’t question his decision anymore, but Steve could feel her gaze on him later when they waved the band goodbye.

[empthy1]

AFTER MIDNIGHT ꩜ .ᐟ quinn fabray x reader

character study (partially.) loved writing this. butch!reader implied, i hope my love for butches comes through. 1.75k words exactly.

Her momma always said that bad girls were the ones who ended up in nightclubs, indulging in alcohol and not God's teachings. The girls like that never found good husbands and never formed the families they were meant to. That's what she always said.

It was frequently hissed in her ear, the unfamiliar curl of the word "heretics" confusing her yet nestling unpleasantly in her mind.

Her momma made her promise she'd never become one of those girls. Would be pious, follow the Gospel, and find a God-fearing husband.

So, little Lucy Quinn Fabray, all of seven and sat on her momma's knee, did the only obvious thing when confronted with her seemingly imminent future.

She murmured a soft "yes, momma," and clutched tighter at her momma's modest yellow cardigan.

She was immediately chastised for that. There wasn't much she wasn't reprimanded for.

"Don't call me 'momma'." Her momma mother had huffed, pretty face tightening with annoyance and the hypocritical smell of alcohol on her breath. The line of her mouth thins contemplatively. "You make me feel old enough already. And don't wrinkle my clothes. I'll have to steam this. Again."

Now, some sixteen years later, here she was—going against the words she'd held as gospel for so long.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She nervously smooths down her too-short dress, trying to tug it past her upper thigh. She's not very successful. The amount of sequins sewn onto the garment would make her father red-faced and Kurt proud. She'd know—he picked it out for her.

"Please, Quinn. You have to get this one! It'd look so good on you." Is all she remembered before having the pink silk thrown at her. She had squawked indignantly at the impact, the hanger hitting her temple and catching in her hair.

Despite her (and Santana's) protests—"Oh, you are not letting Jesus Girl wear my nice dress from Sacs!"—she ended up in the form-fitting fabric regardless.

They hadn't even bothered to accompany her, leaving her to traverse her first club alone.

Sure. She was Quinn Fabray. HBIC, Head Cheerio, ex-Skank and a generally competent person. But she was competent in Nowhere, Ohio. Or in the friendly town of college students and old people that was New Haven. Sure, it was the third biggest city in Connecticut, but it was Connecticut.

This was New York City. This was shady alleys, dark, dank corners and the widest variety of people she'd ever seen.

The people in front of her in line were two obviously gay and already intoxicated men. At eleven at night.

The person behind her? A woman so tall and in heels so high she's sure if she turned around she'd make eye contact with her stomach.

She's not used to these types of people. This type of place.

The bouncer is burlier than ninety-nine percent of guys she sees at Yale—nice Polos and slim, toned arms replaced by a regular black tee, a... leather harness and arms like boulders. He scowls where they smile, but his hands are gentler when he takes her ID than they'd been with her. Hm.

She's visually assaulted by bright lights of every color. They flash against the wall and in her eyes, periodically illuminating the people around her.

Some taller than her, some shorter. Some slim like a willow with curling limbs, others sturdy with strong hands and a solid stance. Men, women, people who's gender she can't discern, with long hair, cropped cuts or anything in between in any color she could imagine.

She doesn’t have long to take in any of this. There’s a swell of people at her back and a melting pot at her front. She’s been here before, knows the rules—acclimate or die. Same as high school.

She’s seen the movies. She knows what’s supposed to happen. She’ll walk up to the bar, order a drink, and a handsome, tall man will hop out of nowhere and pay for it. A couple months of nondescript dating, they’ll be married.

Not exactly how her mother hoped it’d happen, but she won’t be too disappointed. She’ll just be glad Quinn is married and she can finally talk about her in church without the pitying coos of other moms.

All she can think is "yeah, scratch that." when the person who saddles up next to her is not a charming, dark-haired man with dimples and is, instead, the most handsome woman she's ever seen grinning at the bartender over her shoulder.

"Yeah, Mike. She's on my tab. Thanks, man." A regular, clearly. And... not the man she expected. Not a man at all.

She'd always thought wry smiles and crooked grins were inherently smug. They'd always been on the faces of boys trying to trick their way into her skirt, thinking themselves clever.

But this grin, the one you direct at her? She likes it more than she should.

"I haven't seen you around here before." Your voice is loud, elevated over the pulsing music. You'd turned to face her, elbow on the bar and strong-looking hand under your chin.

"You're either new to the city or new to the queer scene."

...they sent her to a gay bar. She's going to wring Kurt's neck. And then apologize so he lets her stay in his apartment while she nurses this humiliation.

Is that why the bouncer was in leather?

"...yeah. I'm new to both. I'm here visiting friends." She's not used to raising her voice—it's unladylike, her mother would say. Women were to be seen, not heard. Her volume is low, too low to be heard over the deafening music.

You have to lean closer, shift and tilt your head so she can repeat herself straight into your ear. The music booms, but she swears she can hear you inhale when her hot breath brushes the cartilage. Or when she cups a bare bicep, leaning into the warmed skin.

She had to catch herself, she justifies. She definitely lost her balance.

Except for the fact that she can dance in six-inch platforms and these are only four. There's no way she'd be tripping into you, especially only one drink deep.

Speaking of dancing.

It might be the shot (or three) she'd downed while you two were conversing and laughing and flirting but she wanted to dance. She'd missed it. There isn't many places to go dancing in New Haven, and not many people she'd go with.

So she tugs your elbow, says something that's not much more than an enthusiastic, unintelligible giggle and tears off towards the floor. You stubble behind her, chuckling under your breath when she bumps into some guy. Evidently, you're better at holding your alcohol.

She knows the lessons from bible camp. She'd gone there seven years—they're practically ingrained in her psyche. The most important one, plastered on posters and said by any adult in hearing range at the Summer's End Dance?

Leave room for Jesus.

But alcohol's a funny thing. And her head's all wrong—she feels mushy.

She likes your biceps. And your hair. The ease at which she wraps in your arms, her own fingers curling around the back of your neck, is atypical of her.

And there's definitely no room for Jesus when the sturdy line of you presses right up against her.

She'd like to say it was the press of people keeping you together, but even through the intoxication she knows she's lying to herself. She likes you. It's weird. Even among cheerleaders, with teasing skirts and flouncy hair, she'd never felt... this.

The short crop of your hair is increasingly more appealing. The strength in your muscles, and the charming black slacks that hug you nicely draw her more than long, batting lashes.

There weren't people like you in Lima. A voice in her mind traitorously murmurs, sounding too much like Santana. Maybe that's why this took you so long, Q.

The beat's fast, but you're both too drunk to articulate anything more than a stationary sway.

That's fine with her. She gets to feel your arms around her waist and rest her head on your homely shoulder. The swaying motions keep her steady, stop the stumbling she's bound to do once she's out of your grip.

As songs go by, she starts to go down, down, down. Sobering up, yes, but not expecting the wave of drowsiness that comes with it. She clings to you ever tighter.

"I think I need to go home..." Is mumbled into your ear, her lilting, quiet tone laced with breathiness. It makes you shiver, and she bites back a grin. Your body shifts, supporting more of her weight to help her out of the club—hand splaying over her lower back. So she did find a gentleman tonight.

Once you both slip out of the club—though a backdoor you were totally allowed to use, ignoring the Employees Only sign—she smiles. The city air is cool, brushing over her skin and making her sigh. As you release her, she looses her footing, but is able to recover with a (still slightly tipsy) laugh.

"Get home safe, Quinn." She hears you murmur. A pleased sigh escapes her at the kiss you press to her cheek. Naturally leaning into the touch, she almost misses how you grasp her forearm—deftly scrawling a phone number in Sharpie, big enough to span the whole area.

