#shit I don’t think I ever linked my AO3

[inquisitor-apologist]

Reason 552 Barriss should’ve been (Fulcrum) in Rebels: how much harder the Luminara episode would’ve hit if she’d been there.

Barriss had never expected to see her master alive again. She'd lived with her death for a decade and a half; Barriss had felt the Purge, and so few had survived. But she'd never been sure, and the scant hope she'd kept alive for so long had desperately wanted to believe that Trayvis's info was good, that Luminara lived, that she could find her master again. And she had. Imprisoned in a cryogenic coffin, fifteen years gone and dead, her once-master. Luminara Unduli, Knight of the Jedi Order, General of the 71st Elite Corps, Master to a traitor and heretic. Dead, just like the Republic she'd defended.

They'd put her in a force-damned sarcophagus and used her bones as a beacon, tempting survivors to their deaths. Barriss wanted to cry, to scream, to be sick. It wasn't right. Jedi burned their dead. Barriss should--what? What should she do? What could she do? There was no fuel for a pyre, no Masters to preside, no one left to mourn. No one but Barriss, and Barriss was a traitor. She could not give her a proper funeral. Luminara was dead, and still, Barriss failed her. That was all she could ever do, it seemed.

She rested her head against the cold transparisteel of the casket. It was all so wrong. She remembered her last conversation with her master in a cold, featureless visitation room of Coruscant High-Security Republic Penitentiary. Luminara had told her that the Jedi had managed to get her execution date permanently postponed, and Barriss had cried. She'd told her she was being deployed to Kashyyyk, and Barriss had cried. She'd told Barriss goodbye, and Barriss had cried. She'd done that a lot back then. It seemed she was getting back into the habit.

Tears froze on the cold surface of the coffin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but what she meant was, could I have saved you? If I'd been there, if I'd never Fallen, if I was still your student, would you be safe? Could I have taken the blaster bolts for you, let you get away? Is there a world where our places are inverted? "I'm so sorry, Master. I don't... I can't..."

She remembered Luminara’s smile. Her gentle, firm presence warm and welcoming even when Barriss had been at her lowest, screaming her hatred from behind cell walls. “It does not matter what you have done, Padawan,” Luminara had told her when she had finally seen the truth of the Temple bombing, sobbing on the floor of her cell. “All that matters is you see the light, change your ways and make amends. It does not even matter if you fail along the way. The dark road is treacherous and difficult to climb out of. What is important is that you try.”

Barriss Offee was not a Jedi. The Temple was destroyed, the Council murdered, the Code abandoned. She could never call herself Jedi again and know that it was truth. That did not matter, not now. What mattered was that her Master was depending on her one last time. She could not hold a proper funeral, but that didn't matter either. She would try.

She stepped back from Luminara's coffin.

She ignited her lightsabers, one white, one blue.

She slashed through the transparisteel, careful not to let the blades touch her Master.

Cold white steam materialized as freezing, fifteen-year-old air leaked out.

Luminara's corpse fell forward, into the gouged transparisteel, with a small thump.

Jedi funerals were short, simple affairs. The body was ritually cleaned, then laid out on a stone slab. Any who wished to pay their respects could come to mourn. The ceremony was held exactly three days after death and lasted perhaps fifteen minutes. Afterward, their lineage would hold a small party, remembering the fallen's life and celebrating their memory. The dead were free, released to the total harmony of the Force. There was no need for extended grief periods or complex rites. A life was to be remembered, missed, honored, not held on to.

Barriss breathed out, composing herself.

There had been so many funerals in the war; Barriss knew precisely what to say and do. Her lips moved, almost on their own.

“There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.”

She cried, and a small, blue flame ignited in her palm. She continued.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. You are one with the Force, as all things shall be. May you find justice; May you find peace. May the Force be with you.”

Her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. The flame in her hand grew larger and brighter. She cried as she pressed her hand against her Master’s cold, dead corpse and watched the fire take hold. The Force Fire left no smoke; it ate through Luminara’s body, dropping her ashes on the cell floor.

Luminara was free. It was too much. Barriss collapsed to the floor and wept.

[myfictionaldreams]

I have such a specific idea for poly marauders so please bare with me .

James and Sirius were out to a fancy party and they come home early to see reader and remus having sex in the kitchen , remus has her spread on the table while he fucks her and she arches her back and sees sirius through blurry vision and calls his name, remus doesn’t notice them so he thinks shes calling her other boyfriends name “ wrong boyfriend sweetheart “ so he fucks her harder until she calls his name “ there you go love”.

You could continue this however you would like Maybe james and Sirius join them. I also love the idea that after everything when they’re showering she reassure remus and says something like “ it’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you , you’re all consuming “ and the boys agree THATS SO CUTE.

I’m so sorry that this is long and graphic.

Say My Name // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: Whoever you are, anon, I thank you for giving me this request because, holy shit, it has turned me (and Remus) absolutely feral, and I have no regrets.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, werewolf troupes, feral remus lupin, dom/sub undertones, possessive sex, size difference/kink (!), praise kink, dirty talk, self-confidence issues, gentle touching/kissing, rough oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, overstimulation, table sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms, crying, body worship, anxiety attack (nearly), restraints, blindfold, begging, aftercare :)))

Words: 5.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You both look so damn handsome!” you admire dreamily with a thick lace of sarcasm as you tighten the burgundy scarf around Sirius’ neck. The mischievous glint in those twinkling grey eyes brightened as he rolled them in jest, matching the doting smirk on his full lips. “Maybe you should forgo the leather jackets more often for the waistcoats”, you say with a lustful undertone to your words as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Hmm, you think so?” he asks, dipping his height ever so slightly so that he could press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss that still managed to pull desire in your abdomen as you leaned in for more but whined as he stood back to full height and straightened the waistcoat you loved so very much.

From behind you at the entrance to the bathroom, James was attempting to knot his bowtie when he wondered, “Are you sure you both don’t want to come with us? We each can have a plus one, which means there’s room for two. We don’t mind being fashionably late”. Glancing over your shoulder, you took in his slick attire that also caused warmth to bloom beneath your cheeks. A simple black jacket shaped perfectly for his slim waist, a crisp white shirt beneath and a matching shade of burgundy to Sirus was the colour for his tie.

The matching colours were an idea of Remus’, who was lounging across the mammoth bed, his long legs stretched out beneath him with one ankle crossed over the other. He watched James intently, the corner of his eye twitching at the messy-haired Marauder's attempts to tie his bowtie.

Remus stood and approached him, batting away James’ fingers as he began to do the job for him. You watched them fondly before answering the unanswered question. “No, it’s ok, James. Remus and I have a lovely night filled with a romantic home-cooked meal and a fancy bottle of wine. Who knows where the night may take us? Might end in some lovely… hand holding”, you say with a simple shrug to your shoulders, returning to straightening the already pristine waistcoat of Sirius.

“Oh yeah? Some strong hand-holding, Moony, is that what you’ve got planned? You might need to up your game”, Sirius jokes under his breath as he watches your fingers closely with a dipped head.

Remus snorted, smiling to himself, knowing that your night would be filled with anything but hand-holding, especially as the hours ticked closer to the following day. It was approaching the full moon, not tomorrow but the next day, but that didn’t matter as the changes were already beginning to affect Remus, and it all started with his desire for possession.

The wolf in Remus took a keen liking to you, even from all those years ago when you met the Marauders on the train to Hogwarts. It was an obsession, a need that devoured him completely to be with you. It had been described to you like a mating. Remus’ wolf thought you were his mate; therefore, as the gap between Remus’ and the wolf’s mind thinned with the full moon, the desire would take hold of Remus. There was still the deep, adoring love that he held for James and Sirius, and thankfully, this stopped him from ever deeming them a threat against your love, but others? Well, that’s where the danger lay, and therefore, it was easier for everyone if you and Remus stayed in for the night rather than have a territorial wizard with werewolf anger in a room full of people.

“Remember to please be safe out there tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and for the love of Merlin, James, please don’t drink and fly again. I’m not having another incident like last time”.

“Yes, Mum”, James grumbles sarcastically as Sirius chuckles under his breath.

“I’ll make sure that Prongs is on his best behaviour”, Sirius reasons with you as his hands come to rest around your waist, pulling you ever so gently closer.

“Good”, you say promptly, whilst curling a piece of his long hair around your fingers before reaching up to kiss his lips with a fierce press. “You look so handsome tonight,” you try to praise him as your mouths are still kissing together.

“Don’t I always?” he responds cheekily, earning a half-hearted eye-roll as he eases away, swapping places with James so that he can say goodbye to Remus and James with you.

Your fingers automatically try to tangle through James’ hair, attempting to flatten out the messy strands, but after a couple of minutes of attempts, James tugs you by your wrists. “I don’t know why you even bother; you know my hair will just stay messy. Anyway, doesn’t it add to my roguish good looks?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he gives you a broad grin whilst kissing each of your palms.

Your fingers cup his freshly shaved cheeks, caressing the smooth skin as you say, “I hope you have fun tonight”, whilst leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much vigour as you could hear from the groans across the room with Sirius and Remus.

James sighed into the kiss, one hand matching yours by resting along your cheek and the other on your lower back as his lips pecked across your face until hovering next to your ear. “If you need us to come back, just send a note as we taught you; two flicks of your fingers and it should disappear, and we’ll come back straight away”.

Nodding your head in understanding, James kissed your cheek quickly before standing up to his full height and looking over at the other two men. “Sirius, take your tongue from Moony’s mouth; we must go!”

You tried to stifle your laughter as the two men pulled away from each other with rosy cheeks and wet lips.

Sirius and James disappeared with a flurry of green fire through the flu network installed in your shared home's kitchen. Remus turned to you with a heartwarming smile as he asked, “Shall we put some music on and start with dinner, love?”

You left it in Remus’ capable hands to find suitable music on his record player, and it ended up being a medley of David Bowie, which you were always happy to listen to. The two of you worked in unison to cook a beautiful roast dinner, moving around one another without getting in the way but making sure to remain at arm's length. Lingering touches to arms or backs, sipping slowly on the bottle of wine as Remus sang along to Bowie under his breath. You’d told him he could sing louder as you wanted to hear him, but he simply smiled and kissed your cheek, like he was embarrassed at being caught, but it was a rare day where Remus Lupin was embarrassed about anything.

The dinner was beautifully cooked, and there was enough for many more people than just you and Remus. Soon enough, you were stuffed full, thankful for deciding to wear a loose dress today with your expanded stomach. Remus was still eating as you sat and slowly digested your food, talking idly about fond memories from Hogwarts and how your work had been this week. Just anything domestically happy that the two of you could as you shifted closer in your seat so that his large scarred palm could rest on your thigh and your fingers interlock over the back of his hands.

“It’s a rare time when it gets to be just the two of us”, Remus muses, his hand squeezing your fingers and thighs as he pushes away his empty plate, his eyes solely focused on you.

“It’s been nice. As much as I love having all four of us together, sometimes it’s hard to keep up and give each of you all my attention, so when it's just one-on-one, it feels so intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”

His eyes softened as he nodded, “I definitely agree. You look so beautiful tonight, by the way. Have I told you that?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you looked away to the glass of wine in your other hand. Even after all these years, one small compliment from Remus felt like the world, and it wasn’t the first time he had said that tonight; he’d said it every other sentence, but that didn’t hinder the giddy feeling from spreading in your chest.

“You, Mr Lupin, are a smooth talker”, you say, drinking a sip of your wine, ignoring his growing smile. Placing the glass onto the table, you shifted closer to Remus, resting a hand on his chest as you realised how much time had passed over the night. “So pudding, what would you like? I think we have some ice cream in the freezer, or if you’re lucky, James would have left us a couple of slices of his mum’s cake from yesterday”.

Remus didn’t answer immediately as you realised he was just silently watching you with the beautiful twinkle back in his eye, a curve to his lips that you itched to caress with your thumb. But then, he shifted forward in his seat so you were only mere inches from your faces touching, and the soft flop of his mousey brown hair fell into his eyes. “You’re so pretty, Remus”, you admire and then hold back a giggle as his cheeks flare with colour at your compliment.

“Pretty and scarred”, he muttered in response, cupping your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips so he could kiss them carefully.

Your automatic response was to shout at him. It wasn’t that he had said anything remotely negative, but you knew the self-conscious thoughts that laced his words that he rarely spoke but still thought. You wanted to remind him of the hundreds of times he had ever scolded you for making negative comments about yourself or any self-doubt. Still, if you did, you knew it would ruin the positive mood for the night, so you wanted to continue with words of affirmation.

Closing the gap between each other, you kissed the tip of his nose whilst cupping both cheeks, paying specific attention to the thick pink scar that ran down from his temple, over his brow and his cheek. “I love you, scars and all”.

Remus’ tension seemed to ease from his shoulders as he breathed lightly out of his nose, his face lowering to rest on your shoulder as you held him for a moment before he began to stand and offered a hand, “What about a dance m’lady, then I’ll find you something sweet to suck on for desert”.

Ignoring the innuendo, you grinned up at him, placing your hand into his much larger palm. James and Sirius had lessons growing up from their families on how to dance for special balls they were forced to attend. You and Remus, on the other hand, were utterly clueless, but this only added to the joy and laughter as you both clumsily tried not to step on the other's toes or twirl without knocking into furniture.

You’d laughed so hard that a stitch formed in your side, causing the vivid dance to settle into a light sway. Your head rested on Remus's shoulder as his cheek pressed against the top of your head, arms around your shoulder as he lightly sang the next Bowie song.

Everything was perfect, especially as his rough fingertips danced up the nape of your neck, carefully tipping your head back so that you were now staring up into his kind eyes, his lips no longer moving along to the lyrics as he licked them carefully, moistening them before dipping his head. The kiss was as gentle as his hands now cupping your face, and you wondered for a moment if you were lightheaded from holding your breath in anticipation or from the effects of having your boyfriend kissing you.

Remus was soft, lovely and perfect as he eased away to put a gap between your mouths, but only so that he could adjust his position by keeping one hand on your jaw and the other around your waist before taking your breath away once more. Instantly, your body rose to the tips of your toes to be closer to him and firm the kiss.

The breath you’d both been holding released, noses pressing into each other's cheeks as the warm air tickled your ears. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and as you relaxed into the kiss, many things seemed to happen at once.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed midnight, and the soft Remus you’d been carefully kissing and exploring with your lips was now firmly gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you whilst simultaneously stepping towards the table as you squealed in shock, desperately gripping his shoulders for support.

Plates and glasses smashed onto the floor as Remus shoved aside the lovely table setting so that there was a firm blank canvas for you to be led on.

“Woah, Remus, just give me a minute.” You try to reason with him to at least get your bearings. Having been standing up two seconds ago, you were now led on your back with your boyfriend having become frantic with his actions. His shoulders shook with restraint, and his eyes didn’t lift from the edge of your skirt as he reached for the material. Not only this, but the brightness in his eyes had one, replaced with sinful hunger.

“Need you-” he muttered with a gruffness that hadn’t been there moments ago.

This was why you’d decided to stay in. Sometimes, Remus would curl around your body with the need to simply just breathe you in and declare that you were his; he’d become somewhat feral.

The fire in your body scorched to life as the need seeped into your core. As lovely as it had been, seeing him like this just did something to you. You wanted him just as desperately.

Frantically, you tried to help him lift up your skirt, but he was in control, pushing the material and tearing it in places with his firm grip until your legs and underwear-covered pussy were revealed. For a moment, it looked like he was going to dribble as you tried to reach for him to tell him to take a breath and compose himself, but all you were able to do audibly was scream out, head tipping back as Remus devoured you.

The Marauder hadn’t even waited for your underwear to be removed before his mouth was on you, hands not-so-gently wrapping around your thighs to push your legs apart, the slippers you’d been wearing now flying off in different directions across the kitchen. It was like he’d not eaten a single thing all night with the way his lips and jaw moved against your most sensitive of areas.

The sensation was odd with the barrier of cotton in between your cunt and his mouth. All you had was the pressure, wetness beginning to soak through from his tongue and the overwhelming heat from his mouth. Remus moved hungrily, licking and caressing with his mouth as you lay with your arms gripping onto the edge of the table above your head.

“Rem-Remus! Merlin, please don’t stop!” you begged desperately, allowing your body to succumb to his touch. You couldn’t even open your eyes without feeling dizzy with the sensations of his body all over your lower half as he pressed his tongue firmly against your throbbing clit, circling it with intention.

The hands on your thighs pushed harder, giving his face more room as a deep groan burned from his chest as he needed more. Still, as you whimpered from him to not stop, he stayed in place, stimulating your clit over and over again until your body was tensing with the pulses of desire from your cunt as your orgasm erupted.

His motions continued through the waves of pleasure, and even after, he carried on with his devouring, even as you verged on the edge of becoming overstimulated from the rough material of your panties rubbing against your delicate area. Remus needed more, and he was ready to take it.

The pressure on the back of your thighs suddenly disappears as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, giving you a better angle now to reach down and run your shaky fingers through his soft hair.

With your eyes firmly closed, you hadn’t noticed that your underwear had been torn clean from your body, only noticing when there was no barrier between what you both wanted. Your back arched from the stimulation of him sucking on your bundle of nerves, making an obscenely wet noise as your juices and his saliva caused a heavenly mess. 

Your legs had begun squeezing his face as you weren’t able to control your body, but he didn’t stop; he just simply continued to eat your pretty cunt. “Please….please Remus”, you continued to beg but unsure of what as you were thoroughly warm head to toe with the effects from your last orgasm, but his playful mouth knew just the right ways to keep you at the elevated bliss.

The thickness of his tongue pressed against your throbbing hole, delving as deep as he could go before curling it and exploring the warm softness of your cunt as the tip of his nose stimulated your clit.

It was intense, primarily as his large hands now rested on your abdomen, pushing down and forcing your hips to remain against the table so that he could remain in complete control of the stimulation to your body.

Clenching relentlessly around his tongue, your body couldn’t tell if it was calming down from an orgasm or having another. The overwhelming sensation caused tears to well in your eyes as the apples of your cheeks burned with heat. Everything was too much; even the clothes covering your torso felt claustrophobic as your nipples ached to be free.

“Ah!” you babbled, unable to even say his name as more intense waves of pleasure rocked from your cunt as it pulsed around his tongue. The tears escaped down your cheeks as you tried to gasp for air, your body finally slumping in exhaustion against the table as Remus began to stand from where he’d been on his knees for you.

Each of your legs was carefully eased from his shoulders to dangle off the edge of the wooden surface, not that you could keep them up anyway, as your entire body felt as if it was made of jelly.

“Did so good for me, Love. Taste so fucking good, wanna try?” he asked from where he now looked down at you, hovering only inches away from your face as his fingers wiped away the evidence of the tears. You nod quickly, opening your eyes for a split second to see Remus’ dark eyes and swollen, wet lips before they were pressing against yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth and allowing you the vulgar opportunity to taste your own juices from his mouth.

“My pretty girl tastes so good”, he admired, staring down at you, memorising every flicker of emotions on your face. You mewled at the compliment, nuzzling your face pathetically into his palm as he cradled your face. “What do you want? I want to hear you say it”.

His tone indicated that he was teasing, which was a rare attribute for Remus as he usually just liked to do whatever he had in mind, but when he was like this, wishing to get the very most from you as his werewolf subconscious began to flicker through his thoughts.

“You, I want you. Please!” you stress whilst trying to look up at him, fingers trembling at your side with the need to touch him somehow.

The corners of Remus’ lips tilted up as he smiled down at you, “Have I ever told you how much I love to hear you beg?”

Before you could respond, you were gasping as coolness licked over your chest as he’d swiped his wand down the centre of your clothing until it was falling off of your shoulders, and your body could be free from the confines. His eyes lowered, focused on your pebbled nipples as they begged for him to be touched, but he didn’t rush to them.

Instead, Remus began the long journey of exploring the rest of your body with firm kisses and licking with the flat of his tongue. He paid special attention to your neck, as he always did this close to the full moon as his sharp teeth grazed over your pulse point, the animalistic side of his begging to bite down and mark his girl, but he restrained, knowing it would be painful for you. The last time he’d done so, he’d had a right bollocking off of James and Sirius, who prattled on about how you weren’t his chew toy, even though you had insisted that it was ok.

Moving lower, Remus worshipped your breasts. He was licking the skin around the areola before drawing your nipple and some breast tissue into his mouth, sucking with enough force that the area swelled with the rush of blood. The fire in your core intensified as you gained enough energy to lift your hands and grip his shirt.

“I need you, Remus, please stop teasing me”, you beg, but all that earned in response was an approved grunt.

“Relax, and just let me kiss you”, he sniped with desire as you wanted to sass back but found yourself melting into the table instead. Each inch of your stomach, hips, legs, arms, everywhere he could reach in this position, he praised with his mouth until he was once again hovering above your lips. “All I can think about is you”, he admitted, his tone caught between hunger and pain as his thoughts were becoming too clouded by the wolf’s desire to be close to you.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you tried to sound as calming as possible, “I know, Remus, it’s ok. I’m right here. Take me”.

A shiver ran down his spine as he finally began to unbuckle his trousers, freeing his cock between your bodies as he rested on his elbows on either side of your face so that his face could nuzzle into your neck.

You took the honours of reaching between your legs, grasping his impressively hard cock, admiring the soft skin and veins that bulged as you pulled him closer to where you needed him most.

“Tell me you’re mine”, he begged as you directed his tip to your soaked hole.

Tilting your head so that you could kiss his cheek, you implored, “I’m yours Remus - FUCK!”

All you could do was curse and cling to him as, with one powerful thrust, the majority of his cock stretched into your pussy. You could never take his entire length unless it were through anal play, but that didn’t stop him trying as the pressure became overwhelming as he nudged against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled once more as he gave you time to adjust, sighing blissfully against your neck as if he had finally found what it was that he was looking for. However, as your cunt frantically fluttered around Remus as you adjusted to the intrusion, Remus began to rut his hips in short, snapping thrusts slowly.

You groaned at the sensation and found your hips meeting his until all restraint was gone, and Remus was fucking you hard and fast.

Pushing up on his hands so that he was looking down at you, Remus fucked you hard. The table beneath you groaned just as loudly as you were as it rocked against the floor, and for a split second, you hoped it wouldn’t suddenly collapse beneath you two.

Remus suddenly moved as if hearing your thoughts, widening his stance as he stood to his full height, hands on your thighs and bringing your body to the very edge of the table. In this position, he could fuck you with quick snaps of his hips. Your back arched in this new position, pleasure pouring into your soul.

However, a noise over the sound of the fucking caught your attention as the fire flickered with green flames, and you couldn’t help but gasp, “Sirius!” as he stepped out of the fire, followed closely by James.

Remus, still with his head hunched slightly from where he was watching you intently, growled at the name used, his gaze hardening on you as he leaned back until you looked into each other's eyes. “Wrong name, Sweetheart”, he demanded lowly, fucking into you with as power as he could, causing you to cry out and tense with the pleasure. “I only want my name coming out of your mouth, do you understand?”

“Yes, Remus! I’m sorry!” you plead with him as he fucks you harder.

“There you go, Love. See, it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” As he talks, he lifts his hands and covers your eyes so you can no longer look at Sirius or James as you’re plunged into darkness.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Moony”, James teases from somewhere across the room as you hear him and Sirius shuffling around but are unable to see what they are doing.

Remus grunts but doesn’t stop with his motions, making sure that your next orgasm is just as overwhelming and powerful as the others as your cunt clung to him for dear life, attempting to milk his balls with the powerful clenches but he didn’t stop fucking you all the way through your orgasm.

Having his hand over your eyes was a disorientating position to be in, especially as he would every so often kiss your cheek or neck, savouring your soft skin before moving away so that his momentum could continue.

A hiss echoed across the room from wherever your other two boyfriends currently were, and as another whimper sounded from what you assumed was Sirius, Remus then decided it would be a good time to completely pull out of your pussy, leaving you gaping and empty.

Before you could moan, more disorientation flowed through you as his hand was removed from your face, and your body was being manhandled so that you were now being turned over on the table until your front was pressed against the wood. With a gentle kick to your ankle, Remus made room between your legs for himself and fucked into you. He was even deeper in this angle, which you didn’t think was possible as his chest pressed against your back.

His and didn’t return to your face, allowing you to look at your other lovers. Sirius was currently sitting on James’ lap, both of their fancy clothes more dishevelled from earlier as the bowtie and scarf were off and the top buttons were undone. They stared intently at you and Remus as they touched one another. James was kissing the column of Sirius’ neck whilst his hands groped at the bulge at the front of his trousers. At the same time, Sirius was grinding his hips down on James, who you assumed had a matching bulge that was rubbing against Sirius’ arse.

“You’re mine, Love. Aren’t you? My pretty girl”, Remus whispered with deep penetrations of his cock into your cunt.

“Yes! I’m yours, Remus! You’re so deep”, you proclaim with a cry as you find yourself already wanting to peak and cum over his thick dick again. However, Remus knew you just as well as you knew yourself and could feel the tightening of your soft walls and stopped all thrusting as you sobbed with the beautiful feeling washing away.

His hand eased beneath your face, holding your jaw and forcing your sight away from your boyfriend's until it was tilted to look over your shoulder at Remus. “You only get to cum after them”, he demands before nipping your ear love with a sharp tug of his teeth.

“Moony, you really are tense, aren’t you” Sirius jokes breathlessly as he moves more eagerly against James, whose hand is now fully inside of his boyfriend's trousers, wanking him off in time with the movements.

Thankfully it didn’t take them long to cum, Sirius first with his head thrown back and trousers staining a dark colour in a little puddle. James then rutted up into Sirius a few minutes later, groaning and stilling his movements. Both breathed each other in deeply, lazily kissing and holding onto one another until your sudden gasp echoed around the room as Remus continued with his fucking.

Your head moved to drop onto the table as you accepted the fucking, but Remus’ hand remained beneath, cushioning your face from the hardness of the wooden table as his lips moved to the junction between your throat and shoulder.

With each thrust, Remus repeatedly grunted the possessive word, “Mine!” until it was all you could think about. Your orgasm nearly caused you to pass out with its intensity. Juices streamed from your cunt, dripping down your thighs as waves of clenching pleasure constricted around Remus’ cock until he was forcing as much of himself as he could into you, and thick seed spurted into you. The warmth was welcomed as it soothed your pussy from the inside out as it began to trickle down your thighs, mixing with your own juices.

You were half aware of your movements, more concerned with the fact that you couldn’t control the tremble and sobs as Remus pressed himself harder over your back, making you feel grounded and safe.

“Shh. Slowly breathe in and out for me. That’s it. Slowly breathe for me again, keep going, well done”, Remus encouraged for some time as you’d been close to a panic attack with the overstimulation, close to tipping into the submissive headspace that would have taken them a lot longer to draw you out of.

“It’s just… a lot”, you say shakily, eyes closed and absorbing every warmth he was willing to give you”.

“I know, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”, he reassured calmly.

You’re exhausted, ready to fall asleep right there on the kitchen table as you whisper, “I wanna go to sleep”.

Remus kissed your naked shoulder, “After we clean you up, ok, Love?”

As Remus begins to stand, his half-hard cock slipping out of your well-used hole with a slurp and shudder from both of you, did James finally step forward whilst readjusting his softening cock in his trousers.

Squatting down next to you, his fingers tentatively caressed your cheek while keeping an eye on Remus behind you to ensure the action wouldn’t trigger him somehow. “You alright there?” James asked softly.

“Mmhm. Just a little sleepy”, you say whilst closing your eyes at the ticklish touch on your face.

Sirius stepped forward from behind James, raising his wand and pointing it to the destroyed rest of the kitchen mess, “I’ll clean up here, you guys look after her, and I’ll join you in the bathroom”.

Remus had to carry you to the bathroom as liquid drips flooded out of you and marked the direction you had been giving Sirius more to clean up. As this house was altered for the four of you, the shower was wide enough to provide you with Remus and James plenty of room to wash together.

You attempted to stand up on your own but ended up leaning heavily on Remus as James washed the remnants of the fucking from your body was skilled, careful fingers.

“You know I didn’t mean to say the wrong name, right? I just didn’t expect to see them standing there and-” you begin to explain with Remus, worried he’d been upset by you saying Sirius’s name earlier.

However, his lips quickly cut you off with a simple peck, “I know”.

Kissing his cheek several times, you mumbled against his skin, “It’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you. You’re all consuming, Remus”.

Against your lips, you feel the heat radiating off of him in a quick burst of rare embarrassment as he actually blushed at your words.

“She’s right, Moony. Without you, there is no us without you”, James quips in a rare statement of sincerity.

A cough from the bathroom door catches all your attention as Sirius casually leans against the door frame, cheeks round with roast potato as he joins in with the Remus praising. “There’s a reason why we all argue every night to see who gets to be spooned by the magnificent Remus Lupin”.

Three of you chuckled before you asked, “Are you eating my leftovers?”

“What?” he says with a shrug, stepping further into the room and beginning to take off his clothing at last. “The food was scarce at the party, and Moony’s roasties are always so fucking good”.

You nod in agreement before looking up at Remus once more, who looks quite proud of himself for the flow of compliments coming his way. However, as you attempted to lean up onto your tip toes again to kiss his handsome face in some way, your knees decided they were finished holding up your way as you nearly collapsed to the floor, only stopping because of his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“As much as I appreciate this little pep talk, I think we need to get someone to bed”.

Remus lay in the centre of the bed, where he rightfully deserved to be tonight with you on top of him, face resting on his chest and legs on either side of his hips as each of your hands held his. Sirius and James joined later, deciding they needed some extra alone time in the shower together, as the dry humping hadn’t entirely filled that horny spot for either of them.

You were asleep by the time both men crept into bed, resting either side of you and Remus with arms spooning around your back as the three shared a kiss goodnight. “How was your night?” Remus asked, looking between James and Sirius. “You’re both sober, so I’m assuming no mischief?”

“Oh, Moony, like we need alcohol to cause a riot. Why do you think we’re back so early?” Sirius declares whilst flicking out the laugh and curling in closer to the warmth of bodies as Remus chuckles into the darkness.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Bad Girl

Summary: Billy Butcher & Joe Kessler take you to a motel room where you end up handcuffed to the bed with them using your body in whatever way they please.

Characters: Billy Butcher, Joe Kessler & the reader (Female OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57390406

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, No Plot, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, Dirty Talk, Threesome, DP, Name Calling, Choking, Spanking, Slapping, Rough, etc.

Notes: We're going to pretend that Joe is actually real and not an imaginary friend lol. Or this can be before he died. Who gives a shit really. This is pure filth. Probably the filthiest thing I've ever written. I think so at least. So yeah, pre-warning.

“I don’t think you had any idea what you were in for when you agreed to this sweetheart,” Joe Kessler’s voice was deep, raspy and it had you whining from where you were stretched out naked on the bed with your wrists handcuffed to the headboard. “I know you said you wanted both of us, but you can barely handle one of us.”

“And I’ve only just gotten started,” Butcher’s thick accent filled the air having you pant when you felt his thick fingers thrusting firmly into your wet pussy. It had your hips arching up toward his movements with Billy snickering out. Joe was sitting in a chair beside the bed. His baby blue button-down shirt was open to the center of his chest exposing the dark curls of hair over his flesh. The sleeves of the shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows while he observed Billy having his way with you. Now Billy was sitting at the edge of the bed shirtless with just his black slacks still on. “Lack of being pampered I think with this one.”

“I think you’re right,” Joe hummed, his eyebrow arching up in amusement when you whimpered out with the strength of Billy’s fingers plunging into the depths of your core. By the expression over Joe’s face, you could see that he was entertained with his dimples prominent from his smirk. “Hasn’t had a proper fucking in a very long time.”

“We’ll have to straighten that right up for her,” Billy decided, grunting when he worked hard to forcefully shove his fingers into your wet cunt. Your cries were loud with you throwing your head back into the pillows and a wolfish smile tugged at Joe’s lips.

“Keep it up Billy my boy,” Joe urged Billy on when Billy got on his knees above your body. Billy’s left hand squeezed firmly at your hip to keep you in place while his right hand continued to thrust away with the wet sounds filling the small motel room that the boys had taken you to. “I feel like she’s just about…” your back arched, your eyes slamming shut with your whole body tremoring as Billy managed to get you to a powerful orgasm that had your thighs tremoring. “There.”

