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sugarlywhispers · 8 months ago

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b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.

a.n; fare warning, THIS IS A MONSTER<3 lol

Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part |

The gentle sound of the scribble your pen makes over the paper, right where it requires your formal signature, is heard louder than you expected in that tense silence. Well, it isn't a bad silence, but more like an anxious one. One that has Bakugou, who is sitting right next to you, literally shaking his right leg up and down continuously, even though you already told him you would do this.

And what does ‘this’ mean? It means you agreed to marry Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki. To help him finally be free from his own mother's clutches.

You had a hard time believing in the whole story he told you when he knocked on your door last Sunday morning –almost tearing down the door actually– after his father died. Even though you had agreed that same day, you asked him for a few days to clear your head a bit. He accepted, respecting your space even at work, which was weird.

A normal day at work always starts with a banter with this same man right at the entrance of the company and it follows until you enter the elevator. Everyone is already used to it, so they ignore both of you. It mostly ends when you have to get off on the floor where your office is, which is one under the one where all heroes keep their hero costumes and get changed. Of course, sometimes the banter would continue if you were assigned to work with Hero Dynamight through the earbuds that connected you at a distance.

That Monday morning though, was different. Weird for everyone who looked at both of you in shock. The moment you stood in front of the other right outside the company, everyone was waiting for it to happen, yet found themselves opening their eyes wide in surprise as you and Bakugou simply bowed slightly in hello and walked towards the building in complete silence. It followed inside the elevator, where he willingly stood next to you –you always stood on each side of it to avoid even accidentally touching. Nobody could believe their eyes. Especially when it was your moment to walk out on your floor and he said, “See ya’ around”, and you turned your head towards him and slightly smiled, murmuring a timidly, “You too. Take care outside.”

That day you weren't assigned to work with him, nor the two days after –in which these same actions and words were repeated by both of you every morning– yet you could feel the whispers and gossip around about this neutral ground between you two. Your boss even called you to his office to ask if everything was okay.

You internally laughed at the situation. It was so normal for you to fight with Bakugou that everyone found it weird and worrisome if you didn't. It was actually hilarious.

Wednesday shift had you entering the office at 5 p.m. and would have you leaving at almost 3 a.m. –if the hero assigned to you didn't get caught in a villain fight around that time. So when you were about to take the elevator and its door opened, you almost bumped into a freshly showered and already leaving Bakugou Katsuki.

“Oh, hey…”

“Hey,” he answered back. Both of you took a step out of the elevator, standing right in front of each other. One of his hands flew to the back of his head, scratching it and making small droplets of his still wet hair fall as he spoke, “I was, ummm, gonna talk to you today… but, umm, your shift…”

“Oh yeah, it's night shift today,” you nodded, hands holding the strap of your bag, trying to look casual and not let the nerves be shown. “Yours finished?”

“Yeah, tomorrow's night shift for me.”

“I know, I'm with you tomorrow,” you smiled.

His eyebrows pulled up, nodding in acceptance, “Cool.”

Yours frown, tilting your head a bit to the side, “Is it? Since when?” Now that you think about it, all that neutral ground between you two was very weird. New, but weird.

He rolled his eyes, hands hiding inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Since I'm trynna marry y–”

“Shhhh! Shut it, not here!” He smirked arrogantly. Ah, there's the comeback of the old annoying Bakugou.

“I–...”

“KATSUKI!”

A screeching yell made the hairs of your arms stand in alert, completely unexpected for you. Yet for the man in front of you was a sound he was very familiar with. He grunted, his mood completely changing into anger as he turned around towards the yell.

“The fuck are you doing here, old hag?”

Oh. His mother.

You have seen her at a distance before, never actually got to meet her personally or even hear her voice –you were glad about that last particular fact though, she sounded awful.

You didn't miss to recognize the position Bakugou had you at the moment when he turned around and covered your small form behind his massive body from his mother to even acknowledge your presence there. You're grateful for his surprising and kind of sensitive tact. He's giving you an out from that, what you know for sure was going to be, a quite tense moment.

“I fucking told you, you need to hurry! I’m not fucking waiting for you any longer!” She yelled again, not caring at all about the place she was nor the people around in the lobby.

Bakugou looked to the side, taking a very deep breath before pinching his nose. His hand then hung loosely on the side of his body, but he kept opening and closing his hand in a fist. Oh wow, he was really holding himself back.

You didn't know what possessed you to do what you did or why, but you acted before thinking.

Your hand flew towards his, holding his trembling fist tightly. You knew it took him by surprise, but he hid it well by standing straighter, body still hiding you behind him. You knew for a fact that his face didn’t show any emotion other than anger, so nothing was amiss. His arm flexed behind him, bringing yours with his, as his hand opened and held yours tightly back.

This had been the very first time you willingly touched him. The first time you actually ever touched him at all. And your eyes couldn't leave the sight of his big hand fully surrounding yours, making you feel smaller than ever. I mean, you had eyes, he was a freaking hulk next to you. But the warm feeling of it enclosing yours securely made you feel safe, protected. It also felt calloused, a hand that was used every day to bring down bad guys and protect a whole nation, if not the world. Yet the warmth in it made your whole body tingle.

Fuck. What was this?

“I fuckin’ told you not to come in the first place,” he didn't need to yell, his voice sounded loud and clear even at the distance.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!”

You tightened your hold on his hand, just to ground him in support. He sighed, returning the gesture to thank you before saying in his mother's direction, “I'm fuckin’ going, you pain in the ass”, and walked towards her, letting go of your hand.

His mother simply turned and walked in front of him outside of the building. She never realized you had been there the whole time.

The moment had been so stressful, and if that was what Bakugou had to deal with every day since he was born, damn. You actually felt sorry for him.

Thanks to the glass walls of the lobby you could watch the Bakugous walk towards the expensive car waiting for them outside. They were clearly shit-talking to each other the whole way, until before they got inside the car, his mother actually slapped the back of his head strongly. Twice.

A rising rage traveled up your body, hands closing in fists. What the fuck?! Who the fuck did she think she was? Why the hell did she need to fucking hit him like that, twice? Why the hell did she do it at all? Fuck, you were starting to believe in everything Bakugou told you about her.

“You get it now, don't you?” Izuku's voice from behind you made you jump a bit in surprise.

You cleared your throat, looking elsewhere and breathing deeply, trying to clear your head.

“I don't–”

Izuku's hand raised, making you go silent. “Before you come up with a clever excuse, let me remind you that Kacchan and I have been friends since diapers… and we talk to each other.”

His eyeing made you gulp, but his words were clear enough, “You know then.”

He nodded, hand detaining the elevator’s doors so you both could enter, him after you. “He came to my apartment right after and told me all that happened. I was at the funeral too.”

He didn't need to explain anymore, it was more than clear he was talking about last Sunday when Bakugou asked you to marry him. You knew his father had died sometime Saturday afternoon and that the funeral was held that same night. Bakugou had come to your apartment right after his father had been cremated.

“I know you two fight like cats and dogs all the time, but he's not that bad once you give him a chance. And by what you just saw, I know you understand now why he's always on the defensive.”

You sigh. Damn it, you do. Growing up in an environment like that made you think it was actually a miracle Bakugou turned out the way he did.

“I also know that you agreed to marry him to help him be finally free from his mother,” he confirmed out loud once the doors of the elevator closed and it was just the two of you in there.

“Any advice?”

He chuckled, turning his whole body and looking directly at you, “Be open-minded. Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything.”

You rolled your eyes. Ugh, you were feeling the stress already.

The elevator signaled that you had arrived at your floor, so you sighed, nodding in his way as an answer and walking outside. But before the doors closed, Izuku held them for a bit longer to talk again.

“Also… Be smarter.”

“Than him?” You asked confused.

“Than her.”

And with that, he let the doors close, a smile plastered on his face that told on all the mischief his eyes shined with.

This little… cheeky bastard.

The audacity.

You made a mental note to punch Izuku the next time you bumped into him. On purpose.

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn't get that image of Bakugou being abused by his own mother out of your head. Because yes, it was fucking abuse. And in fucking public! How many times had this happened already? And why the fuck no one had ever said or done anything against it? Even when he was a kid?!

It was outrageous.

And the fact that Bakugou held himself back, because you knew he did, not only because she was his mother but also because she was a woman –and you could bet she fucking used that at her advantage– only spoke about the kind of man he was.

Bakugou Katsuki is a good man.

You took your cell phone out and searched for his contact number, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

You: Make the appointment for this Friday.

His reply didn't take long.

Bakugou K.: Done.

You took a deep breath. The decision was made. And you were not going to back out from it. Or so you hoped.

Another notification made your phone ring and it was another text message.

Bakugou K.: Thank you.

The beginning of a smile threatened to break out from your mouth as you re-read that message several times. Until the loud pip-ing that alerted a villain attack completely distracted you, or more like, brought you back to reality.

The rest of the days went faster than you expected.

The shift on Wednesday ended on time, miraculously. So at exactly 3 a.m. you were turning off your computer and putting your stuff back in your bag. You had several notifications on your phone but didn't feel like giving them your attention at that moment, choosing to concentrate on clearing your space and going back home. You let out several yawns when you got inside the elevator, holding yourself on the handrail, sleep having you on the verge of passing out tired of the stressful days. For some reason, villains chose that week to be more active than usual, which demanded more of your focus and being in constant alert mode.

When the doors finally opened on the lobby floor, you walked towards the check-in clock to mark the end of your shift. You bowed goodbye to the receptionist and walked towards the entrance of the company. For a moment, you entertained your mind with the idea of taking a taxi to get home faster. But damn it, that was expensive, and you were not going to waste money like that. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

You sighed, covering your neck as best as you could with your coat once you crossed the doors, and began your walk in the direction you needed to go. It was a very chilly night, but because it was Spring, you didn't expect such cold weather.

You were thinking about how you'd have to resist this coldness until you got home when you looked up and recognized Bakugou's obviously expensive car and him resting against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn't check your messages, short-legs?”

You denied, head shaking, “I finished the shift and packed everything. Wanted to leave as soon as possible…”

He snorted, shaking his head, “Get in. I'll take you home.”

“Oh, it's okay. I can walk…”

He frowned, “The fuck you think I would be here for then? Get in the car, dumbass.”

“Geez. Okay! No need to get grumpy, asshole.”

You rounded his car towards the passenger seat and climbed in. He followed and got on the driver's side.

The inside was warm, as the heater had been on. You smiled gladly, rubbing your freezing-cold hands to warm them up faster.

“Can't believe you were planning to walk home. Are you stupid?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but Izuku's words invaded your mind.

“…Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything…”

You thought for a moment, and it was actually easier than you thought to figure it out. Bakugou wasn't actually trying to insult you. He was worried that you would walk home that early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, in that weather.

Oh. That changed the perspective entirely.

“Yeah, actually,” you chuckled, hands still rubbing to heat them up. “I can't afford a taxi, and the subway isn't open yet.”

He turned on the car, but his attention was on you, “What you mean you can't afford a stupid taxi? Isn't your pay–…”

You denied, body relaxing a bit over the seat thanks to the warmth as he drove smoothly. You liked warm things. Spring was your favorite season because of it.

“Contrary to common belief, Quirk & Training Specialists don't gain much.”

“What?! Why? I mean… Most of the time is thanks to your area that we heroes are fuckin’ alive.”

“Awww. Thank you for admitting it! Now, would you admit that publicly?”

“Of fuckin’ course I would!”

You smiled, “Well, you would be the first one. Tell me, do you think other heroes would willingly admit that their wins sometimes belong to a ghost that tells them what to do or where to go through their earbuds?”

Your words made him close his mouth. Aha. Touché.

You chuckled, “It's okay, Bakugou. It's my job.”

“Now that I think about it, your name is nowhere to be seen in my reports. It's not even fuckin’ mentioned as a sidekick or something.”

“That's because I'm not a sidekick. I'm just a quirkless person who is observant enough to point you the best way to go. I'm not that important…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant. He didn't mean to insult you, what he was trying to say is, “don't say that about yourself”.

Wow. Izuku was so right about that advice. You made a mental note to thank him the next time you saw him. After punching him, of course.

The rest of the car ride was silent. But not uncomfortable. The gentle sound of the heater turned on was relaxing enough to even doze you a bit, warm and content.

Bakugou didn't speak until he parked right in front of your apartment building. You immediately noticed you had probably slept the rest of the way.

“I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep.”

“You think?” He chuckled, face looking your way. You snorted back, finding his teasing funny. His crooked smile made tingles run up your arms. Or was it the heater? Yes, that probably was it, the heater.

You cleared your throat and looked down at your seat belt and untied it –wait. You didn't remember putting it on. Did he… Did he put it on you when you fell asleep? Oh, my. You gulped, feeling the tingles run all over your body again. Fuck. You needed to leave that small space you shared with this man, like… now.

But before you did, you looked back at him one more time.

“Thank you… for driving me home,” you pulled a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. You were indeed grateful that you actually didn't have to freeze on your way home, so you bowed slightly too.

You were about to open the door when he spoke.

“Wait,” you turned back at him and watched curiously as he opened the compartment, taking out a small folder.

He pushed it in your direction and looked expectantly at you. You took it, a bit doubtful, not quite understanding what it meant.

“I said I would sign a contract if that's what you wanted. It's just a draft, but I put some items in there that I want you to check. You can add some yourself. And if we both agree, we can sign it.”

Oh. “Oh, okay… I'll check it out and let you know.”

He nodded in response and you finally got out of the car and ran through the shocking cold towards your building. Inside the elevator, you pressed the folder over your chest. This felt way more real than what you felt earlier when you made the final decision and texted him.

But something tasted a bit… bitter. Was this something you had to do on your own? Like, the marriage was between the both of you. And while it wasn’t one out of a loving relationship, it was still something that included both. This contract thing felt like something you needed to sit down and review together.

You decided then.

Your hand searched for your phone in your bag, and ignoring all the notifications, you directly made the call.

Not one ring later, he picked up the call.

“Are you o–...”

“Did you leave?” You interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“No, I'm still down here.”

“Umm, are you tired? Cause if you are we can definitely leave it for tomorrow, or better said later, but I slept through the car ride so I'm not that tired anymore, but if you think–”

“Cut the fuckin’ rambling. Go to the point, short-legs.”

You sighed, fingers sliding through your hair and pulling it back. “If you want, he can revise this now. I think it's better if we do it together.”

You heard the intake of a deep breath, a relieved one, before he said, “Yeah… Okay. I'm on my way up.” The sound of the car's door closing confirmed he was on his way.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated and then ended the call.

It took you both three hours and just one heated discussion to come to terms with each of the items. Both satisfied with the consensual agreements, you brought out your laptop and rewrote it. You printed two copies, one for each, that you both signed. That's how the contract was ready and done. Now the next and final step would be the marriage in front of a judge. That Friday. In one day.

“We need two witnesses,” you reminded him, to which he grunted.

“Right, I forgot about that.”

“Well, we already know who you are picking…”

He pulled up an eyebrow, looking in your direction, “Huh? And who am I picking, know-it-all?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “Izuku.”

He tched, not admitting it out loud, but it was obvious you were right.

You chose to let it be and not cause any banter, mostly because you definitely felt more tired than a few hours back.

“Smart-ass. Then who are you picking, mmh?”

You shrugged, “I don't know. I was thinking Mina,” his groan made you chuckle, “but I think Jirou would keep a low profile better.”

“Yeah, good thinking.” You nodded in agreement. You loved Mina, and you knew he did too, but she couldn't keep things down sometimes. And one of the items was to keep a low profile throughout the whole marriage thing. Bakugou hated the press and paparazzi, and you weren't a fan of them either. Even though you had never been the center of attention of them, you actually preferred to keep it that way. On the low and as invisible as possible.

Thursday went very quiet and chill, which was very surprising considering it was Dynamight's shift. Sometimes, villains made you think they had a particular masochistic side and loved appearing whenever Pro Hero Dynamight was around. Some of them even loved to provoke him on purpose so he would yell all those obscenities towards them. And they enjoyed it. Freaks.

But not that Thursday. It had been a very peaceful one. It even found you chatting with Bakugou through the earbuds.

“So what now, ya’ gonna fuckin’ tell me Endeavor is better than All Might?”

“Oh, shut up, you All Might-obsessed-freak! I will admit All Might was huge, but you can't deny Endeavor stood his ground and made big stuff too.”

“Like fuckin’ what?”

“The fight with the nomu–”

“HA! Please! That was child's play. All Might took down AFO.”

“Yeah. But it was Deku who won against him in the end, not him. And All Might only fought twice against AFO. Endeavor killed a powerful nomu.”

“You are so fuckin’ blind!”

“You are the blind one!”

“How could you say Endeavor is better than All Might?!”

“I did not say that!”

“Wait– then what did y–?”

“I just said, Endeavor was N° 1 too. He was a Hero too. He deserves a bit of recognition.”

You could hear Bakugou’s snort, “So you like them complicated and misunderstood…”

Bakugou’s malice in his teasing was palpable, yet you always had an answer for him.

“Well… What does that say about you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed all your co-workers smiling at your cute banter with Bakugou. Yet you were so invested in it, you didn't notice.

Conversations that also led to getting to know each other a little bit more also happened.

“I like orange. You?”

The question took you by surprise after almost half an hour of silence from both ends. Yet, it didn't surprise you at all his preference in color. It was kind of obvious.

“Figures. It doesn't surprise me at all–”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Mine is purple.”

“Why?”

“Ummm, I don't know. I always pictured that if I had become a Hero, my costume would be purple. I decided that even before I knew if I had a Quirk or not.”

You had said it in a conversational tone, never intended to make him feel some type of way. Yet, he still asked, “And is still your favorite, even after–”

“–after I found out I am quirkless? Yes. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Mmmh,” was his simple answer.

The shift ended peacefully and on time, which both of you were grateful for, considering what the following day was.

When the shift was over, you waited a considerate couple of minutes. Minutes it would take the heroes to come back from their shift to the company. Then, you got inside the elevator but instead of going down, you went one floor up.

Your phone rang with a notification.

Bakugou K.: You asked her yet?

You rolled your eyes. So impatient.

You: No, I'm about to. I'm on your floor.

Bakugou K.: Slow ass.

You still wanted to punch him, sometimes.

You put your phone back inside your bag as you walked towards the girls’ wing of the floor, completely avoiding even looking at the boys' wing way. You knocked two times before Ochako opened the door slightly to look who it was.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Hi!”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“HI BABY!!”

All the girls present that shift greeted you cheerfully, especially Mina. You greeted back while entering the room and closing the door behind you.