"Call me." And then you're off. The bouncer gives you a wave as you stroll past, shooting you a grin once he catches sight of her.

Whew.

...should she call a taxi?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She stumbles up to Kurt's apartment door, firmly feeling the effects of the alcohol. Bracing against the doorframe, she can't help but huff as she drunkenly fumbles with the key. Not quite sober yet.

Opening the door causes her friends to freeze—Santana and Kurt being in the middle of putting up a... rainbow balloon arch?

"Oh, there's no way I was wrong. You weren't supposed to be here before morning! Why aren't you with a lady friend, Q?" Santana says, eyes narrowing with discontent at her arrival (typical) and at her... lack of a lady friend.

Santana sent her out to hookup with someone. With a woman. She tried to orchestrate her gay awakening.

She's too drunk to think about that. Or the fact that she did, in fact, have a gay awakening. She doesn't even say anything. She doesn't need to.

She just raises her forearm—dark with the digits of your phone number—and grins at the cheers she gets in response.

[mtftm-bustyboy]

Amber's Addiction CW//: Detransition Kink MtFtM, Accidental Exhibitionism, Gooning, Identity Death, Corruption

Amber was in shock. As she scrolled through her feed, she had come across something that was like a slap to the face. Among all of her mutuals reblogs and posts, that were broadly speaking celebrating trans pride or sharing cute art, amber could simply not believe what she was seeing. A video of her trans friend, Stephanie, being roughly fucked by an ambiguous stud. Amber's face contorted with horror and disgust, as she heard the pleas and deep grunts for "more" escaping Stephanie's agape mouth with every thrust. Stephanie looked very different between now and her last post she made 7 months ago, but was still recognizable. She was once a petite, effeminate figure, that had an enviable transition. But now, it was as if she had stopped taking her hormones all together. Her body, although still slender, was much more masculine and boyish. Were her breasts once lay, thick pecks of lean muscle took their place. Her cherub facial features had been chiseled away, into a handsome visage. But most notable of all, was their cock. So long and hard. Twitching away with pleasure, as the stud powerfully hammered into their backside.

Amber wanted to look away, she wanted to look away so badly, but something was stopping her.

Her eyes slowly lingered over to the text that accompanied the video. Trying her best not to sneak glances at the vulgar display, she read that Stephanie had "given up on being a fakegirl" and was "now his daddy's boytoy, called Stephan". It closed on a statement: "You fakegirls should really detransition too, I know most of you don't really want to be girls away~".

Amber felt a weird shiver run down her body, not discernible between disgust or arousal. She couldn't believe Stephani-, Stephan would do something like this. Sh-, the-, he was such a shy and kind person before. Why wouldn't he just announce his detransition and move on? Why all the degenerate, transphobic theatrics? As the questions accumulated in her mind, her eyes drifted back to the video of Stephan. He had this dumb, happy smile on his face that would occasionally shift to an O of deep pleasure. His cock somehow seemed to be even harder, with dripping precum beginning to soil his bed sheets. The shiver began to lean towards arousal.

With a sudden need to distract herself, Amber turned to the comments. A small handful of her mutuals shared a similar feeling, showing their disgust. But to her surprise, as she turned over to the likes, their number completely overshadowed the small amount of protest. Hundreds of likes, quickly becoming thousands, as the same accounts and mutuals that were posting trans pride posts merely moments ago showed a silent support among a tide of others.

Amber finally found the willpower to close the tab. She quickly got up from her desk and decided it was time for a quick walk outside to clear her head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Amber slowly sauntered around her street, she couldn't help but see small glimpses of Stephan's video replaying in her mind. As she tried to distract herself, looking at the empty cul-de-sac scenery, something within her stirred - lingering on just how, happy he looked. Deeply pleasured, yes, but the way he smiled? It was like nothing she had seen from Stephan before. Even if he had become this, depraved pervert, he seemed so genuinely euphoric... She began to linger on that word, as she slipped into the creeping thoughts and memories of Stephan. Taking in his chiseled physique, his handsome face - his big, fat, juicy cock. Amber halted her pace, as she took in every forbidden detail in her minds eye. As the thoughts began to enshroud Amber's mind, she was suddenly caught off guard as she found herself imagining what she would look like, bouncing on such a masculine stud like an eager boyt-...

No. No. No. She wasn't like him. She isn't a debased "fakegirl". She wasn't faking anything. And she isn't fantasizing about this. She's just feeling, confused. That's the word for all this. Confusion. She was simply curious and perplexed at the whole ordeal, and nothing more.

She tried to maintain her composure as she walked into a backstreet path to clear her head.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amber huffed as she closed her front door. Slowly taking off her coat, her eyes drifted to the mirror that flanks her homes corridor. She looked like a complete mess, far sweatier than when she normally comes back from a walk. And most importantly of all, was the massive bulge of an erection that proudly stretched the fabric of her sweatpants. She looks down sheepishly. It had been months since her coc-, penis had been this engorged. She couldn't believe she hadn't even noticed it. Especially with how tight it felt.

She wondered, in horror, at how long it had been like this. Did she, walk past other people looking like this? The question began to rake at her mind, as thoughts back to passersby flickered in her head. Some of them certainly tried their best to look the other way. But a few smiled back, eagerly.

Ambers mind began to race at the idea. As did her cock begin to twitch, begging for her attention. She then, made the connection that she had so pleasantly ignored all this time. As she was lingering on Stephan's video... she was walking around the street with a massive erection...

The shame of it all washed over her, crashing into another tide of sudden, inescapable pleasure. There was no denying it now. The video. The shame. The, dysphoria and confusion of it all. It made Amber horny.

She squirmed, as a last attempt to step away from the feeling. But was quickly swept back as she felt her member wobble up against her sweatpants. A small moan escaped her lips, as she staggered her way into her bedroom and opened up her PC. As it booted up, she practically tore off her clothes until she was just in her pretty, satin, panties; that now barely contained her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Immediately, she opened up her socials, and furiously clicked through to find Stephan's account. As she scrolled, she came upon fresh content to indulge her feral gaze. Whilst she had gone for a walk, Stephan had clearly been busy. Showing off his new, lean, twink body; with accompanying captions, like "Im such a good boy for Daddy 😵‍💫", and "my fakegirl self died on my Daddy's dick lmao".

Her other hand slithered its way to her cock, pulling furiously at her tight panties.

Deep waves of pleasure swarmed her mind, as her petite, manicured hand tugged away. She felt so wrong doing this. Amber never liked masturbating before, it always made her feel so shameful and dysphoric.

She couldn't help but stare longingly at every post. Among all of the arousal, confusion, and dysphoria, she began to feel a burning envy creep up from her stomach. Stephan looked so hot in every picture, every video; and he looked so, happy and dazed. Amber began tugging at her cock with a mix of hatred and jealousy. Why doesn't being a girl make her feel as good as him? Shes felt cute in dresses before, sure, but never so - blissful.

As she scrolled, her envy boiled away as the confusion swept away at her own confidence and identity. Soon, she was becoming completely lost in the pleasure of pumping her cock up and down to care. She hadn't felt this good in ages. She never knew her cock could make her feel this, fucking, good.

As one hand pumped, and the other scrolled, Amber began to come across various reblogs of other mutuals announcing their detransition - the same as Stephan. Each and every one, sharing the rhetoric, that they were so much happier as " femboys" or "himbos", or just "guys". All of them mocking their past "fakegirl" selves.

Amber's eyes were locked onto her screen in a hypnotic trance, as every pulse of pleasure from her cock echoed throughout her body. Her mind, a complete and utter haze, it was as if she began to think with her cock.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours had passed, whether Amber recognized it so or not. And the shame of it all had been pumped away into an addicting sensation. "She could get used to this", she muttered to herself.