“Good girl,” Billy praised you, smacking at your hip when his fingers pulled from your sopping pussy. With how hard your heart was already hammering in your chest, it made you wonder how you were going to last through this. “Tight little cunt this one has.”

“Mmm…I see that,” Joe dragged his thumb across his bottom lip when you dropped your head to the side. Behind heavy eyelids, you could see that Joe was eyeing you over as if he was planning on what to do next with you. “She looks spent already Butcher. And she hasn’t even had a cock in that tight little pussy of hers. I’m thinking we should stop. What about you?”

“No, please,” you begged noticing the wicked smile that followed when Joe snickered. Getting up from the bed, Joe moved in beside Billy at the bottom of the bed and scoffed. “I need this. I want this. So much.”

“Begging lil’ thing,” Billy rumbled with a crooked smile, nudging Joe firmly with his elbow. “I think we should give her what she wants.”

“I think we’ll start slow. Work our way up. See if she deserves it,” Joe moved in beside the bed, reaching out to hook his fingers tightly into your hair. Pulling your head up from the bed, he teased his lips just in over yours. Heat radiated over your lips from the warmth of his breath. It had a breath catching in your throat. The way his eyes locked onto yours took your breath away. “Eat her out Billy.”

“I was getting hungry,” Billy commented with a snort, getting back onto the bed. Forcing your legs apart had you gasping and Joe’s thumb swept over the swell of your plump bottom lip. Wincing, you felt the grasp of Billy’s hands strong on your thighs, squeezing at them to pull you where he wanted you. Going to look when Billy lowered himself down between your thighs had Joe hooking his fingers firmly around your neck to force your head back down into the pillows. “Oi, you should get a good look at this Kessler. Such a pretty little cunt just begging to be pampered.”

“In due time Butcher,” Joe slurred forcing you to look at him. The pressure on your throat was enough to make a point and you didn’t question it. Biting down on your bottom lip, you felt the rough fingertips of Billy tracing over your wet slit with the coarse sensation of his beard teasing at your flesh while he kissed at your inner thigh. “Are you a bad girl or a good girl?”

Whimpering out, you felt the warmth of Billy’s mouth pressing in over your most intimate parts and it had you shaking. Once Billy’s tongue began to pamper your already sensitive clit with slow, focused movements it had a rush flooding your body.

“Answer the question,” Joe sneered making you wince when the grasp of his fingers got tighter around your throat. Joe’s fingertips from his other hand danced between the valley of your breasts. Sweeping his rough fingertips over your nipple had you purring out and he pinched faintly at the taut bud.

“Bad girl,” you answered drawing an amused rumble from Joe’s lips and he gave you a firm nod.

“Good answer,” Joe started pressing faint kisses over your jawline having you purr out. A growl had your hips arching up when the strength of Billy’s tongue and his kisses over your damp heat grew. “Because bad girls want to be punished. You’re only a good girl when you do what daddy wants from you.”

Finally, as if giving you a reward, Joe’s lips covered yours hungrily kissing you. It took your breath away, your lips parting when his tongue gifted you with the warm sweep of it over yours. Crying out in Joe’s mouth, you felt Billy slurping at your sensitive flesh and you wished you could have reached down to sink your fingers into his hair, but you couldn’t move. They made sure of that.

Cooing out at the sensations, Joe bit at your bottom lip giving it a small tug before standing up straight. Pulling open the rest of the buttons of his shirt, he pushed the material aside revealing his slender abdomen to your sight. Attempting to take everything in all at once, you were impressed with the tattoos and the v-line at his slender hips. Dragging his fingers across his belt, Joe started to part the material making the metal cling when he got it apart.

“Fuck,” you gasped when Billy forced two of his fingers back inside of you, delving deep inside of your warmth in attempts to hit that sweet spot he had already found. Matching the pace his mouth was already delivering over your sensitive bundle of nerves had you bouncing up toward him. Growling against your flesh had you tremoring with the way it vibrated against your folds.  

“See, the good thing about Butcher is he does whatever I tell him,” Joe explained, undoing the button in his slacks before firmly tugging down the zipper. It had your mouth going wet at the sight and you were doing your best not to close your eyes. “Ain’t that right Butcher?”

“Fuck off, cunt,” Billy’s lips pulled from your mound with a wet sound. It had Billy snickering and you whining when Joe looked to Billy with an amused expression.

“Back to work,” Joe ordered and Billy gave you a smirk before lowering his head back down to go back to pleasuring you. It had you moaning out and Joe shrugged. “So, as you can see, if you don’t do what I want I can make him stop at any time. Understand?”

Nodding your head, you could barely form words when Joe pushed the material of his pants apart. Reaching inside, he seemed to touch himself for a minute before pulling his lengthy cock out to your sight. It had your mouth water eyeing over his rigid manhood that had prominent veins going up the shaft to the swollen tip. Joe’s long, slender digits were curled around his erection stroking over it in slow movements.

“Now do what daddy tells you…” Joe moved in over you on the bed lowering down just enough for him to press the tip of his cock to your wet and ready lips. “Suck my cock…and you better make it good.”

Chills ran down your spine when you outstretched your tongue allowing it to flick out against the tip of his thick cock. It had a groan falling from Joe’s lips while he watched you. His left hand braced against the headboard while his right hand urged around the back of your neck to get you to lift up better.

Parting your lips enough for him to press his hips forward and sink his cock into your wet mouth had him letting out a deep, raspy moan, “Just like that…”

It was difficult to focus while Butcher’s movements were so fierce making you have to work twice as hard in giving Joe a blowjob, but you were doing your best. Drawing out your movements, you pushed your head forward as much as you could to take Joe in your throat before pulling your head back. It seemed like Billy knew what you were doing and he would tease you having you moan against Joe’s cock when the flicks of Billy’s tongue grew wild against your flesh.

“Relax your throat,” Joe demanded and you did your best to oblige with Joe thrusting his hips forward. You were doing your best not to choke when he filled your throat, pushing your head further down his cock until your nose was buried against his groin with the dark curls of hair that surrounded the base of his thick cock. Tears developed at the corner of your eyes knowing that your airway was cut off until Joe snickered and pulled his hips back. A long line of saliva trailed from the tip of his cock to your lips with him stroking his hand over his slick arousal. Giving you a minute to breathe, he moved forward again and started fucking your mouth the way he wanted and you did your best to give him what he desired. You didn’t complain, hell you wanted to be his best little sex slave that did as he pleased because you didn’t want this to end with the two of them. Even though you tried to focus, your body started tremoring again. God, Butcher was working you up to another orgasm that had you crying out against Joe’s cock. It had Joe moaning out with him pulling it from your mouth with a wet sound. “Fucking hell.”

“Can we switch now?” Billy requested lifting his head up from between your legs to wipe at his lips with the back of his hand. There was a sense of arrogance in Billy’s eyes with the way that he was able to make you come so easily. “I’d like to get my dick wet someday soon too.”

“Have at it,” Joe moved from over you sliding out of his shirt, allowing the material to drop to his wrists. Dropping it onto the ground, he kicked out of his pants and the sight of his cock bobbing about as he moved had you tremoring. “Get on your knees.”

You wanted to ask how, but instead you just did your hardest to twist your arms. It hurt like hell with the way the cuffs tightened around your wrists, but you did what Joe asked of you. Beside you at the edge of the bed, Butcher was swiftly pulling apart the material of his slacks. Unlike Joe, he wasn’t taking his time in pushing his pants down his hips. Billy was quick and fierce in the way that he did things. Once the material of his pants were pushed down, his uncut cock bounced in your face and he chuckled.

“We’re not making it easy for her, are we?” Billy sheathed his girthy flesh with his fingers, testing the member in his grasp making sure that he was completely solid. Hopping up on the bed, he carefully lowered down onto his knees in front of you and swept his fingers over the side of your face. “Here we go…”

Leading the tip of his cock to your lips, you allowed Butcher to sink his arousal into the warmth of your mouth. Grumbling out, Billy swept your hair out of your face and held it back so he could watch you while he thrust his hips unhurriedly toward your throat.  

“Well fuck me,” Joe’s raspy voice was heard, the warmth of his hands palming in over your bottom spreading your cheeks apart. “That is a pretty pussy. Wet and just begging to be fucking destroyed. Look at you.”

“I told ya. And there you are wasting your time talking her through things,” Billy’s accent accentuated something of the words. A firm smack over your right cheek was felt and it made you purr against Billy’s cock. “Fuck Kessler…”

“Enjoy it,” Joe commented when he smacked at your ass again before caressing at the flesh. “Fuck, you really are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the warmth of Joe pressing up behind you along with Billy using your mouth however he wanted. Faint kisses were pressed up over the small of your back from Joe before lowering down again. Leaving you with small little bites over your flesh and over your ass. Humming out, Joe’s hands pressed at your thighs, getting them to separate better.

“Look at that pretty little hole,” Joe dropped his head forward, his tongue dragging a line along the length of your sex. When it circled the warmth of your entrance it had your eyes slamming shut and you noticed in that moment that Billy started to thrust his hips harder up toward your throat. His fingers were hooked in your hair, controlling the movements of your mouth over his length leaving the wet sounds to fill the small room with what he was doing.

Joe’s tongue prodded at your hole, his fingers squeezing at your thighs while he feasted on your body. Both men were using your body the way they wanted to and it was so hard to focus. The handcuffs were digging into the flesh of your wrists and you knew it would leave a mark, but you thought it was worth it. You tried to pull your head away for a breath when you gasped at the sensation of Joe’s long, slender digits pushing into your slick body. Just like Butcher, the forcefulness of his fingers thrusting away inside of you had you trembling back against his movements. You were having trouble staying on your knees and they both knew that, but it didn’t stop them from being rough with you. When Joe’s fingers pulled from your body and went back to flicking and teasing over your entrance along with your folds, it had you whining. Tugging your head back from his length had Billy’s cock twitching when his fingers traced over your chin.

“Come on honey, get it together,” Billy’s fingers tapped at the side of your face, giving it a little smack while you tried to take in as much air as you could. “Get that throat relaxed for daddy here so we can keep up the fun.”

It wasn’t long before Butcher was forcing his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. With a slurping sound Joe pulled his head back and snickered against your flesh. Giving you one final wet kiss at your core had you whimpering around Billy’s cock and he threw his head back letting out a delicious moan that had chills flooding your body.

The bottom of the bed dipped with Joe’s weight moving in behind you and your back arched enjoying the warmth of him near, “So many holes just begging for attention.”

The sound of Joe spitting was heard and you felt the warmth of it sliding down over your ass. Collecting it with his thumb, Joe circled it over your tight pucker and it had you bouncing forward. With a rumble of an amused laugh, Joe pulled your hips back to him. Forcing his thumb into the ring of muscle had you pulling away from Billy’s cock, dropping your head down and whimpering out. It was foreign the feeling that he was doing. You weren’t completely ready, but Joe was testing your limits.

“Fucking hell Butcher,” Joe groaned from behind you, enjoying the way your body bounced back toward his. Billy’s fingers grasped onto your jaw forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes were watery and you no doubt had spit dribbling from your lips with what they had been doing to you. “Her ass is perfect too. With a pussy and an ass this tight, they are just begging for endless amounts of creampies.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t ya?” Billy slurred, lowering down just enough to brush your hair out of your face and he smiled. “The two of us filling you up?”

“Yes,” you panted, whimpering out when Joe pulled his thumb from your body. Hearing him getting off the bed had you whining and Billy let out a sound of awe.

“She misses you already Kessler,” Billy mocked you slightly dawning a frown with his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip. “Wants you back in that tight little ass of hers.”

“I won’t be gone long,” Joe assured you digging for something in his pants before returning with a tiny little bottle. Getting back on the bed, Joe dropped the bottle on the bed beside him and hummed. “Don’t be a greedy little thing. You’re gonna get what you want. I’m just preparing for the future here.”

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Billy alerted you with a bounce of his eyebrows and a devious smirk. Gasping out, you felt Joe moving you around where he wanted you. The way he threw you about made you feel like a rag doll when you felt his thighs pressing in over the back of yours. It had you cooing out when you felt the length of his solid cock resting over your bottom. “Why do you get to go first?”

“Because you ate her out first Butcher my boy,” Joe snorted seeing the frustration in Billy’s face when Billy curled his fingers around his cock, teasing the flesh in his grasp. “Don’t fucking worry. We’ll share. We always fucking do.”

“Come on honey,” Billy led you back toward his cock, teasing the tip over your wet lips. Sticking out your tongue for him, you flicked it faintly at the ridges of Billy’s manhood. It had him growling out, his fingers yanking at your hair drawing you to wince. Allowing his length back between your lips, you heard the sounds of Joe tapping his erection at your ass. The soft smacks had your eyes slamming shut and you wiggled your ass a bit showing him that you wanted what he was about to deliver. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

“Aw. Ain’t you sweet?” Joe mocked Billy from where he was behind you and you could see from the corner of your eye that Billy lifted his hand to raise a middle finger at Joe. It had Joe chuckling behind you before you felt the sweep of the tip of Joe’s cock over the length of your sex. Moaning against Billy’s cock had him groaning out when Joe smacked his member up against your flesh. Joe was teasing you at first while you did your best to pleasure Billy, but Billy could pick up that you were having a hard time focusing so he started thrusting his hips, fucking your throat with wet sounds falling from you. You felt the swollen tip of Joe’s cock at your entrance when he pushed forward swiftly, not giving you much time to get used to his size when he filled you completely. It had your hips bouncing forward, a cry falling from your stuffed throat, but Joe forced you back onto him. “Fuck, that’s nice…”

Joe squeezed at your hips before he started thrusting behind you, not taking it easy in the way he pounded into you. Every bounce forward of his hips had you gagging more on Billy’s cock. A pathetic half attempt at a moan escaped the small spaces of your throat while the wet sounds of Joe pounding into your pussy echoed throughout the room.

“That’s it,” Joe growled, his hand spanking firmly over your bottom again. Your flesh was hot, burning with the sensation before another smack over your flesh drew you to whimper. “Such a perfectly wet tight little pussy.”

Once again, Joe’s thumb was back at your pucker pushing it’s way back into your ass while he fucked you. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, but by the sounds Joe was making behind you, you would have let him do anything. In fact, you moaned like the perfect little slut they wanted you to be. God, what you would have given to touch both of them. To feel the flexing of their muscles while they had their way with you.

“Oi, let me try,” Billy pulled at your hair, getting you from his cock and you panted for air. Tugging you forward had Joe’s length pulling from your wet core. You hated that empty feeling it left you with. Billy dropped down on the bed, managing to get you on your knees over him. Your hands were braced against the headboard when Billy reached between the two of you to thrust his hips up sinking his manhood into your tight canal. “Fucking hell…”

“Told you,” Joe’s breath was warm against the side of your neck when he kissed over your jawline from where he was on his knees behind you. Joe’s erection was pressed against your back while Billy pounded into you from below. His hips bouncing up toward you filling you again and again with his length. Curling his fingers firmly around your throat, Joe urged you to tip your head back while your cries and moans filled the air. Covering your lips with his, Joe feverishly kissed you, his tongue brushing past your lips to flick against yours. Sucking faintly at his tongue had him growling out, the grasp of his fingers around your throat growing stronger. Mewling out, you felt your whole body shaking with the way that Billy was smacking up against you, his testicles slapping up against your ass with every thrust. “Enough.”

Curling his arm around your waist, Joe lifted you enough to pull you from Billy’s cock. Joe kept his finger wrapped around your throat, having your head tip back against his shoulder. His other hand reached down to lead his cock back into you with a loud smacking sound. Between Billy and Joe they were filling you and stretching you in ways that you could never imagine.

Crying out, you closed your eyes while Billy’s hands caressed up and over your sides. There was a big difference between Billy’s hands and Joe’s hands. Billy’s fingers were rougher, scratching at your flesh while Joe’s fingers were softer. You could tell that one worked more in the field and the other did more of the directing. Billy’s palms squeezed at your breasts, his fingertips circling your nipples.

“Gorgeous set of tits really,” Billy grunted, his hot wet kisses tampering off over your breasts. Once his mouth surrounded your breast, it had you crying out into Joe’s mouth. Joe wasn’t wasting a moment with you, having you the way he wanted. Filling you completely, having you shake with every forceful thrust upward he made behind you. Twisting his tongue around your nipple, Billy nipped at the flesh before sliding out from under you. “My turn.”

You whined. You felt like Joe had been hitting all the right areas inside of you to lead you right to the edge of an orgasm, but Billy didn’t give you the time to reach it. And that ached. Bad. Joe snickered, pulling his hips back and you felt Billy forcing you down onto your back again. Breathing loudly, you could feel your heart pounding away inside of your chest. Your body wasn’t used to all of this and all of this at once.

Crawling in over you, Billy settled himself between your thighs after forcing them open. Hooking his arms around your shoulders, Billy held tightly to you when he looked between the two of you. Lining his solid dick up, he thrust firmly forward which had you bouncing upward on the bed. Every thrust was rough, causing the bed to squeak with every movement he made over you. The headboard was smacking against the wall loud. It made you wonder if anyone else was in the rooms near you. If there was, there was no question what was happening in here.

“Look at that face,” Joe sat on the edge of the bed. Your face was hot. You knew you looked spent and he was completely amused. Billy gave you a few wet, sloppy kisses, but you liked the way they felt. You liked the contrast between Joe and Billy. Sucking at his bottom lip, Joe seemed to enjoy watching Billy fucking you with the way that he was watching the two of you. Joe’s cock twitched with anticipation when he smacked at Billy’s shoulder. “Don’t be greedy Butch.”

“Fine,” Billy scoffed, dropping his head back, pulling himself up and away from you which had you whimpering out. Again, you felt like you were cheated out of an orgasm. There was a tingling at your core, you were soaking wet and the boys knew what they were doing with you. It felt like a game at this point. Billy threw his hand out and pointed down at you. “Have at it.”

“Thank you,” Joe shook his head, licking his lips when he looked you over. “I can see by the desperation in your eyes you want to come. So bad. Don’t you?”

Joe traced his fingertips over the length of your folds, collecting your slick onto his fingers before he traced his fingers back down. It had you nodding, your hips bouncing up toward his touch when he snorted, another amused rumble falling from his throat, “Can you squirt?”

You could barely form words when Joe grunted and moved in over you on his knees. Urging your legs up over his shoulders had your ass lifting from the bed and he braced himself with his left hand settling beside your hip. Using his right hand, Joe reached down to lead his throbbing erection swiftly back into your body. With a smack forward it had you crying out and an arrogant smile pulled at Joe’s lips.

“Feel good?” Joe slurred, his eyebrows furrowing when he braced his right hand beside your other hip to balance his weight. Nodding, your lips parted and you whimpered. In this position Joe filled your right up to the brim. It had you feeling fuller than ever and your hips involuntarily arched up because you wanted more. It had his long eyelashes fluttering with him taking in a sharp breath of air showing that he liked it. It was like he was cherishing the sensation of the warm walls of your core surrounding him before he started rolling his hips. Each movement Joe made, he was paying close attention to how you reacted. The bed dipped with Billy laying down beside you, his kisses pressing in over your shoulder. Once Joe found a position he liked, his eyes were focused on his cock starting to piston inside of you. Joe’s jaw flexed, the lines in his forehead growing with his moans becoming louder.

“Joe,” you cried out and it had Billy tsking in your ear, his fingers grasping tightly to your jaw while your hands tremored in the position they were in. Your arms were going numb with how they had them handcuffed to the bed. The pleasure overpowered the pain with the tip of Joe’s cock hitting all the right places inside of you. It had you shaking, your hips quivering with you arching up close to him wanting him to keep doing what he was. There was a rush going to your head and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“Keep it up Kessler. Looks like this one is about to burst,” Billy praised Joe with the smacks of Joe’s flesh against yours setting a steady rhythm. Sliding his palm down your abdomen, Billy’s fingers centered in over your clitoris circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. It had you crying out their names. A proud laugh fell from Billy’s throat. Behind heavy eyelids you could see the determined expression over Joe’s face when you wailed out, pulling your hips back and away from Joe. A hot liquid warmth rushed to your core and your whole body shook. An amused breath fell from Joe with him licking his lips. “She is a squirter. Well lucky us.”

“Fuck,” you tremored, your throat tensing up when Joe moved off the bed and ran his fingers over the wet lengths of his lower abdomen. Sitting at the top of the bed beside you, Joe propped his back up against the headboard when Billy swiftly got up onto his knees. Once again he had you flipping over onto your stomach. Adjusting your bodies, Joe had you laying over him when Billy moved in over you. Your head rested against Joe’s abdomen with his fingers stroking at your shoulders. Forcing your legs together, Billy rest his knees beside your thighs and reached down to forcefully shove his thick cock back into you. It had you sobbing out. You were so fucking sensitive as it was and Billy wasn’t going to give you a break. No, now that Joe had managed to make you squirt by focusing purely on your g-spot, Billy was going to do the same. Rough, powerful thrusts followed with your face burying further against Joe’s lower abdomen. “Billy…please.”

“Nah, no. Butcher is doing a great job,” Joe hushed you, stroking his fingers over the side of your face. It led you to start pressing faint kisses over the area under Joe’s navel and it had him smiling. “Let him do what he wants with your pussy. You won’t regret it.”

“It’s almost like a challenge you see. If he can do it, I know I can too,” Billy grunted in your ear, his mouth pressing in over your shoulder while biting at your flesh. Adjusting his hips, Joe curled his fingers around the base of his lengthy cock and teased the tip of it over your bottom lip. Parting your lips allowed him to start thrusting his hips up in lazy movements. You tasted yourself on him while he surprisingly praised you. Every plunge of Billy’s cock inside of you had you crying out against Joe’s flesh, but by his moans you realized he liked the way it vibrated against his manhood. By Billy’s loud breaths, you could tell he was determined and he was getting there with wanting to make you squirt too. That same familiar fire flooded through your veins, but this time you couldn’t pull away. All you could do was pull your mouth away from Joe’s length, burying your face against the center of Joe’s chest when Billy swiftly pulled his hips back and a wet sound followed. “Fucking Perfect.”

“I think it’s time for the finishing touches,” Joe allowed you to lay over him while he stroked his fingers over your shoulders. Curling his finger under your chin, he persuaded you to tiredly lift your head from his chest. “You can take both of us at the same time, right? You want to be our perfect little slut and make us happy?”

“Of course she does,” Billy retorted from behind the two of you going back to kissing over your shoulders. “If she wants to keep this whole thing up, I know she can handle it. Ain’t that right sweetheart?”

Licking your lips, you knew that your body was already exhausted. You had been ran through incredible amounts of euphoric pleasure time and time again. Pushed to the brink, but when it came to these two, you were willing to do anything. Nodding slowly had Joe’s smile growing and he tipped his head down. The light from the motel room brought attention to the scar that went down the side of his face. You had always been attracted to both Joe and Billy. But now even more so with the way their bodies showed how they went to war in the past.

The bed went cold with both Joe and Billy getting up from the bed. Shocked, you felt one of them unhooking your wrists from the headboard. You didn’t think they were going to let you have your hands. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see them talking. Pulling your wrists closer to your body allowed you to observe them. Your skin was raw and red.

“I’ll play you for it,” you heard Billy stammer and it had Joe chuckling. Turning your head, you watched Billy hold out his fist. It looked like the both of them were doing rock, paper, scissors as if trying to figure out who was going to go where. When they got to three, Joe beat Billy with paper when Billy picked rock. “Best outta three?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe allowed them to play again with Joe winning the second time, “I know the way you think Butcher.”

“Alright you fucking wanker. You win. But it’s mine next time,” Billy declared dropping down to the edge of the bed before laying down. Urging you in over him took time. You weren’t moving all that well. You were weak and rightfully so. Now Billy was kissing you this time more focused, gentle. It surprised you.

“Here we go,” Joe got on the bed behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you up to your knees. It had you gasping out, but Billy had your face cupped in his hands with him nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m gonna get you ready. Cus’ while we’re assholes, we’re not fucking assholes.”

“Yes you are,” Billy snickered, his lips pressing over the side of your neck to your jawline where he bit. It had you whimpering and you heard the sound of a bottle being opened. Soon the slick, cool fluid began to slide between your flesh over your ass hearing Joe let out a proud sound.

Closing the bottle up, Joe tossed it back beside you and you felt him squeezing at your cheeks, testing the flesh as if to relax you. Tracing his fingers over your body, Joe collected the lube that he had poured and you felt him prodding at your tight hole. It had your eyes slamming shut tightly when you felt his finger pressing inside of you. This time he was slower, working to open you up for him when he added a second finger.

“You’re working your way to the good girl label,” Joe commented, his lips pressing between your shoulders. Billy’s hands curled around your body, smacking firmly at your ass which had it bouncing back toward Joe while he thrust his finger inside of your tight canal. Working a second finger in had you grabbing tightly to Billy. Your fingers sank into Billy’s flesh, the nails breaking the skin, but by the sound that he made he liked it. “Your perfect little ass was made for this. Y’know that?”

“He has me all jealous and shit,” Billy snorted, his brow line creasing when Joe reached for the bottle again after pulling his fingers from your body. It had you panting, clinging tightly to Billy like you wouldn’t let go. You had to brace yourself and prepare for what was going to happen. Looking over your shoulder, you watched Joe pour a significant amount of lube into his hand before coating his cock with it. Slick sounds fell from his hand jerking off his throbbing length. Crawling toward you, Joe pressed into your hips to get them lowered slightly with your ass in the air. “I thought we were sharing.”

“Let me get her used to it first and then we will share,” Joe snapped, his fingers digging into your hips when you felt the swollen tip at your tight pucker. Clenching up had Joe hushing you his lips kissing at your shoulder with the warmth of his body radiating against your back. “Clenching is going to make it hurt. I’m not trying to hurt you here. So fucking relax.”

Doing as you were told, you tried to get your body to loosen up. In that moment, Billy was caressing at your body, his mouth demanding kisses from yours. You wanted to focus on the kisses, but you heard the slight popping sound of Joe successfully sinking the tip of his manhood into your tight hole.

Don’t tense up. You had to repeat that to yourself as you buried your head against the side of Billy’s neck. Cradling your head, Billy hushed you with Joe urging the rest of his lengthy cock inside of you. You felt full. It ached, but you didn’t want him to leave. An involuntary moan fell from your throat.

“Fuck me,” Joe bit at your earlobe, his nose nuzzling against the side of your face when he filled you completely. “Your tight little ass feels like it was made just for me.”

Bracing his hands, Joe took his time pulling his hips back and then thrusting forward. It surprised you that he was taking his time to open you up and get you used to this whole thing. His moans were pretty loud and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“You’re going to creampie her before we even get started,” Billy scoffed with the weight of both you and Joe over him. “Now who is being the greedy fucking one.”

“Stop bitching,” Joe snarled, reaching out to smack his hand at the side of Billy’s face which seemed to enrage him a bit. “You don’t want to rip the poor girl in half. You’ll get what you want you jackass.”

Gradually Joe’s thrusts stopped and you felt him pull from your body which had you whining out, “I know, I know. You want me balls deep in that pretty little ass of yours, but we have to please Butcher here too before he loses it.”

“Fuck you wanker,” Billy scoffed with Joe trying to get you up onto your knees. You were weak, your hands pressing in over Billy’s chest.

“We need your hips to stay up so Billy can fuck you from below while I do it from behind,” Joe’s words vibrated against your flesh and you lowered your upper half. Bracing your weight over Billy’s body, you felt Billy grabbing your hips. With a firm smack upward, Billy was back inside of your already dripping cunt. It had him growling out, his teeth biting at your neck undoubtedly leaving marks. “And now…”

Billy was holding you in place when Joe adjusted his legs. You felt the hair from his thighs pressing against the back of your thighs when he pressed in behind you. There was that bulbous tip back at your tight pucker again. This time he wasn’t as gentle as before. Sinking his cock into you with a firm upward thrust had you crying out. Having the both of them inside of you left you feeling fuller than you ever had.

“Have you ever had a double creampie darlin’?” Billy muttered, his head lifting up to press kisses over your breasts that were in his face. With a nip it had you crying out and he let out an excited breath. “We’re going to have our spunk dripping out of both of your holes.”

“Good girl,” Joe reached around you to palm up over your body, squeezing at the breast that Billy’s tongue wasn’t currently circling. Starting to roll his hips, Joe was smacking up against your ass with his slender hips while Billy desperately started to thrust up toward you. Their movements were uneven at first and it had you breathless. Clinging to whatever you could. After a while they seemed to find a matched tempo that you actually quite enjoyed. You felt both of their testicles smacking up against your flesh. It was a good thing they were friends because everyone was touching everyone at this point. “You were made for this.”

Hearing both Joe and Billy’s moans had chills filling your body. This was incredible. This was everything you dreamt of and more. You knew you would be feeling it for a long time, but you didn’t care. They both marked you and you would wear those marks with pride.

“Beautiful little slut, ain’t ya?” Billy smacked a bit firmer than he did previously at the side of your face before claiming your lips in a hungry kiss again. You were shaking between the both of them. A variation of cries and moans falling from you while they both absolutely had their way with fucking you. Gasping out, you felt Joe’s fingers back at your neck with the pressure that he had placed on it earlier. “Look at you.”

Faint smacks at your clit were felt with Billy smirking a wickedly entertained smile. Your hips were tremoring between the both of them. You were all covered in sweat. This was the dirtiest, naughtiest thing you had ever done and they were letting you know that.

“Are you going to come?” Joe’s fingers were still tight on your throat when you started moaning louder. You could only nod slightly. You wanted to come and you were close to it. You could tell with how good everything felt. That same fire was building inside of you and you felt faint. “Do you like having both of our big cock’s inside of you at the same time?”

“Yes daddy,” you could barely get your words out, your head light from both the pressure of his fingers around your throat and the oncoming orgasm that you were about to have. “I love it. So much.”

“Does your tight lil’ cunt and ass belong to us?” Billy wanted an answer while his fingers were more determined to match the tempo their cocks were setting inside of you.

“Answer him?” Joe demanded with a firm tug, his words hot against your ear making you wince.

“It belongs to both of you,” you promised them, your eyes slamming shut with how powerful Billy’s thrusts seemed to get beneath you.

Billy’s moans were constant when you felt the first twitch of his cock inside of you. He seemed to hold you still, his nails now digging into your flesh while he pumped you full of his cum. You felt it seeping down your inner thighs, enjoying the sight of Billy’s pleasured filled face with his head tipped back into the pillows. His jaw was flexing, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes closed tightly. Billy’s lack of movement only seemed to make Joe’s movements harder. Joe’s breathing loud and hot against your flesh. A small bit of energy filled you. You wanted that orgasm that they were both working up inside of you. It had you bouncing back toward Joe’s thrusts, while still pulling back and forth enough to use Billy’s cock the way you needed it.

“That’s it,” Joe sounded pleased with you and Billy lifted his head to watch you fucking yourself over his cock and Joe’s. With a wail, you felt your thighs tremoring. Your whole body shaking with the euphoric sensation flooding your veins. Your heart was pounding in your chest. With Joe’s fingers still curled tightly around your throat, it seemed to enhance your orgasm all the more. “Fuck…”

Joe’s moans grew louder, his thrusts more prominent and harder. It had you bouncing forward with Billy’s moans still matching yours. With a dominant thrust over you, you felt the warmth of Joe’s release inside of you, his damp chest pressing firmly against your back lowering you closer to Billy. With a few final thrusts, Joe’s hips finally came to a stop and he laughed against your jawline. Finally releasing your neck had you inhaling sharply. The room was spinning. Your vision was slightly blacked over, but in time came back to you. Both men were still inside of you, holding onto you like they weren’t going to let go.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Billy was the first to say something, smacking at your hip before lowering his hips. The sensation of his cum sliding down your body was felt with some of it dripping onto his lower abdomen. If anything? Billy was proud of it.

A faint kiss was pressed against your temple as Joe grunted, straightening his body to get back to his knees. His fingers squeezed at your ass cheeks, spreading them when he took his time pulling his softening cock from your tight canal. Once he did, you heard the wet sound that followed by the proud rumble from Joe’s throat.

“Watching our cum oozing out of your pretty little holes turns me on all over again,” Joe claimed, hissing out when he squeezed at your flesh. You felt his cum sliding down over your folds before dripping from your body. Tapping your hip, Joe suggested you to lay down and you fell in over Billy who grunted. Falling in beside you, Joe’s chest was rising and falling while he tried to catch his breath.