You chatted with all of them here and there as they got changed, not an ounce of shyness between all of you. You were friends with almost all of them, having already worked with the majority of the girls and hung out with them many times. You knew almost all about them. Their sleep faces, their ugly cries, their drunk personalities. All of it. And they knew you too. That's why you didn't need to be subtle at all when you said, “I actually need to speak with Jirou for a moment”. Everyone understood and took it nicely as they hurried a bit their way into their clothes and grabbed their stuff before leaving you two alone.

All of them knew you and Jirou had a special friendship, a close one. She was the one you always went to when you really needed to confide in someone with something deep within you. The same thing was for Jirou. You were actually the first one of all to know when Denki confessed his feelings to her, and even talked her through her own ‘secret’ feelings for him.

“What's up, buddy?” She straddled one of the benches and sat, patting the place in front of her for you to follow.

You sat in front of her crossing your legs under you, your bag actually forgotten on the floor down the bench.

“I'm going to tell you something, but I need you to keep an open mind and listen to it all before you say anything.”

She jerked her head back a bit, already feeling confused, “You're scaring me already.”

“You have no idea…” You sighed and began the tell-tale.

Her eyes kept opening wider and wider with each thing you told her about what had been happening with you and Bakugou these last days.

What it felt like probably an hour later, you finished with, “So, that's why… we are going to get married tomorrow.”

Jirou fastly stood up, almost jumping a few steps back, and pointed a finger at you.

“That's it! That's why you have been so civil to each other! I knew something was up with– WAIT,” oh yeah, you thought she hadn't quite listened to what you just said. But then it came, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Y/N!! YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING.”

You shook your head, “No, I'm not.” The calmness and firm tone in which you answered made her sidetrack tons in her own reaction, as she sat back down in front of you and took your hands in hers.

“Honey, it isn't your obligation to do any of this. You know that, right?”

You smiled, the clear worry in Jirou's eyes warming your little heart. You had such a good friend.

“I do. But I want to do this. For him.” You were sincere, and you knew Jirou could see it in your eyes too.

“Even though you don’t like each other??”

“Even though we don’t like each other.”

You repeated, but your tone was decisive. Jirou looked at you silently for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

“Okay… Whatever you choose, I'm here for and with you.” Your arms immediately surrounded her neck in a hug. She returned it gladly, patting your back in reassurance. “And if he hurts you, just tell me. I'll make him pay.”

You laughed amusingly. “I know you will. But this isn't the only thing I'm here for.”

She groaned, “There's more?! I don't know how much my heart can take...”

“Well, will it survive if I ask you to be my witness tomorrow?”

Jirou's eyes filled with tears before it was her turn to surround your neck in a tight hug.

“I'll take that as a yes,” you both giggled, hugging each other tight.

Twenty minutes later you were both leaving the building of the company and you walked her towards the motorcycle parking lot where she had hers.

“I'll text you the location in the morning.”

“Alright, I can't wait for it!” She said excitedly, but then, she looked more intently at you. “I just want to say, this thing you're doing is beyond heroic. You're literally being a Hero right now.”

Her words touched something inside you that made you want to cry like a baby. Something so deep it made you feel like floating away with the harsh galloping your heart made against your chest. It didn't make sense, yet it actually did.

You gulped looking down at your feet, strongly holding back the cry that threatened to be released right in your throat.

“You need a ride back home?” She asked, completely ignoring –for your sake and out of respect– your glassy eyes.

“I'll take her home,” Bakugou's voice in the distance surprised both of you, yet you had been expecting something like this to happen. Something told you he would be waiting you after his shift.

Jirou looked at you waiting for your approval, and when you nodded, she put on her helmet and turned on her bike. You walked towards where Bakugou was standing with Jirou riding next to you, and when she was next to him, she said, “You better take care of my friend, or I'll come for your ass, don't care you're my friend too.”

Bakugou snorted, “I know you will, Ears.” He smiled, pulling down her face shield to annoy her. She punched him friendly on the shoulder before waving and driving away.

“She said yes then.”

You both began walking towards what you thought he had parked his car. “Yep. What did Izuku say?”

He rolled his eyes, “You know he said yes.”

You smiled, “I know, I was just being friendly and asked.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I am really going to punch you again, don't tempt me.”

“Yeah… If that one punch could be considered a punch, it would be ‘again’.”

“Oh, so you do want me to…”

You tried to reach his shoulder, but this time he was fast enough to dodge it expertly. “You really are slow, huh?” He mocked walking backwards and smirking.

“You want slow, asshole…”

He laughed, turning around and running away as you ran towards him trying to catch him.

He was a stupidly fast idiot.

So now, it is Friday, and you sit right next to Bakugou Katsuki. Both of you are in front of a judge who is officially marrying you. Jirou sits on your left, while Izuku sits on Bakugou's right. And you have just finished writing your signature where the bride's one goes. Bakugou has already signed his. It isn't until you put the pen down on the table that Bakugou stops bouncing his leg and breathes in deep.

You want to laugh, finding his nerves quite funny. But you get it. This means more than just marriage to him.

It's freedom.

And you can't even imagine how nerve-racking that must feel for him. After all these years that he had to follow his mother's command and will just so he could follow his own dream, now he would be free.

That in itself brings you such a happy feeling for him.

If anyone would have ever told you that you would be doing this for none other than Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki, you would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Immediately.

Fate is a strange thing.

After the turn for the witnesses to sign, the judge says boringly, “By the authority vested in me by the government of Tokyo, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

He doesn't even wait nor expect the newlyweds to kiss or exchange rings as he closes the book and gives Bakugou the previous enrollment you both signed.

And that is it. You are officially married to Bakugou Katsuki.

“Who are you with on today's shift? What time are you out?”

His questions make you come back to reality after a quiet drive toward the company in his car, which you spend looking at the golden ring that now adorns your left hand. When you look up, the shining of the golden ring on his left hand catches your attention as he circles the steering wheel so the car turns on a corner, the company appearing in your view in the distance.

“Umm, I'm with Izuku. If everything goes well, at 3 a.m.”

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Bakugou, it’s okay, I can walk home,” you insist for the nth time.

“Bullshit–”

“–Besides, you have morning patrol tomorrow,” you continue, completely ignoring his dirty mouth, “You can’t interrupt your sleep like this every time I have this shift. You need to be awake for your job.”

He grunts, muttering something that you can’t quite decipher what he said. You roll your eyes, thinking he acts like a petulant child sometimes.

A moment later, Bakugou enters the parking lot with his car, to which you look confused at him. Why is he entering the company on his day off?

He answers even before you can articulate your words, “I need to pick up some unfinished reports I have to turn in tomorrow.”

You pull up an eyebrow, untying the seatbelt and getting out of his car once he finally parks, “Wow. Dynamight is lacking on his paperwork?”

“Shut up, short-legs.”

You snort at his lighthearted insult as you walk together inside the company. But right when you both cross the big doors, Bakugou stops and looks at you. You frown confused, he then motions down with his head and you see his hand open, waiting. Oh, right.

Item n°2: Act like we are in a real relationship. The lawyers for the companies always investigate deeper into each hero, so that their status and validation of mental sanity are correlated.

You put your hand over his, both closing on each other, its warmth making those damn tingles run up your arm. But neither of you says anything as you walk through the lobby of the company holding hands.

Everyone who looks opens their eyes wide, one of the receptionists even spills her coffee drink out of shock. You hold yourself from laughing. Another of the receptionists looks you up and down, a clear disgusted expression on her face. Ops. Well, it’s not like you liked her either.

However, both you and Bakugou walk with your heads held high. You know how shocking and out of character the image of you both holding hands like a couple looks. And fast, everything happened so fast. You can already hear the gossip about whatever this is that you might have with Bakugou is way too fast. But you haven’t done everything you did for them. It is for him. As surprising as that sounds, even for you.

He walks with you towards the clock where you have to mark your entrance, never dropping your hand as you do. Then, you walk together to the elevator waiting for it to arrive. As you wait and look down at your shoes, you feel before you actually see his other hand moving, fingers brushing against your ear when he tugs a strand of your hair that had been over your face. Surprised, you look up at him but still smile in thanks.

Bakugou retracts his hand quickly and puts it inside the pocket of his jacket, looking back at the elevator. You would tease him for the little blush his cheeks are showing, but you decide it’s not the moment, considering how all eyes are on you two.

When it arrives and you get in, standing very close to each other while watching how everyone tries to peep inside to see if you’re still holding hands or if anything else happens between you two, you both jolt a bit when a wild and hurried Izuku suddenly enters the elevator, jacket half off and hair disheveled. He also looks in surprise at you two, eyes traveling down at your connected hands. A shit-eating grin appears on his face as the doors of the elevator close.

“Shut up.”

Bakugou and you speak at the same time.

Izuku snorts, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Wasn’t going to say anything…”

“I sense a ‘but’...” You roll your eyes, and Bakugou hums in agreement.

The greenette smiles wider, “But I understand now why everyone was looking like they saw All Might in person.”

Bakugou insults him, just because he always wants to have the final say, making Izuku laugh out loud amused. You decide to ignore both of them until the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Don’t blow up the elevator,” you warn them both after Izuku answers back at Bakugou, just to spite him. Your hand gives Bakugou one last squeeze in goodbye before walking out, “I’m with you today, Izuku.”

“Oh, cool! I’ll get connected in a bit.” You nod in his direction and look at Bakugou one last time, smiling and waving.

The doors close and you don’t get to see him smile back at you.

The shift, as always with Pro Hero Deku, is not calm or chill. It’s hectic and dangerous, and it keeps demanding all your focus and senses on alert.

“You know, sometimes I believe you have a magnet for trouble stuck up in your ass…” you hear Izuku spill the drink he must have been probably about to swallow. You chuckle devilishly. Wow, two times in a day you make someone spill their drink, that must be a record.

“Damn. Not twenty-four hours of being married to him, and you are already influenced.”

“Oh, shut it,” you both laugh amicably.

Again, the pip-ing of alert sounds in your computer. You sigh, “Deku, another threat five streets down where you’re at now.”

“On my way!”

“See? A magnet in your ass…” Izuku laughs.

You both don’t get to chat about another thing that is not your job again for the rest of the shift.

At exactly 3:10 a.m. you let out a tired sigh, stretching your arms above you and moving your body from side to side as gentle cracks sound from your backbone. After Deku pushes a villain inside a police car and looks at it drive away for a moment, his yawn that you hear through the earbuds passed on to you as you involuntarily copy the action.

“That was the last one. I’m going back,” you agree with him as you press the option on the system that notifies everyone on the shift that your hero is coming back to headquarters.

“Done.”

“Thanks, Y/N, great work today!”

“You did it all, buddy.”

“Oh, no! None of us heroes could do it without you. All of you, really.”

You frown, a bit surprised. I mean, Izuku is always polite and thanks you after every shift, but today feels different. Like he is purposely saying that, as if he knew someone important was listening to their connection.

“You are… welcome?” You actually don’t know what to say. He simply chuckles.

By orders from your area, you can't leave until Deku’s entered the company back again, so you use that time to finish gathering your things and closing the system.

“I'm back. Wait for me, Y/N. I'll take you home,” not longer than five minutes later Izuku says through the earbuds.

“Oh. You don't have–”

“Kacchan asked me to.”

His words shut you up. But he doesn't wait for your answer as he finally disconnects the communication.

And you're left there, frozen for a moment, assimilating his words. Bakugou asked Izuku to take you home. He asked his best friend to take care of you, even when he knew Izuku would do it or offer on his own. Izuku always rode you home when you had night shifts together. Bakugou surely knows that. Then, why even mention it to his friend? Why personally ask Izuku to help you? Because… Bakugou didn't enter the company only for his unfinished paperwork. He did it to talk to Izuku. Was this… Bakugou taking care of you because you were married? Or because he wanted to?

1K notes · View notes

natti-ice · 10 months ago

Text

— just a stranger.

18+ mdni

pairing: male character x fem!reader

cw: p in v, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

The smell of smoke and hand soap lingers in the air around you as your mouth clashes with his, the loud bass from the live band vibrates the small bathroom stall, you can’t help but moan as his tongue slides against yours. You don’t normally hook up with strangers at bars but there was something so captivating about this man you couldn’t deny his invitation to the bathroom, the taste of whiskey off his lips sends a flood down to your core- desperate for friction you reach down and unbuckle his belt as fast as possible.

He takes the hint and takes over, unbuttoning his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers. You gasp softly against his mouth as you feel your dress being yanked above your waist, his fingers make their way into the band of your soaked panties. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his finger tips gently graze your swollen clit “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re already wet” his husky, lust filled voice scratches something in your brain. The horny daze you’re in takes over your body, you don’t think about your next move you just let your body take control.

You reach down and grab a hold of his cock and gently stroke it while looking deep into his eyes, without breaking eye contact he pushes your panties down to your knees and moves you against the cold metal stall door. He steps right in front of you and brings his cock between your legs, your legs tremble as the tip glides up and down your puffy lips. He pulls your legs apart more and you grab a hold of the toilet paper holder for balance, the head of his dick slow presses into your entrance asking for permission. You nod quickly giving him the okay, you couldn’t help but feel so needy right now. The ache between your legs could only be fixed by one solution and that solution was this stranger’s big cock.

You cover your mouth immediately as he pushes further into you until he bottoms out, you bite your tongue hard to fight back the moan of pure ecstasy that’s lodged in your throat. His pleasured groans meet your ears as he starts to pump into you, his hand slams against the door that holds you up to balance himself, your free hand snakes behind him and grips his ass. Soft swears are muttered against your neck as his hot lips place gentle kisses against your sensitive skin. Your body tenses immediately as you hear the bathroom door open and a few people come stumbling in, your brain tells you to push the guy away but you’re so lost in pleasure that you don’t move.

He pulls away from your neck for a moment and you look up at him to see a wicked grin slapped across his face, his pace doesn’t slow down as he reaches up and grabs your wrist to pull away your hand that’s clamped over your mouth. He whispers to you “don’t hold back sweetheart, let the whole bar hear what a good girl you are.” His voice was pure sex and you couldn’t help but listen to his demand, you let out the moans, allowing yourself to enjoy this very hot situation. You could hear laughing coming from outside the stall but you didn’t care, the orgasm you were chasing was too tempting to pass up.

Your back arches as a loud grunt leaves his perfect mouth, your pussy clenches around him as you go over the edge, you don’t hold anything back as you cum- letting all the swears fill the small space around you. His amused chuckle is followed by a shuttered groan as you feel him spill into your body, he collapses against you, panting softly as the both of you catch your breath. After a few moments past the haze starts to clear, you feel his breath against your ear, there’s a gentleness to his words as he says, “best pussy of my life.”

For some reason you believed him, you’ve only know him for a few hours but something about the way he said it makes you truly believe that you’re the best he’s ever had.

1K notes · View notes

andvys · 4 months ago

Text

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter five

⭐︎ Watching cityscapes turn to dust

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, gore, mentions of killing (zombies?), post apocalypse au, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You find out the truth's of this world, ones you weren't prepared for.

Word count: 5.1k

Author's note: This one is a little emotional... but Steve and Sunshine are finally getting closer. Also @hellfire--cult wrote the whole upside down conversation part and everything that came after, y'all are gonna squeal the way I did when you read a specific part aaaahhh

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

“See this? Eucalyptus. If we run out of toilet paper, we can use this as a replacement.”

Steve scrunches his nose, staring at the plant that you are picking apart now, gathering the leaves and stuffing them into your bag.

“You’re telling me I can wipe my ass with a plant?” He asks, not sounding convinced of your words.

“A leaf, but yes. It’s non irritating and soft. Koalas not only eat it but use it as such.” You explain without looking back at him, continuing to pick at the plant. You were hoping to find some mulberries or chokeberries out here but instead you stumbled upon this.

Steve nods at your words, a small smile grazes his face, “is there something you don’t know?”

Your braid falls to the side when you turn to face him. In all this time since you have been on the road, he hasn’t seen you with your hair open once, it’s always in a braid or a ponytail but never open.

You give him a sheepish smile and a small shrug, “...math.”

His eyes crinkle when he smiles, a low chuckle falls from his lips, “alright.” He furrows his eyebrows when he sees the amount of leaves you are stuffing into your backpack, “what’re you gonna do with all that?”

You zip the bag and throw the strap over your shoulder again, adjusting the backpack before you bend down to pick up your machete again, shrugging at him, “it can be used for a lot of things! We can put some in the shower for the good smell, we can make some tea with it or use it as a decongestant if someone gets sick.”

Steve nods again, he starts walking beside you, looking down at you with curious eyes. He is impressed by your knowledge. His first impression of you was false, he thought you were a clueless, lost girl, someone doomed to die in a world like this but it turned out that you know more than he thought.

You showed him how to build a water filter from scratch, you know what berries are edible and which are poisonous, you know your way around medicine, you’re fast on your feet and your reactions are quick. He is not so convinced that you are much of a fighter or that those knives strapped to your belt have ever been used for anything other than cutting fruit or opening cans. Your arms seem weak, they shake every time you lift heavy things, he can’t imagine how you have gotten yourself out of certain situations before but you know how to survive, he knows that now too.

“I was hoping to find some berries, we could’ve made jam, we still got a bunch of sugar.” You speak quietly, looking around the trees around you, careful not to miss anything creeping up on the both of you.

“I’m sure we’ll find some soon,” Steve murmurs as he keeps a tight hold on his rifle. He looks up into the sky, noticing the dark clouds. “It’s getting darker earlier now.”

“Yeah,” you sigh with a frown on your face. “I don’t like it, it means that winter is coming.”

“Yeah, hopefully we’ll make it to California sooner rather than later.”

You hum, giving him a skeptic look, shrugging.

That look on your face surprises him, amuses him even, he can’t help but chuckle, “is that pessimism I see on your face, sunshine?”

“Never!” You chuckle and nudge him with your hand. “I’m just being realistic–”

“What every pessimist says ever,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“No, I’m just experienced, Steve! It took me a while to even get here, there’s a lot of things that get in the way, obstacles. Sometimes you gotta do detours, there are a lot of towns and cities you have to avoid, that unfortunately makes the journey longer.”

“How do we know what places to avoid though?” Steve frowns, looking down at you curiously.

“Well, big cities and everything around it, those places were bombed, remember? When the government and the military still thought that they could prevent this from happening… whatever the hell this is.” You mumble, gesturing to some of the rotten plants you’re passing by.

“Right,” Steve mumbles and looks down. He sometimes forgets that you don’t know what caused the end of the world. He hasn’t told you yet, Nancy and Eddie haven’t either.

“It’s dangerous there, they thought they could take out those monsters that way but they only made it worse, cities are crawling with those things, along with infected people.”

He didn’t know. He was stuck in Hawkins since the beginning of the end, he never turned on the radio until you, he never even thought about what happened to the rest of the world, he was stuck in that town, he was busy grieving her.