Her body was completely drenched and hot, her arm now rhythmically taking its time to pump her shaft. Although she was exhausted, she just couldn't stop herself from scrolling and searching for more posts. For more 'fakegirls' that have tossed aside their identities for the pleasures of their natural body.

Her light moans had become deeper huffs and grunts, her voice training slowly crumbling away, returning her to a more boyish tone.

As she took notice to her change of tone, she found herself overcome with the urge to moan aloud "I'm a dirty fakegirl~". Where shame would of once overtook her, her expression lit up into a dumb smile. "Nnnghh, I'm a confused fakegirl who loves his cooock~"

Amber slowly contemplated what she just said. It was one thing to admit she was a fakegirl, but to so eagerly use his as a pronoun? It just made his cock twitch in his hand... "Fuck... my cock feels so good." The thought quickly took him away from any ounce of shame, and the dumb smile split across his face once more.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a notification pulled his attention away to a DM. It was Stephan...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FakegirlFemboy (Stephan): Soooo cutie - its been a while :P . I noticed you've been scrolling and liking my blog. You seem to be really taking a liking to all my fakegirl correction posts~ In fact, you've liked so many I couldn't help but get a feeling you were crying for my attention... How about I help you out, just like my Daddy did? I know a quick way to fix you.

Amber's heart raced, as he found himself responding with hesitation.

HRT-Is-Praxis (Amber): Yes please. Stephan replied in haste.

FakegirlFemboy: Good boy~ I always knew you were a faker. Those selfies of you smiling never looked right lol. But we're going to fix that now, don't worry honey~ Now,you're going to do a few things for me - but most importantly before we do anything else, we need to change your name to something more manly ;P I was thinking... Ambrose. Does that sound good to you? Amber deliberated for a moment, and thought back onto how good he would look bouncing on top of a handsome stud. HRT-Is-Praxis: Ambrose sounds good. FakegirlFemboy: I thought you'd like it~ Good boy, Ambrose. So, I'm going to send you a couple links. The first one is to a detransition kink discord server; you're gonna find lots of familiar names in there, so you're gonna fit in just fine. The second one is a google drive that has detransition kink goon captions, MtFtM hypno videos, and even simple mantras for you to edge your cock to; once you're settled, you can feel free to add your own content~ And lastly, I'm gonna hook you up with Daddy~ He's gonna break that fakegirl brain of yours, until you're just another one of his eager femboy sluts. Oh and of course you'll have to change up your blog lmao. "HRT-Is-Praxis" just isn't going to work anymore sweetie. Ambrose found himself pumping away again zealously, as the reality of the situation was hitting him. HRT-Is-Praxis: Thank you, sir, I can't wait to stop being a stupid fakegirl. FakegirlFemboy: Why wait silly? How about we get you setup with some detransition porn and hypno~ You can pump the fakegirl out of your cock tonight to get yourself ready for daddy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ambrose was edged out of his mind. With every pulse, his firm grip sliding up and down his cock, he was compelled to mutter some denouncement of his fakegirl self. As the soft tones of a baritone voices hummed away in his headphones, swarming his mind with thoughts of giving into his detransition. His brain fog turned into a thick haze. Ambrose wasn't capable of thinking with his head anymore. All he could mutter and moan about, was whatever his cock yearned for. As he pumped and pumped and pumped and pumped~ It was as if his 'fakegirl' self, where ever it was currently locked away in his mind, was slowly shrinking away into nothingness.

One by one, Ambroses memories began to fade away as the hypnosis drowned out his mind. He felt his urges erupt into a blazing fire, as his moans turned into animalistic groans. His hand, dripping in sweat and pre cum, tugged and fondled his dripping, twitching cock. A sudden rush of orgasm slowly crept on the horizon, as the memories of being a fakegirl has all but escaped him, and his current task of repeating allowed "I'm a good boy" set his mind into pinpoint focus.

And as the hypnotic voice commanded: "Good boy, now cum for me - slut" Ambrose released rope after rope in a stream of ecstacy, the same dumb, euphoric expression contorting across his face.

With heavy breaths, he lay back in his chair, still slowly pumping away at his cock. Ambrose began to contemplate, briefly, about what he was, or what he was doing. Not long before his attention was caught back to the hypnotic voice and porn.

Even his morning alarm could not seperate him from his new fate. Bound to indulging in his cock, until Amber would never be heard from again - and only Ambrose would remain.

[sillyteecup]

Morning Delights (but make 'em spicy)

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Oral (male receiving)

Suggestive content

Mentions of sex

A.N: Okay so because I have a huge "Y/N" phobia, once I create an O.C to pair someone with, I stick with that shit. So like right now I'm not sure if I should just make it a little mini-series of oneshots or nah. Anyway, this little piece was inspired by Warmth by Janet Jackson, so yeah🤭. I hope you like it. Enjoy❤️

Siya was a firm believer in eye contact. In everything she did, she made sure that she commanded attention and respect by staring right into the souls of her audiences souls. Whether it was a conversation, a speech, a performance, and most specially: leaving Josh weak in the knees as she sucked his soul out from his dick.

It was 3:58 am in Cape Town and they were both barely awake in the living room of their villa after basically sleeping through the rest of whatever movie they had been watching before. The only thing illuminating the room was the TV in the background and the red LED lights they had turned on for ambiance the night before.

Neither of them could tell you how they had gotten into that position even if they tried. Yet there Siya was, sitting on the back of her heels, perched between his legs with her hands on his thighs for support. She bobbed her head up and down, keeping her lips tight around him. Her tongue moved up and down his shaft with her head, eliciting the occasional gasp and curse at the ceiling. Her left hand moved to fondle his balls, thumb moving in circles over the sac.

"Fuck," Josh sighed, throwing his head back into the back of the couch.

Siya removed her hand from his balls and dug her pink acrylics into the backs of his thighs; a silent command for him to look at her while she took him in her throat. Josh shook his head in response, too winded to speak. Siya popped him out of her mouth and took his dick into her left hand, running her thumb over his tip. This got Josh's head to shoot up with a look of dismay painted on his sweat decorated face.

"What did I say about taking your eyes off me?" Siya asked, her voice raspy from the sleep and having Josh so deep in her mouth.

"Baby-" Josh began to protest as his hands desperately reached for the back of her head.

Siya however moved her head out of his reach and smirked. "Uh-uh, I asked you a question," she said.

Josh looked at her pleadingly, voice strained as he answered, "You said to keep my eyes on you when you got me down your throat."

Siya then moved to plant soft, wet kisses up his thigh, her tongue drawing circles on his skin. She took his dick into her hand once again, lightly tracing his tip with her tongue before spitting on the same hand. Her hand began to slowly run up and down his shaft, making Josh bite his lip almost hard enough to draw blood as he kept his gaze locked on hers.

"See? You can do it when it's just my hand. Now let's see if you can watch me till you cum," she said. Her lips closed around his tip, tongue ghosting right over the soft spot between his tap and the rest of his dick.

"Shit, Siya...need you," he groaned, fighting the urge to clench his eyes shut.

"Mhmm?" Siya hummed around Josh. making him nod eagerly.

"Yeah, need you so badly baby, fuck," he said, desperation seeping into his voice.

At that, she took him all the way into her mouth, hitting her past her Uvula and down the back of her throat. Siya kept him there for a moment, feeling his dick twitch on her tongue. She began to move her head, keeping a steady pace and essentially using his dick to bruise the back of her throat. She felt her eyes prickle with tears as she took in the sight of her man writhing and fruitlessly grab at the armrests. His strained moans and grunts driving her to go deeper and deeper.

"Baby, I-fuck I'm gonna..." Josh sputtered, struggling to get out a full sentence.