“You okay there old man?” Billy mocked Joe, kissing at your shoulder after. Gazing over Joe, you saw his softening cock resting at his lower abdomen, twitching slightly and it took your breath away. Between Billy and Joe you didn’t know where you wanted to be.

“Fuck you,” Joe scoffed, rolling over onto his side curling his arm around you to pull you closer so that you were between the both of them. Joe’s hand caressed over your thigh, his lips kissing at the side of your neck while Billy kissed at the opposite. Between their rough beards, it had you purring out. You enjoyed the pampering that came after that welcomed abuse you went through between them. “You did good. Very good.”

“I hope it was everything you wanted,” Billy breathed out, a laugh falling from his throat when he stretched his hand out over your breasts to drag it across your flesh. “Because the next time? It’s gonna be so much more intense than this.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @ibelongtonegan @neganswoman

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03​

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[taintandviolent]

Nosy Neighbours ; Gambit x Reader

summary: PART ONE TO TACO TUESDAY! PART THREE HERE! Reader wakes up after a night of debauchery.... and continues it. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.2K | smut with very little plot, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, blowjobs, eating out, no use of y/n, a sprinkling of angst at the end because things are developing for reader.

a/n: Listen, listen. I am blown away by the love on my first Remy fic, and the fact that you guys wanted a part two made my day. Thank you so much for all the praise and I hope this one lives up to the hype as well! part 3....? peut être... - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @atomicfoxx!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Sunlight filters in through the crack in your curtains, warming a stripe across your thigh and stomach. You squeeze your lids shut tighter and turn your head away from the window, trying to get away from the glaring brightness. A grogginess lingers heavy in your system, but despite that, your body is giving you all the internal signals that it's time to wake up. You stretch deeply, muscles quivering as you flay your limbs out on the bed.

You hadn't gotten that drunk. At least, you didn't think you had. You don't remember falling asleep, but you definitely remember the dreams you had. They were lusty, lewd and lascivious, and every other adjective to describe naughty; your brain had conjured up the filthiest dreams you'd had since... well, ever. And they were all with the Cajun guy you'd met at Wade's. Remy. You remembered his name because you'd said it at least a dozen times in your dream. 

Still half asleep, you flop over, throwing your arm and leg over onto the mattress. Your sheets are pulled down on one side, oddly, but you assume you just tried kicking them off or burritoing yourself in the night. Nothing out of the ordinary. You sniff and an unexpected sweet, warm fragrance fills your nostrils. Breakfast? You roll over again, and sit bolt upright to look down the hall. You suck in a breath and hold it, listening intently to the sounds coming from your kitchen; the scrape of metal against cast iron and a distinct sizzling sound. 

“What the hell?” You whisper, scooting yourself to the edge of the mattress. 

As you get up off the bed, you pull the sheet with you, wrapping it around your naked body, which honestly, was odd - you never slept nude – always in an oversized shirt. Your muscles seem to shake as you walk, and ache pings somewhere in the area of your hip flexors as you pad down the hall, barefoot. When you get to the kitchen, there’s a visual in front of you that causes you to come to a screeching halt.

Had it really not been a dream? 

You nearly have to pick your jaw up off of the floor. He – Remy – stands in your kitchen, over your stove, in nothing but his purple briefs and your polka dotted apron, which hasn't been tied and hangs from his muscular neck.

As he tends to the bacon sizzling in the pan, he sees you in his peripheral, and turns his head slightly, a bright but relaxed smile on his face — the look of it tickles something in your core. You hum quietly.

"Mornin', cher." 

What you want to say is holy shit but you instead mutter out an inquisitive and unsure: "Uhhh, morning...?" 

Even though you’ve seen him naked before, you’re still flabbergasted by the visual. You swallow, and let your eyes fall down the length of his body; tan skin pulled taut over sculpted muscles. He's just as delicious now as he was in your dreams. Maybe even moreso, with the lingering cuddle of sleep, his hair mussed, and the sunlight beaming in from the small window over the sink, kissing his skin in a yellow haze. 

"Hungry, mon ami?"

"Starved, actually." You blink away from his half-naked form and up to his face. "I'm so sorry, am I still asleep or did we....?" 

Remy chuckles and flips the bacon. "We sho’ did. I ain’t remember the last time I had it like ‘dat." 

You take a breath, and think back. It doesn’t take long to differentiate between dreams and reality as it all comes rushing back, playing out in your mind like a dirty movie. 

The way he held you close to his chest, the way his hands explored your body, fingertips kissing your flesh... the way his thick cock felt as it filled you, pleasure coursing through your body in ways that you’d never experienced before. The way he spoke, the way you said — moaned — his name. The way you nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder after you both had cum, the way he’d stroked your hair as you fell asleep… 

You swallow and blink again, bringing yourself back to reality. Remy is plating the bacon and walks it over to your small kitchen table. He gestures with a nod of his head and you walk over, plopping down into the seat, which squeaks as you do. Tucking the sheets underneath your armpits, you reach forward and pluck a single piece from the plate; it's warm and sticky, and tastes like maple syrup. You hum happily as you chew, and Remy takes a piece for himself as he sits down in the chair across from you. 

"Remy," you coo. It sounds far more wanton than you intend, almost a moan. Judging by his reaction, it sounds familiar — like the way you were whining his name last night as he hammered into you. 

"Hoo, don't start 'dat again or we gon' be havin' a repeat of last night." 

You swallow the mouthful of bacon and reach for another strip. He’s a good cook on top of everything, and made the bacon just the way you liked it. Great. 

“Listen, I… I’m not usually like… that. I don’t hook up with random guys or anything.” 

“Is ‘dat what ‘dat was?” He asks, a taunting tone in his voice. There’s something behind it, something warm and inviting, but you shake the thought off. 

“Wasn’t it? Isn’t that what that’s… classified as? I’m…”

He interjected, pushing the plate towards you. “Well, I dunno’, cher. You fell asleep in my arms… and I’m still here.”

You munch on another slice of bacon as you grapple with the fact that maybe it wasn’t just a one-night stand. Your eyes glaze over, staring at nothing in particular as you consider a couple of things. 

First, was the fact that you’d never been one for one night stands. They were frivolous, and usually ended in embarrassment or heartbreak. Neither of which had happened here. He had a glaring point; he had stayed, and apparently, you were comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms. Another something that you never did. 

Second, was the fact that you’d also never really been one for the whole fate, destiny, or soulmate thing. That was cringy, and not something you’d ever entertained, because why would you? Save for a few meaningless relationships in college, you’d been alone and liked it that way. Less to deal with, less to have to clean up at the end of the day. You weren’t actively looking for a relationship, but Remy had just been there. Wasn’t that how fate worked? You furrowed your brows.

Third, was the undeniable fact that something – and you didn’t know what – but something about Remy had been written deep within the confines of your heart. The magnetic pull that you’d felt towards him last night still lingered heavily, and you wanted nothing more than to push yourself against him and feel his body against yours. 

Lust at first sight. That’s got to be what it is, you decide. You’re in lust with him.

But why not test it again…. Just to be sure. Your cunt clenches in anticipation, having been sent the signals that you plan to pursue him. Again. 

The wanton voice returns as you push yourself up out of your seat, leaning over the kitchen table. “Maybe we should… do it again… for good measure. Remy…”

"Chere, what did Remy say about usin' ‘dat voice...?"

"What if that's what I want?"

Remy's chewing slows and his eyes lift to yours. The legs of the chair scrape against the tile as he stands up, stretching forward to meet your mouth. Your lips barely graze each other, before – 

As if on cue, someone knocks at the door, the sound echoing in your ears. Shit. You hesitate for a moment, eyes darting towards the door. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Begrudgingly, you move away from him, kick the sheet out behind you so you don’t trip on it, and hurry to the door, unlatching it.

"Wade," you breathe as you throw open the door, almost exasperated. 

Wade pauses for a beat, assessing your appearance. "Oooh, good morning, sunshine. Looks like someone celebrated Taco Tuesday with some extra Cajun seasoning."

You heave a sigh; half out of annoyance and half out of embarrassment, because the reality was, you hadn't looked in the mirror this morning, so your appearance was a mystery. You look down at your sheet-clad body, and pull it tighter around you, as if that's giving back any of your modesty.

Wade leans on the doorframe, grinning like an absolute idiot. Lips pursed, he wiggles his eyebrows (or lack thereof) at you and waits for you to say something. Confess something. He's waiting for the juicy details, and you aren't delivering. 

"Speak, Lassie! Tell us what happened!" 

You huff. "What do you want, Wade?" 

"So hostile. Actually, like State Farm, I was just being a good neighbour. Checking on you and the Cajun Sensation since you two never came ba - oh fuck me is he in his underwear? What in the Magic Mike is happening here?" He peeks over your shoulder, spotting the half-naked Gambit behind you. 

"Wade!" You try to lean into his line of sight, preventing him from looking any further. "Look, I hardly know you, I'm not about to divulge my sex life to you-" 

"Woah, TMI, princess. But thanks for the confirmation!"

"What!? No, that's not what I meant! I'm just..." 

"Sure, pumpkin. It's okay, Disney gave it an R-rating for a reason."

"What are you talking about?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Nothing." You snap, obviously frustrated. "Look, I'm fine. Everything is fine, we just --" 

Remy's voice comes from behind you, fast approaching. "Cher? Everythin' alright?" 

You cast your glance behind you briefly – he’s ditched the apron, and is now in nothing but those tight fitting briefs that leave little to the imagination. God, he's so attentive. He’s already acting like a boyfriend, a thought that turns your guts to butterflies. 

Wade preens, clearly amused. "Oohh, well fuck me sideways. It was that kind of night, huh? Real x reader type plot. Cute. Have you said I love you yet? Or is that chapter three?" 

You bristle, absolutely appalled at the question. Behind you, Remy opens the door further and  raises one arm over his head, leaning it on the wood of the interior frame. He sees Wade and grins brightly, a twist to his lips, almost like he knows what’s happening.

“Mornin’, mon petit rouge.” (My little red)

“Oooh, I felt a tingle with that one.” 

Remy chuckles, shaking his head lightly. Starting with his bare bicep, which was now on full display, Wade's eyes trail down the length of Remy's body, lingering far too long at his groin before snapping back up to his face. 

"Jesus fuck, someone needs to put Agent Tequila on ice again. I thought it was Texas where everything is bigger–"

You feel your cheeks get hot and your eyes widen. “CHRIST, Wade!" 

“Oh please, drop the Sandra Dee act, pookie. You two fucked nasty and everyone knows it. At least the whole floor.” 

Behind you, Remy laughs low. You can feel his gaze on you, tunneling into you, almost as if he’s waiting for you to confirm or deny. The decision weighs heavy on your shoulders, and finally, you blurt out an answer.

“Okay, so we did. Happy now?” 

Wade’s shoulders drop and he heaves an over dramatic sigh. “Hallelujah. There, doesn’t honesty feel good?” 

Remy leans forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Not as good as what I did to you last night, huh cher?” 

“Heard that.” Wade barks. 

Your entire face feels hot, and the blush is spreading down your neck the longer this goes on. 

Remy’s hand comes forward to take a fistful of your ass, squeezing firmly before giving it a determinate smack and heading back to the table. He’s apparently ascertained that the situation is safe; Wade may be a character but he means no harm. You stiffen at the feeling, fighting against the betrayal of your body. Wade arches a brow, his eyes darting to the very subtle way that your hips pitch forward stiffly. 

“Anyway, this isn’t a threesome — could be, but isn’t — so I’m going back home. I have a big… wet… chimichanga waiting for me. Toodles.”

You’re relieved he ends the conversation before you have to; you aren’t quite sure what might’ve come out of your mouth had he stayed any longer and as an afterthought, you don’t want to create hostility with your next door neighbour. You shut your door, throwing the deadbolt into place. 

You march back to the table with an apparent chip on your shoulder over the interaction with Wade – which all things considered, wasn’t that bad, but you’re still worked up. Your muscles are tense with frustration, which you don't notice until Remy's large hands are sliding up the sides of your arms. He eventually gets to your shoulders, which he pinches and massages between his fingers, forcing them back into a more relaxed state. You let out a sigh, and buck your hips back slightly. His groin is pressed up against the ample curve of your ass, your bodies fitting together like a erotic puzzle piece.

“What’re you all mad  for, cher? C’mon now…” 

“Who does he think he is? Making me confess that… and I’m a grown wo—“

“You was pretty loud last night.” He interjects, that mischievous smirk on his lips. 

You spin around in his grasp and cross your arms, shooting him a disapproving look. “Whose side are you on here?”  

He's unphased by your anger, and instead, brings his hands up to your cheeks, pulling them forward until your head gives way, and your lips smash against his.

At this, you let out a mewl of faux discomfort, and Remy smirks against your lips. He shakes his head softly, and pulls you closer at the waist. After a moment, he breaks the kiss and looks down at your sheet-clad figure. While it is a tantalizing sight -- the way the sheet drapes over your figure, conforming to the curve of your breasts, peaking over your semi-hard nipples -- he wants to see your body again. It's been hours, and he's craving it again.

“Yours.” His voice is so sure, so low and so close. 

Well… his hands are definitely on your sides. They roam between your waist and your hips for a few moments before he makes a fist with one of them, the gray fabric bunching between his fingers. 

“Who you bein’ modest for, huh? You don’t need ‘dis. Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.” 

“I… I don’t know…” you whisper, falling into the trap of his eyes again. When he looks at you, really looks at you, you feel like you’re standing at the edge of a building, but going nowhere, because his big, brawny arms are wrapped around you tight. You’ve never felt safer. Uh-oh. That’s not good. 

As he drags his fist down the front of your body, the sheet pulls free of your arms, the fabric grazing your nipples. The sensation has them hardening, and Remy’s hand replaces the sheet, running his thumb over one of them, while cupping the fullness of your breast with the rest of his hand.

He leans forward, kissing from your hairline, over your ear and down the curve of your shoulder, sending convulsive shivers down your spine. The feeling of his lips, pressing into your soft, warm skin… your lids flutter. Your hand reaches down, sliding over his taut muscles, until you find the bulge between his legs. The fabric is warm, heated by the fire of his cock. Your fingers curl around the length of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Unconsciously, his hips pitch forward, forcing more pressure on your palm.

"Remy," you breathe, looking down between your bodies. His briefs are tenting now, his cock straining against the fabric. You swallow back the saliva that's gathering in your mouth, literally on the verge of drooling. 'I wanna'... I have to -- need to taste you."

"In Louisiana, 'dey call 'dat having an envie for somethin'."

"Yeah, well I have an envie for your cock right now, so..." 

The surprise is apparent on his face, his brows lifting on his forehead, but it quickly morphs into something more lusty, something more pleased. His dick jumps at your words and he reaches up to grip your chin firmly, looking hard at your mouth. 

Aroused, his accent thickens. "Hoo, you a naughty girl with 'dat mouth. Why don't you show me what else it can do, huh?" 

You nod and sink to your knees, slowly. Once you're situated in front of his groin, you reach up and hook your fingers around the elastic of his waistband, peeling it away from his skin. You lean forward to trace the tip of your tongue along the lines of muscle, that tantalizing V cut. Remy chokes on his breath, as your tongue flattens against the skin. 

You continue baring him, pulling the fabric down his thighs in one quick motion. He helps you by kicking them off to the side, and now stands, completely bare in front of you. His cock bounces heavy in front of your face and you immediately take him into your hand, wasting no time. You wrap one hand around the thick shaft, towards the base, and slide it slowly up towards the tip.  

The heat coming off his cock radiates into your palm and the contrast of the velvet, soft skin, and the aching, rigid center has your mouth (and cunt) drooling. You can't help it, and the way Remy's muscles flex every time you move your hand eggs you on. You begin stroking his cock, slowly, but tightly and his breath hitches in his throat. Tightening his abdominal muscles as he does, Remy bucks his hips, forcing his dick through the circle of your fingers. The precum is spreading now, making the action easy. His head is down, watching you intently. 

“‘Dat’s it, babygirl, just like ‘dat…”

As you drag the head over your bottom lip, glossing it with precum, it twitches in your grip. Extending your tongue, you slap the heavy, fat tip against it a few times, teasing him. Your lips wrap around the head, tongue massaging the underside with a flattened tongue.

Remy braces his hands on the counter top above you, his breath rushing out. 

“Hoo, you don’t need no help from Remy, you know what you’re doin’.”

You nod and tighten your grip around the base, leaning your mouth forward to press a single kiss against the tip. Your tongue peeks out, licking a long stripe from the base to the head, and you hear Remy make a sound that can only be described as a growl. You moan against his cock, the sound buzzing against his skin. He bucks again, forcing his cock further into your mouth.

Remy’s grip tightens on the counter top. He’s doing his best to keep it together but the way that your warm, wet mouth has enveloped him, the way that you’re gently sucking as your head bobs, the way your fingers wrap around his cock, gripping him firmly and jerking him off at the base has him in pieces. Aside from last night, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this good – certainly not in the Void, and try as he might, no memories are coming forward from before the Void. All he feels – and sees – is you. You. You, in your naked, morning messy glory. His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths, his gaze heavy and half-lidded.

You have to open wide to take him all the way in, but you don’t care. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your cunt weeping profusely between your legs, and the head nudges the back of your throat, teasing at your gag reflex. You steady yourself and get back to it. Your nose prods the thatch of coarse hair above his cock as you deep throat him, over and over again. The salty pre-cum glides over your tongue, saturating it with the taste that you’re craving.

“Mon coeur,” He exhales a low, raspy breath, and backs his hips away from your mouth, his dick leaving your lips with a wet shlick. You stare up at him with wide, unknowing eyes, chin covered in saliva. His cock twitches in your grip; the visual is erotic. 

“Believe me when I say ‘dis, cher. I wanna’ make a mess on your face, but Remy ain’t ready for it to be ova’. C’mere.” 

With a gentle tap, he urges you up off your knees, helping you to get to your feet. Just like before, he’s hoisting you up into his arms and you’re ready to be carried off again, but this time your ass comes down atop the counter, and Remy slots himself between your legs.

“Wait-wait…. What are you doing?” 

“Eatin’, mon ami.” He says it so nonchalantly and throws in the ever casual mon ami as though this is something done between friends. His hands cup your kneecaps, urging them apart with careful urgency. He looks at your cunt, and his brows lift slowly, a smirk crawling across his lips. 

“Hoo…” He chuckles, running a single finger along the slit of your cunt. As he pulls back, his finger is coated in your arousal, thick strands of clear stringing from your cunt to the tip of his finger. “You get yourself all worked up while you were down ‘dere? She is glistenin’, cher.”

You’re almost embarrassed. Almost. You hadn’t told him, but giving head was a massive turn-on. Besides that, the mere sight of his massive cock was enough to get your engines running. Something about admitting that to him sounds a little too whorish, so you keep your mouth shut. You whine, leaning your head against the cabinets and buck your hips forward, closer to the edge. 

It’s as though he can tell you’re withholding something from him. 

“Ah-ah, cher…” He brings his face close to yours, licking at your mouth. “Tell Remy what’s on your mind.”

“I… I like giving head… I like giving you head…. I like…”

He nods, encouraging you further. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, and you roll your eyes to the ceiling. 

“Ugh, okay. You have an amazing cock, and I like having it in every part of me.” You curse yourself for being so honest. 

Now it’s Remy that’s on his knees, and he dives at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue is strong and warm against your clit, flicking upwards against the bundle of nerves. He’s burying his mouth in your folds, lapping at it. Every time his tongue nears your opening, you let out a long, whining moan. 

Pause. Let’s just recap. Just to make sure we’re on the same god damn page. You met this guy at Wade’s…. Fucked him all night long, he made you breakfast and now he’s giving you the most toe-curling head you’ve ever had. And you think, just maybe, you might be falling in love with him. Cool. Okay. 

Your hand snaps to the crown of his head, fingers lacing amongst his hair to hold him to the spot he’s working. His tongue is drilling into your clit, and that’s when you feel the pressure of two fingers, prodding your slick slit. 

“Sweeter ‘den ‘dat maple syrup up on your counter,” he says, practically into your cunt. You look down; his gaze is lust-blown, and lips are glossy, spit-slick and reddened. He presses a few gentle kisses to your clit before his tongue starts swiping at it again, and plunging his fingers deep within your core. Just like before, he knows just how to curl his fingers up into the sensitive spot inside you. You let out a moan, and bump your head against the cabinets again. 

A shudder rips through your body, overwhelmed at the dual stimulation. His mouth closes around your clit, sucking gently and you can feel the slippery puddle forming on the countertop beneath you. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll just slide off the counter, but really… the only place to go is further into Remy and his mouth. 

Abruptly, you feel the flash of heat between your legs and arch your back, readying yourself for the drop. Your cunt aches, throbs and – Remy suddenly pulls away, his chin shimmering with your arousal. 

“Huh, I didn’t hear anyone say you could be doin’ ‘dat yet, ah?” 

Holy shit. You clench her tight, holding back the wave of an orgasm. Your teeth grind together, legs quivering at the feeling of denial. You were right on the edge, right on the edge of white, hot bliss. 

“Ffffuck,” you whisper. “Fuck. Please….” 

“I said no, cher. Not yet.” There’s a playful lilt in Remy’s voice and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck me then, please…. I need to feel you.”  

He chuckles, and presses a deep kiss to your folds. “You ain’t gonna’ have to ask me twice, ma bichette.” (my little doe)

He slips his fingers out, and inserts them into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off of them. Your jaw drops. It’s such a casual, but erotic action, and your cunt responds feverishly. She’s got a heartbeat of her own at this point, thrumming between your legs. Leaving you leaking on the countertop, Remy gets to his feet and turns around to the kitchen table. He shoves the plates out of the way, somehow not knocking them onto the floor. 

“C’mere…”

You’re in his arms again, and he’s swinging you around, plopping you down on the kitchen table. Your hands go back behind you, pressing down into the wood apprehensively. 

“I don’t know if this table can support me…. ” 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout ‘dat, cher. It might not, but Remy’s gonna’ be holdin’ you tight. This is just givin’ me a betta’ angle, ‘das all.” 

He wasn’t lying; most of your weight was in his grasp. One arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you up. You scoot yourself closer to the edge, closer to him, and inhale a deep breath. Remy shuffles forward, his cock leading the way. The red, leaking tip nudges your entrance and he lifts your head to place a kiss against your lips, nibbling softly on the bottom one. He’s so passionate, even amidst the burden of his fiery, seemingly untameable lust. A lover. Fuck… you think. You’re falling into a deep, dark hole that you don’t think you can climb your way out of. 

Remy reaches between your bodies, pushing his cock down slightly, until he feels the sopping wet opening of your cunt. Groaning deeply, he stuffs himself inside, inch by inch until your bodies are flush. He finds a rhythm quickly, bucking his hips against you. As he splits you open, you can’t help but moan loud, louder than last night, his cock filling you, throbbing veins rubbing against your inner walls.

“God, yeah… yeah, fuck me hard…!” You chant, sounding more and more like a porn star with every passing moment.

“Only if you give it t’ me, cher… the way you takin’ this dick, I ain’t gonna’ last long.”

You nod hurriedly, looking deep into his eyes. He growls and pulls his hips all the way back before slamming them back into you – hard. Your jaw drops again, and you find yourself staring at the cabinets, vision going hazy with lust as your orgasm rushes to the surface, claiming your body wholly. The plates that previously hung on now go clattering to the floor, but the sound does little to interrupt you two. Remy’s got his dick so deep inside of you that you’re seeing stars, and the sounds that are tumbling from your lips are far louder than the sound of porcelain on tile. 

With a smooth, guttural sound, Remy loses it, too. He fills you, deeply, and what leaks out the sides, he hurriedly pumps it back inside of you until his cock starts to soften, his thrusts languid and spent. 

“I could do this with you all day…” You whisper into his neck, rubbing your nose against the warm, sweaty flesh there. 

“Me too, cher, me too.” He nods, blinking slowly. “But I can’t be doin’ ‘dat… not today.” 

You rear back suddenly, looking him in the eyes. They’ve still got that mischievous glimmer that he seems to always possess, but there’s something behind them. A sort of… coldness, that has your arms falling away from him. 

“You have to leave…” you say softly, suddenly understanding. 

Remy nods, and slips out of you, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. He pushes your hair out of your face, and rubs his thumb along the fullness of your cheek. He disappears then, and your shoulders sink slightly. You stay on the table for a few minutes, your legs hanging limply off the table, just listening to the sounds of him getting dressed; the gentle rustle of clothing, the snap of his elastic waistband as it hugs him.

Finally, you hop off the table, and bend down to retrieve the rumpled pile of sheet. You hold it against your body, not worrying about what’s showing. Like he said before, he’s seen everything. You turn, and spot him – standing tall behind your couch. He reaches for his leather jacket.

He’s attractive, so the sight of him dressed is to be appreciated as much as him undressed, but there’s a pang of sadness in your chest. Your lungs feel tight, and you wring the sheets around your fingers as he smoothes a hand through his hair, tousling it lightly. Again, as though he’s in tune to your emotions, he seems to notice that you’re staring sullenly. 

“Remy be needin’ to deal with some things, cher…” he says, adjusting himself in his jacket. You wonder what it is he has to deal with, where he has to go. It’s none of your business, you’re sure. You want to ask him if he’ll be back, but your gut warns that that sounds too desperate, so instead, you nod once. 

“Thanks,” you start, trying to find the strength in your voice. “I had a really good time. My door is uh, always open.” 

“Good t’ know, cher.” He says. He sounds genuine, but he’s still leaving. Every bone in your body is screaming for him to stay. He makes his way over to you, wordlessly, and wraps his arm around your waist. His lips find yours, and he tips you backwards slightly as he kisses you. The way he tastes you feels like he’s trying to stain his own mouth with your essence, to remember it later. When he breaks off and straightens you back up, you let out a pathetic little cry that you know he hears. You bring your fingers to your mouth, stroking your bottom lip softly. 

And with that, he opens your door, slips out and shuts it behind him, but not before casting one last look at you, standing there in a sheet that he fucked your brains out on. 

To the closed door, you whisper: “I… think I love you.” 

He doesn’t hear it and maybe that’s for the best. 

[darlingshane]

hot to go

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You get some playtime in a hot tub with Michael.

CW: 18+, explicit, smut, heavy petting, making out, smoking weed, crack, pwp.

Word Count: 1.9k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

There’s certainly something lingering in the air making you shift on your seat. It's not the mild summer breeze. Or the grey clouds scattered across the stark dark sky threatening to break into a storm. Or the romantic vibe of the fairy lights adorning the patio. It’s the man sitting across from you that's stirring something warm and wet between your legs. It's hard to tell because most of your body is submerged in a bubbling hot tub. It could be the effervescent water but no. It's the fact that both of you stripped down to your underwear to get in the tub to get away from the crowd in the cabin.

The music was getting loud, everyone was drinking and having a great time. But it was giving you a headache. So you went outside to the patio and couldn’t resist taking your clothes off and getting into the warm bubbling water.

Michael followed shortly after and asked your permission before removing his clothes and sitting across from you.

No one in the party got the heads-up about the jacuzzi so, here you are soaking wet in your underwear with him. It'd be intimidating if you didn't know him already. He's a friend of a friend you've hung out with a handful of times but never got to talk to him just one on one. You're doing pretty good so far. He's pretty easy to converse with and get a good laugh if you need to.

It’s glaring obvious by the way his eyes have been glued to you the whole night that he’s after something more than talking and doesn’t shy away from showing you. And to be honest, you don’t mind it at all.

You haven’t had much luck lately when it comes to dating so getting someone like Michael’s attention without having to go through the pains of fucking dating apps and shit feels amazing.

Though he doesn’t have the best reputation, you’re not looking for a nice guy right now or something profoundly deep.

Fun is the key word here, and he seems to be right on the same wavelength as you.

One of his hands hangs over the edge of the tub, safeguarding his fingers that are holding a joint to keep it safe from the bubbles.

“Can I get a hit of that?” You rarely ever smoke, but you want to touch the same filter his lips have touched.

“There you go, sweetheart.” He holds it up to you as you dry your hand on the towel you left beside the jacuzzi before picking it from his fingers.

“Thanks,” you bring it slowly to your slips to take a drag, trying to keep your cool and not choke on the smoke you inhale.

When you take a second puff, the smoke goes down the wrong pipe, and you start coughing.

So much for keeping it cool.

“Sorry,” you say, handing it back. “I haven’t smoked in a while.”

He waves you off with his free hand as he takes a long drag from his other.

Leaning your head back on the edge of the tub, you watch his hair curling from the humidity as you wave your arms inside the steaming water.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he says as a cloud of smoke exits his mouth.

“What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever done it?”

“Wow, we’re jumping from weed to sex? That’s a pretty big leap.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don't wanna. I was just making conversation.”

“No, I wanna. I just didn’t see that coming. Let me think…” he pauses, and puts off the joint in the ashtray perched on the corner of the tub. “The weirdest place I’ve ever had sex in was the back of a hearse.”

“The back of a hearse? That’s pretty morbid. Please tell me the other person was alive.”

He chuckles, smoothing a palm over his opposite bicep.

“Of course she was. There was no coffin or anything. It was just us.”

“How did that happen? If you don’t mind me asking”

“I used to work at this body shop when I was younger. One night it got late, and I was left alone fixing this bike. My girlfriend at the time came over to have dinner and thought it’d be funny to make out in the hearse that we got in the garage. What was yours?”

“My weirdest place? An airport bathroom. Just two horny idiots not being able to wait till they got home.”

“It’s not as odd as mine, but it’s close. Is it my turn now to ask?” He extends his arms along the edge of the tub, showcasing his toned muscles.

“Yeah, go for it.”

“Is there a place you never had sex in that you’d like to try?”

“Hm.” You pause to gather an answer, going over a list of places that you always wanted to try but never dared to. But the right answer is right beneath your butt.

“I’ve never had sex in a jacuzzi. I always thought it'd be kind of icky, but I guess some play would be nice. What do you think?”

“Yeah, I think that’d be great,” biting his lip, his eyes cast a darker shadow than the sky as he pegs you with a most certain gaze, conveying what you knew, that he truly is down to get down with you tonight.

“Would you…?” You swallow nervously, moving your foot to caress his calf underwater, “would you like to play right now?”

Nodding his head once, his hands dive into the tub to find your foot. He props your heel on his thigh and softly massages your sole with his thumbs.

“You sure that’s wh––?”

“Yo, Cousin! Where are you?” a loud voice interrupts, and you look back to see Richie emerging behind one of the corners of the cabin to the back patio where the tub sits.

“Shit,” he mumbles as his friend comes closer.

You straighten your posture, but Michael keeps your foot in his grip.

“Where the fuck did you go? Thought we were playing poker. The table is ready, man. Come inside.”

“I have better things to do right now, as you can see,” he gives him a look with a brow raised, but Richie doesn’t take the hint.

“What are you? A fucking fish? C’mon, let’s rob these fools.”

“Richie… I need you to look around, read the room and go back inside. You’re a big boy. Play on your own.”

Richie’s blue eyes dart back and forth between you and Michael until it dawns on him.

“Oh… OH… Okay. Well, have a good time I guess. Just remember you owe me one.” As he walks away he points at Michael with a firm finger.

“Owe you, my ass,” he scoffs, making you chuckle. “Okay, sorry for that. Where were we, sweetheart?”

“Thought you were going to ask me if I was sure of this.”

“Right. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Hm, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

Smiling at each other for a second, he releases your foot, and moves to your side of the tub pulling you onto his lap with one shift motion.

His lips curve up as you settle on top of him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders.

“You’re so damn beautiful, you know that?” He uses a finger to trace the shape of your neck as he takes a good look at you up close.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” You glance down to his toned torso, letting your hands slide over his pecs.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” his finger touches your chin, pulling it closer so he can get a taste of your lips.

His puckered mouth bounces softly against yours a couple of times. When his lips part wider, you follow his cue and do the same. Your head leans to the side, letting your tongue explore and figure out the rhythm of his kiss.

It's sweet and steamy. Gradually bubbling hotter than the hot tub’s water as the hunger of your lips quickly becomes more urgent.