“How do you know?” He asks, glancing at you.

You continue to look ahead, taking a deep breath before you open your mouth.

“I got myself in deep shit when I took a detour to Washington DC. I ran into a couple who told me about a refugee camp in DC. I should’ve known it was a mistake to change my route and go there but it was only the beginning of everything and I was alone and scared, I wasn’t thinking.”

“What happened?”

You look down as your lips curl downwards, wincing a bit.

“The place was crawling with infected people, it was overrun. I tried to go back, take the same way out and get back on my old route but… I swear it was a blink of an eye moment and those things had me surrounded.”

Steve frowns, his breathing becomes a little shaky as he thinks of the fear you must’ve felt when death was creeping up on you.

“How’d you get out?”

“I had to fight my way out,” you murmur, looking up into his eyes, revealing the mark it left on you as you allow him to look into your eyes. “It was the first time I had to kill sick ones.”

He can see it wasn’t easy on you, it’s written all over your face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and then it took forever to get out of there. The city was crawling with infected, with monsters, everything. Not to mention that most buildings were falling apart and it wasn’t easy to find places to hide.”

As you continue to tell him how you got out of the city of horror, Steve realizes that you have seen far more than he has. He might’ve been roped into the upside down years ago, he might know more but you have made experiences that he was spared from. That you have encountered things that he can’t even think of.

Shivers ran down his spine when he overheard your conversation with Eddie back in Hawkins, knowing how it could have ended for you makes him feel sick still when he thinks about it.

“I have avoided cities and big towns ever since. The journey is longer that way but safer.”

Steve nods.

“Guess it’ll take a while for us to get to California then.” Steve mumbles, spotting the RV in the distance and the small fire Eddie had made.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be tough with the cold weather but as long as we stock up on everything, we’ll be fine.” You shrug, surprising him with how relaxed you seem about all the things that he feels anxious about.

“Let’s hope we’ll find enough lakes on the way so we can keep filling up our water tank.”

You always make sure that the water tank in the RV is filled so the shower and the toilet can be used but you save up on it as much as you can. Bathing in the lakes is getting more impossible by the second, the water turning colder and colder, but it works for hair washes and quick cleaning on the most needed areas.

“Yeah and let’s hope they won’t be frozen or else we’ll have to use snow and baby wipes to clean up,” you chuckle.

“If there is gonna be any snow,” Steve points out.

“I’m sure there will be, so we better find some warm clothes, you can’t walk around in this leather jacket,” you gesture to his trusted brown jacket. “You’ll freeze to death.”

He shakes his head as he looks down at the flannel you are wearing, “funny coming from you, you’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“This thing is warm!” You argue, tugging your flannel closer to your body.

“Yeah right, that’s why you’re shivering!”

“Am not!”

Eddie looks up at the both of you, grinning a little when he sees how close you two are walking next to each other.

“Don’t you dare say anything right now,” Nancy warns him as she stirs the soup in the pot, giving him a strict look.

Eddie sinks deeper into his camping chair, his eyes flash with amusement when he turns to Nancy, “wasn’t planning on saying anything.”

Nancy knows her friend well, she knew he was going to say something to tease Steve, something that would’ve only made him tense again and she doesn’t want that, not when you two are starting to get along.

“Mhmm sure, Munson.”

Eddie takes another look at the two of you before he leans closer to Nancy, “but he is smiling.”

Nancy tries to be subtle when she looks towards you and Steve. He is grimacing. She has to admit, it’s funny to watch your interactions with him, how you talk his ear off, trying to get him to smile or even laugh – it’s a challenge, he doesn’t smile very often these days, let alone laugh. It’s cute how you keep trying though.

“Don’t mention it to him or he’ll stop.”

Eddie snorts and leans back again, his eyes sparkle and a grin appears on his face when you wave at him.

“Hey, what’d you got there?” He raises his eyebrows at your backpack. “Did you find your berries?”

“No, unfortunately not but we found some eucalyptus!”

“Ah, nature’s toilet paper!” Eddie grins.

Steve raises his eyebrows at him, he stops beside you and places his hands on his hips.

“How’d you know?”

Eddie tilts his head to the side, placing his hand on his chest in offense, “I don’t like that surprised look on your face, Harrington. Why wouldn’t I know?”

Steve shrugs, “maybe because you don’t look like a guy who’s into plants?”

“That’s very offensive considering I used to sell ‘em.”

Nancy snorts and shakes her head.

You straighten your back, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“You sold plants!?” You ask, smiling brightly.

Steve shakes his head, chuckling at the look of enthusiasm on your face, “no, he–”

“Why yes, sweetheart. I sold all the good greens,” Eddie grins.

When Steve and Nancy shake their heads at him again, laughing, and Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement, you realize that you are missing something, an inside joke that you don’t get.

Nancy notices how your head is tilted to the side, your lips curled downwards as your eyebrows knit together.

“Alright,” you shrug, throwing your backpack down and your machete next to it. You plop down on your camping chair, scooting closer to catch the warmth of the fire. The smell of soup filling the air around you, making your stomach grumble in anticipation. “Is that chicken noodle soup?”

“Yeah with fresh chicken and everything,” Eddie nods, watching as Nancy pours you the first bowl.

You give him a deadpan look, eyes flickering back and forth between his and the empty cans of soup in the grass.

He chuckles at you, handing another empty bowl to Nancy.

Steve is still standing, looking around, looking through the trees and over the large field. He is gripping his rifle tightly still.

“Dude, sit down, we’re safe here.” Eddie tells him. “We checked the area, it’s clean.”

You look up at the brunette, noticing the worried look on his face.

“Yeah, it’s safe, you saw for yourself, Steve. The forest is green.”

He nods, though still unsure. He takes another look around before he sits down beside you. A sigh falls from his lips as he takes the rifle off his shoulder, placing it down on the grass.

You’re right, the forest is green, no vines or rotten plants around, no ashes covering the ground. Places like these are usually safe from monsters. Usually. Steve can’t ever rest, no matter how safe they look or feel.

“Here.” Eddie pulls him out of his thoughts, handing him the bowl filled with soup.

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs, giving him a tight lipped smile as he takes it from his hands. He glances at you, your bowl is on your lap, the spoon in your hand as you stir the hot soup. A strand of your hair falls in front of your eye and you try to blow it away but to no avail. His hand itches, fingers twitching. He tears his eyes away from you, looking down at his dinner instead, and he begins to eat in silence.

“Hey,” Eddie nudges his chin at you, eyes flicking back and forth between your face and your machete on the ground.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever actually used that thing?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side.

Steve watches you from the side, curiously. You look confused, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled downwards.

“Uh, yeah…” You murmur. “Why?”

How could you have survived without it? It would’ve been a miracle if you didn’t have to use it.

Nancy raises her eyebrows at Eddie, she hugs her blanket tighter around her shoulders, sipping the soup from her spoon.

Eddie shrugs. He knows you’ve had to fight at some point, to kill, you wouldn’t have survived for so long if you didn’t. Yet he can’t imagine you lifting that thing to kill something or someone, not because you are weak or incapable, he just thinks that you are soft – too soft to kill, even monsters. You are the type to pull away, to run, to hide, to fight but not to kill.

You look into his brown eyes, trying to find the look of judgment in them but you can’t, just curiosity, nothing more or less.

“Just haven’t seen you use it, that’s all.”

“Yeah and I’m relieved about that, Eddie! It means we avoided danger successfully. I really hate using it.”

Nancy nods at you, smiling.

You’ve been on the road for nearly two weeks and it’s been nothing but a wasteland – empty roads, empty towns, empty houses. Nothing but the ghost of what the world once was. You haven’t come across monsters or infected yet, not even people. It’s almost as if everything disappeared completely but the screeches of the bats at night remind you of the danger still out there. It’s only a matter of time until you run into something or… someone. You got lucky so far but how long will luck stay on your side?

“Well, the same goes to you all,” you shrug. “I haven’t seen you use your axe, Eddie. I also haven’t seen you use that bat, Steve.”

Nancy chuckles when you challenge them both, leaving her out of it.

“Are you doubting my axe wielding skills, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, smiling in amusement.

“Are you doubting me and my machete?” You retort, glaring at him playfully to which Steve chuckles, smiling at the look on your face.

“Hell no,” Eddie shakes his head, “I was just curious! I don’t doubt you at all, I bet there’s a cold blooded killer behind that cute face.” He smirks, winking at you.

Your eyes widen and heat rises to your cheeks as you grow flustered.

Eddie’s eyes fill with pride when he notices your reaction, he can’t help but chuckle softly. He glances at Steve who rolls his eyes.

“What about you, Steve?” Eddie grins. “When was the last time you used your bat?”

Steve shrugs.

As he thinks about it, he realizes that it’s been a long time since it was used. He relied on the axe that Eddie stole from him and the rifle Hopper gave to him on the day he left, on the day they were all supposed to leave. He didn’t even pack the bat then, Robin did. That’s the reason why he took it with him nearly two weeks ago.

“Probably in ‘84.” He mumbles without thinking. “When Dustin and I went looking for Dart after he ate his cat.”

His words sink in slowly and it takes you a moment to fully realize what he just said.

Nancy straightens her back as she notices the line between your eyebrows and the way you slowly put your spoon down into your half empty bowl. She looks at Steve who hasn’t even realized what he just said as he keeps eating his soup.

“‘84?” You mumble, turning your body to face Steve. “What…?”

Steve’s eyes bore into the grass, his forehead puckers, his heart sinks a little.

“A what ate Dustin’s cat!?”

You look bewildered, completely mortified as those images must run through your mind. The situation is not funny at all but the look on your face is and Eddie can’t help but chuckle, something that earns him a punch to his arm from the girl beside him.

Nancy glares at him.

“Goddamn, woman,” Eddie hisses at her, rubbing his arm.

Steve can feel your eyes on him, your intense stare. He slowly looks up, turning towards you.

They haven’t told you anything, you are just as clueless as the rest of the world is or what remains of it. To you, the world just flipped over. A mysterious virus wiped out more than half of the earth’s population. The sickness spread and people started turning into monsters. Monsters crawled out of hell or fell from the sky as many believed. He remembers all the things said about the upside down creatures, he remembers how some called them demons while others called them aliens.

They didn’t mean to hide it from you, to hold back the truth. The conversation never came up and they also didn’t know how to explain it all to you without sounding like they had gone insane.

Where would they even start?

Would you even believe them?

“Uh…” Steve panics a bit, turning to face Eddie, looking at him for help but the metalhead only shrugs at him. He glances at Nancy who seems to enjoy his struggle. She shrugs at him too, giving him a look that says ‘go ahead’.

He hates this and even more so, he hates the smug looks on his friends’ faces.

For a moment it’s quiet, nothing but the crackling of the fire filling the space.

“What do you mean?” Your voice pulls his attention back on you. Your eyes are filled with confusion, your lips slightly parted.

Steve takes a deep breath.

He knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later, he just didn’t think that he would have to be the one to explain this world to you. He is not good at these things.

With a sigh he leans down, placing the bowl on the grass before he leans back again, turning his body towards you.

Where does he even begin?

He clears his throat, glaring at Eddie when he cackles.

“I uh… listen, what I’m about to tell you is gonna sound… crazy.”

“Can’t get crazier than this,” you chuckle nervously.

Steve smiles a little, taking another deep breath.

“Well, this has been going on for longer than you think.”

You narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head a little.

“I’m not following…”

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, he looks back and forth between your eyes and the fire, unable to find the right words.

“The uh…” He pauses, clenching his jaw. “Fuck…” He whispers.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs loudly. “You’re the worst storyteller ever, dude!”

“Well, why don’t you tell her, Munson!?” Steve snaps in frustration, huffing loudly.

“I might be the master of story telling thanks to being a Dungeon Master… but I wasn’t in this shit from the very beginning.” Eddie says with another shrug and a cocky smile on his face which makes Steve sigh and roll his eyes. Your attention goes back to the brunette, your head tilted, ready to listen.

“There… There’s another dimension.” Steve starts and Nancy now knows it’s gonna be a long story, looking down at her bowl and continuing eating.

“Another dimension? Like a parallel universe or something?” You ask and Steve scrunches up his nose.

“Not exactly. It’s this world but a more… devastated version. What you saw back in Hawkins, it’s not as bad as it is in that dimension.” You were getting lost now, his words not making any sense and he noticed it in your face. “This started back in 1983…”

You listened.

For the first time in weeks, you sat there without any words coming out of your mouth except for a few questions, letting Steve talk. Nancy gave her input every now and then. They told you everything… from beginning to end. How one of the teens got taken away, how one of them was an experiment, how the others solved the mystery, how the government was involved, then–

“Wait… so… the Russians… they did what to you?” You ask and Steve clears his throat, looking at you.

“Kidnapped me and Robin, almost beat me to death and then they drugged us, thinking we would spill the beans or something.” He chuckles and your eyes were just glued on him, a worried frown in your eyebrows. His laugh ceased as he looked at you completely confused. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

He blinked a few times at that. It’s something that had happened years ago, back in 1985… Robin was one of the only people who asked. Dustin… then everyone saw him and the one thing that they asked was ‘what happened?’. You, years later, when his bruises are no longer there, maybe a scar on his lip from it that is barely visible… you ask him if he’s okay. He doesn’t know how to answer, completely taken aback by your question. Eddie notices, clearing his throat, which makes you turn your head at him.

“He is perfectly fine as you can see. Annoyingly so.” He comments and Steve is a little grateful for your attention, for your care, to no longer be directed at him. He cracks his neck a bit, not noticing the eyes of the other girl sitting in the circle, who is holding back a smile.

“So… After that, we came to find out so many other things… one in particular was that this whole thing, this whole… dimension, not only was opened by El, but another person got sucked in it… A dangerous person.” Your eyes went back to Steve as he continued his explanation.

You couldn’t believe this was all done by a single entity, a thing that was once human, a monster that was once a child. He explained how the gates worked, how the craters were created and then… your eyes landed on Eddie as Steve told you about the final battle.

“We thought we hadn’t killed him… but then– El told us he was dead. She could see him dying in his mind… but he didn’t leave without a parting gift.” Eddie states as he looks at his arms, seeing the scars and then back at you. “With the craters open, he gave one last order.”

“What was that?” You ask and Steve clears his throat, your attention back to him.

“To take over this side. To bring the Upside Down… up.”

You didn’t know how to react now. Your eyes drifted to the floor. They have been in this war for so long. For years. Kids. Fucking kids were involved in this and you just felt anger. Good people were involved in something that should have been dealt with by adults. The people who died, they recounted each one of them, but your eyes were on Nancy, who was looking at the horizon, as if absent minded.

She lost her best friend to this monster… and her father.

Steve lost his soulmate… Eddie almost lost his own life… They all almost died at some point and– it was hard to imagine that while they were suffering like this, when they were fighting and getting beaten up… you were picking up sunflowers with your parents. You were off partying. You were out with friends or going to concerts.

It felt unfair. You feel so guilty for some reason. You feel guilty for having had the time to be a proper teenager. To have a proper childhood. To have a family while theirs started to break apart slowly. The scars they all have, on their skin, on their minds, on their hearts… you don’t think you will ever comprehend. You won’t ever understand that pain.

“Sweetheart…” You heard Eddie calling you, but you were still shocked, the information dawning on you, and then– you flinched slightly when a thumb grazed your cheek, making you look to the side to see Steve, worriedly looking at you as he wiped something off your face.

“You don’t need to cry…” He softly spoke to you and… cry? You shook your head to get out of your shock, at least a bit, and you raised your hand to touch your right cheek and– You were crying. Tears fell down your eyes and you didn’t even notice it. Your heart felt as if someone was crushing it in their bare hands and your stomach was in a tight knot as Steve’s words kept replaying in your head.

“How… How can I not cry?” Your reaction was not something they expected. They expected you to yell in fear, or to appear nervous, or to be at least a bit skeptical of their story… but you were crying. Eddie’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, your eyes finding his.

“Why? We’re here… we’re alive.” He says with a soft smile, but you shake your head, the lump in your throat bigger than ever.

“Your lives were ripped away from you… normal lives… Your friends… family– How can I not cry?” And it dawned on them. They haven’t thought of it that way, not once they stopped and regretted or wished for things to be different. But now, the thoughts linger… if the upside down never happened, or they never interfered… where would they be right now?

“It… it made us who we are now.” Nancy tries talking, not wanting to show how her voice started to break. Your tears kept coming down as you tried to nod, yet it didn’t erase the sadness. It didn’t erase how bad you felt.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry this happened to all of you…” Your eyes fell on Steve. His eyes were red as well as the other two people in the circle. Soon, you weren’t the only one shedding tears. They all sat, looking at the fire in the middle, letting the world sink in. Letting their story be heard by themselves this time.

“Wow, sweets… thought we were done crying over this but damn, you come along and break the fucking dam.” Eddie jokes as he wipes his tears away, a wet chuckle escaping him and Nancy barely smiles, wiping her own tears, sniffling. You looked at him, a small smile on your lips as you saw him trying to diffuse the tension.

“We can’t afford to cry, we have to save our water and our hydration.” She says as joke, which makes you and Eddie chuckle. Your eyes turned to the one person who was still silent, looking at the firepit. Your smile fell a bit and you hesitantly raised your hand up and you returned his gesture. You wiped the stray tear that fell down his cheek but he didn’t flinch away from you. He wasn’t startled.

Steve looked at you as you retreated your hand back to your lap. He gave a few blink as he gulped the lump that formed in his throat. You were a nuisance. He knew that. You were making him have emotions he thought he was better without, and now…

“Thank you.” He softly spoke, and you gave him a small smile in answer. He reciprocates the gesture, the sadness slowly leaving his body as warmth fills his body once more. It was better to blame the fire for that.

He wanted to hate you for what you were doing to him. But he couldn’t help but thank you… because having these feelings, these emotions, reminded him of who he once was. With Dustin. With the other teens. With Robin. He’s once again vulnerable, but being able to laugh with Eddie, with Nancy… and you… He doesn’t want to lose that again.

“Don’t want to break the cute and intimate moment, but the chicken soup– I think it was fucking expired–” And all of your eyes widened as the loudest thing was heard through the field. Eddie’s face reddened as he cleared his throat. “That– I bet it was a demogorgon.”

The first to break was Steve. He laughed loudly, cackled, grabbing his belly as his face reddened from the strain of his laughter. Eddie had just let out a huge fart that echoed against the very far trees. You instantly followed as well as Nancy, all of you almost falling off the chair as Eddie scrambled up, rushing to get toilet paper inside the RV.