Understanding her boyfriend's warning, she nodded before taking him deep into her throat and keeping him there. Josh let out a choked groan as his seed spilled into her mouth. The tears that had welled up earlier finally spilled down her cheeks as she took the last of his cum down her throat.

Josh regained his composure and nodded at Siya as an affirmation that he was finished. Siya popped him out of her mouth and stuck her tongue out teasingly for him to see the mess he had made on it. Josh let out a breathy chuckle, while she swallowed the last of his seed that was left in her mouth. She then got up from her position on the ground and moved to straddle him, settling her knees on the sides of his waist.

The pair smiled lazily at each other as the soft orange glow of the sunrise shone through the blinds and curtains. They shared a sloppy kiss, tongues passionately moving in sync to one another. Her nails run through the hair on the back his head right down to his nape while his hands gently gripped the thick flesh of her ass.

Her lips moved from his to his jaw, leaving a trail of wet kisses down to his neck. She sucked gently at his neck ellicitng a gasp from him. His hands ran up and down her back, nails digging into her skin occasionally as she gave him a hickey. Her lips released his skin, but not before letting her teeth graze the now darkened patch of skin.

Their lust-filled eyes met, taking each other's flustered states in. Their hair slightly messy from running their fingers through it, their lips swollen from the passionate kiss they just shared, and now the dark mark forming on the base of Josh's collarbone. Not to mention Josh's hard-on pricking at Siya's warm, wet core.

"What?" Siya asked mischievously as Josh's gaze and begun to burn at her skin.

"Just admiring my beautiful, beautiful woman that's all," Josh replied with a lazy smirk.

Siya grinned as she felt the heat run up to her cheeks. "Yeah?" she said, lightly biting her lip.

"Yeah," he said before sitting up to lean. closer to her ear I'm also thinking about how in a minute, I'm gonna have you bent over the back of this couch and fuck you till you can't even remember your own name," he growled lowly, making her shift unconsciously on his lap to create some friction.

"Promise?" she asked, her grin now a devilish smirk.

Josh planted his hands on her waist and bucked his hips to grind up against her clothes pussy, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Does that feel like a promise?"

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Fujin x Reader: Bonded (Smut)

Warning: SMUT. Probably my spiciest one yet. And I never did a top reader before.

Context: Like shown above, Fujin is chained up. He'll be gagged too bc my mind is somewhere else to be creating a lot of dialogs.

He's bottom most of the chapter, but the ending implies he's a switch. (Hc of mine)

Now, why did I do it? Bc this man is breedable ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The sound of chains alerted you that Fujin has woken up. You could hear low grunts from him, too, as it sounds like he's trying to break out the restraints you put him in.

Setting your novel down to get up from your seat, you hummed to yourself, going to the room he's in to see him there -

Naked and completely vulnerable. With a white cloth, you tied around his mouth so he doesn't dare speak a word. His hair still remained in the iconic, long braid that slightly tickled his back.

When he hears your footsteps tap on the cold floor, he turns his head to you. His glowing eyes narrowed at you and let's out an affronted groan.

Yet, the blood was already rushing to his cock, making it erect and throb, showing off his eagerness for tonight's activities with you.

"Aww, happy to see me?" You playfully mocked, only causing a red hue to spread on his face, more muffled groans being released. He attempts to break his wrists out the chains but it's futile.

First thing you did approaching him was pressing your head against his and caressing his cheek, lovingly. The affection was returned, making you move to the next step.

Moving your hand down, you brush lightly against his shaft, earning a huffed breath for him and him to stir a bit.

You softly groped the sac beneath to get him more riled up before wrapping your hand around his erection, but not moving your hand just yet.

Soft lips started on his cheek and went down to his neck, passionately attacking there.

Fujin was getting aroused more by the second, and he tried to take matters in his hands and move his hips forward to get your hand to stimulate him, but it made you let go on his cock much to his dismay.

"Ah, ah." You scolded. "If you want me to please you, you'll have to be a good boy and be still."

This made Fujin more frustrated, him making muffled protests and being unable to stop moving around in the chains, really desperate for you to touch him. But his small little tantrum went away, and he stood still.

"Good boy." You cooed and wrapped your hand back around his cock to start pumping him slowly.

The bounded Lord looked down, watching your hand keep pace as his tip leaked out the clear, pre-liquid. He closes his eyes and keeps a steady breath as you pleasure him, with both your hand and the low praises you give him.

The scene itself is erotic, Fujin, a demigod whose duty is to protect Earthrealm, strong like an ox, at the mercy of a fragile mortal such as yourself.

Feeling the pleasure stop when you remove your hand, his eyebrows narrow, and he looks at you and let's out an angered whine.

"Patience, you." You reach behind him and tug on his braid as a warning for his attitude.

Dropping to your knees in front of him, he grew more excited knowing what's about to come. Again, unable to control himself, he moves his hips forward, trying to press himself against your lips.

You reverted your head away and pressed your hand against his thighs. "Hold still." You command, and he obeys.

Starting off, you left a few kisses on the tip and shaft, worshipping him like the sexy god he is. You lowly purred, pressing his dick against your face making sure you show how much you love him.

Tgen you took the hard length into your mouth and began getting to work for him quick. Your tongue pushed down beneath it, getting a good taste of him.

The sound of his cries of pleasure and the jingle of the chains urged you on to suck harder and bob your head faster. Only taking at least half his length in your mouth.

He just wishes he wasn't chained up. That way, he could let his carnal feeling take over and push your head down so you could take more, if not all, in that pretty throat of yours.

Yet, the higher being behaved himself and stilled himself, despite wanting to fuck your mouth in an unholy way. Fujin was slowly losing it, though.

That talented mouth was making it hard for him to just stand still, and you could tell he was damn well near. So you took another inch or two inside, and didn't retaliate when he thrusted lightly himself.

Knowing by his high moans, you moved your head back to have his tip rest on your tongue and awaited his tasty release to be pulsed out and paint your mouth.

Looking up at his expression, his eyes were rolling to the back of his head, and his pleasured cries were getting louder. Silly how a god can behave unholy. Making sounds a slut would.

Fujin eventually cums, releasing spurt after spurt in your mouth. You made sure absolutely nothing went to waste, keeping eye contact so he knows who owns and pleases him.

Drinking your desired treat, you made sure to show some on your tongue to him, making him flustered at the lewd look of you.

Finishing up, you unchained him so his arms could at least get a break. Though, if you really wanted to, you could've still kept him bound and play with him all night, maybe even late Morning. He is a god after all. All that stamina you can toy with as you see fit.

"How was that?" You ask him, taking off the gag and setting it aside.

"It was enjoyable." He lowly chuckles, gently taking your hand and guiding it to his face. You took the hint and rubbed it softly, feeling his gorgeous jawline.

"I love it when you take care of me in such a way that's sinful to a lord."

"Is the almighty, powerful wind god ashamed a mere mortal has control over him?" You mock in a high toned voice.

Fujin chuckles in a dark, yet sexy way. "Don't forget I let you restrict my movements, Y/n. Humble yourself."

"Sureeee." You roll your eyes.

Glowing eyes narrow with a spreading smirk at that little tone of yours, Fujin lifts you as if you're nothing. Your eyes widened and you yelped in surpise.

"Must I demonstrate how greater my strength is compared to yours.

"Haha.... No, you're making a pretty good demonstration right now." You replied, smiling nervously.

"Good." He sets you down, before lifting your chin up to tell you one more thing.

"Now, if it's completely fine with you, your lord would love to be pleased more~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm so sorry, I couldn't take it to Character ai. (Pls tell me I did good on this smut.)