Your arms curl around his neck as his palms land on your ass to pull you flush against his hips. He's not fully hard yet, but you can tell he's big when you start grinding against him. Your ass feels weightless underwater when you rock your hips back and forth, but his tight grip helps you stay close to him as he grows harder.

When he runs out of air, he breaks the kiss to get a taste of your sweet skin. His teeth draw the curve of your neck until they reach the strap of your bra. He bites it and tugs to the side to pull it off your shoulder and uncover your chest partially.

His pointer finger finds the strap and slides it further down, peeling one of the cups to fully expose your boob.

Leaving a trail of kisses all over your chest, he cups your tit and lifts it slightly as his head dips so he can draw the shape of your pebbled nipple with the tip of his playful tongue. It makes your core squirm and beg desperately for more when his lips close around the peak to give it a good suck. You almost moan at the sensation, but you press your teeth hard on your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming.

Bending your arm back, you fumble to unclasp your bra, and slip it off completely as Michael’s mouth travels to the other side of your chest. This time he uses his teeth to tease your nipple for a little longer before viciously sucking it between his eager lips. Your skin buzzes and you have to keep marking your lip to tame the sounds that threaten to come out of your throat.

You don't stop rolling against his dick that has fully swollen into a hard-rock perfection pole for you to rub yourself on as fast as you can to aid the aching between your legs.

When he returns to your mouth, your skin feels like melting into the hot mass of water, as the temperature between your bodies rises.

You can feel he's close by the way his hands clutch to your flesh, coaxing your ass to move even faster. It feels like a time bomb about to go off, and you don't even wanna stop it. You let him devour you with burning passion until his orgasm breaks through the barrier.

You feel his bulge twitch against your clit, and his whole body shakes beneath you. His breath catches in your mouth as he buries a grunt deep inside his throat.

Aware that you haven't gotten your release yet, he keeps one hand anchored to your ass while the other slides between your legs. His fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties to rub your clit without any layers.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear as you close your eyes to focus on the maddening circling of his touch.

You hold your hands tight to his neck as he wildly drives you to the final line. You moan under your breath when a tide of pleasure runs warmly all over your body making your toes curl and your head spin.

“There you go,” he purrs, cradling your head, placing it down on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless, still riding the high of your impromptu affair.

“Likewise, sweetheart.” You gaze at him so see him sweetly drawing a smile.

“Do you… Would you like to go up to my room and play some more?”

“Sure.”

Michael doesn't even think twice before getting out of the hot tub and moving the private party upstairs.

[thedreamlessnights]

Stress Relief

Satoru Gojo x F!Reader - NSFW

AO3 Link

Synopsis: During a drinking game, you confess you've never had an orgasm before. Gojo, your friend of a year, doesn't like that.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough). No use of 'Y/N.' Mentions of alcohol and being buzzed, but not during sex. Fingering, oral (giving and receiving), first time climaxing, facesitting, multiple orgasms. P in V sex, cumming inside, leaving and receiving marks.

Word Count: 7.3k

Your night starts like most of your bad ideas do: with a little alcohol in your system, a shot glass in your hand, and Shoko at your side. 

You don’t know half of the people who are sitting in the circle around you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a situation like this. That’s usually a good thing, but you need the stress relief tonight. 

Even your slight buzz has some of the constant tension in your shoulders slipping away, being replaced by a pleasant warmth.

“Alright,” Shoko says, sitting up. You can barely hear her over the blaring music of the party. “Never have I ever—”

“Hey, what’s this?” a voice cuts her off, and you don’t even have to look up to know who it is. Your entire body goes stiff. So much for releasing tension. “Playing without me?”

“Gojo,” she says, her tone dry. “If you’d like to join, you’re welcome to.”

“Satoru, over here!” someone chirps, scooting over to make room for him.

But he plops down in between you and Shoko, stretching his legs out in front of him. Shit. You’re dying to look over at him, to see what’s on his face, but you know better than to risk that. Your eyes stay trained on your fingers, determined to keep your drink steady in your hand.

“Here,” Shoko says. Out of your peripheral vision, you can see that she’s handing him a shot glass and filling it up. “Now, then. Never have I ever… fallen asleep during class.”

There’s a collective groan. Your glass meets your lips as soon as she’s finished the question, and you can see Gojo’s hand rise, too. Then comes his grimace. He’s never liked the taste of alcohol.

When you’ve downed the shot, you find Shoko’s eyes fixed on you.

“Gojo, I expected. But you?” she asks.

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or embarrassment. “It was only once,” you insist. “I was really tired from training, and… it just… happened.”

“Aww, Ieiri, give her some slack. It happens to the best of us,” Gojo says.

“Okay, my turn!” someone calls, sitting on Shoko’s other side. You don’t recognize her, but the pink flush in her cheeks tells you she’s had more than enough to drink tonight. “Everyone ready?”

You scramble for the bottle in the middle, clumsily pouring more. A little spills over your hand, wetting your glass and making it harder to hold onto.

“Pass it over?” Gojo asks, and it takes a moment before you realize he’s talking to you. Your fingers brush when he takes the bottle from you, and something hot and sharp shoots up your arm. You nearly drop your shot glass.

Damn him.

You can handle him when you’re sober, or when you’re next to Shoko—but he’s blocked you off, and you know he can read every reaction of yours. Gojo sees everything; isn’t that what everyone says?

“Never have I ever… faked an orgasm,” the girl calls. 

Your stomach drops.

Gojo doesn’t move. Shoko doesn’t move. Great, you think. Of course. If you don’t move either, would they know you’re lying? No, they couldn’t possibly. 

But… the point of this game is being honest. It’s no fun if people aren’t willing to take risks. 

The alcohol buzzing in your veins must be giving you a temporary sense of boldness, because you find yourself tilting another shot down your throat before you can think better of it. Most people in the circle are drunk enough that they either don’t see you or don’t care, but you have no doubt that two people in particular have taken notice.

“Oh, really?” Gojo remarks softly, almost to himself.

“Wait. Hang on, what?” Shoko asks. “Who? The asshole at the bar that one night?”

“Shoko,” you hiss, trying to stop her, but she just keeps going.

“Or was it that one… what was his name? The one with black hair?”

“Shoko.”

“Come on, you can’t seriously think I won’t chop whoever it was into tiny pieces.”

“It really wasn’t, um. I- I mean...” You have to stop for a minute to gather yourself, sucking in a deep breath. “It really wasn’t their fault, I just…”

“Wasn’t their fault?” Shoko repeats, her tone sharpening. 

“I’ve never really h-had one,” you stammer out. “So it wasn’t their fault that I didn’t. I don’t think I… can.”

There’s a long beat as they both gape at you. If you could melt straight into the carpet and never return, you’d do it in a heartbeat. Shoko’s staring at you, and you know Gojo is, too, but you refuse to look at him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you force out, giving a shrug. “It still felt nice, so…”

Just as you’re about to grab the bottle again, Gojo snatches it up, holding it out of your reach. “Hang on just a minute,” he says. “Am I hearing that right? You’ve never had an orgasm?”

And despite yourself, you find yourself meeting his eyes.

It’s a stupid thing to do. Absolutely idiotic, because the moment you look at him, it’s like he’s seeing everything. Every shitty night in bed, every small detail you’d prefer to hide from him, every embarrassing memory you want to lock away. 

Worst of all, he looks so ridiculously pretty that you can barely tear your gaze away from him. His hair perfectly tousled like always, dark sunglasses perched at the end of his nose, blue eyes bright and attentive. The first buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his sternum.

You’ve been Gojo’s friend for the last year or so (and that’s mostly due to how much time you spend with Shoko), but it’s still a rare occasion when he gives you his full attention. It’s unnerving, and it takes everything in you not to spout a shitty excuse and bolt home, never to come out again.

“I need another drink,” Shoko mutters, shaking her head. “Something strong.”

She gets to her feet and you race to go with her, leaving Gojo with his unanswered question and the half-empty bottle of booze still in his hand. He’s smart. Probably smarter than you are. If he wants to know so badly, he can put the information together himself.

You’re almost expecting him to chase after you, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t see him for the rest of the night—not until the party is over, leaving scattered pieces of trash all over the carpet and multiple people sprawled out on various pieces of furniture. 

You don’t envy the cleaning job Shoko and her roommate will have to do tomorrow, and you also don’t envy their future hangovers. You had your last drink hours ago, and much to your disappointment, it’s worn off completely.

“Heading out?” Shoko asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Her voice is still a little slurred.

“Yeah,” you tell her, giving her a smile. “I should really get to bed.”

She frowns. “You’re not walking, right?”

“It’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

She shoots you a look—both disappointed and annoyed. “Sometimes you really are stupid,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to have to heal you up tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, Ieiri. I’ll walk with her.”

Gojo.

“Good,” she says. “Make sure she doesn’t get killed.”

“I really don’t need—” you start, but he’s already slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you toward the door.

“See ya, Shoko!” he says. “Drink some water!”

You can’t hear what she says back, but she sounds annoyed.

Gojo practically drags you out of the apartment and onto the street, and the entire time, he keeps you close and his arm fixed around you. Much to your irritation, he’s warm, and he smells like sandalwood and vetiver. Some expensive cologne, no doubt. You hate how much you like that smell.

“So,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him. “You never answered my question.”

That asshole.

“Really? Which one?” you ask innocently.

“Oh, you know,” he drawls. “Just the one where I asked if it was true that you’ve never had an orgasm.”

He says it casually, like the two of you are talking about the weather, but it still makes heat flare across your cheeks. “Right. That one.” 

You’re desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this, but you can’t find anything to save you. He’s got you wrapped in his grip, and there’s nowhere to hide. You’re almost home, though—if you can just delay him…

“Yeah. That one,” he echoes. You can tell he’s smirking, just from the sound of his voice. When you look up, his face confirms it. He holds your gaze evenly, not a trace of shame. Not that you’ve ever seen him look shameful, not in all the time you’ve known him.

Warmth stirs in your gut, and you swallow hard. He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? There's no way he doesn't. 

“Why are you so interested in hearing the answer?” you ask.

The corner of his lip quirks up. “How about this: you answer my question first, and then I’ll answer that.”

Just a little further and you’ll be free. Does he have to be staring at you like that? Does he have to be so god damn close? It’s putting all kinds of stupid ideas into your head.

“It’s true,” you admit, looking down at your feet. “Not that it’s any of your business, Gojo.”

“Is it?” He doesn’t sound particularly surprised. “Well, then.”

The two of you come to a stop, and when he finally drops his arm from your shoulder, you realize you’re standing in front of your front door. You should dash inside and forget any of this ever happened. Wake up tomorrow, and rinse him out of your thoughts, and go on with your life.

But that’s wishful thinking, knowing you. He’d still be on your mind. He always is. 

You know it’s stupid of you to want him like this. There’s no guarantee that he’ll be any different than the rest. No guarantee that he actually wants you back, or that this isn’t just petty flirting to get under your skin. Still, you can't quite find it in yourself to turn him away without even trying.

And if anyone is going to be different than the rest...

“Y-you didn’t answer my question,” you tell him, anxiously fidgeting with the bottom of your skirt. 

“I didn’t?” he asks, tilting his head. “Must have slipped my mind.” He pulls off his sunglasses and steps closer. Even though he’s not touching you anymore, his eyes might as well be pinning you to the wood behind you. “I asked because that’s quite the injustice for someone as pretty as you are.”

You’re suddenly very thankful for the door at your back, because your knees feel like they’re giving out.

“And, to be honest?” he continues, taking another step toward you. “That upsets me.”

“Gojo,” you murmur, trying to remember a single reason that you shouldn’t grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him inside. There were so many just a few seconds ago, but you can’t seem to find any of them anymore.

“Satoru,” he corrects. 

“Satoru.” It comes out breathy and weak, but he smiles at the sound of it.

“Well?” he asks, bringing his hands up to the door on your sides. Caging you in. “Were you planning to let me in any time soon?” His next words are delivered next to your ear, so close that you can feel his breath ghosting your skin. “I mean, I’m happy to fuck you out here, if that’s what you want—”

Now you really do grab him by the collar and yank him inside. 

He doesn’t waste a second before he has you pressed against the wall, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. 

God, for all his ego, he really does meet the mark. His lips are soft, and he smells so damn good, and when you get bold and tangle your fingers in his hair, it’s smooth and silky. You give an experimental tug, and he groans into your mouth. 

White-hot arousal floods down your spine. For a moment, you think you might crumple to the ground. 

Then one of his hands moves to your jaw, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss down your neck, and fuck, it’s incredible. He nips at the sweet spot behind your ear, and you find yourself letting out a soft, needy sound that he hums in response to.

If he really does manage to make you come, it’ll be ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous, because you can’t even count the number of nights you spent hours just trying to get yourself close and failing miserably. He can’t possibly be good at everything.

But his knee slides between your legs, and you honestly start to debate grinding against it for some relief. It’s pathetic.

“To the bedroom?” he asks, pulling away. He’s breathless; you’ve never heard that before.

“Bedroom,” you confirm, taking him by the hand and pulling him further into the house. When the two of you get in, you fall back onto the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows and shifting backward. 

You just have the mind to be embarrassed about the multiple plushies on your sheets, shoving them aside as quickly as you can, before he's crawling over you and grinning. 

“Cute,” he says. Then he straddles your hips with his thighs, sliding his fingers under your shirt and starting to peel it up. It comes off easily, leaving you in your bra, your chest heaving as you stare up at him. One nimble movement from him, and the bra is off, too, being tossed to the side.

This is insane. All of this. How is it possible that Satoru’s kissed you, and wants you, and is in your bedroom taking off your clothes? His eyes sweep over you and you squirm, suddenly self-conscious. He could have anyone he wanted—why you? What if you aren’t what he thought? 

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, tracing a hand from your sternum down to your navel. His eyes are darker than usual, pupils dilated, and you can swear that his cheeks are the slightest bit flushed. “Even better than I imagined.”

“Satoru,” you whimper, and he grins. 

“Relax,” he instructs, but he’s pushing your skirt up around your waist, and you know you must be absolutely fucking soaked, and how the hell are you supposed to relax?

He tilts his head, admiring the sight of you as he drags a slow finger over the front of the thong you’re wearing. You’re definitely soaked. 

“Wow,” he says. “You know, I’ve barely even touched you, but I think you might already be ready for me.”

At the sound of his words, you clench around nothing. He must be able to tell, because the smug smile he’s wearing widens. That cocky bastard. He’s still fully dressed. 

You reach up to tug at the bottom of his shirt, but he’s faster than you—his free hand closes around your wrist and holds it above your head.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chides. “Your job is to relax, remember?”

You’re ready to launch into the argument that seeing him with his clothes off will most certainly help you come, but he starts shifting downward and leans in to kiss you again, releasing your wrist to cradle your cheek with one hand and drift the other across your chest. Every coherent thought you have melts away, replaced by the feeling of his hands on your body.

You’re just considering begging for more when he pulls away, kissing down your jaw. His mouth is hot, and everywhere his lips touch seems to light you on fire: your neck, your collarbones, your chest. 

He pauses, and his breath tickles against your skin before he slowly trails his tongue around a nipple. You shudder and bury your hand in his hair, tugging and trying to get him to go a little faster, but he ignores your efforts and takes his sweet time—licking, kissing, nipping—until you’re certain he’s trying to cover every free inch of your skin.

Then, finally, his mouth starts to trail lower.

Just when he’s about to reach the place you most want him, he pulls away. Completely away, straddling your hips again and leaning his weight back onto his heels. Maybe he really does want you to beg. 

At least, that’s what you think until you see the expression on his face. He’s not smiling—not teasing. Instead, his brow is furrowed, and he’s studying you with a look in his eyes that you’ve only seen in rare moments, during training.

Concentration.

He slips two fingers under the waistband of your thong and starts to pull it down, urging your hip up with his other hand until the fabric peels away from you. Then he moves a thumb to your clit and starts to rub slow, agonizing circles, and shit. You can hardly breathe.

It’s good—really fucking good, better than you’ve ever been able to do for yourself—but he’s dragging it out. 

No one’s ever taken their time with you like this before, and everything about it is just… fucking overwhelming. The way he’s looking at you, the growing pleasure between your legs, the smell of him that seems to have bled into your sheets.

You can’t even squirm, because his weight on top of you is keeping you pressed into the mattress. His movements are almost lazy, but he’s watching your face attentively and taking note of your reactions to everything he’s doing. 

It’s so nerve-wracking that you’re tempted to drape an arm over your face just to get a break. The only reason you don’t is because you get the feeling he won’t like that, and you don't want to risk anything.

And then, right as you’re actually starting to lose yourself in his touch, it happens. Just like it always does. The moment you feel at all close to the edge, the moment when pleasure is coiling in your gut and spreading and building into something more, it snaps. A rope pulled taut, cut in two. 

You’re left with nothing but frustration and numbness, right back where you started. 

Satoru stops touching you, and it takes a few seconds for you to swallow down your disappointment before you can meet his eyes. It had seemed like it’d be different this time. You’d hoped it’d be different.

When you do look up, though, Satoru’s just… smiling. Like he’d expected it, and isn't the least bit phased.

What the fuck? you think, staring at him.

“Like I said. Relax,” he tells you, and you really could punch him for that. 

But then he lays a hand over your abdomen and applies a little pressure, and he’s right. You’re ridiculously tense. You force yourself to relax, and as soon as the tension under his hand releases, the pressure starts feeling… nice. Really nice.

“Good. Like that,” he says. “Breathe.” Then he shifts, and his weight on you eases. “Spread your legs for me,” he instructs.

When you do, he positions himself between your thighs. “Good girl,” he murmurs. You clench around nothing, and his smile widens. You’re waiting for him to start taking off his clothes, but he doesn't. His other hand returns to your clit, and you have to fight to keep your body from instantly tensing up again. 

Breathe, you tell yourself. You’re not even sure it’s doing anything, but you do it anyway.

It’s not like he’s making it easy for you, though. He’s touching you like he has all the time in the world. It’s good, but you really wish he would speed up or press harder or something. You should have known that Satoru, of all people, would tease you.

Asshole.

Deep breaths.

Just when you’ve started to get the hang of breathing and relaxing, he slides two fingers inside you and everything you’ve been doing goes out the window.

It’s agony. It’s bliss. It feels so fucking good that it almost hurts, but it's not enough. And the moment you go tense again, he stops. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Your body relaxes little by little, and he goes back to what he’d been doing. Slipping his fingers inside you, tilting them until they’re brushing against a spot that has you seeing stars, sliding them in and out as your muscles fight to go tense. His thumb is still circling your clit.

“F-Fuck,” you choke out, grinding into his hand. 

Your eyes flutter closed and it’s all you can do to keep breathing. In and out, no tension, relax. You’re so focused on it that you don't notice you’re approaching the edge until it’s too late.

You clench around his fingers and come so fucking hard that you forget how to think.

Through your haze, you’re distantly aware of a few different things. Your ears are ringing. Your back is arching off the bed. You’ve completely stopped breathing, and you’re not sure you’ll remember how.

The pleasure comes in hot, intense waves—ebbing and flowing, drifting you down from your climax until you finally come back to your body. And with your post-orgasm riddled mind, you can only think of one thing to say:

“Holy shit.”

It comes out half broken, strangled. You’re laughing, almost delirious. Your mouth is dry. His fingers are still inside you, and they haven't stopped moving. You can’t decide if you want him to stop.

“What was that?” he asks, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Shut up, Gojo,” you mumble, but you’ve already started grinding into his hand again.

“Satoru.”

“Sh-Shut up, Satoru.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he purrs. “I just might.”

His fingers leave you, and you nearly sob at the loss until your eyes fly open and you find him sucking them into his mouth and licking them clean, holding your gaze the entire time. 

A shiver runs down your spine. You think you might even stop breathing again, but you can’t be sure.

Before you can think of how the hell you’re going to respond to that, he’s back at your navel, repositioning himself and kissing lower and lower down until you’re convinced that he’s going to stop. Surely he’s not about to do what you’re thinking he’ll do. He’ll pull away, just like he had before. Right?

Then the warmth of his mouth closes over your clit and you gasp, your thighs snapping together on instinct. He takes hold of them, lightning-fast, holds them apart and moans at the taste of you, and you immediately lose the ability to think.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. One of his hands comes up to press down on your abdomen again. Your skirt is still fanned out around your waist. You’re starting to wonder if you might be dreaming; you have to be dreaming.

But dreaming or not, the pleasure is building again, and your back is starting to arch, and it’s far too soon to be here again with how long it took you the first time but there’s no stopping it now. 

He holds you down as you come, letting out another moan as you shudder and pant and make sounds you didn't even know you could make. All of this is only going to add to his ego, but—well, what are you supposed to do? 

And Gojo must be crazy, because he just keeps going. It’s not that you mind, but you’re desperate to reciprocate. You still haven't done anything to him. With all the nights you’ve spent secretly wanting this, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don't get to touch him.

“Satoru,” you whine, tugging at his hair.

He gives a small noise of complaint and finally pulls away. “Fuck,” he gasps, reaching up to unzip your skirt with one nimble movement. “Need you to sit on my fucking face.”

“What?”

He’s already trying to get you to move, urging you to sit up before stripping you completely naked.

“You haven't even taken off your shirt,” you protest, attempting to scoot away. 

He rips his shirt off so fast you think he might actually have torn it. One of the buttons pops off and rolls across the floor, but you barely hear it. 

You’re too busy staring at the sight of porcelain skin, soft and warm when you reach out to touch him, muscles tugging under your fingers as he moves.

While you’re distracted, he takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap, and it immediately becomes clear that he’s so hard it must hurt. There's something animalistic in his eyes, and you want it, want what he’s asking for. You also want to touch him so badly that you think you might die.

“Satoru—”

But he’s already lying on his back, shifting down until he’s settled under your thighs. He nips at the delicate flesh there, sinking his teeth in until you’re sure it’s going to leave a mark. “Sit on my face,” he mumbles.

And God help you, you do.

He instantly gives an appreciative hum, and the vibration has you squirming, hips stuttering. One of his hands comes up to grab your ass, encouraging you to grind against him. When you do, he groans. His mouth starts moving faster, and it’s almost more than you can take. 

You’re starting to get lost in a haze again. A thick, pleasurable haze that’s clouding your vision and making it hard to breathe. 

You’ve had a couple men go down on you in the past, but it was nothing like this. If anything, it felt it was a chore for them—an incentive to get a blowjob, and nothing more.

How the fuck is Satoru Gojo the one who makes it feel like he actually wants you? You should be the one begging for his attention, desperate to get a night with him. And yet, here you are, being eaten out like he’s fucking starved, growing closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night.

You can’t take it anymore. Even though you’re panting, one of your hands trails back to run along his chest, settling briefly over his heart and feeling the way it’s pounding before moving further down. 

It’s an awkward reach, but you’re determined to touch him. You need to fucking touch him. He’s still hard, and it has to be painful, and you want to see the way he looks when he’s getting off.

But the moment you start to palm him through his pants, he pauses, kissing up your thigh. “Stop that,” he says breathlessly, punctuating the words with a soft bite. 

“But—”

Another nip, a little harder. “I’ll fuck you once you’ve come on my face.”

Fuck, you think. Why’d he have to say it like that? 

You’re still tempted to keep touching him, but he’s stubborn. It’ll probably be faster to do what he asks rather than try to argue with him. You reluctantly pull your arm back, and he continues what he’d been doing before. 

Eating you out. Very enthusiastically.

You shudder into your next climax within minutes, tugging at his hair as you do, vision blacking out, and he doesn't pull back until your hips are quite literally jerking away from his touch.

He places one last lick on your clit and shifts out from under you, sitting up. As soon as he does, you’re yanking him close and kissing him, straddling his lap with your thighs. You can feel him laugh against your lips, but you don’t even care anymore. You need him, need to fucking touch him, need to hear him. 

Then you start kissing down his throat, and his jaw clenches, and he inhales sharp and deep. I fucking knew it, you think. He’s just as affected as you are. 

When you dig your teeth into the skin, his breathing hitches and he tilts his head back, giving you more access. On impulse, you drag your tongue up his neck and he groans.

It’s driving you crazy, not having him where you want him. Should you go slow? Tease him? Do you have the patience for that? Your hands, or your mouth? 

You tug his belt off with trembling fingers, tossing it to the side, unbuttoning his pants as fast as you can. 

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, tilting his head. 

On your cock, you think, shoving his pants down as far as you can. You give him a look, waiting. He huffs, then pulls them the rest of the way off.

Jesus, he’s hard for you. Even through his boxers, you can tell he must be desperate for some relief. Your lips find his on impulse, and he grips the back of your neck, licking into your mouth. 

His other hand settles on your waist, urging you down on top of him until you can feel his hardened cock under you. He grinds his hips up into you, and his grip tightens. “Fuck,” he whispers, so soft you barely hear it.

It feels so good you’re almost tempted to let him take over—almost. You’ll be damned if you don’t have your way with him, even just for a little bit. 

Placing your hands on his chest, you gently push him back, and you just catch a flash of the confusion on his face before you’re back at his jaw, trailing your lips down and over his collarbone, placing feather-light kisses down his chest.

Then you shift off of him and out of his hold. “Take these off,” you tell him, tugging at his boxers. While you’re waiting for him to comply, you push off the bed and kneel next to the edge, watching him expectantly.

But he doesn't move. The boxers stay on. 

“What’re you up to?” he asks. “Planning to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use?”

“Yes,” you tell him. “Now get naked and come over here.”

He grins, and it’s so boyish, so charming that you almost don't hear the next words. “Say please and I’ll consider it.”

You blink at him for a moment, almost thinking that he’s joking. But he's not. He's looking at you, waiting for you to beg.

And damn it, you’re actually going to.

“Please.” It comes out airy, softer than you meant it to be. 

“Oh, don't be shy now,” he purrs. “Let me hear you.” 

“Please,” you repeat, louder this time, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on his face. 

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, finally pulling off those damned boxers and moving to the edge of the bed. 

You adjust until you’re kneeling between his thighs, and his hand moves to your chin—tilting your face up until you’re gazing at him. 

God, the sight of him. His eyes are dilated, blown so dark that you can barely see the blue in them anymore. There’s a pretty flush to his cheeks, and his lips are parted. 

Something about seeing him like this, knowing it’s for you, has your thighs pressing together. But that’s not what you’re here for.

His cock is just as pretty as his face. Long and pale, flushed pink at the tip, already leaking for you. You knew he had to be desperate, but the proof of it in your hands is something else.

The taste of it is something else, too. 

He groans as soon as you take him between your lips, head tilting back and eyes falling closed as the velvety warmth of your mouth envelops him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, and he takes in a shaky breath. 

You’ve dreamed about seeing this so many times in private that it almost doesn’t feel real now. All those nights with your vibrator between your legs,  thinking of him, wondering how this might feel—they don’t even come close to this. 

The weight of him on your tongue. The way his brows pinch in pleasure when you take him deeper, your fingers taking everything you can’t fit, the way his breathing grows strained and heavy. 

The way he starts to guide you with the hand that’s on the back of your neck, gently encouraging you to pick up the pace. His hips start to lightly jerk into you, fucking into your mouth. 

“Shit, just like that,” he says. 

You’re so turned on that you can barely think. Everything you’re doing is entirely instinctive. You’re only vaguely aware of the fact that you’re squirming, thighs pressing together to get some relief.

You’re desperately trying to commit every detail to memory, because you’re very, very sure that this is never going to happen again, and you don’t want to forget anything, not one second of it. 

You file away every jagged inhale, the way the muscles of his thighs start to flex when he starts getting closer, the way he moans your name when you do something he particularly likes.

And then, just when it starts getting really fucking good, you find yourself being pulled off of him.

He’s panting, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that has a shiver running down your back. Jesus fuck, you want him. You’re about to start begging for him to finish in your mouth, but his thumb starts to trail slowly over your bottom lip and the words die in your throat, instantly forgotten. 

“Satoru…” you mumble instead.

“Told you I was going to fuck you, didn’t I?” he asks, pushing two fingers between your lips, pressing the pads of them onto your tongue. On impulse, you start sucking on them, and he grins. “I’ve been dreaming of being inside you for months now, you know.”

You whimper, and the sound comes out muffled.

“That’s right,” he coos, pulling his hand away. “Planning to come up here, or do you want me to take you there on the floor?”

Arousal shoots straight down to your cunt, and you scramble up. The floor sounds hot, but from experience—it’d just mean an aching spine. And, if the way he’s looking at you is any indication, you’re already going to be limping tomorrow. You should really spare yourself, if you can.

“Lay back,” he requests softly.

You do as he asks, and he nudges your legs apart with his knee, sitting back on his heels as he runs a hand up your thigh. Then higher and higher, drawing a slow, lazy circle around your clit before sliding his fingers down against your entrance. 

You’re fucking soaked. You’ve been ready for him since he first pressed you against that wall and kissed you, and you’re so wet now that when he lifts his hand away, you can see the evidence of yourself shining in the light. 

The corners of his lips quirk up as he inspects his fingers, and he huffs a laugh. “Damn, baby, all of this for me?” He tilts his head. “Better not let it go to waste.”

He wraps his hand around his length and starts to stroke himself, and the moment you realize what he’s doing, you clench around nothing and whine, grasping at the sheets—even though it doesn’t do much to ground you. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, his eyes fluttering shut. You swallow hard and study his long lashes against his cheeks for a moment, watching his brows knit together. “Need to be inside you right fucking now,” he says, the words quiet but intense, his gaze finally meeting yours again.

You spread your legs wider, and a muscle in his jaw tenses. 

“So damn pretty,” he murmurs, grabbing at your thighs. “So fucking wet.” Then he pulls you over to him, the movement so smooth and quick that by the time your lips are parting in shock, he’s already bending down to kiss you. 

It’s hungry and messy and desperate; sharp teeth and his hand on your cheek and the lingering taste of you on his tongue. Him moaning into your mouth when you fist a hand into his hair and tug him even closer.

Then he props himself up on his elbows and lines himself up with you, flashing you one more mischievous smile before he’s pressing inside.

He doesn’t go slow or particularly gentle when he thrusts into you, all the way to the hilt. You’re so ready for him that it’s all pleasure—white-hot, searing in your nerves until you can barely think. 

Everything is heat and friction. The world fades away and becomes the addictive stretch of him filling you, him bending down and swallowing up the noises you make for him with another kiss.

“That’s it,” he says, moving a hand down to rub maddening circles on your clit. “Just like that. Taking me so well, baby.”

“Satoru—fuck,” you choke out. It’s the only thing you can say when he’s fucking you like this. 

His pace quickens and he groans, nuzzling into your neck, biting down so hard that there’s no chance it won’t leave a mark. Something you’ll worry about tomorrow, but you lean into now. 

He feels so goddamn good inside of you. His hips thrusting into you almost brutally, stealing away your air, one of his hands planted at your side and the other between your legs. 

It has warmth coiling in your gut, building more and more as his movements start to grow faster, his breathing starts to sound labored, his noises start to become louder.

 Your back is starting to arch—the pleasure grows blinding at the edges, clouding your vision over and parting your lips, making your thighs shake as you try to spread even wider for him.

“Satoru,” you gasp, cock-drunk and barely there. You’d meant to say more, but you can't remember what.

“God, yes. Come on my fucking cock,” Satoru pants, and that’s all you need. 

It’s the strongest one yet. You clench around him and he immediately makes a strangled noise in response, fucking even harder into you as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. 

You can't breathe. Satoru hasn't stopped: not his hips, and not his thumb on your clit. Your lips are parted in a silent moan, and it’s so fucking good that you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to see or speak or even move after this.

Then, finally, it ends and you float back into your body piece by piece, limp and breathing jaggedly.

When you come down, you find your nails digging into Gojo’s back. He’s close. He has to be, with the noises he’s making, with the way his thrusts are erratic.

You wrap a leg around his waist and urge him deeper, and he shudders, leaning in to kiss you. He’s noisy—so fucking noisy, even with your mouth to muffle him, but you're too far gone at this point to care if any of your neighbors hear (or have been hearing, really.)

When the kiss finishes, you lean up to bite at his neck, licking over the mark you made, and his hips stutter for a moment. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m—” he says, and then he's cumming inside you.

You watch him shamelessly, hungrily, memorizing how his face scrunches in pleasure and the way he’s mumbling your name like a mantra, over and over.