“IT’S NOT GONNA BE FUNNY WHEN IT HAPPENS TO THE THREE OF YOU!” You all heard him yell as now tears of laughter and joy escaped your eyes, your head hurting a bit from how hard you were laughing, pretty sure Steve was in the same or worse situation as you were because his was the loudest.

You all saw Eddie rush out with the small shovel and the toilet paper, running towards the woods, and your eyes caught on Steve. It was the first time you saw all of his teeth. His mouth wide with laughter, his eyes clenched, his hand on his belly as he complained it was hurting. Nancy’s own laughter was like a background noise, the volume was low on her, while Steve’s was on high.

You hoped to see him like this more often. He looked… good like this.

He looks good when he is happy.

☀︎

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things angst

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pedgito · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval.

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking.

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg.

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces.

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself.

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma.

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his.

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation.

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue.

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight.

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal.

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him.

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x f!reader #my writing

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aceday · 7 months ago

Text

Agatha Harkness x Reader and Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: you’re but an innocent young actor slightly in over your head filming a movie opposite rio vidal, directed by milf extraordinaire agatha harkness. what could possibly go wrong and what could possibly go right?

warnings: age gap, slight dub/non!con themes, fingering, oral, slight exhibitionist themes, public sex

*afab gender neutral reader

@covenofagatha @d-z20

i guess i straight fucking lied when i said i don’t do this last time bc here we are again whoop de fucking doo

The Director’s Cut

With a satisfying pop, Rio Vidal’s fingers slip out of your mouth. The fingers of her other hand tighten around your throat, wrangling a strangled moan from your lips, and she pushes you back onto the mattress. Your fingertips scratch desperately at her forearm, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fight for breath, and Rio’s knee shoves your legs open.

“Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head fervently, a plea in your eyes. Rio releases your throat and you gasp, only for her mouth to be on yours immediately, smothering you, her hands greedily grabbing at your hips, sides, ribs. Her mouth detaches from yours only to find itself immediately at your neck, her hands now attempting to tear your shirt off of you.

“Professor,” you gasp out, voice strained with blissed pain, with velvet panic. With some frantic struggle the shirt is wrenched off of you and the air nips at your skin. The hair on the back of your neck lifts. Rio finally stills for one cold, heavy moment, to stare at you under her, her face contorted in a cool sort of snarl, her eyes sharp.

“You act up, you play by my rules.” Her hand grabs your face, squeezing your jaw painfully. “Understood?”

“I-”

“CUT.”

A scatter of voices and murmurs arise immediately. Rio lets you go and heaves a barely-restrained sigh.

“Cut!” The voice of the director demands again, and both you and your co-star sit up on the mattress. You scratch awkwardly at your throat and look around for your costume shirt somewhere in the sheets.

“It’s wrong, really. Wrong. Fuck.” Agatha Harkness steps onto the set. You squint against the spotlights, feeling your face burn. You and Rio exchange a glance. “The energy, the dynamics. We’re going to have to totally rework this.” She paces furiously. Rio stands from the bed and grabs your shirt, which had apparently been tossed off in the heat of the scene. She hands it to you and you nod gratefully, pulling it back over your head. Agatha has been in an awful mood all day. “We’re going to take twenty. I want everybody to go splash cold water on themselves and get their heads out of their asses.”

You can’t conceal your exhausted sigh as you wriggle awkwardly off the bed. You’re about to go get some water when Agatha snaps her fingers at you, freezing you in your place. With an inward groan and your heart going a million miles a minute, you turn dejectedly to your director.

“Not you. You’re going to meet me in my trailer, asap.” You stare at her for a moment with bald-faced shock, but she’s already turned to her assistant director and is complaining her ear off. You swallow your… so many things, your pride, shame, embarrassment, fury, and stomp off set to the trailer lot.

You don’t bother waiting for Agatha to catch up to throw open the door and walk inside, toeing off your shoes. You’ve never been in her trailer before. It’s not as sterile as you would have imagined; there’s stacks of books and papers and binders and folders and a whole bunch of other boring shit on every flat surface, along with more than a few half-full mugs of what seems to be black coffee.

You slouch doggedly onto her couch, rubbing your eyes. It hasn’t been your best work, you know, but you’re certain you haven’t been bad enough to quite warrant getting chewed out in private. You stare out the small square window. It could be worse, you suppose, she could be chewing you out in public. This is easier to manage, even though you hate the thought of your director being unimpressed with you, but you might as well cut your losses now and move on.

As you sit and stew, the door flies open. Agatha marches in, doused in all black, the sleeves of her button up pushed up to her elbows and her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She seems to have calmed down a little, a very little amount, well, maybe not at all, actually, maybe she looks angrier than she did before-

The door slams shut and knocks you out of your thoughts. There’s a sizzling silence. A huge knot forms in your throat.

“What was that back there, hmm?”

You don’t know what to say. You cried that take. “I cried that take.” It’s impossible to hide the desperate edge to your voice.

Agatha holds out a finger and your mouth snaps shut. “No excuses,” she hisses, “your face is fine, more than fine, but you act like you’ve never been fucked before.” A huge, violent, and deep blush spreads immediately from your collarbones up. You look away quickly. “You’re simultaneously stiff as a board and loose like a slinky. You wanna look like a slinky out there?”

Agatha has such a way with words. You shake your head. “No, I do not want to look like a slinky out there.”

Agatha doesn’t seem to notice nor care that you’ve spoken. The heat in your face burns brighter as she paces exasperatedly in front of you. Your fingers begin to scratch anxiously at your jeans. “Rio Vidal is a hot young woman. I can’t imagine that she’s not your type. And yet- hours of intimacy coordination later and we’re still at square one.” That’s firstly not true and secondly a bewilderingly unfair thing to say. The rejection stings. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away furiously, adamant on keeping a tough front for your director. She paces furiously, dizzyingly, back and forth and back and forth. “Seriously, kid. Hours of intimacy coordination and talking and talking and going over the movements step by step. I could do your part in my sleep by now. And maybe I will!” She whirls on you, then pauses. You can’t imagine what you look like right now, your body unnaturally still to keep your leg from bouncing, feeling neon you’re blushing so hard, your jaw clenched, your eyes narrowed and wet.

Agatha has always had a way of being four steps ahead of you, always in the know before there’s even anything to know, so you shouldn’t be surprised when she takes one look at you and suddenly declares, “You’re a virgin,” as if it is the most obvious truth in the world. You look away, trying hard, desperately hard, to maintain your composure. But what can you do? She’s right, for the most part.

Agatha’s eyes narrow when you don’t reply. The manic air about her stills, and you’re suddenly wishing for her fiery temper instead of the cold, calculating dread that suddenly sits heavy between you two. She crosses her arms and continues pacing, but slowly this time, less like she’s being whipped around by her own anger and more like she’s a shark circling something tender and bloody.

“Well,” she says, gesturing lazily in the air, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” You sound defensive. It’s because you are.

Agatha appears to be lost in thought, “No, no,” she hums. “Nothing bad about a little prude ruining my film, hmm?”

Well. That shuts you up. Your mouth is closed, your eyes are a little wide in disbelief, you’re pretty sure this kind of talk violates some sort of workers rights something, and upon seeing your speechless state, the ghost of a smirk tugs at Agatha’s lips. A shiver runs down your spine.

In stunned silence you flounder, opening and closing your mouth like a fish, while Agatha waits, leveling you with her knowing stare, sizing you up, her eyes tracing up and down your frigid form, for you to say something.

“I’m sorry?”

Are you apologizing or asking “Excuse me?” - you hardly know. Agatha steps in closer to you, your knees almost touching her legs, what is she thinking? Really, what could she possibly be thinking?

“Are you?” Maybe? Agatha sighs and sits next to you on the couch, an arm slung behind you. “How about I propose something for you, for us, hmm?” She turns to look at you, and you’re suddenly caught in the narrowed ice of her eyes as if under a blinding spotlight. She’s always had one of those absolutely shriveling stares that you can’t tear away from. You nod for her to continue, and a smile crawls on her lips. Something brushes your arm and you flinch, only to realize that her fingertips are floating lightly up and down your bicep.

“Tell you what, kid. I’m having a shit day, I’m definitely making it your shit day, and you’re a little prig that needs to loosen up.” She leans in closer to you, far enough away, but you can feel the heat of her breath, can see each delicate flick of her eyes around your face. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Why don’t I fuck you silly here in my trailer, blow a little steam, and teach you what it looks like to feel so, so, impossibly good?”

You blanch. A terrifying expanse of heat sears down your stomach, not out of embarrassment this time. “E-Excuse me?”

“Tell me, kid. What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Agatha, I-”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t sneak glances down my shirt every chance you get. I see the way you look at me. The way you’ve been looking at me.”

“No, no, I-”

“Then I’m wrong?”

She’s so close to you now, her mouth hovering just above yours, eyes drifting lazily across your face. The worst part, the worst part about it, is that she’s not wrong, she’s not, you do stare, you do imagine, and even now you can feel sharp tendrils of lust unfurling inside of you, dampening your underwear.

“Come on, kid,” a low whisper, her voice like the trembling string dangling the carrot of her offer in front of your face. “Tell me what you want.”

Breathless: “I…” you shake your head, “I want-” to your infinite surprise, you cut yourself off, pushing your mouth against Agatha’s, your body propelling forward almost as if of its own accord. Agatha hums in delight. She wastes no time.

She climbs on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch and straddling your hips. Her tongue slides between your lips and, hesitant, your mouth opens, and the kiss grows sloppy, wet, Agatha’s tongue and teeth and lips on and against and in you. You whimper, your hands finding her ribs, your hips bucking involuntarily as her knee slides between your thighs. Your muted breaths melt into a high pitched moan as her knee presses against your cunt.

“I knew it,” Agatha whispers when her mouth breaks from yours, and her head dips down to the soft space between your neck and shoulder. She bites, hard and fast, not enough to leave a mark but enough to send a pained spasm through your body. You tense and dig your fingertips into her sides, and Agatha chuckles.

“Come on, kid,” Agatha says, pushing up on her palms to look down at you. Your lips sting, your chest rising and falling heavily, your breathing audible, not quite gasping, but stuttering. “Pay attention, okay?”

You nod, and Agatha pushes your shirt to your collarbones. She kisses down your naval, down your stomach, her thumbs brushing your nipples and mouth hot beneath your belly button. She looks up at you, eyelashes dark, eyes pale and sharp.

“Are you watching?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Agatha’s fingers undo your jeans. Your heart clenches at the soft snap of the button being released from its denim hold, a cold sweat at the back of your neck as you hear the zipper being pulled down. Agatha looks slowly up and down, between your eyes and each new inch of skin revealed underneath your clothes.

She tugs your jeans off of you, your underwear going with it, the bits of your costume being shed from your body. Agatha sighs, relieved, the way a dog does curling up in a warm patch of sunlight, and your skin dances at the gust of breath crawling up your body.

“I needed this, kid. Let me tell you.” She leans close to your cunt, you already know you’re dripping, you’ve been dripping, but Agatha doesn’t remark on your pathetic state. Instead she hovers close and inhales deeply. “Fuck,” she whispers, barely audible, and your head falls back, a whimper dislodging from your throat.

Her tensed tongue licks slowly through your folds, the tip circling carefully around your clit, and the shudder you release grips your entire body. Your hands, which had, up until this point, been white knuckling the cushions of the couch, fly to your mouth, and Agatha is suddenly on you, lips and tongue breathing pleasure into you like a gust of wind, like fire from a dragon’s belly, and it’s intense, intense. You’ve been fingered a few lackluster times by lackluster people, but Agatha runs hot, runs feverish, and everything feels scalding, your pleasure, your — Agatha scratches down your sides — your pain, and you want more and more and more.

“Agatha,” you mutter. Your voice sounds like it’s being forcefully pulled from your throat. “Agatha.”

Agatha’s fingers play against your folds, joined with her tongue, and your hands thread through her hair. She lifts her head to look at you, and you can see the glisten of yourself on her chin. Her fingers work you, slowly, in tidal beckoning motions. Your pleasure, vague, dazzling waves, suddenly straightens, taut and defined, and you can feel your orgasm inching into you. Your breath becomes shallow.

“Let’s see,” Agatha murmurs, “how did the coordinator do this? Rio has you pinned, she’s being a little violent, there are tears in your eyes, and when she fucks you, she fucks you rough.” Agatha stuffs three fingers into you, setting a brutally slow and violently deep pace. Your yelp sounds more like a cry and Agatha narrows a cold glare at you. “Shut it, kid, I don’t want to have to do it myself.” You bring a hand to your mouth, stifling each staccato whimper to the tune of Agatha’s thrusts. “And I’m sure you don’t want that either.”

Strung with pain, your skin shivering, your heels digging into the cushions, Agatha’s pace finally relents, slows, and she studies you maliciously. “In the next sex scene, our Professor acquiesces, takes pity on her disobedient but young student,” she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. Her fingers slip out of you, and though your body aches with relief, the wavering string of your pleasure keens for more. Agatha chuckles. “This is my favorite part.” She licks a broad stripe against you. You shiver. “You should see the way Rio looks at you when we film this part. It’s perfect every time.”

Agatha crawls up, your knees still hooked around her shoulders, and you whimper, feeling impossibly small as two of her fingers bury gently into you, stroking gently against your walls, her thumb brushing a light touch against your clit. The beaten, puppeted orgasm you’ve been chasing swells once more against you, rearing, an animal about to pounce.

Agatha kisses you, and you’re ready, your lips parted and waiting for her tongue, which slips eagerly between your teeth. You taste yourself. You think of Rio, stripping you on that damn bed, all hard touches and stinging words and dark, velvet eyes, and Agatha behind the camera, in her all black outfit, blending into the shadows behind the key light like a predator, biting the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching and watching. Fuck. It’s hot. It’s so hot. Agatha’s fingertips curl against what you can only imagine is your g-spot and you gasp against her mouth, earning a quick nip of your bottom lip in response.

“You gonna come for me, kid? It’s about time. Just like you do for Rio right about now, hmm?” Your body teeters slowly, achingly slowly, into an orgasm, its golden edges fizzing like a pot about to boil over. You thrash against Agatha, your hands clawing desperately at her back but your body still trapped in the curled contortion she has you pinned in. “Good, good. Much better, right? You’ll be perfect in front of that camera. Just like that, kid. Perfect.”

The thread snaps. Your orgasm douses you. You throw your head back, the cry in your throat wrangled out of you, unbidden, until Agatha slaps a hand over your mouth. “Don’t ruin your pretty voice, kid,” she purrs wickedly, “Save it for the camera.”

Agatha holds you while you shudder through your orgasm, your vision blurred at the edges, eyes unfocused, and she gently frees your legs from her shoulders, kissing you softly. Your hard panting mellows, evening out steadily. Agatha checks her watch and clucks her tongue.

“You made good time, kid. Are you going to remember this?” You nod, running your fingers through your hair. Agatha rights your jeans and helps straighten your shirt, pressing a kiss to your head as you wriggle into your costume.

“Good, because we’re getting right in it. Be ready to run the scene in ten.” A knot of shock flashes through you. Director Agatha is still director Agatha.

“But don’t I…”

“Don’t you what? Smell like sex? Still sensitive in your cunt and legs? That’s the goal, kid. Now get out of my trailer.” She waves you off. You gulp, cursing silently in your head but undeniably relishing in the hot flush at your cheeks. You stuff your feet into your shoes and let the door swing shut loudly behind you.

The team is in motion, cameras adjusting, the boom guy talking with Rio, who has her arms crossed. She casts her gaze briefly to the side and catches sight of you. She pauses. Her eyes narrow. Your stomach flips, but before you can think of what that look could possibly mean, someone grabs your arm. You whip around and face your makeup designer.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I-” she cuts herself off. You must look a little like a mess, flushed, wet-eyed. If you had to guess, you probably look like Agatha spent the entire break chewing you out. Chewing, no. Eating, on the other hand…

You chuckle dryly, and your designer takes a step back. “Nevermind,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “You look perfect. Break a leg.”

“Alright everybody. Places.” Agatha’s voice cuts like a knife over the noisy bustle. There’s immediate quiet as everyone hustles to their designated spots. “We’re starting from ‘Got something to say now’.”

You situate yourself on the bed. Rio climbs on top of you. A shudder runs unprompted down your spine. With horror, you realize that you are still sensitive. Violently sensitive. Above you, Rio’s eyes narrow. She inhales deeply. You think she’s sighing, but a treacherous thought flickers through your mind that maybe she smells you, smells Agatha, smells you on Agatha on you. Rio’s eyes trace down your body, seeming to clock every unfortunate and incriminating detail. Your messed up hair, your hot skin, your shaking legs.

You’re not sure if it’s to your relief or distress, but Rio chuckles lowly. “Extra lesson, hmm?”

You swallow. “S-Sorry?”

She leans down close to your ear. Her hands wrap slowly around your wrists, pressing them above your head. This wasn’t in the intimacy coordination. “That’s fine. If you’re going to get a little extra help, maybe we can have a little fun, right?”

A knot forms in your throat. Your ears feel hot. “I think-”

Agatha’s voice, booming, as if from heaven. “Scene 30. Take 7. And… action!”

Rio grabs quickly at your throat. You feel dazed, but vaguely remember your blocking and shakily hold onto her forearm. Rio flashes you a toothy smile, a creepy, toothy smile that hollows out your chest. “Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head quickly, and to your surprise, instead of releasing your throat, Rio shoves a knee between your legs, knocking against your clit. You gasp out your next line, “Professor-” and Rio’s fingertips dig harder into the sides of your throat. Her other hand finds your wrist, slamming it above your head, her grip tight. “Professor,” you choke out again, finding Rio’s gaze, the wild, manic look in her eyes shooting guilty sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Please,” you beg, off-script, and this time, Rio relents.

She releases your neck. Your hand flies up to it, your breath scraping down your throat, heavy, but Rio catches your other wrist and shoves it down with the other. “You act up,” she hisses, “you play by my rules.” She gathers both wrists with one hand and strokes a manicured nail down your jaw. You strain your face away, breath light and fluttering.

“Understood?”

At the word, she grabs your jaw sharply, forcing you to meet her eyes. There’s something of a challenge in her gaze. You’d probably break if you weren’t so fucking turned on, but your own arousal dampens your underwear. You feel hot everywhere.

“I understand, Professor,” you whisper. A well timed tear traces from the corner of your eye down your temple. “Please, don’t go too hard.” You blink pathetically up at her. “I didn’t mean to.”

The double meaning is more than received. Rio laughs loudly. “Didn’t mean to? Yeah right.” Her knee pushes up into your hot cunt and you whimper loudly, your eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your jaw drops down between your legs. You whine and buck your hips. Rio scoffs, shaking her head. It’s miserably clear to her that you’re not acting anymore.