[luveline]

Hi I’ve never actually sent a request before so I hope I’m doing this right lol. I was so excited when I saw you wanted to more writing for the Steve zombie au before the established relationship. I die for grumpy pining. I was thinking maybe more reluctant comforting like maybe a thunderstorm or something or honestly just whatever you see fit. I love your writing and your Steve is unmatched. Either way request taken or not I’m sending all the love and good vibes.

hi! thank you for your request my love! steve zombie au —you and steve are surviving together when a freak storm begins, and he can’t stop himself from trying to make you feel better. fem!reader

"In," Steve ushers quickly, "in, in!" 

You force yourself through a gap that's too small for you into the warehouse you've found and out of the rain, an instant bruise forming on your shoulder. You understand his hurry, but it really does hurt. He has similar trouble forcing himself inside. 

Thunder cracks behind him. You jump hard at the sound. "It sounds like it's right on top of us," you say. 

"It might be. Come on," he says, taking your arm into his icy hand, "this way." 

Worried that the storm might be winds from a hurricane at the East Coast, you and Steve had immediately abandoned your plan to start walking up highway I-69 and backtracked to the last building you'd seen on the way, a packing house for toiletries. You hadn't bothered coming inside beforehand, neither of you in want of any necessities that aren't canned goods (or, imagine, fresh food).

You wish you had. Not only would the storm have started while you were already sheltered, but you might have been able to navigate the absolute shitshow of a floor plan without nearly breaking your neck. 

You slip on a greasy patch of floor and Steve yanks you up. He doesn't do it to be cruel; if he hadn't pulled hard you would've fell flat on your face. 

"Shit," he hisses.

"Sorry–" 

"No, just– come on, this way," he says. 

His hair is plastered to his face, soaked despite the hood of his coat and the beanie he'd been wearing, The rain is torrential and freezing cold, carrying a chill that permeates down to the bone. You're less wet than he was, as he'd taken the tarp you sleep under from his backpack and made you wear it like a poncho. 

You don't know if he hates you, when he does stuff like that. He certainly doesn't like you. You figure he resents you for saving his life and not having the grace to insist you part ways. How could you? Everybody was running away, fleeing from the geek cul-de-sac Indiana had become, and nobody who wanted anything to do with you had survived the initial wave. You'd been completely alone, terrified, and you'd risked your life to save him anyways. So when he asked if you were alone, you were honest. When he said, You better come with me, then, you didn't think about it for a minute. 

He probably regrets it in moments like this. And it's worse because you like him. Hero worship, maybe, Steve keeps keeping you alive and you want him to like you more and more every day. 

It's why you hate fucking up. You just want him to see you properly, and not as a girl he has to protect. You want him to know you can protect him back. 

You take the initiative and lead him toward the back of the huge room. He doesn't protest. You figure a corner of the structure would be safer than the middle where the ceiling could sag, and away from the centre of the walls where big windows lined with metal shutters sit. 

Together, you knock coffee pots and plastic cups off of a long table and drag it toward the corner to use as a make shift shield. It's the most protection you can get. 

You sit down, relieved. It can't be ten seconds until your body remembers how cold it is, soaked as you are. 

You already know what to do, and despite the shyness that comes with stripping in front of a boy, and especially a boy that you like, you undress anyways. Shoes first, then your coat. Steve starts to do the same, and you try not to look at one another. 

There are lots of things you worry about, but the stupidest one is body hair. You can't help it —when hair removal is engrained in the feminine experience from birth, it becomes a habit. It's not even that you think it's bad, but you worry that Steve thinks it's gross. Then you remember how many times you've heard one another pee and shake your head at yourself. 

"What's wrong?" Steve asks, shirtless as he pulls his second (and last) pair of jeans over tacky legs. 

You're shirtless too. "Nothing." 

"Your bra is wet." 

You look down at your bra and blink. It's cold, and everyone knows what happens when it's cold and you're braless. "It's the only one I have, I don't wanna flash you." 

"You…" He cracks a very rare smile. It's a twitch of the corner of his lips and nothing more, but it helps you to relax. "I'm not trying anything, but you should take it off. You can wear my hoodie if you're uncomfortable." 

"I guess it's dumb to care." 

"I don't think it's dumb," he says, his head craned as another crack of thunder bellows outside. "You deserve to feel comfortable. I won't look, I swear, I just don't want you to be cold." He looks away from you. "You'll get sick. Then we'd be really fucked."  

You nod. You slip out of your bra and put on your second (and last) t-shirt, which is thinner than the first. You shove your arms in his hoodie but don't zip it closed. 

Steve takes the blanket from his pack and, now wearing his shirt and fresh socks, slots himself next to you and pulls the blanket over your laps. It's an odd juxtaposition: he worries about your privacy but not your personal space. 

"I think it's getting worse," you mumble, head tilted to the side as you listen to the wind roar. 

"We'll be okay." 

You put your hand on your thigh. He puts his hand on his. You slouch against the wall and know you won't be getting any sleep tonight, not while the wind rails.

Time passes like a dragging weight. You wince at every loud whoosh of air, and can't help leaning into Steve's side when somewhere in the warehouse a machine begins to creak. The cold bites your nose, and your toes are stiff despite your new socks. 

You and Steve don't talk much, but eventually he speaks up. 

"Do you need another pair of socks?" he asks. 

"No, it's okay." 

"I won't mind," he says. 

"What if you need them?" 

He gets them out of his pack and tosses them into your lap. You take them, but the wind has seized you up, afraid that any minute now you'll get a storm surge. 

"Hurricanes can't get this far in, can they?" you ask quietly. 

"No. I don't think so." 

You nod your head. "It's loud." 

"I know." 

You put his socks on and try to be level-headed. You think it might be the constant heavy stress that surviving in the wild and against the threat of flesh-eating creatures has put you under that's made you so fragile. A storm wouldn't have scared you this severely before. But your brain is under fire basically every second of the day, even in your sleep, and it weakens your resolve. You've never understood how Steve can be strong in the face of all this awful. 

"It'll be okay," he says again. 

"No, I know…" you say. You don't know, but you don't want to bother him. "I'm fine." 

Thunder cracks at exactly the wrong moment, simultaneous with a sound like a window rattling in its frame. You flinch at his side, your hand jumping on his thigh. 

You go to pull it away and he flattens it to his leg. 

"It's okay," he says, his sternness melting into a softer reassurance. His hair lays in damp curls below his ears, and his face is pale from a lack of sun. "It's just wind. We don't get hurricanes, and if we did, the walls are concrete. You think wind and rain can get through three feet of stone?" 

He lets your hand go. You take it as a queue to remove it.

"Sorry, I don't know why I…" 

Steve clears his throat. "You're not–" He couldn't know what you were going to say about yourself, and you have no idea what he might've said himself. "You don't have to be sorry. For this, anyways. You should be super sorry about other stuff, like losing your pen knife, and trying to convince me to eat that frog," —he pauses as you laugh, the hint of a smile playing on his lips— "but don't bother being sorry about this." 

"People eat frogs," you say quietly, leaning your head against the wall and looking at him through one eye. 

He follows your example and sits the same. After a moment, he pulls the slipped blanket up to your stomach again. "I don't care what people eat. I'm not eating frogs." 

"I didn't want to eat one either," you say. You hadn't. "They do eat them, though." 

"I'm sure they do. Cooked, and with spices. Not raw and covered in dirt. And dead." 

You'd only been joking about eating the frog, but you were both hungry enough to stare at it for a half-second too long. 

Rain drums the ceiling like a far away thrumming. You know you must look awful, wet and dirty. You'd managed to brush your teeth this morning at the very least, but you can't imagine you're the kind of girl Steve would ever want, then or now. 

His gaze dips to your neck. It rests there. 

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better," he says, stilted once again. "Things… things will be okay. They'll get better. We have to make it out of here." 