Then he kisses you again, and you start memorizing the way Satoru kisses when he’s barely there instead. It’s less controlled. He’s licking into your mouth and shuddering, his hips rocking into you until it’s over and he finally goes still, burying his face in the junction between your shoulders and neck and breathing heavily.

You find your hands sliding into his hair and playing with the soft strands of it. Your nails scrape lightly against his scalp, and he groans into your skin as his body goes slack.

The two of you stay like that for a while. His breathing slows. He’s warm and heavy, and the feeling of him on top of you is making you sleepy—you’re halfway to drifting off when he starts laughing. It’s quiet, but you feel the tickle of it against your throat, the curl of his smile. You’re half annoyed and half endeared.

“Something funny?” you ask.

He hums, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck. Then he pulls out of you, murmuring a soft sorry when you wince before he sits up on his heels and grins at you. 

“I was just thinking about earlier. You know, how you said you couldn’t come. That was, what, three times? Four?”

Your cheeks go hot. “Shut up, Satoru,” you tell him, tossing a nearby pillow at him. 

He catches it easily, fluffing it up and placing it on your stomach before he crosses his arms over it and rests his chin on his hands. “Not bad for a first try,” he says, mostly to himself. “Next time, I could get you to eight for sure. Maybe even ten.”

Next time? you think, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Ten!?

His grin widens. “Guess we can find out in the morning,” he tells you, sitting up again. “You don’t have any plans, right?”

You do. An important meeting with the higher ups before noon.

“I have a—” you start, but the way his brows rise immediately shuts you up. Screw the higher ups. “No,” you tell him. “I don’t have anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, throwing one of your plushies at the wall. Somehow, it hits the light switch perfectly, and the two of you are left in the dark. You can see the faint glow of his eyes but nothing else.

You hear the pillow being put at your side again, his contented sigh as he stretches out on the bed, laying on his stomach. “Good night,” he says.

You swallow hard, hardly daring to believe that this is actually happening. “Good night.”

You’d been so close to sleep just moments ago, but now you’re wide away. The glow of Satoru’s eyes is gone—he really must be intending to sleep. 

Here. In your bed. 

The second you start thinking more about that is the second when everything falls apart, so you don’t. You force your eyes to shut. You can still hear him breathing. You hone in on the sound: soft, slow and even, and after a while the stillness of the room finally starts to take over you. 

Your thoughts grow thick, like syrup. Your body goes heavy. Everything fades away.

You wake to golden light streaming in from the windows, and a pair of very warm arms wrapped around you. 

The memories of last night hit you all at once (in vivid detail) and you instantly go tense, sucking in a slow breath. Honestly, part of you thought it might be fake. That you walked home from Shoko’s alone and fell into your bed, and dreamed it all up. But the feeling of him pressed against you is unmistakable.

Satoru Gojo is in your bed. He’s—he’s fucking cuddling you right now, and you can’t even tell if he’s awake or asleep.

Your answer comes when you adjust yourself a little and he stirs, the pillow you’re on shifting as he lifts his head. You hear him yawn, feel his grip loosen a hair around you. You don’t say a thing. 

Will he snatch his arms away, now that he’s aware of what he’s doing? Will he change his mind about what he said last night, call it all a joke and leave?

But he just buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, kissing the skin. The tender, unexpected touch makes you shudder.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” you reply, letting out a soft gasp when one of his hands trails downward, rubbing slow circles on your thigh.

“Well?” he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Ready to get started?”

[hairstevington]

call me when you get this

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends, but even the best of friends have secrets.

WC: 3K

Warnings: Story told through voicemails, mild angst, coming out to each other, secret feelings, friends to lovers, kissing, swearing, light angst very brief, references to Robin and Gareth, drunk shenangians, idiots in love, set in 1991 but it doesn't matter too much, no mention of the Upside Down stuff

A/N: I have like three other WIP's happening and zero time but this idea was given to me by the beloved @tinytalkingtina in the discord and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Ao3 link here for those interested!

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 12:52am

GARETH hi yes I know it’s late but HAVE YOU LISTENED TO THE ALBUM YET? I need all of your thoughts immediately. Like, all of them. Every thought. Dude, my head is spinning. Ohhh, man. Kurt is a fuckin’ legend. Woooow. Okay, I could talk about this shit for like three hours but I don’t want to run out your tape so just call me back when you get this and then talk to me about it for three hours. Can I come over a little early tomorrow? Yeah, I’m gonna come over a little early tomorrow. Maybe a lot early. Alright, catch ya then. 

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 3:40pm

Uhh, ha. Hey Steve. Thiiiis is Eddie, obviously. I, uh, I just realized I called you in the middle of the night last night on accident, and - uhh, sorry about that. It was just - ah, screw it. You know what I am. Byeeeeee-

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 7:30pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Eds, how many times do I have to tell you to change your answering machine message? What if, like, the president calls? Okay, maybe not the president. But an employer or something. Or, like, what if you give the girl of your dreams your number and she calls you and hears THAT? Food for thought. Uhh, anyway, it’s fine. I wasn’t even home when you called me. Robin was, though, and so you’ll probably hear her wrath next time you come over for movie night. Good luck with that. Oh, wait. You’re at a show tonight, right? Damn. I swear I’ll make the next one. Okay, bye, dickhead. 

Wednesday, September 25th, 1991, 1:12pm

“You have reached Steve Harrington. Figured I should say that in case whoever is calling me thinks they’re calling someone else. Anyway, I’m busy right now so I’ll call you back. Bye!”

Ha, ha. You are so funny, Harrington. You ever think about being a stand-up comedian? Jesus, and you say I’M the dramatic one. Uhh, the show last night went well, by the way. Not that you were THERE. Seriously, what kind of friend even are you? I’m hurt, Steve. I’m hurt. Anyway, see you tomorrow for movie night. I get to pick. It’s only fair, right?

Thursday, September 27th, 1991, 4pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

You’re not picking the goddamn movie. No way. Last time you did that we got scarred for life. Also, um. I can’t tell if you’re joking or not about me and your shows. I didn’t realize you - uhh, you’re probably joking. Forget I said anything, and see you tonight. I’m at work right now, so I’m gonna rent some backup options just in case.

Sunday, September 30th, 1991, 2pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Dustin says you were being a total dick last night. Good. That shrimp deserves to be humbled every once in a while. Your answering machine message still sucks, by the way, and yeah I’m gonna tell you every time. 

Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:21pm

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Steve. My guy. I can’t believe you make fun of me for my bullshit message all the time and now you’ve created and advertised THAT abomination?? I’m - wow. I forgot why I even called.

Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:23pm

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Okay, I remember now. I know you said you have that date tomorrow with Heidi or Melissa or Samantha or whoever is currently obsessed with you, but I really do want you at the show if you can make it. You can bring her, if you want. Actually, it might be a good test. If she hates metal, she fails. I only want the best suitors for you, Steve Harrington. Be there or I’ll be REALLY annoying about it forever. 

Tuesday, October 2nd, 1991, 11:45pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Hey, it’s Steve. So, uh - I saw your show tonight. You’re probably not home yet, but I don’t know where you are. Cuz like, I tried to find you after your set but you disappeared. I hope everything’s okay. You sounded great, by the way. I mean, you all did. Remember me when you’re playing at the Garden? Oh also, I heard like three women talk about how badly they wanted you, so…I dunno, just figured you’d like to hear that. Hey, maybe you got with one of them and that’s why you’re not answering. In that case, hope you’re having fun? Okay, now it’s weird. Bye, Eds.

Wednesday, October 3rd, 12:54am

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Steeeeeeeeeeeve. You absolute buffoon. You beautiful, oblivious man. Why’dya think I wanted you there’so badly t’night, Steve? T’wasn’t for the girls. Ha, girls. Yeah, okay. I may have had several alcoholic beverages, Steve-o, but you’re still the dumbass. Cuz you’d have to be an absolute idiot t’think I have any interest in those women. ‘Specially yours. Your women, I mean. Sandyyyyy. Ugh, she was perfect for you, Harrington. Juuuust perfect. So perfect I didn’t wanna stick around to see any more of it. I hope you two have beautiful children. Name one after me, will you? Uhhhh I think I might puke. So, I’m gonna go, but - but do you get what I’m saying? Do you - do you get it? Tell me you get it. Steve, I - Oh, hey Gareth. Do you wanna talk to Steve? Wait why are you - Dude, I’m FINE. I’m handling it! Stop! Gareth, don’t hang up the phone, I haven’t -!

Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 9:05am

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Dude, did you fucking break into our apartment last night? Robin and I came home this morning and found a broken lock and some shitty note we could barely read next to the answering machine, and - what the fuck, man? You wiped the damn thing clean. Just - call me back, okay? Jesus. 

Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 11:36am

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Eddie, come on. We really need to talk. I’m not - I’m not mad, honest to God. Call me back, as soon as you get this. Got it?

Thursday, October 4th, 1991, 3:47pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

It’s movie night, but I’m assuming you won’t be here considering you’ve pulled your magic disappearing act. Thanks for that, by the way. You know you really piss me off sometimes? All the time, actually. I’m getting real tired of you constantly poking fun at me, and then you pull this breaking and entering shit and just take off? Just like that? We’ve been friends for years, Eds. You and me. But you never want to just be serious, not once in your goddamn life, and I’m over it. So, uh, thanks for that, I guess. I dunno what I did. 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:12pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

Huh. You know what? I kind of miss the old message you had. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m impossible to please, yada yada yada, and now I’m doing the avoiding with humor thing again. Shit. Uhh, hi. Listen, I’m sorry I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Really, really fucking sorry, if you can believe it. I was just, like, mad embarrassed, and I didn’t wanna - uh, can we meet up soon? Alone? Like, without Robin even? I know that’s - like, unheard of these days, but I figure maybe you’d make an exception for me. Or maybe you won’t. Just let me know, yeah? 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:30pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

See, I would just hop on over to your place to talk but the thing is, I’m a total chickenshit and it’s not like I did super well the last time I showed up to your place unannounced, so…Uhh, while we’re on the subject, I’m sorry about your lock. If you haven’t replaced it yet, I will. I’ll at least pay you back. In my defense, that thing was like two seconds from falling off anyway. But still. Anyway, I know you always spend Sundays at home, soooo…hellooooo? Come on. At least pick up the phone and tell me to fuck off. I know you’re listening. At least - I hope you are, anyway. Just pick up, man. I - I really gotta talk to you. 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:37pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

So, quick update, I called Henderson. He confirmed you are at home, which means you are DEFINITELY listening, and either you’re trying to punish me or a part of you still finds my piece of shit ass charming somehow. Look, I know I fucked up, but - but I can explain. Shit. I mean, I’m not good with words or anything and I’m a total asshole but I - just, please. Pick up. Pick uuuuup. Come on. Now you’re just being a dick. Ha. Figures, I’m apologizing and calling you a dick in the same message. Dude. Seriously. Your tape is gonna run out of space and then what? You stop hearing from me? I’ll find other ways to annoy you, promise. This is a threat. Steve. Steeeeve. Pick up pick up pick up pick upppp -

“Will you just shut the hell up already?”

Eddie dropped the phone and heard it clack against the floor. He would have recognized that voice anywhere. 

He turned around and there he was. 

“Steve, what are you -?”

“You would just be yapping on that damn answering machine my whole drive here,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know why I expected any less. And, thanks to you, we had all the space in the world for you to take up, so -”

“H-how did you get in here?” Eddie stuttered. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s not afraid of breaking and entering?”

They hadn’t seen each other in five days. Hadn’t even talked, aside from a few voicemails. And those never told the whole story. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie began. 

“Yeah, you should be,” Steve replied, taking a step closer to Eddie in the kitchen. 

Eddie winced, his heart racing a million miles a minute. He just had to get all of the words out, while he still could. While Steve was listening. 

“I left you this really stupid voicemail,” Eddie explained. “That night, after the show. I was drunk off my ass, and - and Gareth told me I’d said shit I shouldn’t have said, and then I panicked, and the two of us went to your apartment and I - well, you know the rest.” He slumped down into the chair at the dining room table, putting his head in his hands. “Which is all just so dumb. And I didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath, so…”

“So you stopped talking to me?” Steve said, taking another step closer. “Because you thought that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in our friendship?”

Eddie shook his head. “I dunno, I -”

“You’ve done some real weird shit over the years, Munson,” Steve continued. “Sneaking into my apartment doesn’t even make the top three.”

Eddie buried his face in his hair. No amount of boyish charm would get him out of this one. Jesus H. Christ. 

He sighed. “Okay, so I overreacted, what else is new?” 

“I heard the voicemail, dickhead.”

Eddie’s heart went from breakneck speeds to stopping entirely. 

“What?”

Steve sat down in the other seat at the table. “I heard the voicemail. It was 1am, again, so yeah I was at home.”

“I thought you would have been with Sandy,” Eddie muttered.

Steve shook his head. “Nah, Sandy was - she’s great and all, but she isn’t - she’s not -”

“So you heard the voicemail, but you weren’t home when I showed up,” Eddie noted.

“Right,” Steve said. “Because I was headed to your place.”

“What?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I just - I didn’t understand why you never told me you were queer. Like, you know I don’t care about that. You know about Robin…”

As Steve talked, Eddie realized that Steve only heard half of what that voicemail was trying to express. So, it was time for Eddie Munson to face the music. 

“I didn’t tell you I’m gay because I knew that once I did, you’d figure out the rest of it,” Eddie blurted out.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “The rest of it?”

Eddie groaned. “Oh, God. See, drunk me had the right idea saying this kind of shit over an answering machine. Christ, I’m so bad at this, but I’m just gonna say it, because if I don’t I think I’ll lose my shot with you and I - I can’t deal with that. So, here we go.” He squeezed his eyes shut and powered through. “Steve, I - ha, shit. I love you, dude. I’m - I’m IN love with you. I have been since, like, forever.” He opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on their feet against the linoleum kitchen floor. “Which is, uhh, a lot, I know. But it’s the truth. So if there’s any chance -”

“Oh, my God,” Steve interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, or scared, or anything like that. It was soft and understanding. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Wait, what are you thinking?” He looked up to see Steve staring off into the distance before meeting his gaze. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve replied. “That I owe Robin twenty bucks.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and felt his heart skip back into rhythm. “You do?”

Steve nodded with a slight smile. At some point, his hand had ended up on Eddie’s knee. “Yeah, I didn’t believe her. Told her no way, not possible.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel about this reaction. It wasn’t the worst possible response, but it certainly wasn’t Oh, Eddie! How I’ve longed for you all this time! Take me now! 

A middleground, if you will. 

“Oookay,” Eddie said. “Well, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“I’m queer too, ya know,” Steve continued.

"Wait, really?" Eddie balked. "Steve Harrington, ladies man?"

Steve chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Turns out, not so much," he said. "I feel like I’m pretty open about it. Guys, girls, whatever -”

“Yeah, but we all do that,” Eddie reasoned. “Me, you, and Robin all talking about how hot everyone is on our movie nights. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Except that it totally does,” Steve countered. “Because, like, what do we all have in common?"

Eddie thought about it, and he didn’t have any other defenses.

“O-okay, so you’re queer too,” Eddie said. “And the other thing I said?”

Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie directly in his frightened eyes.

“Eds, obviously I love you too,” Steve admitted at last. “Come on, seriously? After all I’ve put up with? I’ve been waiting around for like five days for you to call, like some lovesick puppy, and the moment I heard your voice I drove here instead of picking up the phone like a normal person. I’ve got it so bad for you that Robin is sick of it, and honestly, I’m sick of it too, because I hate having feelings. It blows, dude. I swear to God, if you try to bolt again when things get tough -”

Eddie lunged forward and cut Steve’s words off with a kiss. Their first kiss, even if it didn’t feel that way. Eddie had cupped Steve’s cheek in the past while he teased him. Steve had curled his fingers in Eddie’s hair in the past the night Robin taught him how to braid. Eddie and Steve had all kinds of physical contact in various ways over the years, and it was as if all of that was just practice for this. 

Eddie broke away from Steve’s lips purely out of necessity, because he needed to catch his breath. “Okay, woah,” he said.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Woah.”

Everything changed after that. But also, nothing changed at all.

-

Tuesday, October 16th, 1991, 4:12pm

“Hey, this is Eddie Munson’s phone. Leave a message and I’ll call ya back.”

Hi, Eds. Okay, I was wrong. This new message you have is, like, super boring. Anyway, I’ll see you at the show tonight, Rockstar. Love you. 

xx

I did have a taglist way back when but the tagging system is super annoying on tumblr, so please reblog this if you liked it and follow me or my Ao3 for other works! Masterlist is the pinned post on my page for those interested. Thanks for reading!

[yeta-drewit]

Wenclair fic recommendations

I’ve read way too many. About 115.

Also all of this are finished fanfics. I believe.

Edit- yes this are all in ao3 and I did this at like 3 am so I didn’t put links and I’m too lazy to change it now.

MY TOP ONES

-Hunting season by gobreakaneck. OMG THIS FIC, a season 2 fic, angst to the max, slow burn to the max BUT REALLY GOOD SHIT. Like it’s good guys trust. Unfortunately it’s part one of a series so yk I was left crying for more at the end.

-Yours, Eurydice by hanjisgirlfriend- SAD AND CELEBRITY AU. Enid is an actor, Wednesday is a famous writer and they are neighbors and they share letters with pen names because they don’t want the public to know. ITS CUTE.

-I pledge to you (my blood and soul) by Whatiscolor. WRITER OF THIS FIC I WANT TO TROW HANDS. This is genuinely one of the saddest fics I’ve read. Forced marriage Au WITH A LOT OF ANGST. I’m not joking I cried. Angst was angsting.

-Purgatory would be beautiful with you by Emilywritesatuff- Just Wenclair stuff but Wednesday is kind of acting like a werewolf but she isn’t, it’s kind of like they are mates and Wednesday acts like it. I just like it.

-Christmas Eve(L) by miliamin- Fake dating and Christmas what else can I say?.

Weird Aus

-Let’s get political by WishaDream - Gomes and Esther are campaigning for the same government position. Esther tells Enid to hate Wednesday but she can’t. They hate each other in public but almost kiss in secret. Don’t let the weird au get you it’s actually really good. I like the political comments in between the actual Wenclair story.

- Just the taste of you/ blood in the water by littlebirdonair - another weird au but this time Wednesday is an assassin meant to kill journalist Enid. My best description of the story. Enid "I talked to an assassin Yoko" Yoko "omg girl!. Have you told the police?! How are even alive?!" Enid "Omg girl it was the hottest thing ever, she was so fucking hot" Yoko "wtf girl” (Warning there is one explicit scene. I skipped it as it was really short and I’m not interested in that)

-The Heart Knows No Death by viienrose - Enid is brutally murder by her pack and the Addams family can bring her back to life if she wishes to. Wednesday helps Enids soul process her death and the possibility of coming back. Sad shit but kind of cute Wenclair.

- Driving to my house in the middle of the night by AtomicJellyBean - Wednesday ghostbuster, Enid has existential crisis and is a park ranger and a very popular fanart comic came from this story.

-Strawberry and Lilacs by thislonelyrealm - not Nevermore high school au, Wednesday is new in town and Enid has live there her whole life (she also beats up Tyler). I made fanart of one scene.

- So this is love by LoriLoud- season 1 rewrite. lowkey insane and deranged. Not joking. I’m not rereading it so I may be remembering wrong but just so yk how crazy it is they kiss while Esther is literally burning. It gets so bad I think Yoko is the only survivor. Bad representation of the Addams family but a fun read.

-Parce que toi et moi, ca fonctionne (meme si ca ne devrait pas) by bogteats- Eurovision Song Contest AU. Enid is a French singer and gay, the Addams family is a Spanish band (my Mexican ass is sad they had to be Spanish) it’s a really cool celebrity au with Enid trying to hide she is gay. It’s not in French guys.

-The proposal (Wenclair’s Version) by NyxSmols- apparently is the 2009 movie The Proposal but make it Wenclair. Idk I haven’t seen the movie but the fic was cool. Honestly Enid was giving Debbie at the beginning of the fic and I’m all for that.

Normal AUs

-Vortex by Alotofconfusion- Wenclair childhood friend au. I think it’s cute. Enid is pretty much adopted by the Addams, no one believes Enid that she has a gf, they call each other business partners.

- Imprinting is such a bitch by King_boo - Season 1 rewrite where Enid imprints on Wednesday the moment they meet, so its season 1 if they both immediately liked each other. Slight gaslighting by Wednesday but she works on that.

- Like two Mismatched Pieces Put Together by ShadeNeverMadeAnybodyLessGay- Wenclair childhood soulmates. Enid is abandoned but adopted by the Addams. Just cute kids stuff.

-Cool about it by randomiska - they are in college and they are fake dating to stop their friends from trying to get them together. Obviously it backfires.

Normal ig?

- Everyone comes to Yoko’s by Sincerely_Sierra- Yoko gets the gays together. Yoko is stressed about the gays and she just wants them to stop bothering her.

- What does he have that I don’t? By Kofeew_milkk- Enid hates that Wednesday smells like Tyler. Cute scenting fic.

-Sweet nothings by Hymenopus- They simp for each other while being in opposites sides of the country. They exchange letters and gifts.

-San Francisco by bishopsinclair_(dustydandelions) - Set during the break, Wednesday goes to San Francisco and werewolf chaos ensues. Blood wolf stuff.

- Raven in the den, wolf in the nest by Barbara_lazuli- Fake dating to spite their moms, it’s really cute specially Enid and the Addams family. There are references to the animated movie, I love Parker.

-Downside of Visions by CelticWolf55- it’s a sick fic and it’s very cute.

To make yourself sad

-Bubble Gum bitch by wishadream - Celebrity AU. Depress actor Enid and assistant Wednesday that doubles as a therapist. They don’t end up together but it’s still cute.

- I’ll love you (from the shadows) by mickeroni -technically not a Wenclair story but it’s a Weems story about her being a sad gay for Morticia and projecting towards Wenclair. She goes to the wedding.

-You drive me crazy (baby) by Sincerely_Sierra- Yoko angst, Enid angst, everyone angst. It’s a taking care of a fake baby trope but what I thought would be like domestic fluff just made me sad. YOKO LOVERS READ THIS SHIT.

Fluff no plot

- It’s just a werewolf thing by WelshCakes68 - Enid blames her gayness on the fact she is a wolf, Wednesday is so whipped she accepts this excuse. Oblivious homosexuals.

Silly ones

- Woes of the Heart by 1unluckystudent - It’s just Enid crashing Wednesday’s and Tyler’s date and being like super jealous and really funny. This Enid behavior is what I want from Enid if Wednesday gets another love interest.

-Potion problems by batzeus99 - Switch personalities and it’s super cute and I think it’s like really funny seeing Wednesday act all happy. Enid just acts like Pip from AGGGTM.

- I’m your garbageman by cowardnthief - Wednesday asks Enid for help on a crush she has. Enid is the crush and she is also obviously to it.

- Black Butterfly by misscanteloupe- Wednesday is jealous and makes Enid hug her while Ajax watches. Wednesday just hates Ajax and I find it hilarious.

Parent fics (because I like this type of content)

-Werewolves made with woe by omnical - Podcasters try to investigate the Addams family. Enid gaslight them into going into the house and absolutely scares the shit out of them. Enid is scary but she is trying to protect her kids.

- Plans of Joy by southernsunrise- They try to have kids. It gets sad but trust it gets better. (Warning miscarriage)

-Double trouble by Pieck_Simp- Wenclair twins. Wenclair moms fighting prejudice against their kids.

Obviously what I like you may not like. Some of this are entertaining but not good representations of the characters. I understand some may have poor writing but it’s fanfics guys not a novel. I encourage you to think critically and not get influenced by this fanfics, not everything you read is good and a representation of good behavior, some of these have questionable behaviors that go unpunished because it’s a fanfic. So do keep that in mind and don’t base your behaviors solely on fan fiction.

[weemssapphic]

Hey, so I have a thout that's been eating away at my brain for a while... Larissa and Reader have been in a relationship for a while and reader likes to vape. They keep this secret from Larissa and avoid doing it around her or people that know her bc they're worried she'll disaprove. One day, Larissa gets done with a meeting early and goes back to her quarters and finds reader vaping on the balcony. They freak out and starts apologizing saying they understand if this changes how she sees them and Larissa shuts them down, confessing that she smokes and has been hiding it for the same reason as reader. Just lots of fluff, basically.

Totally get it if you don;t feel comfotable writing this, vaping isn't for everyone.

(sorry about the spelling/grammer mistakes, I'm high af right now.)

Hello :) thank you for the request - I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Larissa Weems x reader Words: ~1.4k | ao3 link in title

It’s a chilly autumn afternoon and you’re huddled on the balcony of Larissa’s quarters, pulling the sleeve of your jacket down over your hand as you lean against the stone balustrade. You bring your vape to your lips and it crackles softly as you take a hit, the scent of watermelon filling the air as you exhale. You’ve lucked out with your teaching schedule this semester and managed to get Friday afternoons off, and today you’re especially grateful for that: it’s your 3 month anniversary and you’re intending to surprise Larissa by having dinner ready when she gets back to her quarters this evening.

You’re grateful that Larissa’s balcony faces the woods - no one ever comes out on this side of the school, so no one will see you having a quick vape out here. It’s not that you’re ashamed of your habit, you truly don’t care what other people think of you - except for Larissa. You care a hell of a lot about what Larissa thinks of you.

A few weeks into your teaching contract, you’d overheard Larissa scolding a group of students in the quad for passing around a vape, confiscating the little device - when she’d run into you on her way back into the school, she’d made a disgruntled comment on how disappointed she was in the students for picking up such a habit. Her comment had made you falter, as you’d been on your way outside for a vape yourself, and you resigned yourself to hiding this part of you from the principal - you imagined she’d be disappointed in you, too.

As you stand outside watching the wind pass through the golden leaves of the trees bordering the school’s campus, you run through your plans for the evening in your head. The flowers still need to be put in a suitable vase, and you still need to get changed - you should probably get started on dinner within the next hour, too, so that Larissa doesn’t have to wait too long to eat when she finishes work.

You’re so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door to Larissa’s quarters creaking open, or her heels clicking on the hardwood floors behind you, until it’s too late, until her smooth voice has called out “darling?” and you can feel her much taller figure looming behind you.

Her hands on your waist make you jump, which in turn makes you curse and fumble with your vape as it nearly slips from your hand and over the balustrade. 

“Shit, Larissa,” you gasp, giggling nervously as you recover from the shock, your vape now held firmly in your hand as you lean back against your partner and melt into her warmth, a stark contrast to the biting cold air.

“What are you doing out here?” Larissa asks softly, her hands sliding around you to pull you flush against her, her lips meeting the crown of your head.

The color drains from your face and your palm suddenly feels clammy around your vape - as Larissa cranes her head and looks down at you, you know there’s no point in trying to hide it and brush it off. She’s seen it already.

“I-I…” The words die in your throat. As much as you’re sure she’d be disgusted by your habit, you’re even more certain that the fact you’ve been lying over the past few months is going to make everything that much worse.

“Is that a vape?” You can’t read Larissa’s expression, not that you’re really trying - you refuse to turn around in her arms, too busy trying to avoid eye contact and hide your growing blush as you rack your brain for a plausible explanation.

“You’re back early,” is all you manage to croak out, cursing yourself internally for the thin film of tears already clouding your vision. 

“The mayor canceled our meeting,” Larissa says, sounding rather absent-minded, her eyes darting between you and your vice-like grip on your vape. “Darling, do you vape?”

“I… yeah,” you finally concede, crossing your arms over your chest to hug yourself. “I’m really sorry, I should’ve told you…”

“Why didn’t you?” Larissa’s voice sounds softer than you’d thought it would, less harsh than you’d imagined, and you risk a glance up at her to see her watching you with a furrowed brow. She looks a bit confused, but her expression is absent of the judgment you were so certain you’d find, and you bite your lip nervously.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently, I guess,” you mumble and, to your surprise, Larissa lets out a soft chuckle. “What?”

Larissa lets go of your waist and disappears into her quarters for a moment, leaving you on the balcony. Your brow furrows as you watch her bend over her handbag and retrieve something, before coming back outside and closing the balcony door behind her. She rests her forearms on the balustrade and your eyes widen as she flips open the top of a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out between long fingers and placing it between pursed, painted lips to light it with an ornate, silver lighter. When she plucks the cigarette from between her lips with two fingers, there’s a faint ring of lipstick around the end.

“Y-you… didn’t tell me you smoke,” you stammer out, a little taken aback.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently, I guess,” Larissa quotes you, her lips curling into a soft, sheepish smile, before she lifts the cigarette to her lips once more and takes a deep drag. She steps towards the little wrought-iron table on her balcony, taking a seat at one of the two matching chairs and reaching onto the floor behind a rather large potted plant - there’s an ashtray hidden there that she lifts onto the table, flicking the ash off the cigarette and crossing one leg over the other.

You’re a bit dazed, still processing the situation as you sit on the other chair, drawing your knees up to your chest and taking a hit of your vape. You can feel a smile slowly growing on your face however, relaxing more and more as you watch Larissa smoke her cigarette. You can’t help but chuckle a little, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. “I can’t believe I never realized you smoked,” you giggle, and your laugh makes Larissa smile, too.

“It wasn’t easy to hide,” she concedes with a blush. “I swear I don’t normally wear this much perfume…” 

Her comment makes you laugh harder, a burden being lifted off your shoulders as you no longer feel like you’re lying to your partner, and you stand and walk over to Larissa, coming to a stop right in front of her. She uncrosses her legs, stubbing out her cigarette as you straddle her so that she can place her hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around her neck, resting your forehead against hers and smiling softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, either, darling,” Larissa whispers back, giving your hips a reassuring squeeze before moving one hand to your cheek, cupping it and drawing you in for a slow, tender kiss that steals the air from your lungs. She tastes different than usual and it reminds you of your current situation, making you smile as you deepen the kiss and flick your tongue against hers, drawing a soft moan from her throat.

“You promise you don’t see me differently?” you murmur between kisses, and Larissa draws back from the kiss just enough to meet your gaze, bright blue eyes glistening with affection as they dance between your own. 

“Not at all.” She goes in for another kiss, her own lips curling into a smile against yours, and her hand slips into the hair at the nape of your neck, painted nails scratching gently at the base of your scalp. “What are you doing in my quarters, anyway?” she asks with a soft smirk, knowing you must be planning something as it’s your anniversary.

“What, can’t I just get some peace and quiet here? The teacher’s wing is always so busy.”

Larissa huffs and playfully pinches your side, causing you to yelp. 

“Okay, okay, I was going to surprise you with dinner. Happy?”

Larissa’s smile widens - made all the more endearing by the way her lipstick is smudged ever so slightly. “Very.”

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @wh0s-vesper @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @catechristiesstuff @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @mrs.prentiss @ilovetlcc @toutoubum @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @Gwens0girl @Larissa-Weems-chokehold @ladylarissaweems @Makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @sapphicbee223 @hollymymolly

[senselessviolets]

“stay soft”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E (Smut)

Word Count: 3.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Mommy kink, smut, some plot, this man has MOMMY ISSUES™️, gentle femdom, titplay, breast sucking, so much dirty talk, Roman gets called “baby” a lot, no PIV, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

The people have spoken—y’all want Roman being fucking babied in bed so that’s what the fuck I did and I have zero regrets. Totally gave up in the end but school’s been incredibly draining for me so I’m proud of myself for even getting THIS out.

[Gif creds: I forget. if it’s yours, lemme know!!]

Summary:

You are an equally wealthy childhood friend of the Roys and Roman in particular. After years of little to no contact with him, he and you decide to finally act on the mutual attraction you both share in the most ‘Roman way’ you can think of. 

“Okay, but like if we…fuckin’...if we fuckin’ do this, I will want…some things. But I’m not g’na fuckin’ beg or anything…call you mommy, ‘goo goo ga ga’…none of that shit. I will want you…to be there…and I will want you to ‘not be there’...if you catch my drift. I-I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word or a single moan. I don’t want—I just don’t want it, okay. And this might sound bad—even though I’ve definitely said worse—but you would be just a-a means for me,” a voicemail blears in your ear as you are made aware of the four calls you missed in your slumber, “‘Kay? I dunno. Think it over. It’s not fuckin’ life or death. Until it is. And I kill you. And hide the body and burn the evidence…kidding! ‘Kay, love you, kidding, ‘kay, bye!”