“Pathetic,” she sneers. Her hand quickly unbuttons your jeans and sinks beneath your waistband. Usually, she doesn’t come close to touching you. The jeans are low-rise and loose, but this time, Rio has no qualms about pressing her fingertips against your underwear, no doubt feeling the hot, soaked cloth. She groans and curses.

“Professor,” you gasp, choked. Your tears flow freely now. Her fingertips dig blindly against your cunt, feeling through the fabric your folds, your clit, warm and sensitive. You feel raw from the orgasm you just had, so violently raw, and even the lightest touch sends a dark pleasure scattering through you. You jerk uncontrollably, writhing beneath Rio, feeling an orgasm, a fucking orgasm, climbing panicked below your stomach.

Rio’s mouth crashes down onto yours, as if trying, and failing, to mute each desperate noise that crawls from your throat. The result is you moaning wildly into the kiss, choking around her tongue, her fingers kneading into the cloth and sending you sputtering into a lingering orgasm that you’re not sure ever fully evaporated - a fact Rio seems to be well aware of.

Your body tenses and you careen through the waves of pleasure splashing in you, swallowing you whole. Rio pulls her mouth off of yours to watch the bliss bloom across your face and the cry that erupts from your throat is somehow both a whimper and a howl.

“Much better,” Rio whispers, pulling her hand from your jeans, kissing down your neck and stroking your cheek with her thumb. You can smell yourself on her fingers. You lay there dumbly, shivering through the dregs of your orgasm, sighing into an exhaustion you’ve never known. “That was good, that was really good,” Rio hums, pleased.

When your eyes meet, there’s a bit of tentativeness. This got out of hand. The smile you give her is, you hope, both wayward and reassuring.

“Did I-” you’ve started your line while still out of breath, and interrupt yourself to take a deep breath, “Did I do okay, Professor?” A phrase carrying a triple meaning, at this point. You’d give anything to look at Agatha right now, but manage to stay in character, keep your gaze trained on Rio’s glazed eyes.

“You were amazing,” she whispers, kissing you softly.

“Cut!”

Both Rio and you jolt in surprise. She peels off of you, lightly intertwining your fingers with hers, and you sit up, looking towards Agatha. You only see the camera, and in the darkness, her dark form slides from behind it. Her outline becomes slowly visible as she takes a few steps closer towards you two, though shadows still cut across her. You can see a smile stretch across her face.

“Now that,” she says. “Was perfect.” Agatha turns to face the crew. “On that note, that’s a wrap for today. Everybody go take a cold shower.” Agatha then steps fully into the light. The look on her face is indescribably malicious, a smile that could be angry or just evil, pale eyes glinting. You exchange a glance with Rio and notice a soft heat on her cheeks. “You two, meet me in my trailer first.” Agatha’s eyes narrow. “I want to discuss some notes with you.”

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha all along fanfic #agatha all along smut #agatha x reader #rio x reader

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violentdelights-violentendss · 6 months ago

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Pretending to Give Logan a Blowjob.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Logan Howlett

Synopsis: You decide to prank logan with the TikTok prank: you pretend to get ready to give him a blowjob, and right when you have convinced him, you pretend you had been wanting a shoulder massage all along.

•

Hey guys! Hope you like this! I have a few more TikTok pranks, and if you guys are interested I could write a few little scenarios like this one with Logan.

The other TikTok pranks include:

1. Pretending to be wearing nothing underneath your towel and suddenly opening it while recording a TikTok.

2. Asking him to multitask, by cutting something while telling the story of how you met.

3. Walking on him naked while he’s working.

4. The jacked and kind trend

Let me know if you want anymore with these scenarios, both for Logan or for other characters I write for.

You had been assigned to overview a physics exam in the afternoon. Currently sitting on the hard, plastic chair that dug into your ass, you looked at the rows and rows of teenagers. Some were writing non stop, while others gripped their hair in desperation. You tried to get comfortable, shifting your hips on the seat, almost cursing out loud when you only managed to somehow make the chair more uncomfortable. You huffed, crossing your arms and trying to distract yourself from the stuffiness of the room.

You leaned back against the chair, crossing your legs. The frantic scratching of the pens on paper soon became a distant sound to your distracted ears as you started thinking about your boyfriend, Logan, who was currently training with a bunch of students just a few floors down. You missed him, even if you had been snoring happily in his arms just that morning.

You sighed, touching his dog tags which were currently resting around your neck. As you played with them, stewing in the mixture of the students’ adrenaline pervading the air and your personal boredom, your mind conjured up a plan, your mouth splitting in a mischievous grin. Your for you page on TikTok had been recently flooded by various girlfriends pranking their boyfriend by pretending to get ready to give them a blow job, tying their hair up while sitting in between their boyfriend’s legs, only to turn around and demand a shoulder massage. Your excitement rose as your plan consolidated in your mind, further spurned by the absolute hatred Logan felt for TikTok, preventing him from downloading it. He would not know what hit him.

Your boredom now turned to pure excitement, your knee bouncing up and down. The minute your supervision time was up, Scott to switching with you, you sprung up and darted down the hallway, the light of the setting sun painting long windows in your path.

You hastily ran to your bedroom, shutting the door when you realized it was empty. He wasn’t in the training room, the lights shut off. You glanced in the kitchen, finding it empty as well. You stopped in the entrance, utterly confused.

“Whatcha looking for, bub?” You turned around, seeing Logan lazily sitting on the couch in the common room, remote in hand.

“Logan!” You squealed, smiling, running up to him. “Where you here the whole time?”

“Yeah. I think I watched you pass in front of the door a good five times.” He pointed to the doorway with the remote. “What got your panties in a twist?” He joked, gently reaching out for your hand.

You grinned, your early mischievousness seeping back into your eyes. You had wanted to record this on your phone, but you quickly eyed the security camera staring at you with its black eye on the wall; that would do. “You. I was looking for you.” You whispered, placing your hand on his chin.

“Me?” Logan asked. You nodded, letting your hand glide down his neck, down his chest, stopping on his belt buckle. You glanced up at him, biting your lip. Logan raised his eyebrow, a confused smile dancing on his face. Teasingly slow you spread his legs, falling down to your knees, until you were level with his crotch. The confusion on his boyfriend quickly evaporated, arousal flashing in his brown eyes. He glanced towards the door. “[Y/N], baby, here?” He asked, disbelief coloring his voice. You nodded, not trusting your voice, terrified you’d burst out laughing at his hopeful expression.

Logan licked his lips, excitement and nervousness bubbling in his chest as his eyes frantically jumped back and forth between you and the open door. A part of him wanted this, slightly reveling in the risk, and the other utterly loathing the idea of anyone seeing you like that. His erratic train of thought derailed when he saw you collect your hair into a hasty ponytail, your stray hairs caressing your face beautifully.

The moment he saw that, all of his doubts and nervousness evaporated. “Oh, fuck it.” He grunted, as he got comfortable against the leather couch, spreading his legs further. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank fuck.” He added, as he slyly placed both hands behind his head, looking at you through his hooded eyes.

You closed your eyes, exhaling loudly as you tried to not laugh. As you stuffed your laughter deep down into your stomach, you squeezed his thigh, a small part of you feeling bad for fooling him. You opened your eyes, trying to give him your best bedroom eyes, while your mouth quivered with silent laughter. You reached for his belt buckle, toying with it. Logan closed his eyes, leaning his head back. You chose that exact moment to strike.

You turned around, showing him your back. “You’re too sweet, baby. Thank you for offering to massage me. My shoulders are killing me. If you could really get in there, baby?” You asked, your voice sickeningly sweet as you waited for his reaction, eyeing him through the mirror hung on the wall. You watched as Logan’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at your back with dazed confusion.

“What? Massage?” He croaked, furrowing his brows. He knew he hadn’t imagined things: you clearly had been about to give him the blowjob of his life… how did it suddenly turn into a massage for you.

“My shoulders have ached ever since I trained with Storm a few days ago,” you whined, shrugging them. Logan blinked in confusion a few times, the arousal disappearing from his gut with every passing second. He stared down at you for a few moments, starting to move very slowly, getting whiplash from the sudden change, and feeling his ecstasy sink as fast as a rock in a river. His warm hands descended on your shoulders, as he slowly started to massage your non existent knots.

As you glanced up at him, and noticed his crestfallen expression, even as he diligently massaged you, you lost it. Your repressed laughter burst of you. You laughed so loudly you saw Logan flinch with his super hearing. He looked at you, his hands freezing. “What? Did I do it wrong?” He grunted, irked.

You turned around, slapping his thigh as the laughter kept pouring out of you. The minute you looked at him, seeing the confusion even more evident on his face only spurred you to laugh even louder, leaning heavily against his legs to not collapse on the ground. When you couldn’t breathe anymore, and your stomach hurt, you wiped the tears from your eyes, collapsing on the sofa next to him.

“I’m glad I amuse you so, bub.” Logan grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Could I know what I did to entertain you so?”

You turned to look at him, clasping his jaw. “Let me kiss this frown away.” You leaned in, pressing a few pecks on his lips. You pulled back, seeing Logan was still eyeing you with suspicion. “I’m sorry, baby! It was a prank! I saw it on TikTok,” you explained, squeezing his thigh.

Logan stared at you in utter disbelief, his mouth hanging open. “Are you shitting me princess?” He croaked. You only managed to giggle sheepishly. “Am…am I supposed to laugh right now?” He deadpanned. “I got tricked into thinking I would get a blowjob for a TikTok prank…” Logan shook his head, scoffing in utter shock.

A snort escaped your lips. “Logan, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would make you so sad! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!” You said, pouting at him.

“No luck, baby. Pouts only work for good girls. And you’ve been a bad one,” he said, grinning at you. “Well, baby, as much as I’d love to say here and be led on, I have another training class with my students.” Logan said, standing up.

You suddenly felt very very guilty about having lead him on during his short break: before he could get too far you grabbed him by his belt, yanking him back on the couch. You knew Logan could very well resist, but he let himself be pulled back, landing right next to you. You leaned in, slipping your hand underneath his shirt and caressing his happy trail. “Come to the bathroom closest to the training room after you’re done with your lesson. I’ll be waiting for you.” You pressed a kiss to his neck. “On my knees.”

Logan eyed you, a grin spreading on his lips. “Better be the truth this time, princess,” he grunted, sensually squeezing your thigh, before he stood up, readjusting his pants and heading to the training room. You laughed at the sudden jump in his step.

Right before he disappeared in the hall, Logan turned to wink at you. You blew him a kiss. The hour could not past fast enough.

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine xmen #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman #wolverine #logan wolverine #logan howlet x reader #logan howlet smut #logan x reader #logan howlett

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theegyal · 12 days ago

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When I Was Your Man [ Annie x Smoke ] +18

⚠️: Anal, rough sex, black magic, gory, torture, angst, toxicity

Part 6

The old flame she never planned to reignite? She did.

This morning didn't mean a shit. She tried to convince herself. The most important right now was to teach Anders a lesson.

After cleaning her shop, fixing her altars and broken statues, putting in boxes the roots and leaves, Annie kneeled to pray. She hadn't been inherently good or neither wicked. Nevertheless, her deeds should not become the origin of her demise ; Because yes, Annie persuaded herself that the destruction of her sanctuary would ultimately have irreversible consequences on her daughter. What if she couldn't pass through Oyá death's tunnel no more ? Or if any communication between them ceased ?

"Anders..." she muttered, mystically, her jaw tightened "the night will come. For you"

In a clay bowl, one he'd eaten from, she laid the roots. Devil's Shoestring, to make his path a tangle. Mullein leaves, to cloud his mind. A pinch of goofer dust to seal it. This good-for-nothing nigga had put filth on her sanctuary, the spirits were angry, the ancestors reclaimed a deep cleaning, her daughter path to Oyá had been blurred.

A debt must be paid.

She pricked her thumb with a silver pin. She watched a single drop of her blood fall, soaking into mixing powder.

"Anders Ray Johnson," she whispered, her breath ghosting over the bowl. "You walked on my soul. Now you ain't gon' have none. No ground to stand on at all."

She blow up the cursing powder to the winds.

Back to Lizzie's, the silence in the twins' room was loud.

Stack undressed, ready to take a shower. Smoke sat by the window, lighting his pipe. Right before his young brother slip into the bathroom, he asked :

"Was it good to fuck Annie?"

Stack's breath hitched. What the fuck Smoke expected him to say ? Of course it was good. Her pussy tasted honey, the way her tits bounce from behind, the sweet smell of her hair...

"Good as much as taking the back of a gun at the temple."

A dry, ugly sound left Smoke's lips. Might've been mistaken for a laugh.

"You asked for it."

He looked out at the street. Four blocks away from here was located Sweet Mama's Kitchen. Smoke let a smug grin tug at her corner of his mouth. Whoever messed with her had to die, simple.

Yeah, Annie was his wife, and even after seven damn years she still got a hold on this soul. But, one thing Smoke hated more than anything else, was people messing with his blood. Bending over for Stack was the line she should've never crossed.

She needed a lesson and Smoke was eager to teach her.

He would be her shield and her cage all at once.

"Stack."

"See that building her food spot in ? Find the landlord. Tell'em the Smoke Stack twins ain't buying no fuckin lease. We go buyin' the whole damn block."

The young twin rolled his eyes "thought y'all were cool again. I mean after that big ass head she gave you..."

"So ? She blow out my dick and we good ? Do the shit I'm askin' you, boy" replied Smoke

"That shit gonna get uglier than Roosevelt side piece...anyway, count me in." He said, disappearing in shower.

Now that part of the plan was settled. Smoke release his grip from the rifle, take an old paper out the drawer and scratch some words.

Annie didn't give him a name. She always had this tendency of protecting dumb ass nigga from reaping what they sowed. Doesn't matter truly, Smoke knew a lot of folks who can play great detective games, some Al Capone minions with a large money appetite.

"I'm outta the town" he shouted for Stack.

When you spit in the air, be ready for it to fall down on your face. The debtor's time had come.

The curse didn't knock gently, he kicked the door off Anders' mind.

Second ago he was drinking corn liquor with friends under a big sassafras tree and the next the whole delta became his own personal hell. Mosquitoes suddenly targeted him, sun lights turned into flames, the heat burning his skin, bugs buzzed around him as if he became a putrefying corpse.

His friends' eyes turned down, red, squinting, judging.

Anders immediately rose up right in front of this dumbfounded boys, he stormed to the dusty road, side to the plantations, then close to an oxbow lake.

His brain cracked open, spilling his sins to the gators and the snakes.

"I DID IT!" he howled with a ragging voice. "I GUTTED THAT DAMN CAT! I SMASHED HER STATUES! I THREW MUD AND SHIT ON HER BABY'S GRAVE—"

His crazed rambling carried over the murky water. A truck engine cut off down a dirt road nearby. Smoke still sat in the engine, his blue hat protecting his head from the sun. He listened, heard every words.

Smoke didn't flinch. Didn't move, neither. He just sucked on his cigarette slow, the molasses-sweet tobacco crackling like it was listening too. Eyes shaded beneath the brim of his hat, he stared out at the cypress knees and the muddy water moccasins slipping through the shallows.

Anders kept shouting. Now bent over, hands clawing at his skin like he was trying to dig something out from under it.

"I cut the black cat open, the old man told me it would bring her misery —AH." He sobbed, "her baby... her damn baby didn't deserve no goddamn shining rock! I smeared mud and shit on the grave! You hear me?! Shit!" He was laughing now.

"Always talking about roots, leaves and bullshit. She rot in those now—Huh ?" His laughter became crazier.

He beat his chest like he was calling thunder down, head rocking back and forth, teeth chattering disgracing the sun's heat. His drawers soaked through with piss and fever. Eyes glassed over, all pupil. Nothing human left in them. He didn't see the world anymore, just echoes of what he'd done.

Smoke, still parked, remains in his truck. He was not the kind of guy who believed in spirits, hex or any type of magic. He did believe in Annie though. And seeing the current state of Anders, he understood her rage, because he also shared the same.

Their baby. That bastard stained their child's resting place. Fury gnawed at him, furious tears burning his eyes. He balled up the letter down on the passenger seat. He didn't need the shady dogs help now, he had to handle it, himself.

This wasn't enough. That nigga didn't pay enough for his crimes.

"...baby... baby got worms now, I seen it, I seen it..." Anders continued sneering

"Grave got teeth," he mumbled. "Grave bit me. I seen 'em eyes lookin' at me from the dirt—ain't no baby, it's a snake baby, all curled up in the blanket..." He cried horrified now, clawing at his own face.

That was it. That was the last goddamn straw.

The hot tears in Smoke's eyes evaporated, leaving behind a cold, murderous calm. He shoved the truck door open, his hand already reaching for the butt of the gun tucked in his waistband. He was gonna walk over there, put the barrel in that blasphemous mouth, and end this nigga life right now.

He swung a leg out. And froze.

Something pushed back. Not a person. The air itself got thick, heavy like wet wool, pressing on his shoulders, chest, on his face. He tried to force his way through it, gritting his teeth, muscles straining.

It was like trying to walk through concrete. A wave of heat washed over him, smelling of ozone and something else... something that smelled like Annie's skin. Her magic. Her will. A blunt, silent, invisible No. This was her kill. Her justice. And he wasn't invited.

"Fuck," he snarled, frustrated. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, defeated.

"Shit, you ain't made her alone Bunny"

He wrenched the truck door shut and stomped on the gas, tires spitting dust. He drove straight to Juke Joint, its neon sign a lurid smear against the falling dusk.

Inside, the usual noise of liquor and lies filled the air. He bypassed it all, heading for a backroom where two hard-looking fellas, ones they brought with them from Chicago, were playing cards under a grey cloud of cigarette.

Smoke didn't waste time with greetings. He peeled off a thick wad of bills and slapped it on the table.

"Down by the oxbow lake," he said, his voice flat and deadly. "There's a crazy motherfucker shoutin' to the sky. I want him. Bring him to the basement. Don't kill him. I'll handle that part myself."

The bigger of the two men eyed the cash, then gave a slow nod. "Consider it done, Smoke."

Night fell heavy and black. In the damp basement of the Juke Joint, under the swinging glare of a single bare bulb, Anders Ray Johnson was tied to a wooden chair. He was quieter now, trembling, his eyes darting into the shadows. The ranting came in waves, weaker, more pathetic.

"...the mud, it was warm..." he mumbled, drool tracing a path down his chin. "She told me... the baby's eyes... saw me... oh god, the dirt got teeth..."

The wooden stairs creaked. Smoke descended, his shadow falling long and sharp over the dirt floor. He pulled up another chair and sat opposite Anders, lighting a cigarette, the flare of the match lighting up the cold fury in his eyes.