Steve has people he needs to find. You'll follow him anywhere at this point, not for love, but he's a good guy, even if he glares more than he talks. He knows how to protect you both. He does stuff he doesn't have to do, like this. His vaguely awkward comfort. His extra socks.

"I know," you say. "We'll be fine."

He nods. You tell yourself that you're imagining the tenderness he puts into such a simple gesture. “Exactly. You worry too much.”

[sphylor]

cw dubcon, oviposition, tentacles, breeding, daddy kink, kinda forcemasc (could just be read as Phantom finding out they have a daddy kink)

Dew's tentacle rarely comes out to play but when it does that only means one thing. He has eggs that need laying. He’d been feeling the weight in his egg sac grow for the past few days, pushing against his bladder (something Rain had already taken advantage of) and making the skin between his hips bulge out a little. He was on the sofa with Phantom, the quint ghoul diligently rubbing up next to him like a cat, when he felt something start to wriggle inside of him. He grabbed Phantom's wrist and pulled them both to their feet.

"Wanna see something cool?"

Phantom's face went from surprise and disappointment to anticipation as they nodded eagerly. Dew led them down the hall to his room, every step making him more and more aware of the tentacle trying to wriggle its way out of him. They finally got to his room and he locked the door behind him while Phantom got settled on his bed. Dew fully stripped and kneeled on the bed in front of them with his legs spread. He tried to coax the tentacle out, fingers gently pulling apart the small slit just below his clit while Phantom watched in awe. The tip slowly poked out and the rest quickly followed with a gush of liquid. Dew sighed in relief as he held it in his hand, letting it wrap around his wrist.

"Hello again." Dew whispered to himself.

Phantom's eyes were wide as he watched the tentacle explore Dew's hand. "Wait, I thought only Rain..."

"Old water ghoul trick," Dew explained. "Mine's a lot nicer than his anyway."

The quint shivered as they recalled the time Rain's tentacle got to play with them. She was just as much a dramatic sadist as her owner. They reached out to touch it and just as they did Dew felt something inside him shift. The tentacle latched onto Phantom's hand, suckers not letting go as it started to pulse.

"It wants inside you, bug," Dew breathed as he tried to deal with the increasing discomfort. "Can't wait much longer."

Phantom managed to peel the tentacle from their skin and strip from their clothes in record time. Dew sat on their lap, pressing himself right up against Phantom's body, letting his tentacle find its way inside. Phantom moaned and squirmed beneath him as it worked its way in, suckers pulling further and further in as it pulsated and wriggled.

"Dew- oh fuck it feels so-"

"Shhhh" Dew pressed a finger to the quint's lips and wrapped his arms around their waist. He could feel the first egg at the base of his tentacle already. He leaned into their ear and whispered. "Gonna fuck my clutch into you,"

Phantom stiffened and felt the tip of the tentacle press into his womb. "Wait-"

"Gonna make you so round, bulging with my eggs"

"-Dew wait no"

"Gonna make you a daddy."

Dew smirked as Phantom's protests turned into moans as they started to rut up against him. He dropped his head onto their shoulder as the first egg made its way down the tentacle. He felt it stretch Phantom open, the quint ghoul hissing at the pain.

"I know, daddy. just let it happen"

"Dew im- im not a-"

The first egg exited with another gush of liquid and Phantom squirmed at the feeling.

"You are now, daddy." Dew smiled as he felt the rest of the eggs follow.

The quint ghoul weakly tried to shove Dew off of them but Dew held on tight, his tentacle latched on to the walls of his cunt. it wouldn't let go until every last egg had been laid.

"Dew it's too much. I can't-."

"Yes you can. you're doing so good for me. being such a good daddy for my eggs." Dew pressed little kisses into the side of Phantom's neck as eggs two and three slipped out into them. one by one they all nestled themselves into place. Dew could feel them. He could feel the skin of Phantom's belly start to bulge against him more and more with each egg. It was at egg six or seven that Phantom started to cry.

"Only a few more left now. you can take them."

"i cant- im too full." tears slid down Phantom's face as they felt another egg make its home inside them. The liquid Dew's tentacle was producing was leaking out of them already. “Dew the others are gonna notice. They’ll see how big I am.”

“Good. they’ll know who you belong to then. They’ll see you knocked up and know you’re already mine.” The fire ghoul squeezed them tighter. “Those eggs are gonna hatch inside you and all those baby kits will start to grow, all nice and snug in their daddy's womb." Dew rambled as he got closer and closer to a feeling of relief. "You're gonna take such good care of them, I just know it."

Phantom nodded their head, their mind so far gone they'd agree to anything Dew said. They were gonna be a daddy.

Their orgasm hit just as the last egg squeezed inside. They clenched down around Dew's tentacle, not letting it go even though it was trying to retreat. They were spent. The stretch of their abdomen was almost unbearable. Phantom looked down and gasped at how far it stuck out now.

Dew's tentacle retracted back inside of him and the fire ghoul laid Phantom down.

"I'll be back in a second." he said softly as he began to stand, a look of fondness on his face. He returned with a wet flannel, a glass of water and a snack. Phantom sipped and nibbled as Dew cleaned them. gently wiping away the stickiness from the inside of their thighs, promising to be careful as he wiped through their folds. When Dew was done he settled himself by Phantom's side. They both watched the slow rise and fall of their belly. Dew took the quint's hand and stroked it over all of the bumps of the eggs.

"Yours." Dew whispered. "All yours, daddy."

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 10)

Jacob Black x Vampire!Swan Reader

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Series Masterlist

“What are you doing?” Y/N enters Carlisle’s makeshift operating room to find Bella on the table, writhing in pain. “Where’s Carlisle?” Only Edward, Alice and Rosalie are in attendance.

“He’s out hunting with Esme, they’re on their way back now.” Alice has him on the phone as if that will help.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Edward warns Y/N. “You haven’t fed recently and there will be blood.”

Y/N averts her eyes.

“She’s fine,” Jacob growls.

Alice’s gaze flits between them, the reddened skin on Jacob’s neck and Y/N’s honey colored irises. Oh.

“The placenta must have detached.”

“Get him out now,” Bella insists.

Edward jabs the syringe full of morphine into Bella’s outer thigh.

Rosalie is already holding the scalpel, poised to cut Bella open.

“What are you doing?” Y/N knocks her hand away. “Wait for it to spread.”

“He’s dying!” Bella protests, so sure that the child growing inside her is a son.

Edward looks to her, eyes on fire, pleading with her to just wait.

“Do it now.” Bella insists, no matter the cost.

Rosalie’s makes a clean slice across the bottom of Bella’s abdomen. Distracted by the blood and the hunger it brings.

Alice lunges at her, tackling the blonde to the ground and removing her from the room.

“It’s gonna be ok, Bella.” Y/N takes her hand as Edward works on delivering the baby. Tearing her apart.

Bella’s screams continue until Edward’s bitten through the amniotic sac. Her body is already in shock as the baby is placed into her arms.

“It’s Renesmee.” Edward tells her.

“She’s beautiful.” Bella gives a weak smile.

Y/N strokes sweat damp hair from her sister’s face. “You did it.”

Bella looks to Y/N. “Take care of her for me.”

Y/N nods, assuming she means over the next three days. “I will.”

Bella’s expression goes blank, unseeing eyes landing on Edward as her heart slows to a halt.

Edward takes Renesmee before she can fall from Bella’s arms. “Y/N, take the baby.”

Y/N reaches for the infant, cradling her gently. Bouncing from side to side out of instinct.

Jacob watches, mouth ajar. He imagines her rocking their own children, the ones they may never have.

“Please, Bella.” Y/N sobs. “Please.”

Edward injects his venom directly into Bella’s heart.

Jacob holds Y/N to him, mindful of the baby, as Edward continues pumping her unbeating heart. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“No,” Y/N wails, “please no.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, knowing that this is only the beginning of her losses. She would lose Charlie and her mother and every mortal person she’s ever loved. “I’m sorry.”