This was uncharted territory for you both. 

You and Roman and the other Roy children were longtime family friends. Like Stewy Hosseni or a lesser example Ray Kennedy. What that meant was your incredibly loaded dad gave Logan Roy an ungodly sum of money in the nineties and had managed to stay on his good side ever since. At their status, that’s what qualified as ‘friendship’. Everything was a transaction at the end of the day. Like you suspected Logan and Caroline had bought their way into their kids’ hearts, to even be in the same room as these titans—to breathe the same air—you had to beg, steal, or borrow. Fortunately, you hailed from less-than-humble beginnings; your father being an incredibly successful venture capitalist-turned-philanthropist and your mother the heiress of a billion-dollar publishing company. 

But it was all just details. 

You were eternally grateful to be an only child, imagining an existence where you and your progeny were destined to forever claw at each other's throats—all for whatever scraps your parents were generous enough to leave you.

Unfortunate. ‘Pitiful’ felt more accurate. Every hollow soiree and vapid function served as a reminder. These were not your people. And they never would be. And yet—

“Heya! Well, you look less miserable than usual. Lemme guess, you finally ditched Loser What’s-His-Face and have taken up my longstanding advice of giving lesbianism a try,”

“Hi, Roman. No, I’ve actually been reminiscing about our younger years together. Remember the time you threw up in your mouth before presenting me my corsage the night of the winter formal? Seventh grade? Ring a bell?”

“That was because it only dawned upon me then that I would be getting Cody Keener’s sloppy seconds,” he answers, “I just couldn’t cope with that, I’m sorry,”

You slug him in the arm and he reacts overdramatically, as if someone stuck him with the pointy end of a knife. Onlookers included none other than Frank Vernon, Hugo Baker, and a close friend of your mom’s, Michelle Anne. This time, you and Roman had crossed paths at your father’s 70th birthday party. It was held at your parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side and attracted a decent crowd. Faces you’d sworn you met pass you by as strangers come up to you, recounting memories of you who were only this tall. It was always a discombobulating experience but you continued to frolic and mingle nonetheless. 

In truth, this little ‘reunion’ was nothing but a facade. 

You and Roman had been talking for weeks now after years of no contact with one another. Brief texts turned into prolonged phone calls which by the end of the night became one-sided, pathetic voicemails expressing some sort of yearning for the other. It was becoming all-consuming and quite frankly, exhausting. And now it had finally come to blows. 

There was a plan, there were contingencies (of course, there were) but above all—there was transparency. And that was something you could hold onto. Oh, the many men who lied their way into your bed. And then here comes Roman, who’d made it abundantly clear he’d rather inhale glass than have you worm your way into his. So this scheme would not transpire at his place or yours. 

It would be occurring in a Central Park Suite at The Carlyle—just a quick jaunt from your parents’ place. He deigned to be a gentleman and handled the reservations as well as your transportation because you had to already be there. You were going to be lying on the bed, in some satiny sleepwear. No lingerie, no hosiery—nothing that could be construed as ‘sexy’. You were to look mundane, average, and bored. 

Roman would enter and you would be still and let him do as he pleased. While you’d had this endeavor nailed to a T, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of him going off-script—doing things rougher, harder, doors off the hinges, letting his darker impulses get the better of him—didn’t make your knees buckle a bit. 

So once the candles had been blown, the birthday wishes made, and goodbyes were said—you were to slide into his black Range Rover SV while his secondary chauffeur Crispin brought you to your destination. In your duffel was your change of clothes and a few other goodies. It had crossed your mind—once, twice how exceedingly easy it would be to bail right about now. Crispin could drop you off on the side of the road like some floozy and then your personal chauffeur could pick you up and drive you back to your cozy brownstone for a mundane evening spent by yourself—alone. That was the part that struck a pang in your stomach. That was the truly unbearable part. That, and the heat between your thighs which was starting to become really inconvenient. 

…

Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

You had already slid your sequin cocktail dress off and exchanged it for your satin sleepwear. Like the pretty kept thing he’d instructed you to be, you lay flat across the plush hotel mattress, awaiting his arrival, legs swinging to and fro like an eager teenage girl.

Maybe he’d be the one to pussy out.

At least then you’d have yet another thing to hold over his head for the foreseeable future. In your phone’s front-facing camera, you inspected the makeup you’d done earlier that evening for the party and it still seemed sufficient. Your lips seemed a bit drab. You roll off the bed and I sift through the contents of your bag, searching for the mauve lip color you’d brought along. Dabbing it onto the purse of your mouth while gazing into the mirror of the room’s modest vanity—you begin to lose track. 

This isn’t it and you know it. 

You know it. 

So fucking do something about it. 

Examining the time on the wall clock, you decide to hastily shake off your striped satin pj set and tear through your duffel for the sheer lace slip and matching long gloves. Not liking the unkemptness of your long hair at this particular moment, you palm your bag for one of the chignon French hairpins that had sunk their way to the bottom—a go-to for you since your younger years. The best you can muster is a half-up, loose, more-than-messy low bun because suddenly, a knock on the door can be heard. Your heart leaps into your throat and you shove your duffel bag into the armoire in a hurried panic. The click of the hotel room’s keycard lock comes next and you spring to the door as to be the one to open it. You and Roman meet each other’s gaze through the crack of the half-open door, you two beam down at your hands, enclosed over both sides of the handle. He is very noticeably startled, not expecting you to answer the door.

“C-Come on in,” you stutter, gesturing into the hotel suite with a gloved hand. 

Roman’s mouth goes dry. It is not all that often the family jester is able to be truly caught off-guard. This absolutely was one of those times. He shuffles into the room with tepid steps and doesn’t turn around to face you until he hears the door click shut. With a blank, nonchalant expression—he shrugs, prompting you to provide some sort of explanation. Of which, you do not possess. 

“What?” you say. 

“What’s…all of that about?”

“Yeah, sorry…wasn’t really feeling the pajamas tonight. I opted for something I felt was a little more fitting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,”

He definitely fucking does mind actually. But any frustration at being caught unawares expresses itself in the form of big beautiful hazel eyes beaming at you with fear and uncertainty. His lips are parted, unable to form the words he can’t even begin to think of at this particular moment.

“So…,”

“...so…?”

“So…lay down,” you finally say.

Roman is able to briefly channel the smarmy assholeishness he usually hones with a sarcastic scoff and smirk. He shakes his head to himself before his gaze finds the floor. 

“...I’m sorry, maybe you just didn’t hear me right the first time,” you say, crossing over until you are eye-to-eye with him and your competing breaths can be felt, “...or maybe I should’ve been a bit more specific.”

You lean in until your lips brush the outer shell of his right ear and he stops breathing. 

“Roman. Lay the fuck down on that bed. Now.”

He quickly scrambles onto the bed, resting on his back while slightly sitting up. There is a tentative eagerness in his demeanor as if the last hints of resistance in his muscles had yet to dissipate.

“Good. Now can you unbutton your shirt by yourself or do you need my help?”

“...I-I-I need your help,” he mindlessly babbles, “P-Please. Please, can you help me?”

You click your tongue at his wanton request, attempting to maintain your composure. It was after the first ‘please’ that you knew you were going to willingly give everything in you to this man right then and there. 

The safeguards? Fuck the safeguards. 

The time for self-preservation was about five or so minutes ago before his knuckles had rapped gently on the heavy wooden door. Without breaking eye contact, you straddle him effortlessly, both knees on either side of his hips. You aren’t certain because all the blood had flooded to your ears and you were unable to hear much over the thumping of your own heartbeat but you swear you hear a quiet ‘oh god’ slip out of him. Your fingers find the buttons on his grey button-down and your wrists noticeably begin to shake as they undo them.

For fuck’s sake.

Up until this point, you had conjured the impression that you were the one in control here and that there was nothing he could say or do otherwise. But now the true vulnerability of the situation had begun to set in. The playing field had been leveled. 

His fingers enrapture yours and he steadies your grasp as you both work to unbutton his shirt. Roman swallows, anxiously. You get more than half of the way there before he gives up and presses his face firmly to yours. 

It’s a declarative kiss. 

It’s long-lasting and when the two of you eventually break it—you know there’s no going back. Those hands of his, wracked with nerves, find their way to your hips. He slowly drags the lacey fabric up so your upper thighs are exposed. Once you can feel the soft flesh of your hips exposed to the cold air, you grab his wrists and he freezes. 

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think I remember saying you could do that,”

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t—I’m sorry,”

“So many apologies, they just keep on coming,”

“I’m…,” he deeply exhales out of his nose. 

“You’re what? Wait, lemme guess,” you goad, “Sorry?”

He bobs his head up and down, face full of embarrassment.

“Hm…think I’m a little sick and tired of those ‘sorrys’, sweetie. You and that mouth of yours. Oh, that fuckin’ mouth of yours. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of headaches it’s caused me in what, the two decades I’ve known you? What are we gonna finally do about that mouth?”

Roman looks up to you, hanging onto your every last word. 

“I-I don’t know, j-just tell me what to do. I can make it up to you, I-I promise,”

You genuinely take a moment to mull it over, though the growing hardness pressing against your most intimate place admittedly was making it hard to think.

“...I think…we need to find another use for that mouth of yours—something to keep it busy, hm? How does that sound, my sweet baby?”

You swear his face goes pale as he assumes you mean your cunt. While the thought had crossed your mind (many, many times in fact), knowing Roman—you know that would be too much. And that you would lose him forever somewhere along the way and you didn’t even want to begin to think about that. 

You tilt your head, staring longingly at that poor little boyish face of his. Your clothed index finger traces its way slowly from the exposed flesh of his tummy, up to his ribs, across his collarbone, along his Adam’s apple, over his bearded chin— finally stopping at his pinkish bottom lip. You pull it down, making him pout for you. 

“Open for me,” you utter softly. 

Roman obeys, his tongue moving upwards in his mouth when he swallows. You continue to tease around his mouth torturously, the lace creating a delicious friction against his beard. The heat of his pants against your lone finger makes you stir inside. 

“Now, close your eyes—mouth still open,”

He noticeably resists before relenting, his eyes flutter closed. You drop one of the spaghetti straps of the slip off of your shoulder, exposing yourself. Your nipple pebbles in the cool air conditioning of the room. You awkwardly lean your torso inwards, inching your breast closer to his mouth. For a brief second, his eyes flick open, taking in the scene. Catching your drift instantly, he swallows as much of the soft flesh as his mouth will allow, moaning into it. The most obscene sucking sounds soon fill the room. Roman whimpers into your skin, letting his head fall limp against your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head. His brown fluff of hair is too tempting for your hands to not tangle themselves in. 

“There, you go…you’re so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head backward.

You swear you can feel your hips gyrating on their own. Roman’s fingers have ensnared themselves onto the flimsy fabric of your slip, gripping it so tight you think it might tear. Not that you’d give a shit if it did. 

“Y’know what I think? I think you act the way you do all the fucking time because you’re just waiting for someone to come and put you in your place, is that right? Yeah? You’re a brat ‘cause you want someone to do this to you? Hm?”

He releases your nipple and an almost pornographic line of spit drools from his mouth. Roman’s lips are plump and rosy, kiss-bruised and swollen. You find out just how warm they’ve become when his wet mouth comes to meet your own in a kiss so messy, you know you’ll touch yourself thinking about it later.

“I-Is this good? A-Am I being a good boy for you?”

“Mm-hm, you’re being a very good boy for me. My good boy. Mommy’s good boy, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—” he sobs, moving onto your other breast.

His voice is shrill and wrought with desperation. You only ever heard it get this high-pitched when he was making a mocking impression of you or some other woman. And now here he was, making these noises all on his own. The edge of his bottom teeth catches your nipple in just the right away. You squeal, jolting upwards in his lap and laughing at the surprise sensation. He soothes the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue immediately after. 

“That’s it. There’s my boy, there’s my sweet baby boy,”

All of the sudden, his hands leave your slip and fly to the buckle of his belt. Roman undoes his zipper and shimmies down his slacks enough to pull his dick out. He jerks it quickly with his eyes wound tightly shut in an attempt to get himself completely hard. 

“M-Mommy, c-can I see ‘it’? P-Please, god!” Roman begs out.

Your current position leaves his cock hidden by the hem of your slip. All you can see is the silhouette of his fist in the fabric pumping up and down speedily—relentlessly. He could easily just lift the skirt himself and look at your bare pussy, just as he hungrily wants but he doesn’t. 

He waits. He waits for you to give him permission. 

“See what, sweet boy? Say it, use your words for me. You’re a big boy, you can do it. I know you can,” 

Your hands cup his face and you rest your forehead on his. The skin is taught and slick with sweat. A vein above his brow becomes visible as he strains into his own palm. 

“What do you want, Roman?” you reiterate, trying to regain his attention.

“Fff-fuck! Your p-pussy, I wanna see y-your pussy!”

“All together. Say it all together. Say ‘Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?’” 

“Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?”

His eyes finally open and they aim downwards, expectantly. 

“Is that all you want, pretty boy?”

“N-N-yes!”

“Is that all you want?”

“No! No, I wanna cum, I-I wanna f-f-finish! W-Wanna finish on it,” he whines.

“All together, baby…”

“Mommy, can I please finish on your pretty pussy?! Please!”

It’s on the last syllable of his sentence that he erupts. Only as he’s cumming is he able to look at your cunt. You swiftly move the fabric up and his load catches the edge of it, the rest of it coating your exposed pussy. Roman falls backwards limp onto the pillow and you roll off of him and the bed and onto your jelly-like legs. The two of you don’t look at each other, occupying opposite sides of the room while you make yourselves decent. You shed your stained garment, using it to wipe your cunt clean. You fling it onto the hotel carpet and don’t think twice about it. 

“Mind if I…borrow that…for a bit?” a weak voice croaks from across the suite. 

You turn your head and smirk, still topless.

“All yours.”

Briefly, you catch a glimpse of Roman from behind, buttoning up his shirt. You pull up your dress, sweatier than before when you had taken it off. You expected there to be a palpable shift between the two of you, had everything gone according to plan. You figured the next RECNY ball that was just around the corner might be a bit awkward but it was nothing a few sarcastic quips and some alcohol couldn’t fix.

“My guy’s still waiting out front, so that’s my not-so-stealthy getaway. I can have Crispin pull around in twenty if I guess, I dunno, you wanted to shower the stank off of y…”

Roman’s words trail off as he becomes caught up in the sight of you; your cocktail dress zipped up halfway, your hair in an even messier updo than before, one heel on with the other remaining to be seen. It left him dumbfounded, feeling impulsive, like he could leave everything behind then and there and things might turn out alright. 

“Um…d’you maybe wanna just come with me…I dunno. Back at my place, I mean. And don’t make it into…it’s not a thing. Th-This is not a thing. But, yeah, we could order in whatever you, you could stay over, I-I got spare rooms–”

“Roman—”

“—it-its not like a big deal or anything, y’know? This isn’t, this wasn’t ‘a thing’. Fuckin’ labels and everything, I m—”

“Roman! That all sounds fine; I just would like to exit one of the nicest hotels in the damn city not looking like a two-bit whore, yeah? Come and zip me up,”

“I mean, if you ask me—I think it’s a rather fitting look,” he says, echoing your previous words.

“ROMAN!” 

“Alright, fuck, fine!”

End.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[fir3ylolol]

i had an idea…i’ve been thinking A Lot about that one johnny cage skin with the red shirt where he has the forearm tattoos…. maybe they’re those long lasting temporary ones and he has them on for a movie? and reader is realllllly into them

place beyond the pines

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: your boyfriend comes home, with a couple of new additions 0.0

tw: vaginal penetration, fingering, afab reader, gn reader, slightly dirty talk, groping, established relationship, sloppy makeout, smut, shameless smut

a/n: im alive! ive beaten a cold, finally. glad to write again! it's almost break for me, so i'm gna try to stay consistent. and if not…don't be mad at me pls. ALSO check out my works in progress post linked in my pinned to see what's to come ;P

word count: 1.15 k

Ao3

The front door shuts firmly, and you perk up at the sound. That sound means only one thing: your boyfriend is home. He’s not usually home at this hour, so you’re really excited to see him more after a long, lazy day in sweatpants and baggy t-shirts. But as you rush out to see him, you’re stopped by the sight in front of you. There, standing by the doorway, is Johnny, in a tight red compression shirt with the sleeves pushed up. On his exposed forearms, you see black and white American Traditional tattoos, interlaced with a snake twisting its way up his arm. You’re caught off-guard, frozen across the room from him as he puts his keys down on the entry table.

He turns to face you, with a wide but tired smile. But he notices your still state and his face drops slightly in confusion. He walks over, shaking your shoulders lightly. “Love? You ok there?” You snap out of it, shaking your head as you do. “Yeah, sorry, I just…what are those?” You shakily reach your arms out to trace down the patterns. He lifts them to meet your hands, smile returning, “Don’t you think they’re cool? They’re just temporary, but it’s for that movie I was just cast in. You know, ex-cons tend to have tattoos so,” he gestures with his head. You start to fluster further, feeling the warmth of his skin under the intricate patterns and artwork. Finally, the gears start turning in his head and he laughs lightly. “You like them, don’t you?” Your head bolts up, embarrassed that you were so blatantly called out. You shake your head rapidly, stepping back slightly. “No, I just think the art is cool!” He steps forward, smirking at how flustered you are, lightly grabbing your wrist.

“Really? Because it feels like you think it's hot, and it’s flustering you,” his other hand coming up to cup your face tenderly. You try to turn it into a joke, pushing past his touch to walk towards the kitchen. “Come on, stop playing. You must be hungry, ri-” You’re abruptly cut off as that familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist and hold you in place. You’re about to protest until you hear a gravely quiet voice in your ear, “You’re a shit liar, you know.” Suddenly, your feet no longer touch the ground, being carried towards the couch with little to no say. You would fight it but…you don’t really want to. Your eyes are locked on the sight of them, art straining against the veins that pop out of his skin as he constricts around you. You feel him slowly sit down, grip on you still tight as you end up on his lap. You expect him to ease up, but when has Johnny ever gone easy? You notice his hold on you loosening, but his hands start to travel. One traces its way up your chest, reaching your head and gently holding your jaw. The other slips towards your waistband, fingers moving teasingly slow. He leans his head forward, warm breath against your ear as he whispers, “I had a pretty long day…wanna help me relax, baby?” Overwhelmed slightly by him, you nod against his hold on your face.

You watch as his inked hand slides lower, not as teasing anymore. But he loves to put on a show, and he shuffles your sweatpants off slightly. His voice, slightly louder this time, rasps out, “Gotta make sure you can see the whole show.” Helping direct your head down, you watch as his fingers circle against your clit. You jolt at the feeling, but his grip on you tightens slightly, keeping your back pressed into his strong chest. You’re slightly dizzy, watching as he sinks one finger inside you, hand tensing at the feeling. You can feel a heavy sigh from him, as he continues to curl in and out of you. His thumb reaches up, returning to sit comfortably against your clit again. As he moves, speed increasing bit by bit, you can’t help to whine out. The sight of his detailed art disappearing inside you, the feeling of his rough thumb moving so softly. As he slides another finger in, a gentle moan slipping out, he lifts your head again. He tilts it back, resting it against his shoulder. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he brushes your face off, his face barely visible from your angle. But he never stops, steady pace as you squirm at the sensation. But his free hand shows up again, clinging to your chest. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from moving at a ruthless pace, but he can only hold so much back. You can hear murmurs echoing through his throat against your right ear, incoherent, but very much through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, he’s speeding up more, his hand on your chest loosening slightly. At the angle of your head, you can’t muffle yourself, louder and louder moans as his hand starts to grab and massage your chest. You can hear him clearer now, voice carrying better, “God, look at you. You look so good like this, spread out just for me. You feel so good, baby, shit.” You can feel him growing sloppier, and more impatient than before. But you’re not far from cumming, your hands desperately searching for purchase. One latches to his thigh under you, and the other on his wrist, moving as he pumps his fingers inside you. You help guide him slightly, shuddering as he touches the exact right spot. You’re nearly seeing stars, but you lift your head, letting it flop forward. His entire arm is moving at this point, both flexing at the effort he’s exerting. As you manage to gasp out that you’re close, the hand on your chest lets go and shoots back to your jaw. He turns your head, angling in back and to the side, as his lips collide with yours. His kisses are as sloppy as his moves, desperate for more of you than there is. Your grip tightens and you feel him groan into your mouth at the feeling. That does it, a harsh flinch as you cum around his fingers. Both of you are moaning at this point, unable to break the kiss. You’re not sure which voice is yours anymore as it echoes through your head. But as he removes his fingers, you break the kiss, taking a deep breath as you rest your head against his shoulder again. You hear as he brings the drenched fingers to his mouth, wanting to get every last bit of you as possible. But it only lasts so long, as he removes them with a quiet, “Ew, these things taste bad.” After a pause, he scrambles to clarify himself, “Not you! The tattoos! They taste bad, not you.”

[forestshadow-wolf]

Happy christmas! @maicandy

This was supposed to be like 1.5k words turned into 3.4k

No warnings. A bit of action, nothing graphic. It should be a fun read (I hope)

Ao3 link

“A’righ’, ya muppet, get up.” Price chuckled, “I signed it fifteen minutes ago, when you handed it to me.”

“Fift- then wha’ th’ fuck am I on th’ floor for!” Soap climbed up on aching knees, Price looked like he was in pain with how ard he was holding in his laugh.

“Wanted to see how far you’d go.” he shrugged.

“Oh, up yer arse wi’ it, ya bloody baw.” Soap scowled, adding, “itsnae funny.” when Price couldn’t contain his boisterous laughter any longer. He slumped into the chair he should have been sitting in, and pointedly did not sulk. It was about as funny as a Scot dating a Brit. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t.

“Oh don’t sulk, Soap, I was never gonna send him to Siberia in December.”

Soap slumped harder in his seat, making it a point to not look at Price. He was mad at him. It was harder to hold his frown when the man was gleefully nudging him with the toe of his boot. Okay it was a little funny. Not that he would ever admit that to the man.

— — —

“How are you gonna jus’ sit there!” soap threw his arms up in exasperation, “he ‘ad me on my knees, an’ you’re laughing!” he was starfished across Ghost’s bed while the man worked on reports at his desk. Laughing at him. Not exactly routinely… okay it was pretty much standard.

“You won’t even tell me what you were there for, why would I help you.” Ghost shoots back at him smoothly. Bastard. 

“Wha! You dinnae need to kno’, yoo’re just supposed to defend my honor.” Soap cried in faux-offense.

“ ‘Defend your honor’.” Ghost parrots as he sits back in his chair, he hums thoughtfully as he turns to look at soap, “for all I know you were getting in trouble for taking Price’s cigars last week. I don’t think that’s an honor even I can defend.” Ghost chuckled, catching the pillow Soap threw at his head. Soap was going to say something else when Ghost’s phone rang. taking it out of his pocket, “it’s Price.” he said before answering.

“Yeah, he’s here.” Price’s voice was loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to make out what he was saying, so Soap was only privy to a one-sided conversation. “No, not terribly. You ask me that after you ask if soap’s here?” Ghost bolstered, “mmmh not likely. And you mettle too much.” there was a pause that Price’s muffled voice filled. “Did you call on business, or just to poke at me?” Soap couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or deflection, but if it was Price on the other end it was all in good nature. “But it’s christmas. Soap has-” price, evidently, cut him off, “Fine.”, Ghost hung up with a sigh. “Price needs us geared up and on the tarmac in fifteen.”

— — —

They were kitted up and waiting on the tarmac faster than you could say ‘Two Clicks and a Cracker’, fortunately Price didn’t make them wait too long. He met them with a cigar, and two folders tucked under an arm.

“New mission.” he holds out the folders for them to take, “and before you start, I did my best, but without either of you putting in leave there’s not much I can do. But,” Price sighed. “I pulled some strings. You two are going to Chile for the next three weeks. We had a team pass through a few months ago, they had to crash at a safehouse for a few days. They sent in a report of broken equipment and utilities. It needs to be cleaned, as well as restocked.” Soap flipped open his folder, the list of broken shit was longer than it reasonably should be, in soap’s opinion. “Now, as your directive is not a highest priority you will have a scheduled exfil for January second at fifteen hundred local time. With what remaining time you have between infil and exfil, you will keep an eye on everything to make sure it’s running smoothly. You’ll have quite a bit of time on your hands, so just chill out and don’t break anything, I don’t want to have to go back to fix anything any time soon. Capisce?”

“Yes sir.” Soap flipped his folder closed, they had a long list to do, but nothing they can’t handle. Ghost was still studying the photos in his folder, as thorough as ever. “When do we-”

“Are these bullet holes?” Ghost cut him off, holding up one of the photos.

“Well it’s a military safehouse, what do you expect?” price said, unworried.

“For them to not break the safehouse.” Ghost deadpanned. Which to his credit, yeah that was usually what was expected. “Was there contact, or were they just dicking around?”

“The reports say there was brief contact, but all hostiles were neutralized.”

“Which could mean exactly nothing in this line of work.”

“It’s been months, Ghost, you’re always so suspicious.”

“It pays to be a skeptic sometimes.”

“Just take the free vacation, Ghost.” Price exasperated.

“Since when do I take vacations?”

“Since now.” Soap jumped in, he wasn’t much one for sand, but he wasn’t complaining as long as they weren’t sent for snow. Plus, a little birdie told him Ghost loved the beach. Ghost whipped his head to him, soap watched his eyes look him up and down.

“Soap hates the beach.” Ghost turned to Price. Soap wasn’t sure when or where he got that information, but it was Ghost, so he probably had a way.

“Nae, the beach is fine, Ghost. When do we leave?”

“Now. Nik is loading up your supplies in hanger two.” Price handed Ghost a card, and an envelope. “Money for anything else you might need.” he paused, “do not spend it on porn.” he said with humor in his eyes.

“What if it’s really important though?”

“If it was, I’d have already bought it myself.” Price walked them over to the hanger where Nikoli was waiting, and saw them off.

— — —

The human body isn’t meant to sit in the back of a cargo plane for twelve hours straight, though he’s had worse on cramped commercial flights, so he’s only allowed to complain a little bit.

Nikoli helped them unload, and then he was back in the air headed for home within an hour and a half.

When they finally shuffled all their things to the door and opened it up. The place was a mess. Soap stepped inside and just dropped his bag on the floor while he took it all in. It was like a frat house hurricane swept in, trashed everything, and left. Ghost pushed in beside him and all but froze.

“Well… looks like we got some work to do.”

“Steamin’ jesus, what did they do?” there was trash and takeout boxes everywhere, cans of beer to go along, and soap kicked probably a dozen shell casings just walking further into the living room. He’d seen the pictures, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad.

“C’mon help me get the rest of the stuff inside. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Ghost broke from their stupor, turning out the door.

It took a little longer without the help of a third person, but by the time they were finished they had stripped a few layers in the heat, and the sun was just beginning to set. They’d both stripped their kits, Ghost the mask and hoodie as well, Soap himself had stripped his own shirt off as well. 

“Go get a shirt.” Ghost instructed, pulling out a face mask from his bag, and slipping the card into his pocket. “We gotta head to the store for dinner.” Soap tugged his shirt on as Ghost spoke.

— — —

The following two weeks were spent sweeping and cleaning, and fixing whatever they could find that was broken. Which included but was jot at all limited to, a broken water heater, A drippy shower, a leaky sink, a toilet that didn't flush all the way, and the team that was here last had left a broken down humvee around that back which Soap had taken to taking apart to fix.

But aside from that Soap didn't think they'd get all the shell casings given a whole season. And in the most random of places too. Obviously the living room, but also under the bottom cabinets In the kitchen along the crown moulding, behind the doors of just about every room, there were a few behind the toilet and in the bathtub, he even found one in the bed that first night.

Price and Laswell kept in communication, calling them every few days just to make sure everything was running smoothly, and to ask if they were in need of any extra parts that hadn’t been sent. As predicted everything was running smooth as butter, they updated them on what they were able to fix, and what was taking a bit more time. Soap had gotten the humvee running before the end of the first week, and road worthy by the second, albeit missing a few parts. The windshield was cracked to shit, and the metal top had been taken off in place of a canvas one, but it was solid. It was smooth until Laswell called one morning without Price.

“Soap. Ghost.” Laswell’s voice came through the phone’s speaker.

“Laswell. Is Price there? This isn’t a scheduled meeting.” Soap answered.

“On his way. Where’s Ghost?”

“In the shower. I assume something’s come up.”

“Local law enforcement tells me you have hostels inbound, but they won’t come near it with a ten foot pole. I’ve sent Price and Gaz your way, but they won’t get to you in time.” Laswell informed. That wasn’t exactly the news he wanted to hear.

“Do we know how many?”

“Last time anyone was at your location, it was a team of five. I’d hazard a guess at two dozen.” seems a bit overkill to him, but who’s he to say.

“How long do we have?”

“Six, maybe eight hours.” okay not as bad as it could be.

“Aye, I’ll let Ghost know. And Laswell?”

“Yeah, Soap?”

“We’re gonna break a lot of shit. And I don’t want to fix it.”

“I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Thanks, Laswell.”

“Merry Christmas. I’ll see you back at base, Sergeant.” she cuts the line. And it was only after a moment of heavy contemplation that Soap realized it was christmas day. And he hadn’t even gotten Ghost anything.

Soap could still hear the shower running, it would likely be another while before Ghost finished. He was tempted to join him, but he knew himself well enough to know that he shouldn’t get distracted.

— — —

It must have been a half hour later when Ghost came and sat on the sand with him, wrapping himself around soap, legs bracketing around him. They’d spent quite a good amount of time on this beach. It was a private spot, the water washed up a dozen feet from the house at high tide, and the treeline began right where the steps met the sand. And he found, he didn’t mind finding sand in all the unholy places quite so much when Ghost was involved.

“Laswell said we have incoming.” soap muttered softly as Ghost kissed up his shoulder to the nape of his neck, he could feel still-damp hair brush over his neck and cheek, but he leaned into it instead of pulling away;  like he probably should have.

“But we have time?” Ghost pressed his face into the back of his neck, hugging soap closer to him.

“Beaches aren’t so bad.” he hums. It’s answer enough.

“When’d you decide that?” Ghost mumbled into his skin.

“Just now.”

“Hmm I like the beach too.” Ghost said after a moment of contemplation. And Soap wanted to stay there for eternity, but they had five hours to prepare and they needed to go to the store. Ghost’s arms wrapped tighter around his middle. Maybe they could say for a few more minutes.

— — —

“You’re flooding the sink?” a quick trip to the store, which consisted mostly of string and snacks, had them back at the house within an hour. This was the last thing in order after setting up the rest of his Home Alone traps. They had probably just under an hour, and now Ghost was questioning his decisions while he was checking and loading their firearms and eating Soap’s gummy peach rings. That he teased Soap about getting.

“Obviously. Nobody wants to see a flooded sink. Whether it’s yours or not.” Soap rolled his eyes, shoving more cloth and sand down the drain. He very specifically kept his eyes away from the cabinet above the microwave, there was no reason for him to look there. truely. “Those are my peach rings, by the way.” he didn’t really care, they were mostly for Ghost anyway.

“Mmh, obviously.” Ghost said around a gummy as though it wasn’t obvious. “What’s that mean for the dumber of us?”

“A flooded sink is never good. Mean’s it’s connected to something, or something’s gone wrong. Plus water on the floor means they can’t sneak, and they leave tracks. If anything it draws their attention for a second, and that’s a second more for us”

“Smart.”

— — —

“Soap two vans just pulled up.” Ghost’s voice came through their comm line,  the flora around the house wasn’t incredibly dense, but it was enough that it made Ghost difficult to spot if you didn’t know to look for the crook of branches twelve feet up. Soap only knew because he helped him up there.

“Think they’ll check the bathroom or the bedroom first?” He was precariously crouched barefoot behind the kitchen wall, just barely out of sight if they peeked in at the sink, water from the sink licked at his toes. Armed only with a knife, a pistol, and an extra magazine. If he played his moves right, they wouldn’t see him until it was, hopefully, too late.

“I reckon they’ll split up, ‘s what I’d do.” soap could hear boots stomping up the two stairs to the front door.