He let the silence stretch out. Then he leaned forward.

"Tell me again," he whispered, his voice soft as a razor's edge. "About the grave."

Anders just sobbed, shaking his head. Smoke took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing a vicious red. He reached out and, with unnerving gentleness, pressed the lit end into the back of Anders' hand. The madman screamed, a high, thin sound, the smell of burnt flesh and hair filling the space.

The scream didn't satisfy Smoke. It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. He tossed the cigarette to the dirt floor and from an old table nearby, he pulled a long, sharp-looking skinning knife, its edge gleaming under the bare bulb.

He leaned in close, mumbling, speaking not to Anders but to the some presence in the room, a ghost he didn't believe existed. "She was quiet. Never even cry when she came into this world. A quiet little thing." He grabbed Anders' right hand, pinning it flat to the wooden arm of the chair. "And you... you put your loud, filthy hands all over her quiet place."

He placed the blade against Anders' index finger, at the knuckle. He didn't hack. He pressed, a single, fluid motion of steel through flesh and bone. The finger came off, dropping to the floor.

Anders' shrieked, gurgled of extreme pain. Smoke didn't even blink. He took the next finger. Then the next.

"Couldn't just let her be," Smoke continued, his voice dangerously steady as he moved to Anders' head, grabbing a fistful of greasy hair and yanking it to the side. "Had to make foolish moves. Had to bother her nap time." He brought the knife up to Anders' ear, the cold steel tracing the shell.

And, with a quick, brutal tug, he chopped it clean. Blood poured hot and fast down Anders' neck, soaking his collar. He thrashed, his sanity completely shredded, his cries now just inhuman noises of agony.

Smoke let the head fall back. His eyes, cold and dead, drifted lower.

Not only Anders mess up with his daughter but that dirty thumb he got between his leg dared touching Annie.

"Now I think about it. You did welcomed me back, pant unbuckled, right ?" Smoke laughed bitterly, his rage shifted. "Gon' ask you the same question I asked my brother" he inhaled loudly "be careful though. You ain't my blood."

He used the tip of his knife to rip Anders' drawers open. "Was it good to fuck Annie?" Smoke's eyes betrayed a pure, raw jealousy. Just thinking that this rag had pounded his wife's coochie made his blood boil.

Unfortunately for the madman, the only answer he could provide were howls and moans. These didn't satisfy the former soldier.

"I see," Smoke simply said.

With the blade, he grabbed the downed, terrified flesh and swiftly sliced it with an upward cut. A final, piercing scream tore through the basement before dissolving into a wet, rattling sigh.

"Guess it wasn't that good," Smoke faked a reflection, then got his eyes back on Anders. "Well, I know you lie. Because she's so sweet. Sometimes too reckless for her own damn sake."

He stood up. Anders slumped in the chair, life draining out of him onto the dirt floor. Smoke pulled his revolver.

BANG!

"Only wrong you done was steppin' in our way. Now rot in piss."

He walked up the stairs and out into the cool Delta night air.

The drive was long and quiet, away from the town faint lights, heading down a dark road that ran alongside the river. His hands were trembling on the wheel. The adrenaline left his body, Smoke remained tied to his half from another life.

The smell, blood and burnt flesh back the basement, echoed Chicago black alleys, that time he used to work for the mob. He'd thought he'd left that part of himself buried back north. Looked like it was just sleeping.

He finally saw it. A small wooden cabin, set back from the river, a single candle light burning in the window like a beacon : Annie's house.

He cut the engine and walked up to the porch. He could see it was clean, she got rid of any filth. The dead animals were gone, the mud on her baby's grave had been washed.

He raised a hand, knuckles stained with blood, and knocked.

One time, two time. She opened at the third.

"Elijah... what did you do ?" She spoke low

"Finished what you had started"

An angel pass through Annie's eyes

She closed her eyes, breathing deep.

"Get in the bathroom."

He stepped past her, and she closed the door, shutting out the night.

In the wooden bathroom, Smoke stood in front of the small steamed-up mirror. Annie followed his steps.

She came to him, her afro hair in cornrow braids. Her eyes were quiet, blank.

She knew what he did.

No—she knew what they did. Elijah and her.

Her fingers, warm and sure, went to the buttons of his bloody shirt.

"I can do it myself," he grumbled, pride thick in his voice.

"We crossed a line, Elijah. You should've listened to me. You shouldn't have intervened."

"I already crossed it the first night I came to you, clothes full of my father's blood." He paused. "You crossed the, Bunny. Not me"

"It was the first time I begged my ancestors to fight for me. Not to heal anything."

She kept working her way down, peeling the sticky fabric from his skin. He didn't move. Didn't help.

When the shirt was off, she started on his belt buckle. A smirk crept across his face.

"Pervert," she mumbled as his pants dropped to the floor.

"Get in," she ordered.

For a second, he resisted. Silly witch—she forgot he was the one who gave orders.

But when he looked at her, at the cold wrath carved into her face, he obeyed.

No hesitation.

He stepped into the shower.

Annie trailed him. She twisted open the shower knob, letting the cold water fall on their bodies.

She stood there, her thin brown cotton dress soaked through, clinging to every curve, her nipples hard pebbles beneath the fabric.

The hot water sluiced over his back, but he didn't feel it. All he felt were her eyes on him. Fucking witch. Standing there in her soaked dress, looking like she was judging him from on high. Her face was cold, but he knew what burned her deep inside.

"Turn around," she said.

As Smoke turned, Annie took the soap — one she made herself, smelling like tobacco leaf and honey — and started from the top. Slowly her hands washed the grime out his shoulders, dragging down the hard ridges of his back. She scrubbed like she was trying to erase the man he'd been hours ago. The man with cursed blood on his hands. The man who set foot where he shouldn't have.

She got to his waist, her fingers brushing the top of his ass. "Ain't no scrubbin' can clean what you done," she whispered. "But I'm gon' wash you anyway."

"Ain't no sage can chase the karma you gon' get from hexing that man" He replied, defiant.

Smoke breath hitched when she slid her hand round front, lower, below his abdomen. She gripped his cock, purposely, jerking him under the stream, letting her slick fingers play with his tip, hand gliding easy over the thick length of his dick.

"Mmmh— you so damn hard," she muttered, "I'm just washin' Smoke, why you ready ?"

All she could do was talk. Hoping he never turned around and witness the mess she was. Her swollen and hard nipples were pulsing under the dress, her big brown soppy breasts squeezing against each other, pulling heat up her throat.

His balls were heavy and full. She caressed them with care, sliding her softly soaped fingers between them.

He grunted, hips twitchin'. "Fuck. You ain't shit Annie"

He turned, facing her. Annie vagabond hand now released from his crotch, get on his chest. Her palm resting near his heart.

"You feel that? This drum beating hard and loud" she whispered, her voice venomous. "That's mine."

Oh, he felt it. He felt the seven years crying out for his own cowardice, the damn seven years of jerking off to the memory of her taste, her smell.

He felt the rage, knowing his own brother had been inside her.

He felt the white-hot fury of another man—a piece of shit like Anders—daring to kiss her, shove his —now chopped— dick inside her cunt. Yes, Smoke felt all of that in the frantic rhythm of his heart.

He had to remind her, to reclaim her body.

Smoke's hands snapped around Annie's waist, his thumbs digging in hard enough to bruise.

"You crossed that fuckin' line, Annie," he snarled, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

A faint smirk touched her lips, a look of pure defiance. "We already live on line, Elijah."

Then she shoved him. All her wiry strength, slamming him back against the rough wood of the shower wall. The shock of it, the sheer audacity, blew a fuse in his brain.

In a heartbeat, he had her.

He wasn't gentle. He grabbed her by the front of her wet dress and slammed her against the opposite wall, her head cracking against the wood. Her eyes widened, but she didn't scream. Fuck yes. He wanted her to fight, resist.

He tore the flimsy cotton down, shredding it off her body until her huge, hard tits were bare, bouncing softly.

He crushed his mouth against hers, a brutal kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He owned this mouth. Anders hadn't touched it, not like this. Stack hadn't touched those bruised lips. They were his.

He bit her, tasting the blood, and the metallic tang sent a jolt straight to his groin.

His steady hand went down, grabbing a fistful of her fat pussy and coiled pubic hair all at once. He rubbed her phat clit, grazing over her moistened inner lips. Her cunt dripping honey.

He thrusted two fingers in her vagina, making her coonie talk in squelching blurb.

"Fuck—Annie you so wet"

He pulled his fingers out of her with a wet smack that made her gasp.

"Turn 'round," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Put your hands on the wall."

For a second, she just stared at him, her brown eyes blazing with a fury that matched his own. They weren't mad at each other, probably the pressure of the whole day and its mess. A lesser man would've flinched to her gaze. Smoke just stared back, waiting.

Mumbling under her breath, she did it. She turned and braced herself against the rough wooden planks.

Smoke spread her phat cheeks apart, water sliding down the crack of her ass. Her pussy lips were swollen, sticky with juice, and still glistening from the work his fingers did.

He slapped one cheek hard, the sound echoing off the bathroom.

Smoke lined up behind her, one hand spread over her wide lower back, pinning her down while the other guided his cockhead right to her bootyhole.

No only her pussy drip but her anus became slicker, oiled by her own fluid.

"Fuck babe—ya shit so tight"

His penis base slip in her sopping small hole, with one stroke. But he didn't shove it all the way, not yet.

He let the thick base of his cock stretch her, holding himself there, feeling the tight ring of her asshole clenching around him in a desperate, involuntary rhythm. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her whole body was humming like a struck bell.

He leaned in close, his mouth at her ear. With a taunting voice he murmured "Feels good, ain't it bunny? All tight and hot around my dick. Just how you like it."

"Go to hell," she gasped, her voice strained. Her ass twitched, pushing back against him, a traitorous little movement her body made without her permission.

A cruel grin spread across Smoke's face. He started to pull out, the head of his cock dragging along the sensitive flesh. "Oh? You want me to stop? Aight, I can stop."

Panic flared in her eyes. She twisted her neck to glare at him over her shoulder. "Don't you fuckin' dare, Smoke."

"Then say it," he whispered, pushing back in just an inch, a torturous taste of what she was missing. "Tell me whatcha want me to do to that tight little hole of yours."

"You wish," she spat, but her voice was breaking, her pride dissolving in a wave of pure, desperate need. He could feel her trembling under his hands. He pushed in another inch, then pulled back again.

That's what did it.

"Please," she whimpered, the word ripped from her throat. Her facade finally shattered. "Elijah, please."

She called him by his real name, hope to touch his heart.

"Please what?" he growled, needing to hear it, needing to own her surrender to their shared sickness.

Her voice was a raw, ragged sob. "Please, fuck me. Fuck my ass, Elijah."

The words were a lit match to a barrel of gasoline.

With a possessive roar, he grabbed her hips, digging his fingers in, and rammed his cock deep inside her. All the way to the hilt.

A guttural moan tore out of her. Her bigs tits bounced harder, nipples spilling milk down the shower floors.

He started to pound into her forcefully. She met every single thrust, her ass pushing back, her body taking all of his big fat dick, demanding more.

"Yeah, like that," he grunted, slapping her rounded ass "Take my whole goddamn cock, Annie!"

"Deeper!" she screamed back, her voice shredded. "Mmm—Fuck Elijah ! Don't stop, beat my anus baby, drill that hole—"

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her slightly, changing the angle, driving his dick into her guts at a new, impossible depth.

She howled, an animalistic sound of a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He felt her climax building, her insides clenching and fluttering around him. The feeling of her so close, of her body coming apart around his dick, pushed him over the edge : he creamed her ass inside and out.

Annie's legs gave out and she slumped against the wall.

Smoke stood behind her, his veiny thick dick covered of sperm, still hard, still pulsing.

"we ain't done yet" Annie said, lowering her gaze on his aching cock. She headed her hand and shut the water off. "The mattress"

She spoke before stepping out the bathroom.

He followed. Like a man under a spell.

She climbed onto the mattress, back arched low and wide, ass round and high. Now on all four, Annie looked back at him, her dark skin glistening, her pussy lips swollen and leaking like fruit split open in the sun.

"Bet you ain't got no damn good meal for seven years long"

He dropped to his knees behind her. Spread her peaches wide with both hands, watched that juicy creamy drip trail slow down the inside of her thighs.

He buried his face between them. Licked her like he was thirsty,starving. His tongue dragged over her clit, then down to her hole, then lower, tongue-fucking her milky ass like it was his last supper.

Annie moaned, loud and filthy. "Goddamn, boy... tryna baptize yourself or what?"

He didn't answer. Just groaned and licked deeper, tongue stiff, nose pressed to her pussy, the scent of her making his eyes roll back.

Smoke felt her pussy juice sticking out on his nose, lips, damn near his eyes. Climaxing one time wasn't enough. He wanted to penetrate her. Burying himself in her womb.

He climbed over her, lined his cock up with that soaking pussy, and pushed in all the way, slow, mean. Annie gasped, back arching, tits pressed into the mattress, the whole bed squealing under the weight of them both.

He beat that pussy like it owed him money. His balls clapped against her bubble ass. Annie took it. All of it. Back arched, mouth open, eyes rolled up. She met every thrust with her own, clapping her ass, like she was built for it.

"Say it," she hissed, lookin' back at him. "Tell me you ain't never lettin' go."

"I ain't," he growled. "You mine, Annie."

"You late," she moaned. "But you here now."

She came first, crying out, her whole body convulsing, wetness spilling down to the sheets.

He followed seconds after, cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside her, panting against her back, holding her tight like she might vanish if he let go.

They collapsed together, breathless. The mattress soaked, the room steaming.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant song of crickets and the whisper of the river not too far off. Moonlight dripped in through the crooked slats of the wooden walls, catching the sweat still shining on their skin.

Annie lay on her side, thick thighs slick with their mess, chest still heaving from the fucking they'd done. Her braids sweated. Smoke was behind her, spooning. One hand heavy on her hip.

He stayed inside her, softening slow, but he didn't move. Didn't breathe too deep. Just let his body speak what he couldn't say.

Annie stared into void.Real quiet. She was trying not to feel too much. She could still feel the echo of him inside her, every stroke sitting in her ribs like memory.

"I ain't never meant to need nobody," she said finally. "Least of all you."

Smoke said nothing. Just breathed steady behind her, eyes closed, out of guilt. He was the one abandoning her.

She swallowed hard. "When you left, Elijah... somethin' inside me cracked open."

She wiped at her face but tears kept sliding sideways down to the mattress.

"I ain't wanna cry no more," she whispered. "Ain't wanna feel nothin'. So I stopped. I stopped bein' soft."

He still didn't speak. But his arm slid around her waist, asking for permission.

Annie trembled.

"You know what it done to a woman, to be left like that?" she asked, voice breaking. "With a belly full of grief? With a baby and no name to give her but mine?"

Smoke pressed his lips to her shoulder. It was the only answer he had.

"I missed you," she said, breath shallow. "Hated that I did, but I did. Every damn day. Missed how you talked to me like I ain't scared of nothin'. Missed how you laid your head on my thighs like church pew."

He let out a low breath, like he was finally bleeding. There wasn't a day he didn't think about her. But what the use of telling her right now ? She would never believe his words.

"I ain't wanna feel this again. That hope. That softness. I don't want it," she mumbled. "Don't wanna love you and end up empty again."

"Annie," he whispered, lips dragging slow against her skin. "I ain't gon' leave this time."

She shook her head, crying. "Don't promise me that, Elijah. Don't lie in my bed and make me believe somethin' sweet."

He pulled her closer, chest flush to her back, his hand slid up to cover hers, fingers intertwining.

"I done already lied too many times, Bunny. I ain't got a place to go beside your arms."

She turned to face him. Her face swollen, tears soaking the pillow. "I can't be caring no more. I'm no longer the woman you knew"

"Well, I would just have to love the new version of yourself, even more"

And with that, Annie sobbed into his chest. The kind of tears she'd been holding back for seven long, bitter years.

Smoke wrapped her up. Didn't try to fix it. Didn't say shit else.

He just held her, heart beating heavy, whispering "I'm here" like a spell over and over until she believed it.

The sun crept through the wooden blinds, casting honey light across the bed. The sheets was tangled, damp with sweat. Annie lay nestled against Smoke, her bare back to his chest, their legs braided like roots under the quilt.

He still held her like she might vanish if he loosened his grip. Face buried in the crook of her neck. His breath slow, content. Ain’t nothing rushed in that bed. For the first time in years, Annie felt… calm.

Until a knock broke the hush.

Three soft raps. Hesitant. Then the squeaky creak of the screen door pushing open.

“Miss Annie…?” came a familiar voice, low and unsure. “Miss Annie, you home?”

Annie blinked. Took a breath. “That… that Anaya?” she murmured, sitting up, the sheet clutching her chest. “It’s still early. Why she comin’ here?”

Smoke stirred behind her, grunting sleep-heavy.

She stood, grabbed her night robe off the bedpost, wrapped it around her full frame, and padded barefoot to the front door.

Anaya stood there on the porch, shift crooked on her body, face all anxious and wrung out.

“Baby, what is it?” Annie asked, brows pinching

“I… I ain’t know where else to go, Miss Annie.” Anaya’s voice cracked. “I went to open up the restaurant like always, but there was these two big men out front. Said I couldn’t go in.”

Annie frowned. “Why? We ain’t got no damn violations. Health inspector ain’t been by.”

Anaya’s eyes darted toward the trees. “They said… said the whole buildin’ done been bought out.”

“Bought?” Annie’s voice sharpened. “By who?”

Anaya swallowed, twisting the hem of her apron. “They said… the Moore Twins.”

Annie’s body went still. Her breath hitched. Time stop.

Behind her, bare feet creaked on the floorboards. Smoke had come out the bedroom, drawstring pants loose on his hips, his chest bare, eyes already full of dread.

“Shit,” he muttered low under his beard.

Annie turned slow. Her face was blank at first, then her eyes met his.

Her eyes filled up fast, of tears. That wet shimmer of disbelief. Betrayal. Hurt so sharp it cut the air clean.

“Elijah…” she whispered. One word. But it held every piece of her breaking heart.

Tag List :

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#sinners #smoke x annie #annie x elijah #annie sinners #elias stack moore #fanfiction #smoke sinners #smut sinners #smut fanfiction #sinners fic

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enree9h · 10 months ago

Text

ECSTACY | psh

PAIRING : loser!hoon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS : “He watches you like he wants you to wreck him, like he wants you to make him your most remarkable one, the kind you would think about during the nights you’d spend writhing under other men.” He's just down bad for you.