The pack standing watch outside feels it through the bond, the grief sends a collective howl. Y/N’s pain is Jacob’s and theirs in turn.

Her suffering shoots through him like a physical blow. “What can I do?” He asks, desperately. “Y/N, just tell me what I can do.” Jacob is helpless, powerless to alleviate even an ounce of her agony.

“It should have been me.” Y/N crawls at his back, clinging to him. “I wish it was me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Y/N shakes her head. She does mean it, she wishes she died back when she was still human. She wishes she could be human again, for Jacob to be human. She longs for the boy with long flowing locks and an easy smile to come save her. To change her back into the blushing girl with blood in her veins. She wants to grow old with him and have his babies. She wants to age out of this life when she’s done all she is meant to. All of that is gone now, like Bella is gone.

Her dying wish being for Y/N to help raise her child is especially cruel, even though Bella didn’t mean for it to be.

Renesmee begins to fuss, in tune with her aunt’s emotions.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.” There aren’t medications for vampires with depression. “I love you, I’m sorry.”

Jacob would tear his own heart out and give it to her on a platter. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re doing everything you can.”

“I’m broken.”

“You’re mine.” Jacob murmurs, “you’re mine.” If she’s broken he’ll fix her. If her life is empty then he’ll fill it. Pour all his time into her, his blood, his body, his love and make her whole again.

“I’m yours.” It is easy to mourn the dead, people are taught to do it all their lives. It’s much harder to mourn the living, to be haunted by their perpetual ghost. Jacob Black will haunt her for eternity, standing obediently at her side all the while.

This is about more than Bella, her momentary death only triggered it. That becomes apparent as her heart begins beating erratically while the venom transforms her.

Y/N is happy her sister is going to survive, but it doesn’t fix everything, it only lessens the blow.

————————————————————————

Bella’s transformation is quiet, she’s completely still from the morphine. A stark contrast from Y/N’s. But after the birth of her daughter, she deserves a peaceful beginning to her new life.

Y/N and Jacob take turns with Rosalie and the Cullens, caring for Renesmee who grows significantly each day.

The blonde vampire comes to collect the infant and Jacob takes the opportunity to get Y/N alone, leading her out towards the tree line.

“I want to marry you.”

Y/N flinches at his words. “I know,” she’s already agreed.

“I want to marry you now.” Jacob clarifies, “before we leave. I want Charlie and my dad to be there.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

“We’ve graduated, I have a ring, we’ve got the place lined up in Denali.”

“O-okay.” Y/N stammers.

“I’m going to get down on one knee and ask you.” Jacob warns her. “We can have a small wedding or a big one, whatever you want. We’re going to move to Alaska and start our new lives. I’m going to get you pregnant, no matter what I have to do and I’m gonna do it as many times as you want, okay? Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. All I want you to do is say yes.”

Y/N nods, watching him sink down on the grass, pulling a loose ring from his back pocket.

“This was my mother’s.” Jacob says, “if we need to keep up with the Cullens, I will save up the money to buy you a nice big rock.”

Y/N stares down at the engagement ring in question, a hand etched band adorned with little diamonds. “It’s perfect, I’m…are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” He stares up at her. “I’ll beg if you want me to.”

“No, don’t beg.” Y/N laughs, “I’ll marry you.”

Jacob slips the ring onto her finger, kissing her hand over the metal band. “Thank you.”

“I wish we had more time here.” Y/N confesses, “this feels so final.” Like they’ll never come back.

“There is something I’ve been thinking about, might buy us some time.”

“I’m all ears.”

————————————————————————

Charlie is chopping wood in the back yard when Jacob and Y/N pull up on the motorcycle.

“Dad.” Y/N calls, as not to startle him.

“Here,” Charlie beckons them to join him near the chopping block.

“Need any help?”

“I think I’ve got it covered. How’s Bella?”

“She’s ok,” Y/N smiles. “We were actually hoping we could talk about something else.”

Charlie cocks his head to the side, “what’s going on, kid?”

“Jacob and I are getting married,” Y/N holds out her hand.

Charlie adjusts his stance, “well, it’s been a long time coming.” Jacob asked his blessing months ago. “I’m happy for you.”

“Second thing,” Jacob cuts in, “it’s about Bella. She is better, but in order for her to get better…”

“She had to change.”

Charlie looks to his oldest daughter, running a hand over his face. “Like you changed?”

“Yeah,” Y/N admits.

“And you can’t tell me what that means, can you?” Charlie knows this game.

“I can’t, but Jacob can give you a rough idea, if you’re open to it.”

Charlie throws up a hand, “go for it.”

Jacob begins removing his clothing, handing them to Y/N.

“Jacob,” Charlie averts his gaze, “put your clothes on.”

“I know this may seem strange.” Jake kicks off his boots.

“No socks?” Y/N scrunches up her nose.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Charlie says, in disbelief.

“Stranger things happen everyday.”

“I doubt it.” Charlie fights the urge to cover his eyes, Jacob is down to his boxers.

Jake’s body heats up, sending smoke into the air as he phases into the reddish brown wolf Y/N has come to love.

Charlie stumbles backwards, landing on his behind and Y/N steps around her fiancé to help him up.

“It’s ok, Dad. It’s just Jacob.”

“I- do you turn into a big dog too?” Charlie whispers to his daughter.

Y/N chuckles, “no. This is my only form.”

“Oh thank god.”

Part 11

Series Taglist: @vxidnik @remembered-license @itscheybaby @cole22ann @the-tryhard-twihard @zheezs14 @adaydreamaway08 @xcastawayherosx @moneteguiza @stinkii-boii @theatrechic26 @sylum @irrelevant-86

[lexawoah13]

Choisome (part 2)

Part 1

Soobin x Yeonjun x Beomgyu x afab! Chubby reader(older)

Soooo I’m back with part two. I’ve never written anything before… let alone SMUT! sooo don’t be too hard on me. 👉👈 I’ve just had MAJOR brainrot of this trio and this scenario plays in my head quite a bit. Also Soobin is my main man so he’s gonna be favoured

Warning: threesome, drinking, oral sex(female recieving), ass play, cliche truth or dare, possessive Soobin, y/n Is older than them, this probs sucks so ✌️ also not really proofread

Summary: You’re drinking with Soobin, Beomgyu and Yeonjun after a tour stint has ended working with them. You are all relaxed in comfy clothes that are more on the revealing side as you were warm in your room, ready for bed when the trio bombarded you there. *You’re in tiny shorts that ride up and reveal your ass cheeks(no underwear) and a white crop top with no bra and some graphic on the front.*

“Chill Yeonjun, there other things we can do while he drowns down there. Right baby?”

You pull your eyes away from Soobins god-like physique and meet Gyu’s eyes. “Take off your clothes. Both of you” you say breathlessly. If you couldn’t get your hands on Soobin yet, you’d get your fill of these two.

Clothes are shed within seconds and your met with the sight of their glorious cocks. Yeonjun’s long and hard, slightly curved and pink. While Beomgyu’s is slightly smaller(still large though) but thick and veiny. Both have your drooling trying to decide which one you want first. You fist both of them, rubbing your thumbs over their tips to spread their precum for lubricant.

Moaning together you can’t help be pushed forward to do more. You hands start their jerking and you couldn’t be happier at their sounds. You want them to beg, to be putty in your hands. Twisting your wrist giving them more when your suddenly taken over in pleasure by the one you truly wanted. Lifting your head to look down you see him staring at you, jealous of not getting any attention. Still locking eyes he lowers himself to your clit and sucks harshly ripping moans and curses from your throat “faawwkkk bin! So gooood”

Yeonjun lightly turns your chin back to him, looking up “pay attention sweetheart. You’ve got work to do..” biting his tongue as he guides you to his cock.