The door slammed open just before Soap could respond. Almost immediately the rope tied to the door handle pulled taut, and the shotgun sprayed buckshot as the trigger compressed. He heard a body hit the ground, followed by shouting and sounds of panic. He heard more soldiers storm up the wooden stairs, whoever stepped through the threshold first pulled the tripwire. It pulled the pin on the grenade.

“Beautiful, Johnny, I count eighteen, down to fifteen. I’m heading to the back, arm the backdoor when you're out, keep it loud.”

The remaining soldiers continued with more caution. There was a pause, then uneasy shuffling. More footsteps entered into the house. Soap could feel the tension as they split up. The water around his feet rippled as one of the soldiers stepped into the water by the sink. There was a nook in the kitchen that created a blindspot from outside of the kitchen, he stepped into view, and sunk his knife into the throat, and gently lowered him to the ground before he even had a chance to react. Four down, fourteen to go.

Almost simultaneously the shotgun in the bathroom went off, and shouting and gunshots came from the bedroom, letting him know they tripped the flare in the closet he’d used as a distraction. That was Soap’s cue. He whipped out of the kitchen, snatching up the shotgun that took out that first soldier. With one more shot in it, he aimed at the second soldier in the bathroom, and shot. He went down like a ton of bricks. Six down, twelve to go. This is where it gets hot. He unholstered his pistol without waiting to watch. Four shots. Two bodies. He ducked behind the couch. They all aimed at him, he was outnumbered, but they didn’t know the space, and he was two steps from the back door.

“Ghost, I need out.”

“Copy.” Half a second later the glass at his back splintered, and one of the soldiers fell over dead. And the rest scattered for cover like cockroaches from a light. Nine down, nine to go.

Soap didn’t wait, he flew out the door, arming it as it closed behind him. Ghost met him as soon as his foot touched sand. And there wasn’t a second to spare when the door flew open behind them. They split and ran down the beach, careful where they stepped.

“Soap,” Ghost called, waiting for a response.

“Ghost.”

“wanna see something sexy.” and of-fucking-course he did.

“You know I do.” And not a moment later did he hear a boom accompanied by the sand under his feet rattling, and he could see sand and bodies flying. Soap let out an overexaggerated moan. Too which he got a chuckle from Ghost that he could hear the eye roll through. He will be salty that Ghost got to set off the first sandy explosive later. Eleven down, seven to go.

Soap could hear the two soldiers behind him, he wide-stepped over a small rock in the sand, and detonated the explosive buried right below in two paces. The shock sent him off balance, but he caught himself before he fell. Thirteen down, five to go. And he was out of tricks. He had three more after him, and lead flying by his head.

Pinwheeling around a bloody large boulder he deaded back the way Ghost was headed, he could see Ghost had been able to do just the same. Trust. Ghost had two on him. He didn’t stop running as he shot.

The first one went wide. The one after had a body falling, and the one after that had the other soldier stumbling. He couldn’t tell which bullets flying by his head were Ghost’s and which were enemies’, but somehow, some miracle, none of them hit him.

— — —

He frowned as he opened the cabinet above the microwave, it had been bullet ridden, but somehow he’d still hoped the little skeleton ghost plush he’s bought would have remained untouched. It wasn’t so. Stuffing fell out before he even opened the cabinet all the way, and what greeted him when he did was a very sad, very stuffingless once-was plush. He pulled it out with a frown anyway.

He turned to toss it in the trash, and promptly had a heart attack when he turned around and Ghost was right there. He clutched the sad bit of fabric to his chest, and panted dramatically.

“Christ, Ghost, scared me half to death.”

“I’d hope not.” Ghost smiled. “What’s that?” soap held out his was-gift.

“Oh. uh merry christmas?” he felt his face pull in disappointment, “I was hoping that it would somehow stay safe, but…”

“Lemme see.” Ghost held out his hand for the thing. “Eh he’s not so bad. Just needs a bit of stitching and stuffing, and he’ll be right as rain.” he smiled at him. Then, impossibly, his face brightened further, “wait right here.” and then Ghost was out of the kitchen.

Soap stayed put like instructed. Christ they’d made a right proper mess of this safe house. Water everywhere, shell casings, damage to everything. Price was going to throw a fit when he saw it.

“Okay close your eyes and hold out your hands.” Ghost said before he walked in. soap did as told. Something was placed in his hands, “okay open.”

It was a leather bound Journal, with his initials engraved into the front. He flipped open the cover to see that ‘SR’ had been scratched into the inner surface, along with a polaroid of Ghost, and a sleeping him in bed.

“I noticed you were getting to the end of yours.”

There were so many things Soap wanted to say. That he loved it, he loved him, that it was the best thing he’s ever been gifted, that it was a privilege to get this, that he was honored that Ghost would put their names together, that Ghost would let him see his face. He settled for kissing him instead.

— — —

There wasn’t much for Price and Gaz to do when they landed, except help pack. And Soap and Ghost left for base with them. There wasn’t much they could salvage without another team and more tools and parts. And what could be done, wasn’t worth the effort after they just fixed it. So home they went.

[slut4thebroken]

Earn Your Prize

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Reader x choose your own character

(Reader doesnt call him anything and there’s nothing in the writing to indicate that it’s one character or another except maybe the pet names used, so pick whoever you want and enjoy<3 (this is who I was picturing but you can literally choose anyone with a dick lol: Jackson Rippner, Jonathan Crane, Thomas Shelby, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bucky Barnes, etc.))

Summary | Character of your choice wants to try something new.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, 69 sex position, oral m receiving, praise, humiliation, face fucking, deep throating, throat pie lolll, held down hehe, filthy disgusting nasty oral sex, that’s literally it, no f orgasm, but not in a douchey way lol I just didn’t feel like writing it.

Words | 1.3 k

Notes | Idk man I’m going through a phase, don’t judge me. Also I wrote this in one day lol so I might edit it again later but for now I think I like it skdhdk

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Let’s play a game, princess. Get up here.” He moved you on top of his body so that your front was flush with his and your face was hovering above his already throbbing cock. “You’re going to stay on my cock, no matter what. Feel free to hold yourself up so it doesn’t go too deep.” He explained and you were confused as to how this was a game, but agreed anyway. “On your knees.” You frowned when you realized that meant he wouldn’t be eating you out. Instead of complaining, you obeyed and bent your legs so you were kneeling with your shoulders resting on his lower stomach. 

“Put it in your mouth and get ready.” You wrapped your lips around the tip and waited for the next instruction. “Hands behind your back.” You obeyed, but the second you weren’t holding yourself up, you were all but impaled on his cock, making him moan loudly. When you tried to move your arms back to hold yourself up, he grabbed them and kept them on your back. 

“Hold yourself up and you won’t choke.” 

No shit. You wanted to say. Instead you did your best to lift your head a little, letting you get in a shaky breath of much needed air. You couldn’t hold the position for long though and you fell back down, gagging when he breached your throat barrier. 

“Atta girl. If you can’t take it, all you have to do is hold yourself up.” You let out a strangled whine and tried to hold yourself up again, but you barely managed to lift off his cock more than an inch, and you didn’t last long either. The strain in your muscles was too much and you whimpered as you fell back down. 

When you started squirming and moving your legs to try and get in a position that would make this easier, he took both of your arms in one hand, then used the other to roughly slap your ass, making you jolt forward and choke when his cock went impossibly deeper in your throat. 

“No cheating.” He said sternly. You could barely hear him over your loud choking and gagging. Tears were quickly welling in your eyes as you remained there. 

You gagged the hardest you had so far and your body all but convulsed as you sputtered around him, making all the saliva that built up in your mouth roll down his balls onto the bed. It was getting on your chin and your nose and you felt completely and utterly filthy, but you couldn’t help the way it made you squirm, this time because of arousal. 

You were fully crying now, but you managed to control the gagging as you tried to take deep breaths through your nose. This is the longest he’s ever had you stay like this and you’re not sure how much more you can take, but you want to be good for him, so you kept trying. 

He used his grip on your arms to pull you up a little, lifting you off his cock barely two inches to let you take in a deep breath and have a break from the constant pressure on your gag reflex. 

“That better?” He asked with mock sympathy, but you hummed in agreement anyway. He suddenly bucked his hips up, making you gag loudly and try to flinch away, but you couldn’t move anywhere. He started fucking your mouth roughly and you weren’t sure what was worse; this or being forced to stay all the way down. 

“God— You’re fucking dripping on my chest.” He said through a groan, making you whine, but the sound cut off into a garbled moan when his cock punched the back of your mouth again. 

“Should I eat your pretty pussy?” You tried to agree, but the words were unintelligible with his cock in your mouth. “Win the game and I’ll let you ride my face— Earn your prize, baby.” He decided and you couldn’t help the loud, strangled moan that escaped you, but you still wondered how you were even supposed to win. Maybe he’s wanting you to stay here until he comes? You hoped it was that because based off of his sounds and the frantic bucking of his hips, you knew he was getting close already. 

He suddenly stopped holding you up and you fell forward onto his cock, choking because you weren’t expecting to be dropped like that. You coughed and sputtered and whimpered, growing even more embarrassed and needy when you saw how much of a mess you were making. He started lazily rutting up into your face, slowly bringing himself to the edge and moaning at your struggling. 

“Such a good girl.” He cooed. “Does your cunt always get this wet when I fuck your face?” His tone was far too sweet for the crudeness of his words. All you could do was let out a garbled sound and squirm a little, wishing he’d stop teasing already. “Fuck I’m close.” He said through a breath. You braced yourself for what was about to happen— trying to remember that after this, you could pull off and cough and pant as much as you needed. 

His motions got more eager, rutting up into you as you choked each time his cock was forced even deeper down your throat. He let out a loud moan and you felt hot come hit the back of your throat. When you gagged and tried to pull away, he wrapped a leg over your head and pushed you down even farther as he shushed you. 

“I know. Doing so good, baby.” He groaned, but you could barely hear it. You were thrashing now, your body panicking at the lack of air and the constant pressure on your gag reflex as his cock twitched inside you. All he did was tighten his grip on your arms and push your head down harder with his leg, forcing you to stay there as he rode out his orgasm. 

He released your arms first and you immediately brought them forward to push yourself up, but your head was still trapped by his leg. You clawed at it, trying to get him to remove it so you could finally breathe again, and after a moment, he slowly lessened the pressure, then placed his leg on the bed. You shot up and coughed almost violently, whining when you saw the large glob of spit connecting your lips to his cock. You tried to spit it out, but it slid down your chin before landing on his cock and sliding down his balls to join the rest of the mess. 

He rubbed soothing circles on your hips while you caught your breath and calmed down. When your breathing finally returned to a somewhat normal intensity, you sat up a little more, waiting for what was next. 

“Clean your mess.” 

“But,” You cut off with a choked moan when he landed a hard slap on your ass. Tentatively leaning down, you licked at it, trying to clean it. Honestly you thought you were only making the mess worse, but you knew that this wasn’t really about you cleaning him. 

“All of it.” You whined, but worked your way down to his balls, lapping up the spit as best you could. “You can do better than that.” He said, sounding almost annoyed, then wrapped his leg around your head again and pushed your face into his cock and balls, covering you in spit. “I said, clean it.” He growled when you didn’t do anything. You stuck your tongue out, but it’s not like you could lick anything with how hard he was holding you down. When he started grinding his hips, rubbing his spit soaked cock on your face, you whined quietly as your whole face heated up from the humiliation. 

“There you go.” He groaned, grinding against you even harder. He only continued for a few more seconds before releasing you and you let out a strangled whimper as soon as your head was free. He shushed you and lightly ran his thumb over your slit. “Such a good girl.” He said quietly, pulling your hips back so you were hovering over his face. 

“Take your prize now, baby.”

[naughtyneganjdm]

For I Have Sinned

Summary: Since Negan was brought to Alexandria, you have been attracted to him. One day you find Negan dressed up like Father Gabriel and instantly find yourself turned on by the attire. After fantasizing about him all night, you decide to admit your feelings to Negan in a confession.

Characters: Negan, Aaron, Father Gabriel & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57469084

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, breeding kink, dirty talk, priest! Negan, Public Play in a Church, Rough, etc.

Notes: This is more so Negan as a priest in training lol, but I just ran with it. It's just another filthy one shot from me. I hope you like it!

The unbearable heat was starting to break you down. It had been one of the hottest summers that you could think of in years. After the world fell to shit you thought there would be a lot of downtime, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Living in Alexandria meant you were working all the time. Non-stop. More than you would have ever done before when the world was normal. But it exhausted you. Being a sweaty mess and sore at the end of the day only to know you had to do it all over again tomorrow didn’t appeal to you. It was exhausting.

“Pick up the pace,” Aaron’s voice called out to you when you took a minute outside the gates of Alexandria to catch your breath. Shooting a glare at Aaron instead of fighting with him, you just pushed forward and headed back into town. Aaron slowed down to keep up with you and you kind of were just ready to be done at this point. You liked Aaron and he was a good friend of yours, but you were just exhausted. “Do you need a day off tomorrow? You look whipped.”

“I am,” you confessed feeling Aaron stopping, reaching out to grab your arm to get a look at you. “I don’t mean to whine Aaron, but I’m completely drained. It’s been non-stop with little to no rehabilitation for my body. I’m willing to do some smaller work around here, but out there I’m really putting my everything into things.”

“I’ll get you a week or so working inside the walls,” Aaron promised starting to talk to you about some things, but in the distance something else caught your eye. It kept you from hearing whatever Aaron was saying to you when your eyes followed the movements of what looked like Negan working on the church at the center of town. What shocked you the most was seeing that he wasn’t dressed like what you were used to seeing him in. He was wearing all black with the white collar of a priest. Almost like he was wearing Gabriel’s clothes. It had been a while since you had seen Negan but seeing that shocked you. You must have been gazing away too long because suddenly you had Aaron’s fingertips snapping in your face to get your attention back. “I lost you there.”

“You did. I won’t lie,” you pointed toward the church where Negan was hammering something in. Once Aaron saw what you were focused on, he rolled his eyes and huffed out loud. “I’m floored to see Negan wearing what he’s wearing. Is this a joke of some kind? Is it Halloween or…something?”

“No, this is Gabriel’s way of trying to fix him and prove that he’s changed,” Aaron scoffed, folding his arms out in front of his chest. The disgust over Aaron’s face told you everything about how he felt about the situation. “Gabriel is putting him through the trials of becoming a priest.”

You couldn’t help but laugh hearing that one. Negan? Of all people being a priest? Yeah, that was a crazy thought. Only if hell froze over. After all the time you spent with Negan when you would be the one that brought him his meals and talked with him, him being a priest was almost joke worthy for you.

"I still can’t believe the two of you are friends. You have very questionable taste in people,” Aaron grumbled under his breath and it made you smirk.

“You know, you’re my friend,” you reminded him, tilting your head to the side to get a good look at Aaron, arching your eyebrow in a mischievous way. It made Aaron roll his eyes and he dropped his arms down at his sides. “I like Negan. I think he’s a different man and I got to know him when I went down there with him.”

“You were down there with him because no one else could stand him,” Aaron noticed the way you were staring at Negan again. You were gawking at Negan who dropped the hammer down at his side and reached up to wipe sweat away from his forehead. When he slicked his hair back you felt your pulse leap in your chest and a moment later Aaron was hitting your shoulder. “You are smitten with him. What the fuck is your problem?”

“Language, that’s a priest you are talking about,” you teased Aaron, still keeping your attention on Negan never realizing before that you had some kind of kink for a priest, but with Negan wearing that you were starting to believe that you did. “Negan is a very attractive man. I’m not blind.”

“But you’re crazy,” Aaron commented and you tipped your head from side to side before shrugging. “For the love of God…”

“Now that you say that…” you stepped forward toward the church feeling Aaron reaching out for you. “I guess I could go show God some love.”

“Oh come on,” Aaron called out to you when you pulled away from him. Waving him off without looking back at him, you approached the church and leaned in.

“Working hard?” you whispered causing Negan to jump and he looked back at you. When he noticed it was you, a smirk tugged at his lips and he turned on his heel.

“Don’t you know to never scare someone holding a fucking hammer?” Negan waved the hammer about before moving forward to wrap an arm around you to pull you close to hug you. Having his short beard rubbing up against the side of your face made your eyes slam shut. God, this was what being close to him would always do to you. “Where have you been stranger?”

“Working my ass off,” you informed him with a sigh. It started to make you panic with him hugging you wondering just how much you may have smelled back with you working hard outside all day long.

“Oh?” Negan’s eyebrow arched up, his dimples sinking in when he pulled back to look you over. Urging you to turn on your heel, you weren’t sure what he was going with when he looked down at your bottom. “Nope, it’s still there.”

“Negan,” you laughed when you felt him smack your ass in a playful manner. Turning to face him, you watched the wolfish smile expand over his handsome features. “That’s not very God like. With you being a priest now and everything.”

“I…oh,” Negan looked down at what he was wearing. His face flushed over and he grumbled to himself. Lifting his head, his dimples sank in and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m brand new at this whole thing. It’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but why did you do this? You look…ridiculous,” you couldn’t help but giggle seeing the way that his eyes avoided you. “I mean, not ridiculous. You’re very attractive and I like the whole look going on here for you, but you as a priest?”

“Yeah, I know,” Negan frowned, shrugging his shoulders while he tried to figure out what to say to you. “Because of everything I’ve done, Gabey boy thought it would be good for me to get in touch with God. So I guess I’m a priest in training. It really just means that I work on the church, clean things up, pass things out…”

“Did you even read the bible?” you wondered drawing his nose to wrinkle and he laughed.

“I did during my time locked up,” Negan answered with a sigh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark pants after he set the hammer down. “I had a lot of free time and Gabriel thought it would be good for me. There were some ridiculous fucking things in it, but I read it. I don’t agree with all of it, but if this helps people give me a chance and become a better person—I’m willing to try.”

“You don’t need to become a priest in order for you to become a better person,” you suggested to him hating to hear him say something like that. “I think you were already a better person, you just let these people get in your head.”

“I just want somewhere I feel like I belong,” Negan confessed with a saddened expression, lifting one of his hands to wave it about. “No one has really given me a chance here. You have, but I don’t get to see you much. Judith and Gabriel are the only two that have really put some effort into things with me. Gabriel was always preaching to me and he thought this was the only way for me to purify my soul.”

“So what do I call you now?” you reached out to playfully shove into the center of his chest causing a scoff to fall from his throat. “Father Negan?”

“Haha. Laugh it up,” Negan pulled his right hand out of his pocket and waved it about. “I think I look good you know. Black is my color and while I’m sweating my ass off in this, I can feel my soul purifying as we speak.”

“Oh, I see,” you smirked folding your arms out in front of your chest while gazing him over. “You know, it would be a lot hotter if you tore the arms off of that shirt. It’d be like you stepped right out of my dreams. A stripper priest. I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

“Fucking hell…” Negan breathed out, his thick eyebrows bouncing up when he inhaled sharply. “You shouldn’t be talking like that. I can’t…I can’t be thinking the way you’re making me think right now with the way you are saying things. We talked about this in the past. The two of us…”

“The two of us kissed and I would have been okay with going the whole way, but you stopped me. Every time,” you reminded him of your past and he sighed, shifting on his feet. Rocking back and forth on them, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed dramatically. “I was never quite your type, huh?”

“That’s not true,” Negan immediately denied, shaking his head and letting out an irritated breath. “I was never good enough for you. That was the problem. This? This feels almost like a punishment doing this whole priest thing. It’s what I deserve. Someone caring about me and wanting to be with me? I don’t really deserve that. You know that just as much as I do.”

“Negan,” Gabriel’s voice called out breaking up the conversation between the two of you with Negan looking over his shoulder. Wiggling his fingers at Negan, Gabriel urged him back toward the church and Negan sighed. “Come along. I need to teach you some things.”

“Sure thing boss,” Negan was sarcastic in his response, giving you one final smirk before walking off. When Negan got to the door of the church, he stopped and let out a long sigh. It seemed like he wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t. Instead of looking back at you, his head slumped forward and he spoked quietly. “Goodbye.”

After that discussion, you stood there for a moment and pondered the things that Negan said. This really didn’t feel like something that Negan wanted. It was more so something he was punishing himself with. You could have gone after him, but you didn’t. You were tired. You needed a shower and you needed to rest. But all night long you thought about Negan. How wildly attracted you were to him and as fucked up as it was, you were extremely turned on by the whole black get up with the white collar he was wearing.

The more you thought about Negan that night, the more enchanted with the idea of Negan you became. And when you woke up in the morning you had a plan to get Negan’s attention. You were given a day off before you had to start helping out around Alexandria, so you were going to take advantage of it.

You made sure to dress in something that brought attention to some of your best assets. Something you knew that the old version of Negan would have liked. And you headed off to the church. You knew that it would have been best for you to stay home and rest. Hell, they were giving you some time off. You should have taken them up on their offer, but all you had on your mind was Negan.

Once you were inside the church, you were surprised with it being empty. Empty except for Negan at the front of it sweeping something up. With how hard they had been working to fix up the church, you assumed that there would be more than just Negan in there.

Clearing your throat managed to get Negan to lift his head up. When his eyes fell upon you, his eyebrows bounced up in surprise. Setting the broom at the back corner of the church, Negan moved across the way to step before you. A weak smile tugged at his lips and his eyes fell to the dip in your shirt that showed off your breasts. Well that was a success.

“Uhm,” Negan spoke uneasily, forcing himself to look away from your breasts. “What are you doing here?”

“You know, after our conversation, I got to thinking last night,” you looked around the church and saw that Negan’s head tipped, his eyes hooked on you when you nodded toward the confessional in the back corner. “It’s been a long time since I did a confession and I was thinking maybe I should do one.”

“Oh, I don’t really do that,” Negan looked over his shoulder, his body shifting uncomfortably like he was looking for someone else. “I’m really just like a priest in training so to speak or some shit. I don’t know. You might want to grab Gabriel and do that if you really want to talk to someone.”

“Well, I’m not really all that religious so we can train together,” you suggested pointing back toward the booth that was there and Negan cleared his throat. “What do you think? You want to give it a try? I can confess my sins to you and you can help…”

“Absolve you of your sins?” Negan finished for you having your smile grow larger over your face and you nodded. Looking around, Negan seemed nervous before he shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward. “I guess we can do that. Gabriel is around here somewhere and he doesn’t have a service for a while. So…why the fuck not.”

“Are you supposed to be talking like that?” you teased him, moving in beside him when his hand pressed in over your lower back to lead you toward the confessional.

“I’m pretty sure someone said swearing makes you closer to God,” Negan spoke up, his head tipping from side to side. “Or some shit like that.”

“That sounds fake,” you noted, stepping before the confessional with Negan. He let out a long, expressive exhale before looking to you. “You should go first. Since you’re the priest and everything.”

“Right,” Negan frowned, moving forward, opening the door to the confessional that was there and when he closed the door you smiled.

Moving into the other side, you heard movement through the screen that was between the two of you showing that Negan was trying to get comfortable. Once you sat down, a warmth surrounded you and you realized that it wasn’t all that comfortable in here.

“Do I just talk through this screen or…?” you were confused how this thing was supposed to go since it had been so long since you even stepped into a church considering the circumstances.

“I don’t fucking know,” Negan pushed at something on the other end before the screen opened and revealed him sitting at the other end. “Maybe this is wrong. Maybe the screen is supposed to stay closed or…”

“Let’s just…do this,” you calmed him, throwing your hands up in the air noticing that he was looking down toward the ground as if trying to give you some privacy to talk about whatever it was you wanted to confess to him. “Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

Negan was quiet, but it made him smirk and his dimples became more prominent when you started. He was amused. Which was better than him actually taking this seriously, “It’s been a really long fucking time since I’ve done one of these things…”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say,” Negan offered and you gave him a glare. Throwing his hands up in the air, Negan shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Go ahead my child.”

“God don’t say that,” you snickered hearing him laugh in return before you got even more comfortable where you were sitting. “You see father, I haven’t been a very good girl. For the longest time now I’ve had feelings for this guy that I met. He was a prisoner…” a bit of color flushed into Negan’s face when his dark eyes slowly lifted to meet your stare. “And yesterday I saw him in his priest get up for the first time and I was so very turned on by it. After talking to him, I went home and all I could think about was him. I could barely sleep.”

“What are you doing…” Negan breathed out, his long eyelashes fluttering when you hushed him and shook your head.

“You see father, I kept thinking about his hands. He has the nicest hands and they are so big. At first I thought about him undressing me with those hands. I thought about how long it would take him to caress all over my body. And then I started to touch myself…”

You made sure that Negan was looking at you when you dragged your fingers down over your shoulder, over the center of your breasts before dragging your hand across one of them. It had Negan shifting uncomfortable, licking at his lips.

“The way I wanted him to touch me,” you whispered squeezing and palming at your flesh leaving his lips to part. Nothing came out, but you could tell that you had him hooked. “I thought about his hand traveling lower between my thighs…”

The movement of your hand followed your words with you dragging your palm down over the lengths of your abdomen between your thighs. Pressing your legs further apart, you palmed in over your body purring out causing his breathing to grow louder.

“And then all I could think about was him using his fingers to pleasure me,” you panted, biting down on your bottom lip while your caress continued over your body. “But then I got to thinking about his cock. And how hard it would be straining against his pants. How badly I wanted to take him out of his pants and into my mouth.”

A grunt fell from Negan’s throat and you couldn’t help, but smile seeing the way he looked like he was sweating on the other side of the confessional, “I want nothing more than to have his throbbing cock in my mouth. I want it so bad. And the very idea of it just makes my pussy wet father. Once I get his cock nice and wet, I want him to fill my tight little cunt with his cock and fuck me senseless. I want him to fill my pussy with his cum until it is seeping down my thighs…”

“This is wrong,” Negan went to get up, but you shifted quick, stretching your arm out to curl your fingers around the back of Negan’s neck. Pulling him to you brought his lips to yours. Over and over again you tried to kiss him into temptation. And at first it seemed like he was fighting it, until the flick of your tongue drew his lips to part. Accepting the warm brush of your tongue over his, Negan growled against your flesh and it had your heart hammering away in your chest. “Fuck it…”

Pushing further at the window that kept the two of you separate, Negan managed to grab a hold of you to pull you into his side of the booth with him. You both laughed at the way you struggled to fully get in before Negan fell back into the corner of his side. Once you were firmly on your feet in the cramped space with Negan, your hands palmed up and over Negan’s body hearing him breathing loudly.

“How hard is your cock right now?” you whispered, lowering your palm over the front of his pants to give his body a firm squeeze. It had his hips bouncing forward into your grasp with a proud smile tugging at your lips. “You’re meant to be a daddy figure Negan, not a priest. No matter how fuck hot you look in this.”

Negan was breathing loudly, his hands squeezing at your hips while his lips hovered just over yours, “Your cock is just begging for a release after this long, isn’t it?”

Teasing him, you brought your lips close enough to drag them over his and swiftly worked to open the belt in Negan’s pants. Unhooking it, you undid the button and his zipper, pressing your body up against his with his breathing growing louder. His thick eyebrows furrowed when you started nibbling at his bottom lip. Dipping your hand beneath the material of Negan’s pants had him moaning out when your fingers curled around the warmth of his flesh.

“You’re meant to be a bad boy Negan,” you slurred, working his erection from the confines of the pants that he was wearing. Unhurriedly you started to caress over the length of his manhood, taking your time to watch his reactions while you touched him. “Your cock is too big to waste. You’re meant to breed Negan. Not preach.”

“Breed?” Negan muttered, the vein at the side of his neck bulging when his eyelids grew heavy. “But the people here…”

“The people have no idea what you are capable of and you shouldn’t give a shit what they think,” you urged him, the motions of your hand over his body growing stronger and it had him biting down on his bottom lip. Bringing you two closer together, Negan lowered his hand and it pressed between your thighs touching you in the ways you had wanted for so long. “Good boy.”

Pumping your hand over Negan’s cock, you got a nice throaty moan out of him with his forehead pressing up against yours.

“You have a choice Negan,” you licked your lips hearing him moan faintly under his breath. “Do you want to continue to sweep the floors and be these people’s minion or do you want to put that fat cock of yours inside of me? Because more than anything, I want to fuck you so bad it hurts. My pussy is throbbing just thinking about it…”

“Fuck me,” Negan hissed out, his hands desperately pulling apart your pants so he could make enough room to push his hand beneath the material. It had you stepping up on your toes when he palmed in over the warmth of your flesh. It had his eyelids growing heavier, his breathing louder when his fingertips traced over the length of your sex.

Reaching for Negan’s wrist, you pulled it from your pants and lifted his hands to his lips. Urging him to take his finger between his lips had him groaning out when the taste of you lingered over his tongue. Humming out, Negan dropped his hand and you lowered down to your knees. Instead of the worried glances he had before, a wolfish smile tugged at his lips when you press a wet kiss at the tip of his cock. Dragging your tongue out, you teased at the slit before taking him between your parted lips.

“Fuck,” Negan hummed out, his head dropping back. Both of his hands pressed against the walls of the booth and you took your time to lower your head over the length of him before pulling back. Grasping firmly to the base of his cock, you gradually allowed your movements to grow harder and faster. Wincing out, Negan dropped his hands down with one hooking into your hair and the other caressing at the back of your neck. Starting to thrust his hips up toward your mouth had you gagging with the way his cock hit the back of your throat but you were doing your best to pleasure him while he fucked your mouth. “That’s enough.”

A wet popping sound filled the small booth with Negan pulling you up. Swiftly pushing at the material of your pants, Negan pressed you firmly against the wall of the confessional and reached for his girthy length. Teasing the swollen tip between your slick folds had you purring out.

“Come on daddy, take what you want,” you urged and it had Negan chuckling faintly before working one of your pant legs away from your body. Pressing you against the wall, Negan persuaded your leg around his waist before eagerly sinking into the warmth of your body. The moan he made was loud, there was no hiding it at this point. Holding tightly to Negan, the first thrust of his manhood inside of you was hard and you didn’t want to fall over. Then the next thrust followed suit. “Don’t hold back. Just fuck my pussy as hard as you can. With how long it’s been, I want you to be balls deep inside of me by the time you come and fill me with all that you’ve been holding in.”

“As you wish,” Negan’s nose nuzzled in against yours, his thrusts starting off hard and fast. It had your flesh smacking together while you desperately tried to hold onto him. Your lips met his and you tried to kiss away your cries of pleasure. He was doing exactly as you asked of him. Fucking you hard, fast and it felt so fucking good. The extra added sensation of knowing that this was in a church in a confessional just turned you on all the more. Crying out, you tipped your head back feeling Negan’s hand loosely wrapping around your throat. Once the pressure started to be applied you hummed out in pleasure enjoying the pain that came with it. “God you feel so fucking good.”

Gasping out, you felt Negan tugging at the material of your shirt at the neck. Pulling it down, Negan managed to drop his head low enough to take your breast between his lips. Kissing, sucking and nibbling at the flesh until he had your nipple into a tight peak. Tugging at his hair, you brought his mouth back to yours and dragged your tongue out over his lips.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me since the first day I met you,” you informed him with a purr, wincing out when Negan’s hips bounced firmly up toward you having him fill you completely with his cock. An amused expression flooded Negan’s face when you shook your head. “You don’t need to be a priest to be close to God Negan…”

Dropping your hands, you tugged at Negan’s black shirt using the strength that you had to rip it open. It had the buttons hitting the ground and an amused rumble fell from Negan’s throat, “All you have to do is be inside of this pussy and it’s yours. It’s all yours…”

“I like the sound of that,” Negan growled as you pushed into the center of his chest to get him to fall back onto the bench. Crawling in over his lap, your nails bit at his chest and he growled out. His hands palmed in over your ass when you took advantage to lower yourself over his throbbing length. “You make a good sell…”

“Don’t get me wrong, you make a hot priest,” you sucked faintly at Negan’s bottom lip, wincing when you allowed him to fill you again. Smacking at his shoulder, you weren’t used to the sensation of this since it had been so long, but you enjoyed the small amounts of pain that came with it. “But I want you to be mine.”

“You want to be mine,” Negan corrected you, his right hand reaching up to grab a hold of your jaw while you bounced your hips over his. Eagerly, his hips matched your movements and you let out a surprised sound at the sound the booth was making with the two of you inside of it. Hovering his lips over yours, Negan smiled and a moan fell from his throat. “I accept.”