WARNINGS : SMUT, p in v, kissing, grinding, unprotected s.ex, teasing? begging, reader is kinda mean, dry humping, making out, hickey.

wc : 2.3k+

MDNI

a/n : Try to ignore any and all grammatical errors and typos if possible!! This hoon is for the history books because the glasses!??? THE BLACK SHIRT!??? SIR!? I'm on my knees. ALSO OMG TAGLIST FOR FUTURE WORKS ANYONE??

Sunghoon’s gaze falls on you. The gentle overhead lights of the lecture hall bounce off the gloss on your lips. You sit with your legs crossed and perched up on a desk, the skirt riding up your already exposed thighs and Sunghoon feels the air get knocked out of his chest.

He walks into the room and hopes he gets to walk out without garnering any notice from you. Because any and every interaction with you left him pathetically holed up in his room with his hands down his pants and the image of your gloss staining his twitching cock clouding his head.

“Nerd party’s over?” you ask- your voice an echo. Your eyes fall on Sunghoon, his back to you, the black shirt stretching just right across the span of his shoulders. You pretend it doesn't strike up something inside you.

Sunghoon turns to look at you, “Facilitation ceremony”

You let his words run through and out your ears and walk down the stairs towards him. “Same thing” you shrug, disinterest coats your words.

“Right” he mumbles a quick tight-lipped response and goes back to shuffling around with papers on the lecturer's desk.

Walking around the desk you come to lean by the edge, your eyes trailing on Sunghoon the entire time. “Ugh, you're literally no fun,” you say, your head lolling back.

Oh, Sunghoon could be fun but he didn't want to come off as a creep so he stands back with the response behind his lips. Instead, he leans in, and the distance between the two of you fogs with tension, “What makes you so fun” His tone doesn't hide a whole lot of what he was feeling but it rattles you just fine.

“A lot of things Hoon” You inch closer, your thighs now on the desk, your legs brushing against his. But Sunghoon’s mind is point-blank, the touch of your skin against his pants leaves him dodging your gaze. But when he finally meets your eyes you find his gaze growing dark.

“Show me”

And so you do.

You push him lightly, his body slumps down in an empty chair, his hands lay on his thighs, gaze on you. He watches you like he wants you to wreck him like he wants you to make him your most remarkable one, the kind you would think about during the nights you’d spend writhing under other men. So when Sunghoon lets you climb him you take it upon yourself to make this the best he’d ever had, the best he could ever have.

You fall into his lap, your fingers running over his shoulder blades, tracing every curve. “Touch me” Your tone leaves it as a whispered request, it's almost like you're asking him to take you, keep you all for himself.

You look up at him, feigning innocence and Sunghoon feels the pressure build up.

“We don't want that” his voice touches an octave that makes you quiver.

“Why baby” Your fingers move over his nape and slide into the brunette mop of his hair, your nails lightly scratching against his scalp.

“Not here” he mutters, “not now”, his words echo a warning and you feel yourself grow eager and restless at the rumble of his voice.

A chuckle sits at the edge of your throat but you bite your lips to keep it in. Sunghoon watches your teeth sink into the flesh of your lower lips and he realizes he's lost all his mind to the pink of your lips and the feel of your body pressing into his.

His hands move until they find your ass and when they do you feel his fingers dig into your skin. Him squeezing your ass in the slightest earns him a low groan out of you and you hate how easily you gave it away.

The corner of his lips turns up, a smirk sits on the edge of his mouth and you want to wipe it off the second you see it turn into a cocky grin. So you do what you'd been dying to do- even though you would never actually admit to having such emotions, and dive in.

It catches you in a great deal of surprise when Sunghoon's lips meet yours halfway through, so eager, so ready. His glasses slip over the bridge of his nose and he grabs them the second he realizes it hinders your movements. The glasses lay askew on the nearest desk, long forgotten.

“But I liked them,” you say, your lips curving into a pout while you try to be as convincing as possible. But Sunghoon could see right through you and as much as he wanted to believe your words he decided against it.

“Whatever” and with a frustrated mumble of words he lifts his hips to reach for the discarded pair of glasses, slipping them back on. You catch his lips in a haste the very next second.

You smile against his lips but Sunghoon was too busy fighting for entrance to notice. His teeth pull at your lower lip, almost begging for you to open up and let him in.

So when you do, your tongue meets his in a fiery haste and you let his lustful rage take a hold of you. His hands inch upwards and stop at the dip of your hips and you feel his grip on you, the blunt curves of his nails marking your skin and that drove you right over the edge.

Your lips leave his and you feel your body vibrate with the low growl of his pants. Your fingers- still tangled in his hair, pull on the strands until his head falls back and leaves the skin of his neck exposed.

You attach your lips to his jaw and leave sloppy kisses on your way down to his neck. When you hear him groan, you suck harder hoping it wouldl leave marks and bruises too noticeable to hide because at that moment you wanted him all to yourself.

Your fingers inch lower until your nails bump against his belt and you pull on it the moment you get a hold of it. Sunghoon lightly thrusts his hips into you in response and you moan as his bulge pushes into the wetness of your core.

He loved feigning innocence and you realize at that moment that he wanted to make you beg for it. So you tug on his belt a little harder whilst digging your tongue into his mouth and you feel him chuckle against your lips the next second.

“Fuck you”

Your words are hurried, annoyance drips off your lips and you look at him with your eyebrows furrowed. But Sunghoon is simply dumbstruck by the swell of your wet lips, the red of flushed skin.

“Yeah?” his voice scratches against his throat, the word a question, almost taunting.

“Yeah” you respond as your lips dive into him but Sunghoon catches them with ease. When your teeth find his bottom lip, they sink into it and sink until the taste of iron coats both your tongues.

You feel him play with the hem of your skirt and watch his hands disappear underneath the black cloth. His eager fingers reach you and you gasp into his mouth at the press of his knuckles against your throbbing core.

“You like that”, the bite in his voice leaves you breathless and you take it upon yourself to conceal every sound that would fall over your trembling lips henceforth.

Your body leans on his, your weight balanced over his tensed shoulder as your fingers fiddle with the buckle of his belt. They slip and miss every time and your growing frustration simply gets a chuckle out of Sunghoon.

“Say it”

“Need you” the rasp in your voice makes Sunghoon take notice of the bulge in his pants, straining against the fabric, coming away slightly wet.

You move to catch his jaw with your lips while your hands inch lower until your palm presses against him. Sunghoon’s head is thrown back the moment you press down on his bulge a little more, the pressure making his eyes roll.

When you feel your patience wearing thin you let him hear what he'd been wanting to hear, you let him hear your desperate whimpers, you let him hear the “please Hoon” you whisper into his ear.

And you know it worked when moments later you find him shuffling and moving under you, unzipping his pants. You feel the tip of his cock push into the cloth of your underwear but you make no attempts to slip out of it anytime soon. So you lower yourself until you feel the wetness stick to your inner thighs.

“Oh god please” he is a whimpering mess underneath you. Your gaze runs over his squirming self, eyes rolled to the back of his head, skin red, dotted with the purple bruises of your teeth and you love it, love how for the night he's yours to keep.

You abruptly leave his lap and the loss of your warmth jerks Sunghoom out of the undying splendor of your body pressed against his. You stand still, your chest heaving up and down as your push out labored breaths of air.

Sunghoon has never had anything drive him THIS wild so when you lift your skirt to rid yourself of your underwear he wonders if all of it was real because he's never been in a trance this intense. He loses all his consciousness to you, to your thighs, to the feel of your nails digging into him as you climb into his lap and slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

“Fuck”, spots dot Sunghoon’s vision, his nails dig in deeper, leaving half moons engraved on your skin. He feels your walls stretch around him as he slides in with ease.

The sound of your wetness blanketing his cock was his unwinding. Your body jerks lightly in his hold and it makes him raise his hips in response. You bite into the taut muscles of his neck as he thrusts into you without thought and increases the pace by lifting you up and lowering you on him.

Sunghoon couldn't wrap his head around the press of your chest against his, the sting of your bite on his neck, the marks of your nails over his clothed back. He was ecstatic and in a daze and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

When you move with a slightly desperate and hurried pace Sunghoon watches your tits as they bounce behind your black buttoned top, the fabric stretching around the buttons, waiting to be ripped open. So that is exactly what he does, he rips it open.

Your vision is dotted with the buttons of your top flying around and you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your chest the very next second.

He sucks on it like he wants the taste to linger and find home on his lips. His hands on your hips speed up and you are lowered on him harder. You let a strangled moan out when you feel the tip of cock hit your cervix, the pleasure makes your back arch leaving Sunghoon with more of your tits exposed.

He loves how it drives him to insanity, how when he moves to leave blooming marks of purple on your chest, he comes away tasting vanilla and how when you grab his jaw and make him kiss you in an attempt to stifle the sounds that fall out of you, he pulls away with the taste of strawberry on his lips.

“Oh god just there” your words don't make sense to you anymore but Sunghoon catches every syllable and is always left wanting more. So when he rocks his hips upwards and feels his cock reach new depths, you are groaning into his mouth wanting more too.

You move on his cock with a newfound energy and Sunghoon takes it as a sign to move faster because he'd do anything you would ask of him if it got him the sight of your whimpering self bouncing on him.

His neck is lined with imprints of your bites, the skin around them red and wet but Sunghoon shows no signs of pain because he'd let you bite into him until you drew blood, until you grew enough of him.

You feel the muscles in your abdomen contract, your walls clenching around him and your hold on his shoulders tightens. Sunghoon feels the vibrations of your groans seep into his body but he wants more, he wants to hear you scream his name so he lifts you up and drives you down on him until he hears his name whispered into his ears.

“Oh my- ” you're crying out, “Sunghoon”, his name falls over your lips in between pants and when you move to hide in the crook of his neck you feel his lips against your cheeks, curve upwards. He lets you take the lead, lets you decide the pace and you move until you feel the knot in your stomach unwind.

The warmth of your release coats the both of you but Sunghoon wasn't done. So he thrusts into you, into your overstimulated hole until he feels his cock twitch inside of you.

When you feel his cum drip down your inner thighs you move in an attempt to climb out of his lap. But his hands on your hips cage your movement, “Let go” you say staring into his eyes with vague interest but Sunghoon gazes back at you with a glint in his eyes.

All energy had been drained right out of you so you don't give it a fight and simply drop back into his lap. Your eyes feel heavy and your limbs hang at your sides so you give into the forthcoming sleep and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. When you feel kisses being pressed against your earlobe you let sleep take over you.

Sunghoon watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you lay against him and makes it a point to memorize the gentle slope of your nose bridge, the sound of your breathing and the feeling of you pressed against him.

#enhypen #enha sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon x reader #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours #enhypen sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #enha smut

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skvrpion · 4 months ago

Text

Study Buddy [M] Oneshot

tw: drug paraphernalia, swearing, general filthiness

“this just something sweet for the fucking kids okay” - Auntie Fee

“London you just came over here to study, that’s it.”

London was quietly berating herself in the bathroom mirror, fingers nervously twirling the same braid she’d been messing with since 8 that night.

It was now 11PM and she was heavily contemplating sucking the skin off of Terrance Richmonds dick – the polite gentleman who was currently waiting on her to return back to their study session in his living room.

The original plan was to come over and prepare for her last midterm of the week, the most heavily dreaded exam in her program to date. Everyone she knew who’d previously taken advanced calculus with Professor Malkin bombed this particular test – everyone but Terrance who’d scathed by with a 92, a low for him but still a pass, nevertheless. For the last few semesters he was known solely around the quad as a mousy brainiac, rarely seen but always heard of from both administration and the incoming PhD students desperate for help.

London herself initially became acquainted with him during a freshman Biology class and for weeks he without question covered her ass when she was running behind, scrambling into her seat with Starbucks, hopes and a dream that she’d be able to catch up to their lectures. What started as frequent texts regarding academia trickled into casual conversation and before they knew it, they were what most people considered close friends. Close in the context that they rarely saw each other outside of the confines of their library’s study rooms, but chatted enough through texts that they knew mostly every mundane thing about each other. No one on campus – including London – thought much of him looks wise until he returned from study abroad an entirely different person.

Over the course of his summer internship in Thailand, he’d bulked up match his staggering height, caught a tan, and traded his scruffy look for a more polished cut low fade and goatee. Though it didn’t sound like much, his confidence had shot up tenfold, and in less than three months he came back to campus an entirely new person. It was noticeable by everyone he’d come across again, his dimpled smile and deadly charm were infectious. Frankly, it made most people want to throw their panties at him; London was one of those people, and here she was ready to send her thong flying.

“Aye, you good in there?”

London almost jumped out of her skin when he knocked on the door. It’d been a solid ten minutes since she disappeared, and he was worried something had happened.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine! I saw something stupid on Twitter and lost track of time.”

“Aight.”

Flushing the empty toilet, London opened the door and awkwardly came face to face with Terry noting the tightly rolled blunt tucked in his ear.

“Is that..a funky ass grape Swisher?”

“Uh yeah,” he smiled innocently, “does the same thing them weird vegan wraps do.”

“It’s not weird. It’s called having taste and being health conscious. Swishers taste like shit.”

“To you.” He said while trailing her back into the living room. London's long forgotten study guide and scratch papers were still spread across the table with no chance of making anything higher than a 67 in sight. It didn’t help that she’d given up on studying ten minutes into being that damn close to him - equally blamed on his piercing seafoam eyes and cologne.

“Well…it’s safe to say my brain is cooked. I mean you did great; it’s just not sticking. I’m sorry T.” London pouted earnestly, “ I really didn’t mean to take up your whole night with this shit.”

“I told you it’s aight, wasn’t like I had shit going anyway. You’ll be fine, even if you bomb it you got enough cushion to bring it to a 75 by the end of term. C’s make degrees, right?.” He nodded before dipping back into the couch, lighting his blunt. To save herself from getting more flustered London focused her attention on cleaning her mess up and shoved her papers into her bag. Watching a nigga smoke was top two and not two in her turn on list – it was actually how she got caught up with running behind he who shan’t me named a month badk. It was really her fault for dating frat, but then again that wasn’t the point of her current affliction.

As soon as she zipped her bag up the smell of chronic seized her nose, Terrance was offering her the blunt as a kind gesture seeing she was going to be stressed the fuck out the rest of the weekend. Knowing she had to be home soon, London contemplated taking him up on her offer. Her group chat would question the hell out of her if she disappeared this late, which would lead to a fight over whether or not she was with her ex.

Terrance wasn’t her ex though.

“Fuck it.” She thought aloud as she accepted the free smoke.

It’d only been three days’ since she last partook – however – whatever Terry had managed to sneak through customs was so strong it tightened her lungs the second she inhaled. Quickly passing (more like flinging) the swisher back to him, she made a dash for her Stanley cup on the counter, shooting him daggers as he flashed his signature cheeky laugh.

Though her burning throat London rasped a “Where the fuck is that from?”

“Being honest? Some hole in the wall in Bangkok; looked better than the shit I had back here for half the price so I bit.”

“Uh huh,” she huffed through ringing ears, “I think I’ll stick to my prerolls.”

Nodding humbly, Terry ghosted the cloud of smoke leaving his lips and briefly turned to retrieve the TV remote. As much as London wanted to continue the banter all she could do was stare lustful rings of fire into him. He was doing nothing out of the ordinary – smoking and surfing Crunchyroll for some anime she was sure to forget – and yet London still wanted to burst into a ball of flames. Whatever happened to him when he left the states was out of this world; it was mind boggling how normal he continued to act despite turning into an unrecognizable hunk of his former self. For what felt like an eternity she couldn’t help but to scan every muscle adorning his frame. That was until his familiar baritone brought her back down to Earth

“London…let me ask you something?”

Shit.

“Why you keep staring like that?”

London tried to play dumb,“What? I just wrecked my brain with equations for hours and hit a rillo’, if I’m staring at you it’s because I’m high and tired.” she mouthed back

“Nah, that’s not what I mean,” he chuckled, “you keep giving me that look.”

“What look, Terrance?”

There was a deafening silence between the two as he ashed his smoke out on the coffee table ashtray. London’s head was now swimming from the additional contact high in the room and the signal he was sending off was insane– to her his playful demeanor had shifted to something deeper in what felt like mere seconds.

Arms folded, London insisted on pretending nothing was happening and proceeded to take a seat back on the couch, this time away from him to keep up the act.

“What look was I giving you Terry?” She said while glaring at him. She watched him exhale with a grin and darkly catch her glance.

“You know I’m not stupid right,” he started, “we been cool for what? Three, four years now and I know you London. You only give somebody that look when you tryna cut – and don’t bullshit me cause you know I’m right.”

She wanted to scream. He was absolutely right and putting her on the spot like it was nothing. Had he done this before? She couldn’t tell and her mind was beginning to race with all sorts of unholy thoughts.

“Look, I know I shouldn’t be putting you on blast like that but it’s obvious… and you ain’t the first person I had this conversation with.”

“Oh, okay. Well…what usually happens after this conversation?” stiffly said London. It was the most she could get out with a straight face.

“We either laugh about it and pretend it never happened, or…” he trailed off.

“Or what?”

Terrance simply eyed the television and deadpanned while continuing his statement.

“We fuck and call it a night. That’s up to you though.”

London couldn’t think straight, hell she couldn’t think at all while processing what the fuck he just said. For a second, she thought he was joking, but considering the growing wet spot in her shorts couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t at least try.

“Oh...sooooo like..before or after the movie?”

————

Terry and London attempted to get through the first episode of Baki - that only lasted through the first arc though. As soon as London's body pressed into his broad side, his lips found themselves on her, anime be damned.

In the moment tried to stifle her moans but quickly faltered once she realized they were alone: no roommates, no problems. Pecking up to her face and stopped to hover at her lips, glaring her in the eye – one hand gripping her cheek and the other tugging at the hem of her button up.

Between soft kisses fluttering her lower jaw Terry mumbled a grumbly, “You sure?”

London could only nod and melt into every single peck they exchanged. Little moans seeped out of her glossed lips and into his own as he popped the buttons on her tank top one by one; it did nothing to hide her lack of a bra and that had admittedly been driving him wild since she’d gotten there. Truth be told he Terry liked her - honestly wanted her as bad as she did him but couldn’t dare lead her on like that knowing who she was with. Why things ended the way they did and how badly he wanted to break her ex nigga jaw for embarrassing his friend like that. With the cards now off the table he had no reason to hold back anymore, and that he no longer would do.

Terrance took a freed umber nipple into his mouth and softly glided his hand past the bands of her cotton shorts. She was painfully warm, her voice raising an octave as he circled her clit with the pad of his thumb. The way her face turned up with each slow drag was as mesmerizing as it was arousing, her eyes never leaving his as she struggled to form coherent thoughts.