Without protest you open wide and take as much of him in your mouth as possible, relishing at the moan he releases. Reaching behind, you stroke Beomgyu and guiding him closer to you. Yeonjun thrusts into your throat until you need air. Gasping for breath you waste no time in turning to Beomgyu, you look up at him as he watches his cock disappear down your throat. ‘Oh fuck princess you feel so good” he moves your hair out of your face so he can fully see you. Nearly cumming when you look up at him with your watering eyes and messy lips. “so pretty choking on my cock”

“Mmmmmmmm” you moan round his length, ripping shudders and a groan from Gyu

Still lapping at your clit, Soobin gets jealous, needing your attention. Lining with your entrance he pushes his middle and ring fingers past your tight entrance, sucking hard on your swollen clit. The pleasure causes you to pull off of Beomgyu, much to his dismay.

Scissoring his fingers to stretch you, you you turn back and latch into Yeonjun, tasting his salty precum oozing from his tip. You swirl your tongue around his pink head and lick at his opening to get it all. His hand now gripping into you hair “good girl, clean it all up”

Beomgyu is stroking himself behind you, you reach up and start caressing his testes, moans escaping his pretty mouth. Yeonjun now thrusting into your mouth to get the feeling he’s been craving. Not to rough and easing your throat into taking all of him. You look up into his eyes, guiding your tongue up and down the bottom of his cock. “Fuck y/n you serious right now?” Still looking up into his eyes you nod your head, your free hand now reaching to caress his sac. Throwing his head back you can’t help but clench down on Soobin’s fingers. He doesn’t like the lack of attention he’s getting, so he adds another finger, needing you to look at him, speak to him anything, he just needs your attention.

The addition of Soobins third finger causes your eyes to roll back into your head, moan ripping from your throat and through Yeonjun’s swollen tip. Your hand slips back and your finger presses up into his tight hole, not passing the entrance, but the pressure alone was enough for him to whimper. Stopping all your movements, you pull away from his length and look up at him “Yeonjun, did you like that?”

Biting his lips, he can only nod “do you want more?” You ask pulling your hand away to lubricate your fingers with your saliva

“Mmhmm.. please?” Asking between breaths nodding his head

You replace you fingers to his ass, lightly prodding at his tight hole “touch yourself” you whisper

His hand leaves your hair and grips his cock, rubbing up and down the length. “Good boy” you whisper, dripping your spit onto his tip. The moans he release are sinful, the added slip your spit gives his pumping the extra bit he needs. Just as he gets used to it, you press your finger into his tight tight hole “fuckkk” he tightens on your finger “shhh relax junnie, let me in, let me give you what you want” as he relaxes his grip you press your finger in more, until you reach your knuckle. You twist it around and he falls over your face, breath shaky. Slowly pulling all the way out to your first knuckle and then pushing back in.

Yeonjuns mouth hangs open, panting while he continues to tug on his length, drool threatening to fall any second. But when he leans down to kiss you, you turn away and take Beomgyu back into your mouth.

“Fuck princess this is…” Beomgyu mumbles off

You look up with questioning eyes with no response “hmmm?” You hum around him. Still nothing. So you decide to tease him. Gliding only your tongue along the underside of his veiny member reaching his blush red tip. Flicking the head with your tongue until you pop your mouth around it, swirling your wet muscle around while bobbing up and down only on his tip. “Faawwkk Y/N”

Still not telling you, you take him all in again biting at his base, sucking hard

“Jesus your sinful” gyu grunts with baited breaths

Slowly popping off his member, you stick your tongue out for him, flicking his swollen tip “come closer, both of you” you needed them closer together, how could you handle both of them when they’re so far apart. Yeonjun looks at you and whines as you gently remove your finger for him to move, hating the emptiness now. “Just for a second Yeonjun”

Beomgyu scoots closer as well. Bringing their glorious throbbing cocks to your face.

Soobin grips his fingers into your thighs. You cry out, “ghhaa Soobin!” wrapping your thighs around his shoulders. You can feel Soobin’s desperation for your attention. Hear his whines for you. Removing your hand from Beomgyu, bringing it down to Soobins soft hair, you tug it firmly bringing him deeper into your cunt. Both of you moaning for one another.

You look up to the boys above you, seeing their carnal desires all over their face. Their dicks are touching, so you bring you hand up trying to fit both in your hand. You can barely wrap around them with their girth but it will work. Spitting on their blushing heads you watch as it drips down over their shafts. Then you begin your stroking releasing low pitched groans from their chest. Even Soobin stops devouring your pussy to see what brought out those sounds. Seeing Soobin’s face you lock eyes with him, lean forward and lick circles around their tips before taking much of it as you could into your mouth.

With every thrust of soobins long slender fingers he grazes your spongy spot ripping pleasure through your body. He can feel you clench around his fingers and can’t help but smirk knowing how he’s making you feel. He groans into you, sending the vibrations straight to your clit, picking up the speed he thrusts his fingers. Curling them just right to abuse your core

Unable to stay gripping their dicks and sucking them you release Soobins hair to guide Beomgyu’s hand to replace yours. Sucking your free hand, you return to Yeonjuns ass sloppy with your spit. Slowly pushing your middle finger back in, curling gently to rub his prostate. Head falling back and beautiful saccharine moans leave Yeonjun’s mouth as you push your ring finger in as well. Filling him up in pleasure.

Beomgyu bends over and sloppily kisses you, squeezing your throat “don’t forget me princess” you go feral. Soobin pulls away to spit on your throbbing clit only adding to Gyu’s choking. You reach your first orgasm, parting from Beomgyu’s lips, gasping for air, legs shaking, squeezing Soobins head. But that’s not enough for Soobin, he needs you quaking, thinking of nothing but him. He continues his assault on you. Sucking your clit, overstimulating the spongy spot inside your pulsing cunt.

Trying to focus on Yeonjun and Beomgyu was starting to become difficult. Soobin’s overestimulation becoming the only thing you can feel or think of. Curling your fingers inside Yeonjun to hit his spot while Gyu still jerked the both of them was bringing him to his release. “Fuck iiim gonna… gonna cum”

You pull away from Beomgyu because you needed to see his undoing. Needed to see his cum. Wanted to taste his cum.

“Kiss him Gyu”

He rises up and grabs Yeonjun by the neck, pulling him in to kissing him. The sight brings you to your high again. Convulsing around Soobin who won’t quit. You push forward spitting on their joined heads, lowering your mouth to suck on them. Yeonjun moans into Beomgyu’s mouth and cums, hot stings of his cum flowing into your throat. Gushing around soobins fingers at the event. Once Yeonjun’s orgasm ends, you let him go to focus on Beomgyu. You take him all in rubbing your nose in his solid stomach. Pulling out to his tip, gyu fucks your throat. Beomgyu gathers your hair in his fist to fully watch you take in his whole length as he thrusts deep into your throat, guiding you head deeper into them. “Jesus y/n you’re taking my cock so well. Such a pretty mess” wiping away a tear with his thumb, bringing it to his lips to taste. “Gonna cum down your throat, fuck soo good” he grunts as you swallow around him bringing him to finish. Salty fluid pumping down your throat not able to breathe. Once the last drop hits your tongue he pulls out allowing you to breathe. Tears rolling down your cheeks, coughing at your lack of oxygen.

“Finally” Soobin rises up pushing Beomgyu away from you making him fall backwards on the couch.

Soobin takes your lips in his kissing you passionately. You wrap your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair. Hooking his arms under you, Soobin lifts you up, squeezing your ass and walks carrying you over to your bed “now you’re all mine baby” he says between kisses.

To be continued…?

Part 3