“Good boy,” you complimented him, brushing your fingers through his hair to mess it. Adjusting your position, you found a way to move that made both of you louder in the way you expressed your pleasure. Each plunge of his cock into your depths had the two of you crying out in unison. “Come on Father Negan…”

Reaching back, your fingers caressed over his testicles having him hum out at the sensation with his thighs flexing beneath you, “You know you want to come inside of me.”

“So fucking much,” Negan growled, his hazel eyes hooked on yours dropping his hand down between the two of you. Circling the rough pad of his thumb over your clit, Negan was working on your sensitive bundle of nerves having you pant out with every movement you made. Your hips bounced up toward his thumb when you would allow his cock to pull out of your body before you swiftly dropped them back again. “You take that cock so good honey.”

There was a fire building in your belly and you rolled your hips faster over his, desperate to reach a moment of bliss that had been building up for you. With a cry, you threw your head back and Negan hungrily kissed over the side of your neck. Your orgasm hit you hard, but it didn’t give you the time to relax when Negan pressed you slightly back so that you were pressed against the wall opposite of him. Reaching down for your wrists, Negan hooked his fingers firmly around them and started bouncing his hips up toward you over and over again. His testicles smacked up against you with every hard pounding thrust and you couldn’t hide your moans.

“Almost there,” Negan informed you, his jaw tensing and the lines in his forehead growing. By how hard he was holding onto your wrists and with his jaw clenching you could see that his orgasm was quickly approaching.

“Make that pussy yours Negan,” you urged with his thrusts growing even stronger. You knew that you would be feeling this later, but you didn’t care. You wanted this so bad and you were thankful that you were able to make it happen.

Pulling you forward, Negan had you falling in against his chest with your head resting against his shoulder. Squeezing his hands firmly over your ass, Negan continued his thrusts until his groan filled the air and one final thrust upward had you bouncing upward feeling the throbbing of his cock inside of you. Moaning into the side of your neck, Negan stroked his fingers over your hair and you reached back to feel his balls straining while he filled you with line after line of his cum. You both were soaked with sweat. It was like a sauna in this thing, but neither of you seemed to care.

“Is everything okay in here?” the light from the church flooded into the confessional with you gasping out and pulling yourself in closer to Negan after the door was opened. Negan’s hips were still partially bouncing up toward yours with his orgasm and you whined out. The voice you knew too well and you knew that it was Gabriel that had just found the two of you right at the end of your sex act together. “What the hell Negan?”

“Goddamn it,” Negan grunted one final time, biting at your chin when you felt your thighs twitching over Negan. “Gabey boy, you are incredibly bad at timing.”

Negan’s breathing was loud, but you could tell by the sound of his voice that he was amused that Gabe was still there. Stealing a quick look you could tell that Gabriel was shocked and locked into position. Burying your face again had Negan laughing and he wrapped you up in his arms.

“Can we fucking have a minute with God here?” Negan requested and Gabriel shakily reached for the door to close it. It had Negan laughing against the side of your neck and you felt like everything was spinning. “Well that was…”

“Unexpected,” you finished hearing Negan snickering against the side of your neck. Lowering your head, you looked down between the two of you to see Negan’s cock still filling you. Keeping your eyes locked on it, you slowly lifted your hips enjoying the way his cock looked as it slowly left your body. When you reached the tip, it pulled from you with a wet sound and smacked up against his lower abdomen. Whimpering out, you watched some of his cum dripping from your body onto his thighs and you licked your lips.

“Did that feel good?” Negan lowered his hand to rub at your sensitive flesh. It had you whining out and he smiled when two of his fingers pressed inside of you to thrust them into your already highly stimulated body.

“So good,” you replied, meeting his lips in a drawn-out kiss that had him humming against your flesh. “I feel like you’re capable of more though.”

“Is that a challenge?” Negan smirked, looking down at his cock twitching and he growled out.

“That’s me begging you to do your worst,” you alerted him and he smirked. Tipping his head to the side, Negan shook his head and then passionately kissed you. Giving you a minute to gain back your strength, the both of you got dressed to the best of your ability before Negan reached for your hand. Once you moved out of the confessional with Negan, you could see that Gabriel was sitting at one of the benches giving you both a disapproving look.

“Sorry Gabey boy,” Negan reached for the white collar that was in his shirt, tugging it out and tossing it to Gabriel who fumbled with it. “There are some things I won’t give up, even for God. We’re going to my cell so I can actually fuck this beautiful lady right.”

Dropping his hand down, Negan squeezed over himself and you felt a rush of heat flooding into your face, “My crystal balls are telling me that we are going to be so fucking naughty that it’s something your eyes wouldn’t want to see again. These babies are aching after years of not being used, so they are ready to flood this hot little pussy with ready and willing swimmers.”

“God,” you choked out at the expression that Gabriel gave after Negan blurted all of that out.

“Also, there is cum all over that confessional. You might want to clean that up before you even think of using it,” Negan pointed back toward the area that you were in together when he started to lead you toward the door to church.

“Negan!” Gabriel called out to him and you could tell that Gabriel was not happy with how this was ending up.

“Sorry father. I’m on a mission from God here and I’ve got to do this right,” Negan hooked his arm around you, throwing you up over his shoulder and firmly smacking his hand over your bottom. “This whole father thing…it’s just not gonna work for me. I’m sure you understand.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx  @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03​

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[harmonictechnicality]

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. 

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one. 

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender. 

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers. 

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.” 

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.”  Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days. 

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating. 

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky. 

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes. 

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head. 

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer. 

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line. 

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused. 

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it. 

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.”  Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat. 

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching. 

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest. 

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body. 

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question. 

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him. 

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

[deny-the-issue]

Love Thy Nature

Summary: Set in the "Baldur's Gate 3" epic tale, you struggle with ongoing body image issues while pining after Halsin, hoping to earn a special place in his heart.

Thank you so much to my lovely beta readers @juniper-sunny and @sirenofzaun <3

AO3 link

link to divider

Thank you everyone for the overwhelming amount of interest in this fic! I hope you all enjoy <3

[MDNI] [Halsin x fat!Reader] [no mention of gender pronouns] [reader has vulva/breasts] [body image issues] [whatever height you are, Halsin is taller] [whatever weight you are, Halsin can lift you] [smut] [fluff] [angst] [happy ending] [oral sex] [vaginal sex] [teasing] [5580 words]

Chaos. Those first few hours were absolute chaos. In Baldur’s Gate shopping for vegetables one moment, infested with a slimy tadpole the next. At least you aren’t alone. 

Even if they intimidate you. 

You all have a common goal, and you wear this safety like a blanket. With companions like these, maybe you’ll have a chance to live. If you don’t get caught in between Shadowheart and Lae’zel, that is. 

Stomach rumbling, feet aching, thighs raw, the nights end with you silently crying yourself to sleep. You are distinctly unsuited for this life. The others say nothing, but you feel like you’re letting them down when you lag behind them during the day’s journey. You simply cannot keep up with Karlach and Lae’zel’s pace, and with the dismal amount of food for dinner, you’re starving. 

You’re not the only hungry one, but you are the only one that eats away from the fire, in solitude. Even in the city you preferred to eat alone. Judging eyes haunt your every bite, but you know the shame comes from within. You know you have no right to complain about being hungry when you have the most weight to lose.  

So you suffer in silence. 

Your armor consists of ill-fitting cloth and leather which you have to repair frequently. The cloth is thin and your thighs can rub it away to nothing within a single, travel-heavy day. The others have found armor that suits them quite well, and you’re happy for them. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t envious of the ease at which they can find things that fit. 

It’s hard not to dwell on your size. How it would be easier to find armor if you were skinnier. How much easier it would be to keep up. How much more confident you would be. 

You see your travel companions flirt and cast lewd looks at each other. It lightens the heart to see, yet stirs a deep yearning within that has been your constant bane over the years. To love is something you have known many times, but to be loved is another story entirely. Truly loved for everything you are, inside and out. It seems impossible to behold when you cannot fathom loving yourself in that way. 

Maybe one of them would have given you a chance, if only you had the confidence to try. 

As the days go on, you learn more about each other, some willingly and others forced. Just when you think no one else is hiding something, another secret arises. Every single one of them has enough problems without the threat of becoming illithid, and you start to see the people underneath the mask of intimidation you assigned to them. 

Despite your best efforts to keep your distance, they start to grow on you. Their troubles become yours, and a warm feeling of belonging takes root in your chest. 

The grove is a delightful little community. Their harmony with nature is beautiful, your curious eyes take in every part and crevice. 

Maybe too curious, since you had a near scrape with the guards due to the little shit, Mol. She’s too smart for her own good–trouble will surely follow her wherever she goes.

Just as it does you.

Just as it does him, too, apparently. Breaking a bear out of a dungeon is a first for you, but watching that bear transform into the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen becomes a keystone memory. 

Already you are filled with conflicted feelings, more thankful everyday this horrible thing happened to you because it brought you to them. All of them brilliant, all of them flawed, and all incredibly beautiful. 

You cling to the hope of his companionship as you prepare to protect the grove. Halsin’s knowledge instills fear in your bones, more defined than it was before. Now you have an idea of what you’re up against, and it’s all much bigger than you can fathom. Getting to know him personally casts away the worrisome thoughts; his words a honey-sweet distraction to the storm clouds gathering overhead. 

You leave his company with a smile straining your face, but it doesn’t take long for the bite of loneliness to nip at your heels. Halsin’s answer about lovers echoes through your mind, a deep spiral into well-trodden waters. 

“Right now? I bed down alone, I’m afraid. Perhaps once I talk less of curses and parasites, my fortunes will improve.”

How foolish of you to think he might warm to you. You’re sure his fortunes will improve, only with someone else. Someone more deserving of him. 

These depressing thoughts do not stop you from befriending him. Quite the opposite, in fact. By casting aside your hopes for romantic love, you feel as though you can finally start to be yourself in camp.

And you’re surprised to find they like you. Your spirit and sense of humor return to you in troves–making some poor sod kneel for Lae’zel has everyone laughing at camp that night.

Yet you still make off alone with your bowl of stew when dinner is served, until a large obstacle blocks your path. 

“I do not pretend to know why you dine alone, but you are most welcome to join us.” Halsin smiles kindly.

“I know, it’s ok. Thank you, though,” you try to dismiss him, but he doubles down. 

“Do you not find our company agreeable?”

“No! I mean, yes? You’re lovely–you’re all lovely,”you stammer, heat rising to your face. 

“Good, then you’ll have no problem joining us,” Halsin’s eyes sparkle with amusement, no doubt from watching your mind implode. 

The prospect shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is, yet you cannot help but feel extremely uncomfortable. 

You beat down the slight panic and return Halsin’s smile, unwilling to argue your case further. What would you even say? Laying your insecurities bare to a man you just met is not on your agenda for the night. 

His large hand touches your shoulder as he makes his way to the fire, confident you’ll join him. So warm and rough with callouses–the contact lasted but a moment but you can feel it still, like an invisible badge of affection. 

“Come on, Soldier, grab a stump! I already picked the slugs off for you.” Karlach laughs at your grimace. 

“Thanks,” you walk over to the offered seat. “I’ve had enough slimy things for a lifetime.”

A chorus of agreement and various stages of grief crosses the face of each companion as you join them around the fire, a part of the pack for once. As much as you begrudge Halsin for pulling you out of your comfort zone, you never spend another night eating alone, and your heart is all the fuller for it. 

The battle for the grove was hard won, and the celebration that followed was a well-needed respite for everyone. Surrounded by friends, plenty of food, and drink, you felt more alive than you had since it all began. Whatever shame you were harboring faded away with the alcohol settling into your rosy cheeks, and you sought out the man you’ve been pining for. 

Weeks of hard living have left you as lightweight as Halsin claims to be, but the confidence to mingle in his company is a welcome boon. Oh, to see him tipsy–better still if you are the first person he sees. Is he handsy in his affections, or reserved, you wonder? 

But what does he mean by calling you resourceful? 

You’ll have to ponder its meaning after some sobering sleep. Nothing could sway your mood tonight. He may have turned you down, but he was surely flirting with you. Even with the short time you’ve known him, you know he is not the kind to lead anyone on. 

Enjoyable. A night with you would be enjoyable; the thought has you grinning for the rest of the celebration, and biting your lip later, when you’re alone in your tent with roaming, lusty hands.

You’re able to find suitable food, but with life’s ever-increasing hardships, it continues to take a toll on your body. Hiking is not as hard as it once was, though, and you are thankful for it. With a body such as yours, it would take a considerable amount of time before you’d be deemed ‘thin’, but the loss of weight is undeniable. 

Your clothes are loose, for one, and the little armor you have shifts uncomfortably, always needing adjusting. The others have started noticing as well. 

Karlach gave you a, “Lookin’ good, soldier!” the other night and you never wished to cast an invisibility spell so much as in that moment.

This slightly-slimmer body should make you happy, but the success is tainted in your mind. It’s not as if you chose to lose weight, to starve, to walk endlessly every damned day. What happens when– if-- you can live a normal life after this? The same mistakes will surely be made as before, and you’ll go right back to the size you so hate. No lesson has been learned here, not in regards to food. 

Even if you do somehow lose all this weight, you still will not be pleased with yourself. Stretch marks and loose skin, you could never look the way you want to. 

The frustration grinds your spirit down, but no one notices. Hells, you hardly notice. The Shadowlands dampen the mood of everyone, infecting the camp even without touching it. 

Fighting has never been easy for you, and you’ve managed to hold your ground so far. But every person’s luck runs out sometime, you suppose. One awkward move and you get a knife in your side. The armor should have protected you–would have–if only it fit you better. 

Halsin gathers you in his arms, carrying you despite your weight. A mad rush back to the Last Light inn saves your life. As you’re placed in a healing sleep, you hear echoes of Halsin’s soothing voice. You can never make out the words, but they calm your turbulent mind, keeping the nightmares at bay. 

When you wake, you are mostly healed. The skin is healed, though a scar remains, and the pain is manageable while lying still in bed. Halsin greets you with warmth and a small amount of haste.

It seems, while you slept, Halsin talked to both a tailor and a leather-worker on your behalf. What is more surprising is the light scolding you receive.

“You should have spoken up, we cannot afford such a loss in these dire times.”

“And we can afford this?” You doubt, knowing how much new, custom armor costs. 

One stern look from Halsin, and you concede.

Everyone pooled their gold together to buy you fitted clothing and armor, a gesture that means the world to you. What have you done to deserve such kind friends? Just as you took on their troubles, they’re taking on yours without a second thought. 

There is one part of their gesture that gives you pause. They need your measurements, and you need to stand for it. With abdomen muscles still healing, you require Halsin’s help to get out of bed, leaning heavily against him. 

So close to him, you breathe in his scent, take in his warmth, and relish the contact. It’s almost enough to distract you from the embarrassment of having a stranger shimmy a measuring tape around your body. You hide your discomfort as best you can, but Halsin notices.

He always does. 

He must have read it as pain, because he hastens the person along so you can lay down and rest again. Another unsaid deed that shows his care for you, soothing the stinging humiliation. 

“Let me call the healers over, I am sorry for disturbing your rest.”

You grab his hand, stilling his movements. “Wait, please.”

“What troubles you, friend?”

You shake your head. “Thank you. For carrying me back and for the clothing. Words cannot describe how grateful I am.” 

Halsin takes your hand in his gently, “This fight would not be the same without you by my side.”

You blink away a rogue tear as Halsin brings forth a healer, and drift into a deep, healing sleep with a smile on your face. 

When you wake, you’re fully restored, and your new armor and clothes are atop the bedside table. The sight should fill you with excitement, but all you feel is dread.

What if they don’t fit you? What if they’re too small?

Retreating to a corner with a privacy curtain, you hesitantly try them on, thankful that your party isn’t here. To your surprise and great relief, they all fit–as they say–like a glove. The leather armor comes with a learning curve with all the straps and strings, but after a few mistakes, you figure it out.

It’s genius, really. With overlapping leather and lacing on the side, up the arms, and down your legs, its size is fully adjustable. Up to a point, of course, but extremely useful for the days to come. You’ll probably lose more weight as the journey is far from over, and now you have armor that can account for size changes in either direction!

You choke back tears of happiness, never once having known the feel of well-fitting clothes until now. Everything has been uncomfortable in some way or another, always with minor inconveniences, and never once did they look good. 

In these clothes, it doesn’t matter how you look. You feel good in them, and for once in your life, that is all that matters. A burden has been lifted from your shoulders whose weight you never noticed before now. 

Could you truly be comfortable within this body of yours?

Later, when they all come back to the inn after adventuring, the party makes you spin for them so they can get a good look at your new attire, and although shy, your smile is brighter than it has ever been. 

Saving Thaniel is no easy task, and you probably have a few more gray hairs after that battle. With Halsin’s life at stake if you fail, you fight tooth and nail to protect the portal. 

Even though it is not enough to lift the curse, Halsin’s eyes soften whenever he looks upon you, and that is all the reward you need. 

Your love does not end with Halsin; each party member has wormed their way into your heart. So when Shadowheart embarks on her quest with you at her side, you trust her to make the right choice. 

Dame Aylin is truly something to behold. The daughter of a goddess, and a god in her own right. To be reunited with her love after so many years is a love story of the ages. You’re lucky to bear witness to it, although it tugs at the heartstrings. 

The longing for a love such as theirs does not linger on your mind, not with the battle for Moonrise Towers looming overhead. 

Is this the end? Will you be free to live your life once more? The end does not feel as near as you are led to believe. Not all of the pieces fit together yet, and the unknown scares you. 

As you suspected, Ketheric Thorm was just one head of the hydra. There is much more to be done, and the journey ahead weighs heavily on your shoulders. You try to focus on your triumphs; the Shadowcurse is lifted, the land can begin to heal, and Halsin promises to remain by your side. 

A heart full of joy can only do so much when you’re running on fumes, requiring a warm bed and a few days rest. Your friends help distract you from the wear and tear of the past few weeks, always bickering about this or that. Usually you stay out of it, but Halsin has other plans on the journey to Wyrm’s Crossing, it seems.

Freeing Thaniel, and moreso, the land, has earned you a special place by Halsin’s side. You did not expect that place to come with an honorary nickname. 

Two simple words. It, at first, fills you with a sense of kinship, but soon begins to wear on your mind. As much as you love the affection it implies, one of those words hasn’t pertained to you for a long time. 

You find him that night at camp, voice hesitant. “Halsin, can I ask you something?”

“What is it, little duck?” He greets you with a pleased smile. 

“Well, that’s what I need to talk about. Little duck.”

“Does it not please you?”

“No–it’s not that. It’s just,” you pause, crossing your arms as you take a deep, calming breath. “I’m not little.”

“Are you not?” he inquires with a hint of mirth. 

Confused eyes lift to find his hand hovering above your head, a silent judgment of your height. 

Your stoic facade breaks with a smile, then with laughter, and you nudge him with your shoulder playfully. 

“You got me there,” you surrender, grinning ear to ear. 

Halsin laughs with you, but retains a more serious composure. “As much as that pleases me, should I call you by another name?”

“Please don’t,” you answer swiftly, needing no arduous thought to decide. 

From then on, anytime he says those two words, it fills you with warmth. 

Reuniting with the refugees saved from the Shadowlands brings you joy, but not as much as a real bed and a roof over your head does. 

Freshly washed and bathed, you almost forgot what it’s like to be clean. The quest to save the city is as grave as ever, yet all you needed was some self care to feel ready to take on the Elder Brain. 

The nights in Elfsong Tavern are anything but quiet, and you feel Halsin’s attention grow with each night, like he’s working up to something.

Maybe it’s just hopeful thinking, but you feel the chemistry between the two of you. Laughter and conversation is always easy with him, and he’s been touching you more. 

Nothing serious; grazing your arm, wiping a smudge of dirt off your face, his hand lingering on your shoulder. The contact, although small, brightens your mood, and you begin to yearn for it every time he’s near, even if you still think romance is out of the question. 

It’s almost comedic, how wrong you are. 

Not a week passes before Halsin confesses his feelings for you; how he yearns to feel your skin against his in a romantic night under the stars. You barely hear his next words over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

His heart stirs for you, just as yours does for him. He seems so vulnerable, just now. Nervous, just as you would be in his shoes. You feel as though you are seeing a piece of him rarely shown, or perhaps you did not wish to see past the brawn. Your souls are of the same gentle nature, and just a rest away from uniting in bliss.

Fidgeting in your sheets, you try to calm your turbulent mind, but it is hopeless. Each shift calls attention to the throbbing in between your thighs, their thickness both a blessing and a curse. But your mind is still eager to race into dark territory. The night of your dreams is accompanied by your mountain of insecurities. 

You’ve been intimate with others before, but that was of a low time where you hid parts of yourself to please others. 

There will be no more of that. He will know you. All of you. Even if it means he does not want you after. 

With mind set, you find him in the clearing by the lake, his large hand upon the rough bark of a tree in silent communion. When turns to greet you, the relief and excitement in his eyes brightens the world around you both, and instills you with courage. 

All thoughts of revealing your most authentic self blow away with the breeze when Halsin relieves himself of his clothes. Standing proudly naked before you, he sweeps you up in his arms, his kiss as passionate and devouring as he promised, with roaming hands settling on your plump rear.

All of your insecurities come back to nag you all at once, and you break away from the kiss. “Wait, please.”

“What is it, my love?”

Crossing your arms, you begin to pace. The movement helps focus your thoughts, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m fat,” you begin with the simplest statement of your imagined deficiencies. “For most of my life now I’ve been various sizes of fat, and I’m probably always going to be fat. I don’t want to be. I didn’t choose it. I have stretch marks, flabby arms, back fat.”  

Your voice begins to shake as tears well in your eyes. “Yes, I’ve shrunk a bit these past few weeks, but it’s not enough! Not nearly enough. Because even if I do lose all this weight,” you pause, feeling the pressure build within–a truth so long known but never said aloud, ready to burst out of your chest whether you will it or not.

“I will still hate myself!” The first sob rips from your throat as the emotional dam is broken, shaking your entire being.

Halsin rushes to you, enveloping you in his embrace, cradling your head to his chest. 

“Beauty is not about size, little duck. Variety provides necessary balance in nature, and there is no shame in taking joy from its fruits. Your inner peace is what truly matters.”

Only now it occurs to you that he has also been judged for his size. Maybe not all negative, but that is not to say it did not have an ill-effect on his self-esteem and outward personality. 

After you stop shaking, he coaxes you to meet his gaze. Eyes red and puffy, you do as he wishes, taking in every beautiful detail of his face before settling on his eyes, as serene as the lake before you. 

“I love you as you are, stretch marks and all.” He strokes your face gently and then takes your hands in his. “Let me show you.”

Halsin guides you to the lake’s edge, and positions himself behind you, leaning both your bodies forward. The view is exquisite, but you know it is not what holds his attention. Cautious eyes follow the ripples of the water, slowly casting down until you see your reflection. 

Halsin smiles when you meet his mirrored gaze, wrapping his arms around your waist. The angle is unflattering, to say the least, but you are willing to try this for him. The heat off his bare skin is a comfort, but also a reminder that your clothes are what separates your skin from his. 

“If you are comfortable, I’d like you to undress. To look upon yourself as you do, and be comforted in my desire.”

Comfortable is not something that would describe you in this moment, but you feel ready to reveal yourself to him. Closing your eyes, you still your mind to the symphony of the world around you; crickets singing, a light breeze coming off the lake, and Halsin’s steady breathing as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. Heart fluttering in your chest, you take your shirt off with nervous hands. 

After helping you discard the fabric, he is instantly upon you, trailing kisses down the side of your face until he’s sucking at your neck. You melt into him, tilting your head to reveal more skin for him to worship with his soft lips. 

Rough fingers tickle at your waist with feather-light grazes, you giggle at the feeling and place your hands over his. Lacing your fingers in between his, you move with him as he explores your waist. 

Heat rushes to your core as you feel his cock twitch against your back. You grow impatient, moving his hands to hold your breasts. He moans into your neck, pulling you against him while gently squeezing. 

“More, please. I need to see all of you,” he pleads breathlessly in your ear, thumbs pulling down the hem of your bra. 

You pull away for only a second, the ambient temperature feels so cool compared to your combined heat. Gooseflesh prickles at your arms, and as you discard your bra, you can’t help but admire your form in the water below. Nipples hard from the cold air soon find shelter in Halsin’s large hands, and his heat blankets you in a blissful stupor once again. 

Lust pools in your mind, overpowering any insecurities still swirling within. Only thoughts of him remain, and you need no further instruction to take the next step. Your panties cling to your pants as you pull them down. Halsin provides an arm for you to balance while slipping them off, and you come face to face when you toss the unwanted clothing further onto land. 

You’d pounce on him, but he quickly turns you around to face the lake again with a playful chuckle.

“Almost, my love. Look how extraordinarily beautiful you are, just as nature intended.” 

There you are, indeed. There’s your belly that you’ve loathed, the fat thighs that have been your bane, your double chin that distracts you from your beautiful face. Yet, with him at your back, your perspective begins to change, and you can see this body as yourself instead of some ugly, fat thing.

Halsin trails one hand down your stomach, over your stretch marks, and cups the plush overhang, squishing slightly as he smooths his palm back up your body, feeling the entirety of your curves.

All of your fears dissipate with the irrevocable proof of his attraction digging into your back, and you turn to face him. This time, he allows you, his hands grabbing your ass greedily. You run your hands up his body, relishing the feel of his coarse hair covering his chest and stomach. He moans softly at your touch, but something else starts to happen. 

His eyes begin to glow as he backs away from you in haste. The transformation is something you have seen many times, but never did you see the emotion behind it.

There is nothing as flattering as a partner losing themselves so utterly in a shared moment. Changing back just as fast, he flashes you a sheepish grin. 

Halsin starts to speak, but your patience is at its limit, and you run up to him, pulling him down for a kiss before he can utter a single word. 

Having regained his confidence through your kiss, he leads you back to the tree he was initially at, kneeling at its base. He leads you down to him, laying you down on the softest grass you’ve ever felt. There is a fleeting taste of his passion-full lips as he kisses his way down to your breasts, taking his time to kiss each one before descending further. 

Halsin’s lips against your stomach tickle in a touch-starved way, adding coal to the fire raging inside your core. He slips his arms underneath your knees, bending and spreading your legs. Supporting himself on his elbows, he reaches around, parting your lips by pulling your flesh toward your belly button. 

The first soft kiss upon your exposed clit has you gasping for air, hands grabbing fistfuls of grass at your side. It was only the calm before the storm; a single taste of honey is not nearly enough to satiate the beast between your thighs, and he shows you no mercy. 

Tongue lapping at your cunt from entrance to throbbing bud, Halsin has you squirming under his touch. Just as you think his pleasure is at its peak, he suckles your clit.

Toe curling, back arching, you scream his name as you reach carnal heights you never thought possible.

You whine when he stops, but when you see his swollen cock twitching between his legs, you know exactly what he needs. He lets you push him back onto the grass, helping you straddle him with a steadying hand. Cock nestled perfectly between your folds, you nuzzle his nose with yours before he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The taste of you is intoxicating as you drink in his moans, slide your hips against him, obscenely slick.

Ever hungry for more, you explore his body with your mouth, hips never ceasing their slow but steady rock. Thick, muscled neck, tender for kissing. Pronounced pecks perfect for light, teasing bites. Sensitive nipples ripe for sucking. Veiny arms that your lips could kiss for days. The faded but still visible stretch marks around his shoulders that now hold a special place within your heart, and you kiss each one of them.

You worship him, mind and body just as he does with his burly hands ever present on your lust-driven body. His touch now bruising, he tries to push into you with each thrust, soft moans turning into desperate grunts.

He catches at your entrance, but you tilt your hips so he passes over your clit once again. You shiver at the feeling, and cannot help the laugh that accompanies the bliss.

Teasing Halsin is just so fucking hot.

With an animalistic growl, he rolls you onto your back, having had enough of your shenanigans. Your sounds of glee quickly turn lewd as his cock finally finds purchase, stretching you delightfully with his mighty girth. 

Even with a mind lost to passion, he takes your comfort into account, pushing in slowly to let you adjust. His hungry mouth kisses your face, your lips, your jaw, your neck, until your canting, impatient hips break the last thread of his self control.

Burying his nose in your hair, one hand holding your breast, hips pumping, he makes love to you under the stars. You wrap your arms around him, holding onto his back to keep from being pushed away from the force of his hips. Your voices are a sweet, rhythmic chorus to nature as you feel a fluttering grow in your core. Halsin relinquishes his grip on your breast, hooking his hand underneath one of your knees to spread you further.

He reaches new heights within you, and you feel his cock harden more than you thought possible, readying to fill you with the nature’s bounty you’ve been craving. Your hands slip down to his ass, needing all of him inside you.

Your wants ever his desire, he buries his cock inside you and ruts, massaging the bundle of nerves deep within. Your fingers cling to him, leaving red lines down back unintentionally as the chord within finally snaps. Walls fluttering around him before clenching down, the waves of pleasure overtake you both, and he is a helpless passenger in its wake. He says your name like a prayer as his hips stutter in their rhythm. 

Cradling him close as you feel his cock pulse, you whisper in his ear, “I love you, Halsin.”

That mystical night under the stars with Halsin was legendary. Its memory, as well as the man himself, helps you through the rest of your quest, picking you up when you are down. All you need to do is close your eyes, and you’re right back in that clearing by the lake with him beside you.

You do not know if you would have gotten through it all without him. By the time you defeat the Netherbrain, you are the thinnest you’ve been since childhood, and also the most sickly. Stronger muscles and better food is not enough in the face of true exhaustion, and it shows in your gaunt face. 

The celebration with Halsin that night is sweet and gentle, containing all the relief of a battle hard won. You cannot help the tears that fall from your eyes as you reach your climaxes together.

It all feels like a dream. How could you have made it through all that alive and relatively well? With him at your side? A man as loving as he is large, he still does not impose anything on you. Talking as if there could be a chance you wouldn’t be going with him to resettle Moonrise Towers. 

You depart in the morning with nine wagons full of kids of various ages, all without families or homes, and your bear at your side. 

The savior of Baldur’s Gate is a bit rich for your liking, but it does give you a certain air of respect when you have to give them time-outs.

Halsin calls them all his ducklings, and it is so very fitting with how they follow him around from dawn till dusk. 

When you receive a letter with shaky lettering inviting you to the place where it all began, you’re more than happy to reunite with everyone. The time without doom hanging over your heads has certainly made you both plump and happy. You still struggle with body image issues, but you feel comfortable in your skin more often than not. A battle that is waning in your favor, with once barren fields blooming with slow acceptance.

Your appetite for life has always been large. Giant partner, a heap of kids to call your own, and enough tall tales to last them well into adulthood; you want for nothing in the years to come. 

With Halsin you build a loving home–an ending you never thought you deserved. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tag list: @incognitoowl @slowlydecayinginside-blog @freddiemonstar @strawberry-siberian @zorazeppeli

@callgirl-of-cthulhu @leftoverice @mickster-trickster @theidesofpisces @athenakeene

@camelliaandjasmine @otherredsareoutthere @bewitchedbg3 @kelseyxyeslek-blog @angelicsignature

@gloomweed @tolkien-fantasy @whitetxilwxlf @towriteloveontheirarms @uhhh-idk-dude

@ladyjeweler @rintheavatar @loverbug1123 @unreadpoppy @mossthedevouring

@railmeloki @wendy940010 @anexhaustedanomaly @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @tyrannydarling

@creatednoodle @mossy-moggins @whiskeyskin @ouranyaoi @appalachiancowboy99

@juniper-sunny @myheart-mydarling @mollymauksboi @pwney @sensitivesoil1008

@gremlin-dave @cosmicaeons21 @its-jaytothemee @reignydeys @im-eating-rn

@rosekicks @nefolstardust @blueraspberrycola @cpiev @lifechasingdreaming

@the-ashtronaut @gildedlilyvibes @emmybee11 @gh0ulbunny @shyomission

@fandom-star @garbdump @caitlam @wicked-game-black-butler @i-like-duckies

@hollywritin @reduxskullduggerry @thoughts-of-bear @opossumbloom @vixnovacoda

@amorgansgal @avabjorna36 @rodeocl0wn @emoguardian @minimisthios

@thegirlsmorgue @confused--polarity @waterm3i0n @violet-starlings-blog @thunderdownunder

@ashrio20