“Knew I had you wet,” he said while turning his attention to pulling her bottoms off, “whatchu’ wanna do, you gone let me taste it?”

London nodded to keep from screaming. Foreplay was unfortunately new to her and she’d grown accustomed to her man getting a quick nut and going to sleep, her pleasure be damned. Being teased like this made her absolutely crumble. In a lustful haze London watched Terrance peel his shirt off – then drop his sweats to reveal the thick log tucked across the leg of his boxers.

To her chagrin his face was already between her thighs before she could register the type of night she was in for. In one gentle sweep he pulled her panties to the side and prompt my went to work eating her pussy – thick lips suctioning her clit first to rouse her, then relaxing to lick a stinging stripe up her glistening folds.

“Oh fuck.” Was all she could breathe.

She was soaking wet and throbbing across his tongue, her clit rock solid from the sensation; he was attentive, seafoam iris’ diliating and fluttering as he explored her lips. London almost immediately felt an orgasmic wave creeping up her spine as he sopped her up, however, she was determined not to fuck it up and cum this early in.

Her body wasn’t taking that waiting on that shit though. One sharp shudder after another and she was unwinding all over him and his plush couch, nails raking across his back and eyes clamping shut. Clocking her in intending orgasm, Terry groaned into her clit, vibrations setting off a moan that cut deep from London’s vocal chords. Terrance let her loosen the grip on his head before delivering a messy, slick kiss to her mouth to quell her whimpering. London sucked herself up weakly - the taste adding to her overstimulation as she tried her hardest to recover from her first orgasm. She cut him the craziest look when she settled.

“Who– when the fuck did you learn that?” She rasped, fixating her attention to his now obvious poking erection.

Between a playful shrug, Terry bit her bottom lip and , pulling away to take off his boxers. Every vein trailing his arms and pelvis were rushed full of blood as his dick sprang out of confinement, tapping his stomach and garnering a gasp from London.

She couldn’t believe her fucking eyes; their entire friendship Terry had been hiding all of this dick and was now about to put it in her. Her first thought with a stranger was always a condom – however – tonight she was stuck on stupid and wanted to feel all of it. Raw. Taking no pause London lazily shifted her legs back and waited for him to tear her shit up - prompting Terry to lightly chuckled and shake his head no.

“You want it that bad huh? C’mon, we gon’ need some more room than this. And a rubber, freaky ass frog.”

Once best friends - always best friends.

In one effortless swoop Terrance hoisted London off the couch, hoisting her over his left shoulder marching them to his bedroom. He stopped momentarily to fish a Skyn from his side drawer, then hoisted her down to his neatly made bed. His sheets were pitch black and cold enough to make her perk up from the head-drunk coma she’d been in. She had no time to get adjusted either, as soon as her legs reopened Terrance was back assaulting her clit with his thumb.

She dragged out a “Terry please.” and watched in anguish as he stroked the condom on above her. He looked almost ethereal with his eyes falling down her frame hungrily, muscles contracting, and veins hardened in heat. Giving her a devilish smile Terrance hooked his arm around her left leg and softly ran the head of his dick up and down her folds.

“Please what?” he asked. His free hand snaked its way to her throat and slowly pressed the sides of neck in as she spoke.

“I said please what?” he demanded louder.

A whimpering London strained “P-please T.”

“What’s my name?”

“Terra-“

That was all she could get out before Terrance slid inside of her to the hilt. She could only gasp as he filled her up, her walls gripping his dick with a ferocity, engraving the memory for later. For the first time that night Terry cocked his head back and audibly moaned, making London’s walls grip him up coaxing another one out of him.

He was so fucking nasty.

“I’m finna fuck you up.” He uttered before winding back and stroking into her. Words were no longer forming on London’s tongue at this point, just strained whines of pleasure as Terrance stroked into her, deeply. Their foreheads touched as her hands snapped to brace his arms, the pairs eyes locked together as he slow pounded her leaking core, kissing her deeply as he picked up the pace.

In the moments he let go to admire the mess they were making London’s eyes lulled deep into the back of her head, her grip on his arm loosening at every thrust he made. The way her dollish brown eyes bore into his with each snap of his hips, how she dug her nails into his wrists, how wet and sticky her folds were becoming around his shaft with each pressing moment.

Terrance usually cared to be a tease, however, it was clear neither of them would be making it far tonight. Beneath him London was close cumming again, Terry hoping he could make her hold out for him just a little longer. He needed to stay in it.

“I can’t – fuck I can’t t-“

“Hold on, hold on,” he groaned, pecking at her parted lips, “ just breathe, wait for me Lo. You gone wait for me?”

That whiny baritone made London’s legs tremble around him. There was no way she could stop a second creeping orgasm from knocking her clean the fuck out far before he got to that point. Both gently and quickly, Terry pulled out, flipped her over and wrapped his hand in her braids. With her back arched deep, her weeping core completely exposed, London could only whine back at him as he tugged her by the nape of the neck back to rest in his shoulder, his right hand anchoring her to his slick skin by gripping her throat.

His dick then found its way back inside of her and started hitting an angle she hadn’t felt in months. He wasn’t jack hammering her shit but he damn sure wasn’t going as soft as he had earlier. Between their moans he could hear the sound of her ass smacking against his thighs. Her curves rippled under the pressure of his strokes and his dick was twitching out of control for release.

Blinded again by pleasure filled tears, London could barely hear him as he rattled off curses into her ear and smacked the everliving fire out of her ass. She reached behind her and pulled Terrance in as close as she could, nails harshly scratching up the nape of his neck - a familiar warmth rising from her lower stomach with each earth shattering, sloppy wet strokes.

She begged him,“Terry…p-please. F-fuck right there don’t stop, dontfuckingstop-.”

“Think you got enough,” he snarled through grit teeth, “let me feel that shit Lo...there you go.”

That was all she needed to hear; as the floodgates opened London’s entire body jerked – from her core to the tip of her fingers she completely lost control, walls contracting erratically around the veiny thickness getting stuck in her vice grip. Just as she came unglued, so did Terry; though he could’ve stayed in it for at least another hour he couldn’t dare spoil the moment of unloading into her, the only thing stopping her from getting pregnant being the integrity of the condom she’d long forgotten about.

Terrys voice strained into her ear as his hips jerked erratically into her own, the only thing he whimpered between mourns being London's name. The moment his grip to her throat softened, she took the initiative to free herself, flopping to the mattress and swatting him back by the pelvis to make him pull out before he got the itch for round two. She couldn’t help but to groan and shiver at the sensation, Terry on the other hand finding it funny while trailing kisses down her spine, his goatee scratching her supple skin.

With a final, plush kiss to the side of her neck, Terry fully removed himself from her and flopped to the mattress, the covers and sheets scattered and ruined as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Terry of course was the first to speak, voice deepened out of exhaustion, “We need to shower. Bad,” he smirked, “I’ll get you a shirt, c’mon fore’ you fall asleep.”

It took all of the manpower they collectively had between them to hobble to the bathroom and clean up - both parties shooting sneaky glances between flushed cheeks, pursed smiles and snickers as they rid themselves of the night's essence. London tipped back to the bed first but grimaced at the damp spot in the covers. Terry on the other hand, smirked sheepishly at the mess as it wasn’t his first rodeo and opted to knock the linen off in full - a thick blanket from an older comforter set in tow. He was quick with his set up, carefully eying her as she made herself comfortable in the striped duvet. The wild animal from before, gone, it was back to calm and sweet Terrance doting on every wince. He mumbled apologies as he made the bed dip with his weight, opting to lay his hand on her stomach as London wrapped her arms into his. They would delve into how world changing this dynamic would be for their friend groups in the morning - the only thing mattering now was rest amongst one another.

And as for her midterm? It happily was good as fucked just as she’d been.

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond smut #Terrance Richmond #black writblr #black fem oc #my work

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writingwisterias · 7 months ago

Text

Day 18: Thigh Riding

Damnation! Divorced! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Drinking, Divorced Leon, Age-Gap, Thigh riding, Fingering, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breast sucking, Beer belly, Depression, Leon's method of therapy is sex Masterlist This is my personal favourite of the whole 25 days! I hope you enjoy, thank you for all the love <3

Leon sighed as he looked at the collection of empty bottles on the coffee table, so many of the green beer bottles he could recreate that annoying song his kids liked to listen to. He ran his hands over his face, the stubble scratching his palms as his eyes glanced at the kitchen counters. The papers were bright white against the dark marble, a constant reminder of his blaring divorce. He knew he fucked up before she threw the ring at him, apparently sickness and health meant nothing to her. Only when he fell into this whirlpool of depression did she then decide to leave him, despite their vows to each other. Leon sighed at the picture of his kids that was hung in front of him. He couldn't even see them currently, not until he cleared up his act whenever that was going to happen. Leon thought she understood, thought she was a safe place to deal with his issues but he was wrong. She had enough of his endless drinking and slept with her stupid Co-worker.

Of course, the woman made herself out to be the victim, that the reason she destroyed the only stable thing in his life was because of his drinking. His nightmares that constantly disturbed the house were another one of the many complaints as she sat him down and paced around the room during her announcement of this decision. It's not like he could help half of these things, he genuinely thought she understood but now he supposed like all things they eventually leave him.

The music was loud as he took another sip of the beer in his hands glancing at the door and waiting for the soft knock he knew was coming. He shouldn't have called you - dragged you into the hell hole that he resigned himself to. You were too innocent and kind for that only being a few years older than when he was thrust into this life. It was unprofessional to even have this relationship with you; you were his trainee, a rookie and yet you were constantly his more recent contact. He shouldn't have been admiring the way your body felt against him as he would pull you back during fights keeping you behind him just in case. You worked so well with him, maybe that's why during the mess in China the touches got more personal, lingering in certain places.

He had to stifle a groan when he opened the door to you wearing a shirt tennis skirt and oversized jumper. Your legs were exposed to the cold, turning red as you shivered on the spot. "I'm gonna freeze my ass off if you don't let me in" you shivered jumping on the spot to keep your warmth. He chuckled lowly guiding you into his dark apartment. You probably should be more nervous doing this, shy away from him as he guides you inside but after everything the two of you have seen - he was comfortable, a warmth and guidance back to reality. Never pressing you to return to the real world faster than you could process what you have seen like your other partners.

"it's not my fault you decided to wear that outfit" he grumbled watching your ass cheeks poke out from underneath as he lifted the fabric of your skirt slightly. You giggled swatting his hand away as you turned to face him, now enveloped in the warmth of his apartment as he shut the door. You ignored the bottles that littered everywhere, ignored the sounds of Nickelback that filled the silence. You knew why he wanted to fuck you, why he called you over when it got too much, having accidentally announced his divorce during a drunken night at the bar. "I thought you liked it when I dress like this?" You teased as you approached him. Your body is pressing against his crotch feeling it twitch against his jeans. "I like it better when your skin doesn't freeze my hands when I touch you" he grumbled, pulling away and moving back towards the armchair he often sat in. You watched as he shifted his hips in the same motion as when he thrust himself up into you. You half expected him to tap his thigh drawing you closer but he didn't look your way. Like there was some ghost in the kitchen behind you. You turned to drop your bag off and then spotted the papers. That's why he called you.

"You alright?" You asked, your voice cautious. Of course, he wasn't okay, you knew that from the state of his home. His call was a reach. A reach to maybe someone that will make him forget her. Remind him of the person he used to be when he fell in love with her, in hopes one day she would take him back. He knew she never would, he ruined that bridge...burned it to the ground. He was sure once his kids turned 18 she would never talk to him again.

Leon shook his head at your question his eyes finally meeting yours as you approached him. His breath hitched as you sat on his lap getting yourself comfy against his warmth. It was wrong, the age gap made him feel sick. He would hate it if he found out his child was in a relationship like this in the future but you never seemed to care. You seemed to thrive in his affection and attention. To point your performance even improved at work. He felt slimy as his hand caressed your thigh the spot so close to the hem of your skirt. It wasn't the first time you were here like this and he knew it wouldn't be the last. There was some string tying you both together, tethering your souls. If he was spiritual he would have assumed you were his soulmate with how well you both clicked.

"Got the papers today, she said if I clean up my act I can see the kids. It's just hard. Drinking is the only way that makes me forget. The only thing that worked at least" he sighed. You understood where he came from that's why he was so open with you about it. When he bought you to meet his wife that's where it went downhill. She was convinced you were a home wrecker but neither of you had pushed that boundary until after his divorce was announced and he showed up at your door drunk shortly after to drag you to the bar. "What do you need?" You whispered, your head resting against his shoulder. You watched your fingers run along the back of his hand admiring the size difference. "I don't know love" he sighed, hitting his head on the back of the armchair. He felt you shift on his lap, leaving your back against his chest. Your ass pressed against his crotch as your hips swayed lightly to the music that filled the room. Leon stifled the groan, his eyes darkened as he watched you.

He started to nibble at the nape of your neck, his hand pushed your back further against him giving you an arch as you tried to stay pressed against his bulge. Leon felt himself getting lost in you, your perfume filling his senses, your hair tickling his cheeks. "What do you need Leon?" You whispered again, your tone dripping to a sultry one as you looked at him in the corner of your eye. His blond hair had fallen over his eyes, his hand still clutching the bottle. He glanced back at the kitchen, realizing the irony of the two of them acting like this given the papers. "You" he finally confirmed. His hand drifted up your thigh again sliding underneath your skirt.

He could feel the warmth coming from your pussy before his fingertips touched it. You could feel his smirk against your neck as he finally came in contact with the fabric of your undies. "So wet my love, already?" He teased. You whined as his hands ran up and down the fabric, your pussy sticking to the wetness of the gusset. A beg attempted to leave your lips as his finger slipped past the fabric gathering your arousal. "Don't tease today please" you whined, bucking your hips against his hand. His chuckle vibrated against your back, his voice dropping to the octave that made your toes curl "Why not? I thought you liked being teased". Leon's fingers found the top of your underwear, toying with the elastic. A silent way command for you to lift your hips for him.

He enjoyed seeing you so eager to follow his command, your underwear slid down your legs as you kicked them aside with his help. Leaving your weeping pussy to sit on his thigh. Every time he moved the rough fabric brushed along your core, Leon could already feel the wet patch form on his leg. His hands found their place on your hips and began to move them, smirking as he felt your breaths against his ear. Small whimpers and whines leave your lips as the pleasure begins to build up. Your clit throbbed desperate for a closer feel but at the angle he had pulled you back it barely got any of the action. “Leon-” You begged. He already knew what you were asking for, his hands had stopped you from angling the hips in the correct position. “Please..” You attempted again. His chuckle was low again as he began to kiss at the spot below your ear. You could feel his erection tent in his jeans, the sheer girth of it poking at your ass cheek. “I’ve been good” You tried yet again. This time his chest vibrated with a loud laugh, one that made your cheeks redden with blush. “Have you? Sauntering over here in that outfit- for every man to get a look at these” He mumbled as one hand moved to caress your thigh, the flesh spilling from his fingertips as he squeezed it slightly. “I dressed up for you” You whined.

Leon tutted a smirk plastered on his face as he watched you form excuses in your brain just to get what you wanted. Hoping that he would fool for one. His hand moved up underneath your skirt, his fingertips brushing your clit as you circled your hips. His other hand moved up your body underneath the jumper, teasing your erect nipples pinching and tweaking the buds eliciting such pretty noises. He could hear your breaths shorten as you drew closer to your finish. Your eyes shut tight, breathing hitching as your body prepared to let the pleasure snap and flow through you. Only his hands landed back on your hips, the grip tight enough to stop your movements. “No…No please Leon..” You whimpered, your skin already covered in a light sheen of sweat with the amount of layers you had. Leon only chuckled again, looking at your flushed cheeks, your eyebrows pinched in frustration. “Come on, strip. Let me see you then” He whispered, his shoulder jolting your body ordering you to stand up.

He watched as you shimmed the skirt off, not missing the subtle movement of rubbing your thighs together to keep the stimulation going. Your jumper was next, exposing your bare chest. “No bra?” He spoke as his eyes gazed over your body admiring everything you had to offer. He loved how young and perky your breasts were, always capturing them in his mouth as they bounced with his thrusts. Your thighs are always around him in such perfect ways, the skin so soft in comparison to his. And then there was your pretty cunt, the shaved skin feeling so soft against his tip as he would run it along your folds, so neatly present just for him.

You watched as he undid his belt, shimming the jeans off as he let his erection spring free. His shirt was next, thrown and discarded somewhere in the room. He had gone soft in recent years, his abs now neatly tucked away behind a soft layer of fat. It made him self-conscious at first, his ex always poking fun at his ‘dad bod’. Then he found you, your hands gripping to his softer flesh, your teeth skinning into it softly as you needed you quieten your noises. Another reason for his growing love for you. He watched as you straddled his lap, your breasts hanging in his face as you lined yourself up. The armchair creaked with your movements as you began to circle your hips allowing you both to become lubed up with your arousal. He felt you begin to bounce, the movements slow at first as you pull yourself to the tip before slamming back down. The music became blurred in the background, he could only make out a few distant words. This felt so easy with you, the pleasure building up quickly as your walls clenched around him. This moment further confuses him with his ex-wife, and his insecurities of himself creeping in. Your hand redirected his face, guiding his view back to the present as you continued to ride him. Your teeth nibbled against his neck, hand entwined with his hair. Leon captured a nipple, sucking on it as he looked up at you, his eyes scanning the blissed-out look you had. “Don’t let her ruin you further Leon…You are perfect” You whimpered. The words shocked him, causing him to briefly stop sucking. Your hand rubbed the back of his head, pushing him gently to continue. “You never changed, she did”

His cock twitched inside you, his drunken mind becoming fuzzier with your appraisal. Your presence a reminder to him that he never changed, he was still the same person he always wanted to be. His hips drove up into you. Your hands left his head to hold his shoulders as he began his assault on your cervix. His cock driving so deep inside you as he poured everything he could to make you feel good. Your clit throbbed as the whisps on his snail trail rubbed against it thanks to the small belly he had created. You moaned loudly, head falling back exposing your neck. Leon smiled against your breast, biting down on the nipple as you finally orgasmed around him. The papers and situation became forgotten as he felt himself spill inside of you, your greedy pussy taking everything he gave you as he continued to thrust it up. You smiled down at him as he let go of your breast, bringing his lips in for a kiss. He held you close, his softening cock still inside of you. Love was an unspoken word between the two of you, the actions and bond you shared proved how you felt enough. You savoured his warmth as he held you close on the armchair, enjoying the closeness. “Thank you” He whispered, burying his face in your neck. His head was now clear of the thoughts that previously clouded them.

“Anytime”

Taglist: Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo @crazy-b1tch

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine

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